ISBN 978-1-60309-303-3

52995

9 781603 093033

FROM HELL is the hugely successful

graphic novel by Alan Moore and

Eddie Campbell. It was completed in

1998 and first published in a single

volume in 1999. It is currently published

by Top Shelf Productions in the USA,

Knockabout in the UK, and has editions

in many languages. It has won numerous

comics industry awards, and in 2001 it

was adapted into a major motion picture

starring Johnny Depp and Heather

Graham, with Robbie Coltrane.

By the Same Authors:

A Disease of Language

published by Knockabout Comics.

By Eddie Campbell

Alec : The Years Have Pants

published by Top Shelf Productions.

THE

COMPANION

Eddie Campbell presents Alan Moore’s scripts, sketches, notes and other

miscellanies as well as contributions, artistic, anecdotal and scholarly, of his own.

With a foreword by Charles Hatfield and Craig Fischer.

I was unnerved and amazed by the amount of confirming “evidence” that turned up to

support my “theory,” precisely because I knew it wasn’t a theory: it was fiction. I really

didn’t want to put a toe into the inviting pool of “the truth,” because Truth is a well-

documented pathological liar. Self-proclaimed fiction, on the other hand, is entirely

honest — it says “I’m a Liar” right there on the dust jacket. If I read a biography of

Tony Blair, at the end of it I still wouldn’t know where I stood with him. I do,

however, know where I stand with Hannibal Lecter and the Wizard of Oz.

— Alan Moore

(interview, in What DVD, Oct 2002)

The From Hell Companion ©2013 Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell. Published jointly by Top Shelf Productions,

PO Box 1282, Marietta, GA 30061-1282 USA and Knockabout Comics, 42c Lancaster Road, London, W11

1QR, United Kingdom. Top Shelf Productions® and the Top Shelf logo are registered trademarks of Top Shelf

Productions, Inc. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without permission, except for

small excerpts for purposes of review. Visit our online catalogs at www.topshelfcomix.com & www.knockabout.com.

First Printing, May 2013. Printed in Canada.

Foreword

From Hell, a project of dizzying complexity and unflinching nerve, brought

together two respected yet stubbornly idiosyncratic talents, Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell,

and sent them on a ten-year journey of creation, through a mazy process spanning three

countries and thousands of miles. It came to epitomize the collaborative Graphic Novel in

all its too-rarely-achieved potential. Certainly From Hell has a spot on any serious list of the

best graphic novels of the past twenty-five years, and indeed stands as a prototype of what the

graphic novel can be. It’s the proverbial landmark book, and dense in a way that few other

comics have achieved.

It’s easy enough to say that From Hell depicts the infamous Whitechapel

slayings of 1888 — the so-called Jack the Ripper murders — as a conspiracy theorist’s dream.

It’s easy to say that the conspiracy in question involves Freemasonry, esoterism, and a

purposeful, sinister, occult vision of history. But the novel goes further, implicating the violent

misogyny of all of Victorian society, from Queen Victoria on down — and the misogyny of

our own time. Moore and Campbell do propose a more humane and feminist view, but only

after dragging us, without blinking, through unimaginable horrors.

Beyond these brief gestures toward explanation, From Hell is an achievement

that defies summary, a book that warrants documentation and commentary. That is precisely

what Eddie Campbell offers here, and abundantly: the archive of From Hell made public,

along with his own ringside commentary as the artist who visualized the novel’s grand design.

Besides From Hell’ s notoriety, the most obvious reason for a companion volume

is the novel’s daunting complexity. In From Hell’s chapter nine, shortly before William Gull’s

final ritualistic murder, Mary Kelly describes the pervasive sense of predestination she felt

immediately before the death of her first husband: “It was like things had a pattern I couldn’t quite

see. It’s like there was a kind of lace tyin’ things together. A kind of lace over everything.” Our job as readers is to search for the hidden strands of lace — the symbols, the motifs, the repetitions — that

knot the narrative together, and this companion is an indispensable guide to From Hell’s

strands of meaning.

Moore and Campbell sew many of these strands into early chapters of

the book, so that they can reappear and take on new meanings in new contexts, across

the length of From Hell. Consider, for instance, the passages in the book that reference

supernatural vision. On the second page of the prologue, Robert Lees confesses that he only

pretended to have mystical visions (“The attention, that was the thing…”), but his visions

“all came true anyway.” From Hell is full of prophetic visions experienced, hallucinated,

and/or faked by many other characters besides Lees, and the truth or falsehood of

each is difficult to determine. Gull interprets his first vision, of the hybrid god Jahbulon,

as a harbinger of his great service to Queen Victoria, but Jahbulon could also be a mirage

produced by the stroke Gull suffers while walking up a steep hill. In chapter eight, after

he triumphantly slaughters a prostitute he believes to be the last of the blackmailers he

has been ordered to silence, Gull sees a phallic skyscraper — a grandchild of the obelisks

5

Foreword

that, in his view, bind London in a circuit of patriarchal power — and momentarily vanishes.

Coachman Netley loses track of Gull “for a minute,” and panics. Despite all this magical

fanfare, however, Gull has actually killed the wrong woman, and so his “grand work” remains

incomplete. Are the skyscraper and Gull’s disappearance symptoms of a madness shared

between Gull and Netley, or are these supernatural signs somehow true? Did Gull make it

up? Did it come true anyway?

Chapter fourteen of From Hell, the final chapter before the book’s epilogue, is

one long cascade of weird visions that Gull experiences as his body dies in a Dickensian asylum

for the mentally ill (fittingly, Gull has ended up in the same situation he consigned Annie Crook

to in chapter two). Gull’s visions include blood raining from the sky, ghosts with scales for skin,

and assorted vignettes featuring notorious English murderers of the twentieth century, but in his

footnotes Moore cites real-life eyewitness accounts of these Fortean events. Gull’s ectoplasmic

journey concludes with a trip to the clouds, where he meets such mythic beings as Thoth, Apollo

and Jesus, who guide Gull’s attention to a hill (another hill, a twin to Jahbulon’s hill) and a scene

that presents the strongest strand of hope in all of From Hell. If we write off Gull’s visions as

6

Foreword

the hallucinations of a dying madman, we lose the redemption too.

The visions and prophecies that spin throughout From Hell are only a small part

of Moore and Campbell’s web. In chapter two, the sixteen-year-old Gull cuts open a wild

mouse; much later, at a key moment in chapter sixteen, three young girls offer an alternative

to Gull’s “we murder to dissect” scientism as they speak of catching a frog and then letting

it go. Also in chapter two, Campbell draws the arc of Gull’s life in panels that never show

the man’s face; later, numerous scenes hide from us the face of another significant character,

“Emma,” the logistics of which Campbell discusses here on pages 132-133. The From Hell

Companion untangles and explicates many subtleties like this: it’s an insightful guide to the

narrative structures, explicit and hidden, that Moore and Campbell wove into the graphic

novel. Campbell calls these connections and repetitions “echoes” (see pages 148-149 here),

and, happily, Moore and Campbell have now shared their echoes with the world.

Beyond its value as a formal primer, The From Hell Companion also tells a

personal story. It chronicles a deep friendship and artistic collaboration between two rather

7

Foreword

unalike yet sympathetic minds. Moore, then fresh from his triumphs in the world of mainstream

superhero comics, and Campbell, a veteran of Britain’s inspiring small-press comics movement,

brought their disparate talents and energies (Moore’s architectonic sense of narrative structure,

Campbell’s grasp of visual culture and history) together for what turned out to be a life-changing

project for both. This companion is an honest, lived-in, wryly personal, prodigiously entertaining

account of that collaboration, which covered so many years and demanded so much effort.

A work of autobiography as well as archaeology, The From Hell Companion roots the

graphic novel in the lives of its creators as well as in all-important larger contexts, and the result

is a visionary guide to a visionary book: an essential entry in the shelf of must-read books on the

history of comics.

Craig Fischer and Charles Hatfield are associate professors of English at Appalachian State University and

California State, Northridge, respectively. Both have published widely on comics and are currently collaborating

on a book-length study of Eddie Campbell’s work.

8

Introduction

I was having a problem drawing the alligator.

In a moment early in the script for FROM HELL, that enormous graphic novel

set in the grimy, sooty and grimly realistic East End of Victorian London and celebrated for

its realism, Alan Moore, writer extraordinaire, was asking me, Eddie Campbell, illustrator

of said work, to draw an alligator waddling in the gutter.

We didn’t often have problems that I had to phone Alan about, but this was

giving me a sleepless night. I just didn’t feel that I could keep up the level of authenticity

we had already established in the opening chapters with this American swamp lizard

waddling around in the foreground. I’m not saying such a thing was an impossibility. I

just didn’t feel that I could put it in there convincingly, with authority. It was me that was

at fault, no doubt about it, but if he valued that authenticity, would he be okay with me

fudging around that detail? Yes, okay, he said, as long as I got the rest in.

So here is the rest. These are the panels as they appeared in the printed

book (Chapter 3, Page 5), followed by Alan’s script for the scene. Marie Kelly is making

her way across town towards Whitechapel.

MARIE NOW CONTINUES DOWN COMMERCIAL STREET TOWARDS SPITALFIELDS MARKET, DOWN AT

THE END OF BRUSHFIELD STREET NEAREST TO CHRIST CHURCH. THE CHURCH ITSELF PROBABLY

ISN’T VISIBLE HERE. IN THE FOREGROUND WE SEE THE BIZARRE, DIRTY, SPRAWLING POCKET-

WORLD THAT IS THE MARKETPLACE. EVERYTHING CONCEIVABLE IS FOR SALE OR DISPLAY; IN

THE FOREGROUND, A MAN LEADS A SKINNY ALBINO MALE THROUGH THE STREET, A ROPE ABOUT

THE POOR CREATURE’S NECK. THE ALBINO’S HAIR IS LONG AND STRAGGLY, HIS PALE BROWS

TURNED UPWARDS IN ABJECT MISERY, AS HE’S LED THROUGH THE FILTHY AND CLAMOROUS

STREETS. SOMEWHERE NEARBY, A BOY HOLDS UP A FISTFUL OF YELLOWING HADDOCK, CALLING

OUT TO THE PASSING CROWDS. ELSEWHERE A FAT WOMAN WITH A STRAWBERRY MARK PARADES HER

9

Introduction

TRAY OF WHELKS. FROM THE BACKGROUND, MARIE WALKS NONCHALANTLY TOWARDS THIS PRESS

OF BODIES AND VITALITY, THINKING MORE ABOUT THE COLD SPERM TRICKLING DOWN HER LEGS

THAN THE VARIOUS WARES UPON DISPLAY.

I confess that, unbeknownst to Alan, and swiftly needing a subject for a

public reading, I once narrated this actual text, with the pictures projected as above. At this

stage, I paused, looked at the audience, who had been transported into this expansive

vision of a surreal street market that goes on forever, and then I said, ‘Panel 2.’

NOW MARIE PUSHES THROUGH THE MARKET CROWD, APPROACHING US DOWN BRUSHFIELD STREET.

BEHIND HER, DOMINATING THE WHOLE SCENE LIKE A GIANT STANDING OVER WHITECHAPEL,

WE SEE THE GHASTLY, SEPULCHRAL MASS OF CHRIST CHURCH; A GOTHIC MONSTROSITY THAT

PSYCHOLOGICALLY OVERSHADOWS ITS ENVIRONMENT. AROUND MARIE THE STREET VENDORS ARE

MILLING AS SHE WALKS TOWARDS US, IGNORING THE BUSTLE AROUND HER AND FOOLISHLY

TURNING HER BACK UPON NICHOLAS HAWKSMOOR’S AWFUL, WATCHFUL CREATION, LOOMING THERE

BEHIND HER.

And then to the third panel in this sequence, its dimensions of less than three

inches by two inches hopelessly inadequate to the task requested of it:

HAVING TURNED LEFT AT THE BOTTOM OF BRUSHFIELD STREET, MARIE IS NOW WALKING ALONG

CRISPIN STREET TOWARDS THE BRITANNICA PUBLIC HOUSE AT THE CORNER OF CRISPIN

STREET AND DORSET STREET. WE CAN JUST SEE A LITTLE OF THE PUB OVER TO THE RIGHT

OF THE BACKGROUND HERE AS WE LOOK ACROSS THE STREET AT MARIE FROM THE MOUTH OF AN

ALLEYWAY. IN THE ALLEY ARE A BOY OF NINE AND A GIRL OF TEN. THE BOY KNEELS AMONGST

THE FILTH AND RUBBISH AND ROTTING FRUIT, HIS TROUSERS AROUND HIS KNEES. THE GIRL,

POSSIBLY HIS SISTER, SITS AGAINST THE OPPOSITE WALL OF THE ALLEY WITH HER LEGS

SPLAYED. ONE OF HER HANDS IS ROOTING BETWEEN HER OWN LEGS WHILE THE OTHER REACHES

OUT AND TAKES HOLD, INEXPERTLY, OF THE BOY’S ERECTION. BOTH CHILDREN ARE GRINNING

ENTHUSIASTICALLY, AND BOTH ARE VERY DIRTY. NEITHER OF THEM HAVE ANY PUBIC HAIR

YET, AND THEIR ACTIVITIES HAVE A SORT OF SQUALID AND YET PURE INNOCENCE ABOUT

THEM THAT CAN PERHAPS BE FOUND AMONGST THOSE THAT ARE BORN DAMNED. ACROSS THE

STREET WALKING FROM LEFT TO RIGHT FROM THE CORNER OF BRUSHFIELD STREET TOWARDS THE

BRITANNIA, MARIE GLANCES ACROSS THE STREET, TOWARDS THE CHILDREN IN THE FOREGROUND,

HER EXPRESSION ONE OF BLAND DISINTEREST. THE CHILDREN TAKE NO NOTICE OF MARIE

WHATSOEVER.

I never discussed the illustration of any of this with Alan. It was demanding

all my mental strength just to hang on in there, like a passenger in a loop-the-looping two-

seater biplane with no safety belt. But I was certain he harboured resentment toward me

for just leaving out all that rich detail. My whole way of thinking about pictures and about

old London couldn’t accommodate it. Anyway, two years later, in Chapter 6, he managed

to get it all back in there, putting it in the dialogue where I couldn’t play fast and loose with

any of it: ( The following 6 panels are not all consecutive, with a break after 4)

10

Part 1: Stages

Alan Moore’s big scripts were already famous late in 1988 when I got the

call. Watchmen had been a continuous celebration for two years by that time. But Alan had

fallen out with the publisher, DC Comics, and was determined to reinvent his career in

a way that did not involve corporate manipulations. His first moves consisted of, on the

one hand, self-publishing Big Numbers with Bill Sienkiewicz as illustrator, and on the other

he lined up a second book to be serialized in Taboo, the new horror anthology published

by fellow discontent Steve Bissette. This was to be a complex retelling of the story of the

Whitechapel murders of 1888. Alan and Steve set their minds to choosing an artist for

the job. Like Alan, I had already appeared in the first issue of Taboo (Nov 1988) with a

short story, The Pyjama Girl. I had also worked with Alan once before when I illustrated

Globetrotting for Agoraphobics ( in Knockabout, 1985). But my work was otherwise about the

contemporary and the quotidian. Horror was not my thing and I must have seemed an

odd choice to illustrate the doings of the most infamous serial killer in history, Jack the

Ripper. The rationale, as Steve explained, was that “It was essential that the artist not

be seduced by the violence inherent in the tale...”

11

Introduction

And so it was off and running. FROM HELL appeared in Taboo for six issues

of that publication, and then was assembled and completed in ten volumes of its own title

between 1991 and August 1996, published by Tundra and then Kitchen Sink Press. An

eleventh volume, The Dance of the Gull Catchers, being an appendix, was added two years

later in September 1998. The complete work was first published all in one book, under

my own Eddie Campbell Comics imprint (all of our previous publishers having by then

gone out of business), in the last month of the old millennium, December 1999. It has

been continuously in print since then in about twenty languages, still increasing as I write

this. When I say continuously, I’m ignoring a one-year hiatus after the printer of our US

edition went bankrupt. Considering the collapses of publishers, distributors and a printer,

one has to marvel that the complete book got published at all.

The scripts, on the other hand, were never meant for publication, but

those for the prologue and first three chapters appeared in a limited hardcover in

1994, titled From Hell: The Compleat Scripts Volume 1. In “an entertaining arabesque

of an introduction” Alan wrote that the scripts “were written in the main without

regard for necessities of literary style, intended only for the eyes of my esteemed

collaborator... I still have no idea why anyone would find a mass of long-

winded and often repetitious stage directions edifying.” Rich Kreiner, in his

lengthy and excellent review in The Comics Journal, wrote: “The From Hell scripts present

the intent of one talent untroubled by practicalities and wholly unmediated by

a second talent. Moore routinely invokes sensations outside the ability of his

medium, let alone of any co-conspirator. It’s not simply the red scarf, or the

brown tweed of the royal henchman, in a black and white comic. It’s not just the

case of impossibly expansive panoramas, equally impossible manipulations

of lighting, or the crushing burden of enriching details. The sensibility that

animates this book, this series of instructions, is an incessant and irrepressible

evocation of the full range of human faculties. There’s an inextinguishable,

headlong precision, an unapologetic pan-sensual pungency utilized to establish

mood, action, and motivation.” (TCJ 173, Dec. 1994)

I lived with the FROM HELL scripts for ten years between December 1988,

when I received the pages for the prologue plus Chapter 1, and 1998, when I drew the

final panel in the Gull Catchers. These scripts are rich with incident and information that

didn’t always, or couldn’t, find its way onto the printed page, and also with the revealing

give-and-take between writer and artist that can be of interest to anyone hoping to get into

this lunatic way of making a living. Some very fine writing is buried in these scripts, and

nobody has ever read it except me. I have selected what I find to be the most memorable

pages, ninety out of a possible five hundred and one, and I present them here in narrative

order, with commentary and some related illustrations. My hope is that they will create a

different story, or at least a variation on the known one, happening at a subterranean level

of the narrative field.

12

Part 1: Stages

Regarding the use of capital letters throughout the panel descriptions, note

that the captions and dialogue in comic books were once exclusively lettered in capitals.

Therefore, in a script, the text to be lettered would instantly stand out from the descriptions

in sentence case, which were not to be lettered and were exclusively directed to the

illustrator. When comics such as our present subject started using sentence case on the

printed pages, Alan simply reversed the process and typed all his descriptions in capitals.

I have no idea whether he is the only writer who has done so. I have followed his custom

in the transcriptions. The word counts at the top of each selection are my own addition, a

statistic that is likely to be of some interest. I’ve given the count for each entire page, even

when I don’t transcribe all of it. One other thing worth mentioning is that in the ten years

we worked on the book, Alan rarely wrote a letter or memo to me that wasn’t contained

in the text of the script, therefore the extensive quotations from him that I’ve employed as

commentary and opinion are otherwise taken from published interviews.

The script pile is six inches deep but incomplete. Two chapters are no

longer in my possession, and are not represented. However, that won’t hamper the story

I want to tell; there’s plenty of other stuff in these

pages, including excerpts from Alan’s notebooks

(e.g.. the charming panel at left), in which we see his

initial composition of the work in a visual shorthand.

I didn’t know these “thumbnail sketches” existed

until Gary Spencer Millidge featured examples of them in his recent book, Alan Moore,

Storyteller (2011 Ilex Press). These tiny layouts were Alan’s first stage of organising

his material before proceeding to the

typescript. Gary used about one sixth of the

FROM HELL stuff that he scanned, and

he kindly sent it all to me on a disc. I have

sketches for four of the chapters and the

appendix. I also have a typed synopsis of

the second half of FROM HELL, a curious

document which I’ll explain in its place, which

has a few remarkable alternative scenes in it.

To complete the package I have included two

sections of colour images with some photos,

covers and new, specially produced paintings.

The material will throw up other novelties and

surprises as we go along.

Eddie Campbell, Australia, May 2012.

.. .seen at right in the inked sketch for the painted

cover of a Bacchus comic shown on page 180.

13

Part 1

I find that my selections

have tended to fall around

themes, and into eight parts.

In the first, which started with

the introduction and runs to

page 57, the theme is

Stages.

Then and later, sketch, plan,

evolution, revision.

Contents

The contents as Alan had them worked out in mid-1992, around the

time of Chapter 5, deducing from the neighbouring material in the notebook

from which this came. Four chapters (6,7,8,10 above) don’t yet have their final

titles, but the great debunking that is The Dance of the Gull Catchers is already

in place. Dramatic accounts of the Ripper story usually manoeuvre the Kelly

murder into the climactic moment, as indeed was the case with the movie

adaptation of FROM HELL. Alan is avoiding that position but later moves even

further from the formula. The numbering above is of the ‘sixteen installments’

as declared on the first page of the prologue, rather than the chapters (i.e. 14

chapters plus prologue and epilogue), but essentially Druitt’s story is between

the second and third murders but will later be moved to after the final, the fifth,

displacing Marie Kelly’s demise to earlier, in the third quarter of the book.

Overleaf, we see Alan looking back at the shape of the book from five years

after the above, with the epilogue done but The Gull Catchers still a year away.

15

Extract from a 1997 interview with Alan Moore,

shortly after the completion of FROM HELL, in conversation (by fax) with Dave Sim,

from the back pages of Cerebus #217

With FROM HELL , the seed idea was that of murder, any

murder. It had occurred to me that murder is a human

event at the absolute extreme of the human experience. It

struck me that an in-depth exploration of the dynamics

of a murder might therefore yield a more extreme and

unprecedented kind of information. All that needed to be

decided upon was which murder. Perhaps predictably, I

never even considered the Whitechapel murders initially,

simply because I figured they were worn out, drained of

any real vitality or meaning by the century of investigation

and publicity attached to them. I started out by trawling for

more obscure and unusual homicides like the case of Dr Buck Ruxton, for example (a kind

of 1930s Lord Lucan figure who killed his wife and nanny but never managed to pull off the

necessary subsequent disappearance).

It was only towards the end of 1988, with so much Ripper material

surrounding me in the media on account of it being the centenary of the murders, that I

began to understand that, firstly, there were still ways to approach the Whitechapel murders

that might expose previously unexplored seams of meaning, and secondly that the Ripper

story had all the elements that I was looking for. Set during fascinating and explosive times

in a city rich with legend, history and association, the case touched peripherally upon so

many interesting people and institutions that it provided the precise kind of narrative

landscape that I required. You see, to some extent the peripheries of murder… the myth,

rumour and folklore attached to a given case… had always seemed more potentially fruitful

and rewarding than a redundant study of the hard forensic facts at a murder’s hub. This

traditional approach to murder might tell us Whodunit (which is admittedly the most

immediate of practical considerations), but it does not tell us what happened on any but the

most obvious and mechanical level. To find out anything truly significant, we must take the

plunge into myth and meaning, and to me a case with the rich mythopoeic backwaters of the

Whitechapel murders suddenly seemed like the perfect spot to go fishing.

Having defined the purpose and the territory to my satisfaction, I then

undertook my preliminary reading of the ground site. By this, I mean that I visited and explored

the territory of the murders personally, and also that I explored the landscape of the murders in

terms of the literature surrounding the event. By this, I mean that I made a very broad reading

and mapping, as if from a considerable distance from the event itself.

This initial mapping gave me a glimpse of the whole territory in its entirety, if

not in detail. I could see what features of the narrative landscape seemed the most significant

and promising, even if I couldn’t provide a precise soil analysis at that point to say exactly

why they seemed promising. The mathematical theories of C. Howard Hinton, son of Gull’s

friend James Hinton, seemed promising. The Iain Sinclair-inspired reading of London as

16

Part 1: Stages

a mythic and historical constellation seemed promising. The Masonic theories of the late

Stephen Knight, whether true or not, seemed to open up fascinating territories of lore and

tradition. The Masonic notion of the Universe, of space-time, as a rough and solid block

hewn out by the Great Architect, with the job of finishing the work left to the Great Architect’s

mortal servants, the Dionysiac Artificers and Freemasons, well that seemed to fit in with

everything else. Hitler’s conception in 1888 seemed highly resonant. The matricentric/

patriarchal notions of myth and history came from the intuitive reading of the “London

Pentacle” as described in chapter four, filtered through the intuitions of Robert Graves.

Basically, what I’m saying is that, yes, I did have the broad shape of the

whole thing in my head, with many of the details already there, before I started. By chapter

two, for example, I already had the Monster-Ripper-Halifax Slasher-Moors Murderers-Peter

Sutcliffe arc of murder that we see in the last chapter firmly in my head. I did not, however,

find out about Ian Brady’s childhood vision of the floating head until later. I knew that I’d

later be alluding to Brady when I had Gull ponder aloud the familiarity of the name Brady

Street during the first murder, but I was not then aware that Brady’s partner Myra Hindley

would have her own name commemorated by the sacking manufacturer’s premises outside

which the third murder occurred. I knew that the last line of the whole book would be

Robert Lees’s “I think there’s going to be another war,” but I didn’t decide to use the Von

Stuck painting of the Wild Hunt, painted with Adolf Hitler’s adult face superimposed upon

the god Odin in 1889, the year of Hitler’s birth, until about a month before the last issue

went to press. I knew that Netley would be dying before the book concluded and that the

obelisks were somehow important to the symbology of the book, but I hadn’t at this point

found all that marvelous shit about Netley’s coach colliding with an obelisk and spilling

his brains on the cobbles.

The thing is, if that first high-altitude mapping is perceptive and accurate

enough, whatever tiny surface details are unearthed upon closer inspection are bound to fit

right into it somewhere. That’s how I work, anyway.

As regards my self-deprecating tone during the appendices, it wasn’t

modesty so much as a gruff attempt at apology for having done such a fucking sloppy and

unprofessional job. I mean, “I think I read this in some book somewhere but I can’t for the

life of me remember which one and I can’t be bothered to look

for it” is hardly the high standard of investigative reportage

that FROM HELL is often touted as being, is it? And the fact

that something hasn’t been done in comics before is really no

excuse for doing a sloppy job. There’s nothing at all wrong

with bushels. Sometimes one needs something to hide under.

Then again, you’re probably right and I’m probably being

too hard on myself. At least I didn’t forget to draw the main

character’s head.

We’ll return to the business about the head in its proper place,

but for now we go back to the beginning, to page one.

17

Prologue, page 1

At the beginning of FROM HELL,

the scripts would arrive a chapter at a time in a

formidable bundle; one of them even came bound

at the side. A pile of reference materials, including

photos and books, would accompany them. This

2000-word opener, mostly describing the intimate

details of a rotting seagull, plunged me head first

into the horrors of FROM HELL. While I can

imagine a film opening exactly as Alan describes

this scene, complete with an eerie buzzing noise,

I found that the vertical frame of our panels was

not conducive to it, so I amalgamated the three

opening panels into one emblematic banner.

There exist two slightly different versions

of the prologue. In one, Robert Lees is without a

hat, as he is in the script, but on thinking about

it, I convinced myself that an Englishman

wouldn’t have been out without a hat in

September in the 1920s.

PAGE 1. (2073 words) PANEL 1.

OKAY... LET’S GET OUT THERE AND WIN ONE FOR THE RIPPER! (ACTUALLY, THAT’S ROBERT

BLOCH’S JOKE, BUT I THOUGHT I’D STICK IT IN ANYWAY.)

THIS FIRST PAGE HAS NINE EVENLY SPACED PANELS, ALL TAKEN FROM A FIXED POINT OF VIEW.

YEAR IS 1923, AND WE ARE IN BOURNEMOUTH, DOWN ON THE BEACH QUITE CLOSE TO THE TIDE-

LINE. THE MONTH IS SEPTEMBER; A LEADEN AND OVERCAST DAY WITH A BLIND WHITE SKY AND

GREY TIDES SULKILY COMING IN TO THE DAMP SAND OF A PALE GREY BEACH. THE TIME IS LATE

AFTERNOON OR EARLY EVENING, AND IF WE COULD SEE THE SUN IT WOULD BE GOING DOWN. AS

IT IS, THE SUN SINKS UNSEEN AND WITHOUT SPECTACLE BEHIND THE SMOTHERING, FEATURELESS

DUVET OF CLOUD. ITS ONLY VISIBLE EFFECT IS THAT THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE EIGHT-PAGE

EPISODE, THE LIGHT GRADUALLY WORSENS THROUGH DUSK TO THE BEGINNINGS OF DARKNESS. WE

ARE LOOKING DOWN THE BEACH, LOOKING ALONG THE EDGE OF THE TIDE FROM A GROUND-LEVEL

VIEWPOINT. TO THE RIGHT OF THE PICTURE, STRETCHING AWAY TOWARDS THE DISTANCE, WE SEE

THE GREY-BLACK WAVES WASHING SLUGGISHLY IN WITH THEIR SKIRTS OF GRUBBY WHITE FOAM.

TO THE LEFT WE HAVE A SMOKY IMPRESSION OF THE GRANITE SEA WALL AND THE BUILDINGS OF

THE BOURNEMOUTH SEA FRONT RISING UP STOLIDLY BEHIND IT. THIS TOO STRETCHES AWAY INTO

THE DISTANCE, MEETING WITH THE LINE OF THE SEA’S EDGE AT THE VANISHING POINT, WITH

A RAGGED RIBBON OF GREY SAND AND OCCASIONAL TUFTS OF MARAM GRASS LYING BETWEEN THE

TWO. (I’M GUESSING HERE, EDDIE, SINCE I HAVEN’T YET TRACKED DOWN ANY REFERENCES FOR

BOURNEMOUTH DURING THAT PERIOD. WHEN WE FINALLY DO LOCATE REFERENCE WE’LL JUST HAVE

18

Part 1: Stages

TO ADAPT THESE DESCRIPTIONS AS BEST WE CAN TO FIT THE FACTS. THE BEACH IS DESERTED,

AND IF THERE ARE ANY PEOPLE STROLLING ON THE SEA FRONT THEY ARE MUCH TOO FAR AWAY

TO SEE AS MORE THAN INDISTINCT DOTS. IN THE VERY FOREGROUND OF THE SHOT HERE, RIGHT

UNDER OUR NOSES AS IT WERE, THERE LIES THE INERT BODY OF A DECOMPOSING SEA GULL. IT

LIES THERE WITH THE REMAINS OF ONE WING STICKING UP SCRAGGILY: A FEW RIBS ALREADY

JUTTING THROUGH THE SOILED WHITE DOWN OF ITS BREAST. ITS CHIPPED BEAK HANGS OPEN

STIFFLY, STUPIDLY. ITS STARING EYE IS A TINY WHITE BLOB OF MUCOUS THAT HAS BECOME

CLOUDY AND OPAQUE, REFLECTING ONLY BLIND WHITE CLOUDS. A NUMBER OF SAND-FLIES ARE

HOPPING AND PICKING OVER THE CORPSE... LITTLE BLACK DOTS WITH LEGS THAT YOU SEE

HOPPING AROUND NEAR THE WATER’S EDGE AND AT FIRST MISTAKE FOR SOME OPTICAL DISORDER.

SINCE WE HAVE THIS ROTTING BIRD RIGHT UNDER OUR NOSES FOR NINE PANELS, MAKING IT

PRETTY LARGE AND RIGHT UP CLOSE IN THE FOREGROUND, MAYBE WE CAN ACTUALLY SHOW THE

IDIOSYNCRASIES OF INSECT FEEDING HABITS GOING ON: AN INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE BALLET

GOING ON WHILE THE REAL ACTION GRADUALLY ENCROACHES FROM THE BACKGROUND. ALL I

MEAN BY THIS IS MAYBE WE HAVE ONE FLY UP ON THE HEAD WHO REMAINS ALMOST MOTIONLESS

THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE SEQUENCE. ANOTHER HOPS ABOUT ALL OVER THE PLACE, LOOKING

FOR THE RIGHT DINING AMBIENCE. A THIRD TURNS UP HALFWAY THROUGH AND PRESUMPTUOUSLY

STARTS TO TUCK IN RIGHT NEXT TO THE SECOND, WHO TAKES UMBRAGE AND FLIES OFF... JUST

BLACK DOTS MOVING AROUND, TO GIVE THE UNPLEASANT IMPRESSION OF TEEMING BUGS AS

NATURALISTICALLY AS POSSIBLE, WITHOUT OVERDOING IT. WHILE THIS IS GOING ON IN THE

FOREGROUND, WE GRADUALLY BECOME AWARE OF TWO FIGURES APPROACHING ALONG THE BEACH

FROM THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWING THE LINE OF THE TIDE AS THEY WALK SLOWLY TOWARDS US.

HERE, THEY ARE TINY LITTLE BLACK DOTS, NO BIGGER THAN THE FLIES THAT WE SEE FEEDING

IN THE FOREGROUND. THE TITLE LETTERING, EITHER IN BLACK ON WHITE OR REVERSED, AS

APPROPRIATE, IS SUPERIMPOSED SOMEWHERE IN THE CENTRE OF THIS FIRST PANEL AS IF IT

WERE THE OPENING TITLE OF A FILM. THE LETTERING IS THAT UPON THE HEADING OF THE NOTE

RECEIVED BY THE WHITECHAPEL POLICE IN OCTOBER OF 1888: STARK, SIMPLE AND SCRUFFY; A

COUPLE OF TINY SPATTERED INK BLOTS TO THE RIGHT OF THE ‘F’ AND JUST ABOVE THE ‘r’ IN

‘From’.

OKAY, SO THAT’S THE SET-UP FOR THIS FIRST PAGE. BEFORE WE CARRY ON THOUGH I SHOULD

JUST REITERATE WHAT I WAS SAYING OVER THE PHONE ABOUT HOW I WORK; NONE OF THIS

RAMBLING JUNK IS SACRED. IF THERE’S STUFF THAT DOESN’T WORK VISUALLY OR THAT YOU

THINK WOULD WORK BETTER ANOTHER WAY THEN JUST GO AHEAD AND DO IT. I ONLY PUT ALL

THIS LABORIOUS DETAIL IN SO THAT YOU’LL HAVE AN IDEA OF THE EFFECT THAT I’M AFTER.

IF YOU HAVE A BETTER WAY OR A MORE PRACTICAL WAY TO ACHIEVE IT, THEN THAT’S FINE BY

ME. FOR FUCK’S SAKE DON’T BE INTIMIDATED BY IT, AND PLEASE SLING IN ALL THE IDEAS

AND SUGGESTIONS THAT YOU WANT. I WANT YOU TO HAVE AS MUCH FUN ON THIS AS I’M HAVING,

SO JUST KICK OFF YOUR SHOES, LOOSEN YOUR BELT AND RELAX. JUST DON’T FALL ASLEEP.

LOGO:

From Hell

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT EXACTLY, EXCEPT THE FLIES HAVE MAYBE MOVED AROUND A BIT AND THE WAVES

ARE EITHER CRASHING IN OR RATTLING BACK ACROSS THE SHINGLE... WHICHEVER THEY

WEREN’T DOING LAST PANEL, BASICALLY. THE TWO BLACK DOTS OF THE MEN APPROACHING DOWN

19

Prologue, page 1

THE BEACH ARE LARGER HERE, THOUGH NOT BY VERY MUCH. THE SUB-LOGO AND CREDITS ARE

SUPERIMPOSED ACROSS THE MIDDLE OF THE PANEL AGAIN, THIS TIME PROBABLY IN AN ELEGANT

AND ANTIQUATED-LOOKING TYPEFACE.

CREDITS:

Being a melodrama in sixteen installments

by ALAN MOORE AND EDDIE CAMPBELL

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT, THE TIDES AND THE FLIES HAVING MOVED ACCORDINGLY. THE FIGURES, AGAIN, ARE

A LITTLE CLOSER HERE, ALTHOUGH STILL VERY SMALL. ONCE MORE, THE TITLE LETTERING IS

SUPERIMPOSED OVER THE PANEL’S CENTRE, PROBABLY IN THE SAME PSEUDO-VICTORIAN TYPEFACE

USED LAST PANEL.

TITLE:

Prologue: The old men on the shore.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT. WE CAN NOW SEE THAT THE FIGURES ARE THOSE OF TWO MEN, BOTH WEARING

LONG COATS AND MUFFLED AGAINST THE COLD. ONE OF THEM IS QUITE SLENDER AND DELICATE

LOOKING, A MAN OF AROUND FIFTY YEARS OLD. HE WEARS A SCARF, TOPCOAT AND GLOVES,

BUT IS BAREHEADED SAVE FOR HIS FULL AND NEATLY GROOMED HEAD OF GREY HAIR, HIS

GREYING MOUSTACHE AND BEARD. HE IS THE MORE GENTEEL-LOOKING AND SLIGHTLY THE BETTER

DRESSED OF THE TWO MEN, BUT FROM HIS ATTITUDE HE SEEMS TO BE ATTENTIVE AND FUSSING

IN REGARD TO THE OLDER MAN WHO WALKS BESIDE HIM, AS IF CONCERNED THAT THE OLD MAN

SHOULD OVER-EXERT HIMSELF OR SOMETHING. I JUST MEAN THAT’S THE OVERALL IMPRESSION

HE GIVES OFF WHEN WE SEE HIM WITH THE OLDER MAN: RESPECTFUL AND SOLICITOUS, ALBEIT

OCCASIONALLY PRONE TO IMPATIENCE WHEN GOADED BY THE OLDER MAN’S CANTANKEROUSNESS.

HERE THEY JUST WALK SIDE BY SIDE, HANDS DEEP IN THEIR GREATCOAT POCKETS. THE YOUNGER

MAN IS CALLED ROBERT LEES. HIS ASSOCIATE IS FREDERICK ABBERLINE. ABBERLINE IS THE

OLDER OF THE TWO MEN, AND THE MORE NOTICEABLY FROM YEOMAN STOCK THAN THE RATHER

EFFETE LEES. HE IS PUSHING SEVENTY, ALTHOUGH HE STILL LOOKS A FAIRLY SOLID FIGURE, IF

SLIGHTLY INCLINED TO PORTLINESS IN THESE, HIS LATER YEARS. I DON’T HAVE

A PHOTO REFERENCE OF FRED ABBERLINE YET, BUT I’M GUESSING THAT HE’S THE FAIRLY STOCKY

FIGURE DESCRIBED ABOVE, WITH A MOUSEY MOUSTACHE AND MUTTONCHOP SIDEWHISKERS. HIS

HAIR, THOUGH RECEDING, SEEMS TO HAVE KEPT AT LEAST SOME OF ITS COLOUR. AS WE SEE HIM

HERE HE IS WEARING A DERBY HAT AND CARRYING A GENTLEMAN’S WALKING CANE. HE MOVES

MORE STIFFLY THAN LEES, AND IT IS HIS DIFFICULTY IN WALKING THAT ACCOUNTS FOR THE

PAIR’S SNAIL-PACED PROGRESS ALONG THE BEACH TOWARDS US HERE. WHEN ABBERLINE GETS

CLOSER, I FANCY THAT WE MIGHT SEE HIS NOSE AS BEING SLIGHTLY RED AND BULBOUS, THOUGH

NOT TO EXCESS. BY ALL ACCOUNTS HE DRANK A LOT, AND WALKING ROUND WHITECHAPEL IN

THE FOG SWIGGING RAW SPIRITS WOULDN’T DO ANYBODY’S NOSE A LOT OF GOOD, WOULD IT?

ANYWAY, WE CAN’T MAKE OUT ANY OF THIS DETAIL YET SINCE THE PAIR ARE STILL TOO FAR

AWAY. THE CAPTION GIVING THE PLACE AND DATE ARE SOMEWHERE UP TOWARDS THE TOP LEFT

OF THE PANEL. SINCE THERE WON’T BE MANY CAPTIONS AT ALL THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE BOOK

(JUST PLACE-AND-DATE CAPTIONS, LIKE HERE) THE CAPTIONS CAN EITHER BE LETTERED IN THE

VICTORIAN TYPEFACE MENTIONED ABOVE OR IN A MORE NORMAL AND PROSAIC FASHION.

I LEAVE IT ENTIRELY UP TO YOU. WHATEVER YOU THINK LOOKS BEST.

CAP:

Bournemouth. September, 1923

20

Part 1: Stages

PANEL 5.

THE TWO FIGURES CONTINUE TO GET CLOSER. THE FLIES CONTINUE TO FEED ON THE DEAD

SEAGULL AND THE WAVES CONTINUE TO LURCH AGAINST THE SHORE. ABBERLINE, WHO IS

PROBABLY THE FIGURE ON THE LEFT OF THE PAIR AS THEY WALK TOWARDS US, APPEARS TO BE

SAYING SOMETHING TO HIS COMPANION HERE: HE SPROUTS A SMALL WORD BALLOON, BUT THERE

ISN’T ANY REAL LETTERING IN IT... JUST A BUNCH OF TINY UNREADABLE SCRATCHES THAT

LOOK LIKE WORDS AND CONVEY THE IMPRESSION OF AN INAUDIBLE CONVERSATION.

ABBERLINE (V SMALL): ``````````````

PANEL 6.

THE FIGURES CONTINUE TO GET CLOSER, MORE AND MORE DETAIL BECOMING EVIDENT AS THEY

DO SO. HERE, THEY BOTH HAVE WORD BALLOONS. THE BALLOONS ARE STILL VERY SMALL, AND

THE WORDS IN THEM ARE LETTERED AS TINY AS POSSIBLE WHILE STILL REMAINING JUST-

ABOUT-LEGIBLE, TO GIVE THE EFFECT OF A CONVERSATION GRADUALLY BECOMING AUDIBLE AS

THE SPEAKERS GET CLOSER TO US.

ABBERLINE (v small): ...bloody shambles, this last six years.

LEES (V SMALL):

A shambles inflicted from WITHOUT. Foreign interference

hardly invalidates Capital’s premise.

PANEL 7.

THE FIGURES COME STILL CLOSER. FROM THEIR ATTITUDES NOW WE CAN SEE THAT THEY ARE

DEBATING. LEES LOOKS THE MORE AGITATED OF THE TWO, GESTICULATING AS HE ATTEMPTS TO

MAKE HIS POINT. ABBERLINE CONTINUES TO PLOD SLOWLY AND IMPLACABLY FORWARD, DIGGING

THE END OF HIS CANE INTO THE DAMP SAND AS HE DOES SO. HE NEEDS ALL HIS ENERGY

FOR WALKING AND CAN SPARE NONE OF IT FOR EXTRANEOUS HAND MOVEMENTS. THEIR WORD

BALLOONS HERE ARE BIGGER THAN LAST TIME, ALTHOUGH STILL NOT QUITE AS BIG AS THE

FULL-SIZED NORMAL LETTERING THAT WE WILL SEE IN OUR NEXT PANEL.

ABBERLINE (SMALL):

Oh, DO come on, Mr. Lees! Really! They’ve had nothing but

war,

poverty...

LEES (SMALL):

Despite which they have SURVIVED! Surely that confirms rather

than contradicts what Mr. Marx has said:

LEES (SMALL):

Socialism is INEVITABLE.

PANEL 8.

THEY ARE VERY CLOSE TO US NOW, FILLING THE WHOLE PANEL. ABBERLINE IS A FEW PACES

AHEAD OF LEES, AND THUS THE CLOSEST TO US HERE, WALKING ALONG SWINGING HIS STICK

AND THEN DIGGING IT DOWN IN THE SAND, SO THAT ITS POINT, WHEN VISIBLE, HAS A

CLINGING SHEATH OF DAMP SAND ADHERING TO THE LAST FEW INCHES OF ITS TIP, A FEW

GRAINS FALLING OFF HERE AND THERE. AS HE WALKS TOWARDS US HE DOESN’T LOOK ROUND AT

LEES. RATHER HE LOOKS DOWN AT THE DEAD GULL IN HIS PATH. A SLIGHT FROWN OF DISTASTE

WRINKLES HIS FEATHERS AS HE STARES AT THE DECAYING BIRD AND THE FLIES FEASTING

UPON IT. LEES, SLIGHTLY BEHIND ABBERLINE AS THE PAIR WALK TOWARDS US, DOES NOT

APPEAR TO HAVE NOTICED THE BIRD AND IS LOOKING AT THE BACK OF ABBERLINE’S TURNED

BACK. LEES’ EXPRESSION IS VERY EARNEST, HIS SAD EYES MORE OR LESS BEGGING ABBERLINE

TO SEE REASON AND ACCEPT HIS ARGUMENT. LEES HAS EYES LIKE A SPANIEL, AND LOOKS

21

Prologue page 1, page 8

SORRY FOR THE WHOLE WORLD, PARTICULARLY HIMSELF.

LEES:

Why, I myself am testament to its increasing influence. I

am undoubtedly a product of the middle classes, yet

none espouse socialism more volubly than I...

PANEL 9.

IN THIS LAST PANEL, ABBERLINE HAS MOVED SO CLOSE THAT WE CAN NO LONGER SEE HIS

UPPER BODY AT ALL. WE SEE HIM FROM AROUND ABOUT THE KNEE DOWN HERE. IN ANOTHER

STEP HE’LL BE OUT OF THE PANEL ENTIRELY. WITH THE END OF HIS WALKING CANE HE

SWATS THE DEAD GULL TO ONE SIDE SO THAT IT FLIES LIMPLY UP INTO THE AIR, SPINNING

BEAK OVER TAIL WITH A MINIATURE THUNDERHEAD OF BLACK FLIES BILLOWING UP FROM

IT IN SEARCH OF LESS HAZARDOUS PASTURES. LEES, STILL TRAILING A COUPLE OF STEPS

BEHIND THE OLDER MAN, IS STILL NOT LOOKING AT THE GULL. INSTEAD, HE DIRECTS HIS

GAZE TOWARD THE POINT OFF PANEL ABOVE WHERE ABBERLINE’S HEAD MUST BE. HE LOOKS

PUZZLED, IN A TROUBLED SORT OF WAY, AS HE GAZES AT THE BACK OF ABBERLINE’S OFF-

PANEL HEAD. ABBERLINE’S BALLOON ISSUES FROM OFF-PANEL ABOVE IN THE F/G.

ABBERLINE (OFF):

My point precisely, Mr. Lees.

ABBERLINE (OFF):

My Point precisely.

The house that Jack bought.

In my Alec: The

Years Have Pants,

there’s a sequence

drawn in 2000, in

which my wife and

I buy a house from

the proceeds of the

FROM HELL

movie. As a parallel,

I quoted the closing

panels of page 8 of

the original prologue.

However, I thought it

would be interesting

to redraw them to see

to what extent I might

improve on the then

12-year-old original.

It came out a little

tidier, but I don’t

think the new version

added anything. (old

version is shown in

the no-hat variant.)

22

Chapter 1, page 1.

In which the machinery of our story is

sparked into motion. This page is shown in two

states. Alan was still thinking cinematically, with

large blocked title lettering superimposed on the

opening scene (or “shot”). I thought it would be

more in keeping with the ambience of the work

to do it in the style of the title page of a book,

and had my pal Des Roden calligraph a series of

chapter-headings for the original appearances.

When I collected the work together in 1999,

Michael Evans, graphic designer, replaced those

with a typeset version. These are in a more funereal

white-on-black, with a suggestion of the title cards

of old silent movies.

Here I’m earnestly trying to get all the

information in. I “zoomed” in for the first panel’s

label details. Those pasted on xeroxes of period

sweets/candy designs helped to establish place

and time, giving me enough credit in the bank, I

hoped, so that I could concentrate on the people

for the rest of the page. Still, in ’99 when I looked

over the pages before publishing the collected

edition, I was unhappy with Eddy’s faces, and they

are all altered in the second version, with the whole

figure in the final panel being replaced. This is a

standard problem with the first appearances of

characters. Like real people, the artist can’t know

them fully until they’ve been around for a while.

Later he or she gets comfortable with them and

knows exactly how they look and move.

PAGE 1. (1758 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS ON THIS FIRST PAGE, PROBABLY WITH A BIG WIDE ONE AT THE

TOP OF THE PAGE HERE, SPANNING ITS FULL WIDTH. THE DATE, AS WE SHALL SEE, IS JULY

1884, AND THE PLACE IS CLEVELAND STREET, LONDON, ONE OF THE MORE FASHIONABLE AND

UP-MARKET AREAS OF THAT PERIOD, AS FAR AS THE METROPOLIS WENT. WE ARE INSIDE A

CONFECTIONERS-CUM-TOBACCONIST SITUATED AT NO. 22 CLEVELAND STREET, AND IN THIS

FIRST PANEL WE ARE LOOKING AT A LONG SHELF THAT NEATLY FILLS THE SPACE ALLOWED BY

THIS FIRST WIDE, HORIZONTAL PANEL, STRETCHING FROM ONE SIDE OF THE PAGE TO THE

23

Chapter 1, page 1

OTHER. UPON THE SHELF THERE ARE OLD-FASHIONED SWEET JARS CONTAINING OLD-FASHIONED

SWEETS: ANISEED BALLS, WINTER MIXTURE, MINT IMPERIALS, SUGARED ALMONDS, ACID DROPS,

BON BONS AND SO FORTH, ALONG WITH SOME EVIDENCE TO SHOW THAT THE SHOP IS ALSO A

TOBACCONIST’S. PERHAPS A BOX OF CIGARS, OR PARTITIONED TRAY OF DIFFERENT TOBACCOS.

MAYBE WE CAN SEE A HINT OF THE TOPS OF THE JARS ON THE SHELF BELOW THIS ONE HERE,

BUT ONLY IF THERE’S ROOM. OVER ON THE RIGHT OF THE WIDE PANEL, WE CAN SEE THE

ARMS OF A TWENTY-FIVE-YEAR-OLD SHOP-GIRL NAMED ANNIE CROOK, A STURDILY BUILT AND

TIDILY DRESSED YOUNG WOMAN, AS SHE REACHES UP FROM OFF PANEL BELOW TO TAKE A FEW

MORE PIECES OF BARLEY SUGAR FROM A JAR ON THE TOP SHELF. ONE OF HER HANDS MANAGES

TO HOLD THE JAR’S LID AND ALSO TO TILT THE OPEN JAR OVER TOWARDS HER. HER OTHER

HAND DIPS IN TO RETRIEVE A COUPLE OF SINGLE PIECES OF DEEP ORANGE BARLEY SUGAR.

WE CANNOT SEE ANY MORE OF HER THAN HER ARMS, ENTERING THE PICTURE FROM BELOW. THE

REST OF THE PANEL IS JUST TOBACCO AND DIFFERENT SORTS OF SWEETS: I WANT THIS TO BE

A PANEL THAT YOU CAN ALMOST SMELL, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. THE TITLE LETTERING IS

SUPERIMPOSED OVER THE LEFT OF THE PANEL SOMEWHERE, DOWN TOWARDS THE BOTTOM.

TITLE:

Chapter one.

The Affections of Young Mr. S.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE BEHIND THE COUNTER OF THE SHOP, WITH THE SHOP-GIRL, LOOKING OUT OVER

IT. ON THE SHOP’S COUNTER THERE IS AN OLD-FASHIONED WEIGHING SCALE OR BALANCE,

INTO ONE OF THE PANS OF WHICH WE SEE ANNIE CROOK DROPPING THE COUPLE OF PIECES

OF BARLEY SUGAR THAT SHE’S JUST TAKEN FROM THE JAR, AS IF TO MAKE UP THE WEIGHT.

WE CAN STILL SEE NO MORE OF HER THAN HER HANDS AND CUFFS, ENTERING FROM THE LEFT

OF THE FOREGROUND HERE. LOOKING OUT ACROSS THE COUNTER AND INTO THE SHADOWY

REMAINDER OF THE SHOP WE SEE TWO YOUNG MEN STANDING, WAITING FOR THE WOMAN TO

FINISH DELIVERING THE SWEETS THAT THEY ARE PURCHASING. ONE OF THESE, DRESSED IN A

MUSTARD COLOUR CHECK SUIT OF SOMEWHAT QUESTIONABLE TASTE AND LOUDNESS, IS YOUNG

WALTER SICKERT, AGED 24 YEARS OLD. THE OTHER YOUNG MAN IS MUCH MORE SOMBERLY AND

ELEGANTLY DRESSED IN A GENTLEMAN’S BLACK COAT, AND ALTHOUGH HE WILL BE INTRODUCED

TO US AS SICKERT’S YOUNG BROTHER ALBERT, HE IS IN FACT THE YOUNG DUKE OF CLARENCE,

PRINCE ALBERT VICTOR CHRISTIAN EDWARD... OR PRINCE EDDY FOR SHORT. AT THE TIME OF

THIS FIRST SCENE, IN 1884, HE IS ONLY TWENTY YEARS OLD. HE’S QUITE GOOD-LOOKING,

BUT THERE’S SOMETHING RATHER BOVINE ABOUT HIS EXPRESSION. HE ISN’T TERRIBLY

BRIGHT, KNOWS IT, AND FEELS WRETCHEDLY SELF-CONSCIOUS ABOUT IT. HE’S NAÏVE TO

THE POINT OF BEING INFANTILE, AND HAVING LED A RELATIVELY LOVELESS EXISTENCE IS

INCLINED TO FALL PASSIONATELY IN LOVE WITH ANYONE HE MEETS. COUPLED WITH THIS, HIS

INFANTILE NEEDS FOR GRATIFICATION MANIFEST THEMSELVES IN HIS SEX LIFE TO MAKE HIM

FAIRLY PROMISCUOUS... ALTHOUGH THAT’S SOMEWHAT TOO KNOWING A TERM TO CONVEY THE

CHILDISHNESS, ALMOST INNOCENCE, OF HIS EMOTIONAL AND SEXUAL EXPERIENCE. HE HAS

HAD SYPHILIS SINCE THE AGE OF SIXTEEN, ALTHOUGH THIS WILL NOT MANIFEST ITS WORSE

EFFECTS UNTIL LATE IN EDDY’S LIFE. AS HE STANDS WITH SICKERT HERE HE HOLDS A TOP

HAT NERVOUSLY AND AWKWARDLY BENEATH HIS ARM, AND IS STARING ALMOST SLACK-JAWED AT

THE OFF-PANEL WOMAN BEHIND THE COUNTER, FAR TOO GAUCHE TO CONCEAL HIS WIDE-EYED

INTEREST, OR EVEN TO BE AWARE THAT HE IS SHOWING IT. SICKERT, ON THE OTHER HAND,

24

Part 1: Stages

IS COMPARATIVELY EASY AND RELAXED, A CONFIDENT YOUNG BOHEMIAN ABOUT TOWN. HE HAS A

SMART DERBY HAT TUCKED JAUNTILY UNDER HIS ARM, OR IS HOLDING IT IN ONE HAND. HIS GAZE

IS DIRECTED AT THE LAST PIECES OF BARLEY SUGAR BEING DROPPED INTO THE SCALE, RATHER

THAN AT THE YOUNG WOMAN DOING THE DROPPING, AS IS THE CASE WITH HIS COMPANION. HE

SMILES FAINTLY, RELAXEDLY, UTTERLY AT EASE. THE SHOP HAS A LARGE FRONT WINDOW, AND

THE BRIGHT SUNSHINE FALLS IN FROM OUTSIDE IN SHAFTS, A SOLID-EDGED RHOMBOID OF WHITE-

GOLD LIGHT AGAINST THE MUSTY UMBER DARKNESS OF THE SWEETSHOP, WITH ITS JARS AND TRAYS

AND SELECTIONS OF BRIAR PIPES. FALLEN FROM THE OFF-PANEL WOMAN’S FINGERS, THE LAST

PIECE OF BARLEY SUGAR HANGS SUSPENDED AND MAGICALLY IN MIDAIR, CAUGHT FROZEN BETWEEN

HAND AND WEIGHING SCALE. THE CAPTION CAN BE AT THE TOP OR BOTTOM. UP TO YOU.

CAP:

LONDON, JULY 1884.

PANEL 3.

NOW A SIDE-ON SHOT, LOOKING DOWN THE LENGTH OF THE COUNTER TOWARDS THE SHOP’S FRONT

WINDOW, SO THAT WE CAN SEE ALL THE THREE PARTICIPANTS CLEARLY. ANNIE STANDS, FULLY

VISIBLE FOR THE FIRST TIME, BEHIND THE COUNTER, OVER TO THE LEFT OF PANEL HERE. SHE’S

POURING THE BARLEY SUGAR FROM THE PAN OF THE SCALES INTO A LITTLE TRIANGULAR BAG

MADE OF WHITE PAPER. THE BARLEY SUGAR LUMPS ARE SOMEWHAT MELTED AND STUCK TOGETHER,

ON ACCOUNT OF THE FEROCIOUS AND SWELTERING JULY HEAT. ANNIE IS A LARGE AND STURDILY

BUILT WOMAN WITH BROAD FEATURES. SHE ISN’T FAT, YOU UNDERSTAND, JUST BIG; ONLY A

LITTLE SHORTER THAN PRINCE EDDY. SHE ISN’T IMMEDIATELY PRETTY OR BEAUTIFUL, BUT HER

CHARACTER AND WARMTH ARE EVIDENT, AND DO MUCH TO COMPENSATE FOR THIS BY LENDING HER

A UNIQUE AIR OF ANIMATION AND CHARM. SHE SMILES QUIETLY AS SHE POURS THE BARLEY SUGAR

INTO THE WHITE PAPER BAG, EYES TWINKLY WITH FRIENDLY AMUSEMENT AS SHE SPEAKS DIRECTLY

TO SICKERT. PRINCE EDDY, IN THE BACKGROUND, HOLDS HIS TOP HAT WRETCHEDLY IN BOTH

HANDS AND STARES AT THE WOMAN BEHIND THE COUNTER WITH A MOONSTRUCK EXPRESSION THAT

BORDERS UPON THE IMBECILIC. SICKERT GRINS AT ANNIE AS HE SPEAKS TO HER. SHE’S MODELED

FOR HIM IN THE PAST, AND THE TWO ARE QUITE FRIENDLY AND RELAXED AROUND EACH OTHER.

ANNIE COMES FROM SCOTLAND ORIGINALLY, BY THE WAY.

ANNIE:

There. Two pennorth on the nail. I’d not want to jew

you now, would I?

ANNIE:

I’m sorry they’re all of a lump. It’s this weather.

SICKERT:

Nonsense, Annie. They look mouth-watering.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT EXACTLY. ALL OF THE SWEETS ARE NOW IN THE BAG, AND ANNIE IS PLACING THE BAG

(WITH A TWIST AT THE TOP CORNERS) ONTO THE COUNTER. SICKERT IS IN THE ACT OF TAKING A

COUPLE OF COPPER PENNIES FROM HIS COAT POCKET. BOTH ANNIE AND SICKERT SORT OF PAUSE

IN MID-MOVEMENT AND TURN THEIR HEADS TO LOOK SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US TOWARDS EDDY, WHO

STANDS FACING US IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND HERE, IN MORE OR LESS THE SAME POSI-

TION AS LAST PANEL. HE LOOKS DREADFULLY EMBARRASSED, AND, AS IS USUAL AT SUCH TIMES,

STARTS TO EVIDENCE A FAINT STAMMER, A MERE ECHO OF HIS FATHER’S FAR MORE SERIOUS

SPEECH DIFFICULTY. HE GAZES AT ANNIE WITH CHILDISH, AWESTRUCK ADORATION. YOU CAN SEE

HOW PEOPLE MIGHT BE TOUCHED BY THE NAKED SINCERITY OF A YOUNG MAN OF EDDY’S YEARS AND

25

Chapter 1, page 1

STATION. SICKERT AND ANNIE LOOK SURPRISED.

EDDY:

A-as do you...i-if I may say so.

EDDY:

That is, ah...

PANEL 5.

REVERSE ANGLE NOW, SO THAT EDDY FACES SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US, HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN

THE FOREGROUND AS HE GAZES TOWARDS SICKERT AND ANNIE IN THE CENTRE OF THE IMMEDIATE

BACKGROUND, STANDING TO EITHER SIDE OF THE SHOP’S COUNTER. EDDY LOOKS WRETCHEDLY

AGITATED AND ANXIOUS AND WORRIED IN THE WAKE OF HIS OUTBURST, FEARFUL THAT ANNIE HAS

TAKEN OFFENCE. ANNIE, STANDING BEHIND THE COUNTER, TURNS AND GAZES AT EDDY WHILE SHE

SPEAKS TO SICKERT. HER EYES ARE WIDE WITH SURPRISE, AND SHE HAS A FAINT SMILE THAT

IS SLIGHTLY MOCKING, BUT KINDLY. SICKERT, LAYING HIS TWO PENNIES DOWN ON THE

COUNTERTOP, TURNS ALSO TO LOOK AT EDDY, GRINNING BROADLY WITH AMUSEMENT AT THE YOUNG

CHAP’S OBVIOUS DISCOMFORT. WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE IS PICKING UP THE SMALL WHITE BAG

OF BARLEY SUGAR.

ANNIE:

Why, Mr.S. You do entertain the most IMPERTINENT companions.

EDDY:

I...please, I apologize. I only meant...

PANEL 6.

NOW BACK TO AN ANGLE SIMILAR TO THAT EMPLOYED IN THE PANELS THREE AND FOUR, WITH THE

COUNTER RUNNING AWAY FROM US, ANNIE ON ONE SIDE AND THE TWO GENTLEMEN ON THE OTHER.

TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND, ANNIE IS PLACING THE MONEY IN THE DRAWER OF AN OLD-FASHIONED

VICTORIAN TILL. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, AGAINST THE LIGHT OF THE SHOP WINDOW, SICKERT

HAS TAKEN A STEP ACROSS SO THAT HE’S BEHIND EDDY WITH HIS HANDS CLASPED FATHERLY UPON

EACH OF EDDY’S SHOULDERS FROM BEHIND AS HE STEERS THE RELUCTANT AND LOVE-STRUCK YOUNG

MAN TOWARDS THE COUNTER, IN ORDER TO PROPERLY INTRODUCE HIM TO ANNIE. ANNIE LOOKS AT

THE FRIGHTENED AND UNCOMFORTABLE-LOOKING EDDY WITH AMUSEMENT IN HER EYES. SHE THINKS

HE’S CUTE. EDDY SHUFFLES FORWARD UNDER SICKERT’S GENTLE PRESSURE FROM BEHIND, HIS TOP

HAT IN HIS HANDS.

SICKERT:

Oh, come on, old chap. She’s just having you on.

SICKERT:

Annie, this... this is my younger brother, ALBERT.

SICKERT:

Uh, Albert, this is Miss Annie Crook.

PANEL 7.

SIMILAR SHOT NOW. IN THE FOREGROUND, ANNIE SMILES AND REACHES ONE HAND ACROSS THE

COUNTERTOP TOWARDS EDDY, AS IF TO SHAKE HANDS. EDDY STARES DOWN STUPIDLY AT THE HAND

AS IF NOT SURE WHAT TO DO WITH IT, HIS OWN HAND RISING HESITANTLY TO MEET IT. IN

THE NEAR BACKGROUND, SICKERT IS IN THE ACT OF SETTING HIS DERBY ATOP HIS HEAD IN

PREPARATION FOR GOING OUTSIDE. PERHAPS HE’S CHECKING HIS REFLECTION IN A GLASS-

FRONTED CABINET OR SOMETHING WHILE HE DOES SO. IN ANY EVENT, HE IS NO LONGER LOOKING

TOWARDS US, OR TOWARDS EDDY AND ANNIE. ANNIE ALMOST LOOKS AS IF SHE’S GOING TO LAUGH

AT THE AWKWARDNESS OF THE HANDSOME YOUNG EDDY AS HE GAWPS AT HER OFFERED HAND.

ANNIE:

Oh, a YOUNG Mr. S, eh? I didn’t KNOW there was a young Mr. S.

ANNIE:

Well...

ANNIE:

Pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.

26

Chapter 1, page 2.

For this page, Alan Moore ruminates

on what London should look like in FROM

HELL. For my part I wanted it to be as matter-of-

fact as possible, both the whole of London and

the East End, as it would be to the people living

in it. It’s 40 years since I first went to London.

The Houses of Parliament were sooty black.

When I visited it again recently, it felt like the

same place, ignoring a few new landmarks and

everything being a lot cleaner. The Whitechapel

murders happened only 80 years before

my first visit, so even imagining a double

amount of change, I’m certain I could feel a

familiarity with the old place. In preparation

for drawing Cleveland Street my good friend,

Londoner Ed Hillyer, who was working with

me on Bacchus at the time, shot a reel of film

This shop

there, including the interior of what used to

on the corner

be the sweetshop (exterior photo on page 100).

of Cleveland

Looking at the prints I saw a street that could

Street made

not have been much changed in 100 years.

a useful

fixed point,

The thing I particularly wanted to

(panel 9)

avoid was drawing an environment that looked

stage-designed for mayhem, a problem addressed

in Jack the Ripper — A Legacy in Pictures, by Clive

Bloom. He noted, in reference to Jack the Ripper

films in general: “The East End is both a

geographical location and a location for filmic fantasy. It has to be recreated in

filmland as a set, so that it is airless, claustrophobic and without escape...

Jack finally strikes and the set constructed around his absence reveals the

reason for its construction.” Tim Burton’s Gotham City worked the same way (in

the same year I was drawing this — 1989), and something about that bothered me.

PAGE 2. (2084 words) PANEL 1.

A NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE MORE OR LESS LOOKING THROUGH

ANNIE’S EYES, SO THAT ALL WE SEE OF HER IS HER OUTSTRETCHED HAND, ENTERING INTO

THE PICTURE FROM OFF PANEL BELOW. WE ARE LOOKING AT EDDY AS HE TAKES HER HAND AND

BENDS OVER TO PLANT A GENTLE KISS UPON ITS BACK, HIS EYES UPTURNED TO GAZE AT US

27

Chapter 1, page 2

AND AT ANNIE. THERE IS A SADNESS AND VULNERABILITY IN HIS WIDELY SPACED EYES THAT

IS TOUCHING. IN THE BACKGROUND, SICKERT FINISHES ADJUSTING HIS DERBY AND GLANCES

OVER AT THE PAIR WITH A NON-COMMITTAL EXPRESSION, UNLESS YOU WANT TO LEAVE HIM

OUT ALTOGETHER AND JUST CONCENTRATE ON EDDY KISSING ANNIE’S HAND.

EDDY:

The...

EDDY:

The honour is all mine, dear Lady. I ...

EDDY:

I hope we may become better acquainted.

PANEL 2.

BACK TO A SHOT LOOKING DOWN THE COUNTER FROM THE END WITH ANNIE ON ONE SIDE AND EDDY

ON THE OTHER. HE IS STILL HOLDING HER HAND, ALTHOUGH THE HANDS ARE LOWERED NOW AND

HIS IS ABOUT TO RELEASE IT, HAVING STRAIGHTENED UP AFTER STOOPING TO KISS IT. HE

STARES DIRECTLY INTO ANNIE’S EYES. SHE STARES BACK INTO HIS EYES AND SHE IS NO

LONGER MOCKING OR AMUSED. HER EYES HAVE A WONDERING AND ALMOST STARTLED LOOK AS SHE

STARES INTO EDDY’S EYES. SEEMINGLY OBLIVIOUS TO WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE EMPTY SPACE

BETWEEN THEIR EYES, SICKERT CALLS OUT CHEERILY FROM THE NEAR BACKGROUND, GESTURING

WITH HIS THUMB TOWARDS THE FRONT DOOR OF THE SHOP THAT WE CAN SEE IN THE RIGHT OF

THE BACKGROUND BEHIND HIM. IT HAS A GLASS PANEL SET INTO ITS TOP HALF, THOUGH NOT A

TERRIBLY BIG ONE.

SICKERT:

Albert, I hate to be a bore, but Netley’s waiting outside.

SICKERT:

We really must dash, Annie. No doubt we’ll call again shortly.

SICKERT:

Come along, youngster!

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. ANNIE STANDS MOTIONLESS BEHIND THE COUNTER, LOOKING TOWARDS THE DOOR OF

THE SHOP. THE TWO MEN HAVE JUST GONE OUTSIDE. EDDY, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND HIM,

LOOKS BACK INTO THE SHOP THROUGH THE GLASS PANE SET INTO THE TOP HALF OF THE DOOR,

HIS LOVESTRUCK GAZE SERIOUS AND MEANINGFUL. ANNIE, UNCONSCIOUSLY, TOUCHES ONE HAND

TO HER BREAST AS SHE GAZES AFTER HIM. THE LITTLE BELL THAT’S RIGGED TO THE SHOP DOOR

TINKLES IN THE OTHERWISE DEAD SILENCE FOLLOWING THE GENTLEMEN’S DEPARTURE.

F.X.

Ti-ting

PANEL 4.

WE ARE NOW OUTSIDE THE SHOP. (FOR THE BASIC LOOK OF THE PLACE, SEE THE ENCLOSED

REFERENCE PHOTOGRAPH. I FIGURE THAT THE SIGN ABOVE THE WINDOW READS “MORGAN’S

TOBACCONIST & QUALITY CONFECTIONER.” THE SHOP HAS NEVER BEEN NAMED, TO MY KNOWLEDGE,

BUT THE PROPRIETRESS WAS A MRS. MORGAN, SO THE SIGN OUTSIDE SEEMS FEASIBLE.) THE

SHOP WAS AT NUMBER 22 CLEVELAND STREET, ONLY A LITTLE WAY DOWN FROM ONE OF THE

STREET’S ENDS. CLOSER TO THE END WAS NUMBER 6 CLEVELAND STREET, WHERE ANNIE THE

SHOP-GIRL LIVED IN A BASEMENT FLAT. WALTER SICKERT’S STUDIO WAS DIRECTLY OVER

THE ROAD FROM THE FLAT, AND THE SHOP AND THE FLAT WERE CLOSE ENOUGH TOGETHER FOR

ONE TO SEE BOTH OF THEM FROM THE WINDOW OF SICKERT’S STUDIO. I FIGURE THE HOUSES

WERE SMALLER AND THE STREETS WERE SHORTER THEN... EVERYTHING WAS MORE CRAMPED AND

ECCENTRIC LOOKING. I FIGURE THAT THE COACH THAT IS WAITING FOR SICKERT AND EDDY

OUTSIDE IS NOT ACTUALLY OUTSIDE THE SHOP SO MUCH AS A LITTLE WAY DOWN THE STREET,

28

Part 1: Stages

TOWARDS THE CORNER, FACING IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION FROM THE CORNER TOWARDS THE

OTHER END OF THE STREET. IN THIS PANEL HERE, WE HAVE THE BLINKERED HEAD OF ONE OF THE

COACH HORSES AS IT STANDS STEAMING IN THE SUNSHINE AT THE MERCY OF THE NUMEROUS FLIES

EVIDENT DURING THAT PARTICULARLY HOT SUMMER. WE ARE AT A SLIGHT ANGLE, SO THAT WE’RE

LOOKING UP THE STREET SOMEWHAT TOWARDS THE FRONT OF THE SWEETSHOP. WE SEE SICKERT

STROLLING ALONG THE PAVEMENT TOWARDS US, SMILING INDULGENTLY AS EDDY HURRIES TO CATCH

UP WITH HIM, SETTING HIS TOP HAT ON HIS HEAD AS HE DOES SO. HE IS GRINNING FOOLISHLY

AND EXCITEDLY, BABBLING LIKE A SCHOOLBOY AS HE HURRIES TO CATCH UP WITH SICKERT,

WHO IS WALKING TOWARDS THE COACH THAT IS WAITING OFF PANEL TO THE LEFT OF THE F/G,

BEHIND THE HORSE WHOSE HEAD WE CAN SEE. AS A GENERAL NOTE ABOUT THE STREETS, EVEN

THOUGH CLEVELAND STREET WAS IN ONE OF THE MOST FASHIONABLE AREAS OF TOWN, RUNNING

PARALLEL TO THE TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD, IT WOULD STILL HAVE LOOKED FAIRLY CRUMBLY AND

DIRTY. NOTHING NEAR AS BAD AS WHAT WE’LL LATER SEE IN WHITECHAPEL, OF COURSE, BUT AS

A GENERAL RULE OF THUMB, EVERYTHING WAS DIRTIER THEN; THE STREETS, THE BUILDINGS, THE

PEOPLE AND IN PARTICULAR THE SKIES. THERE WERE TONS OF FACTORIES IN LONDON BELCHING

OUT BLACK SMOKE DAY AND NIGHT, ACCOUNTING FOR THE “LONDON PARTICULAR” FOGS AND AT

LEAST PART OF THE ILL HEALTH SUFFERED BY THE AVERAGE INHABITANT. I’M NOT SURE WHAT

WE WANT EXACTLY HERE, REGARDING THE VISUAL TREATMENT OF LONDON. IT DOESN’T WANT TO

BE QUITE SO STYLISHLY SINISTER AS THE LONDON DAVID LYNCH PORTRAYED IN THE ELEPHANT

MAN, NOR YET SO HEART-TUGGINGLY SORDID AND MELODRAMATIC AS DORÉ’S ENGRAVINGS OF THE

PERIOD, BUT WE DEFINITELY WANT TO GIVE THE WORLD A FEEL THAT IS SUBTLY DIFFERENT TO

THE WORLD OF TODAY. MAYBE THIS IS SOMETHING MORE TO DO WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL AMBIENCE

THAN VISUAL TREATMENT, BUT IF YOU TRY TO CONSCIOUSLY THINK YOUR WAY INTO THE LONDON OF

1888 WHILE YOU’RE DRAWING THIS STUFF I THINK IT’LL HELP. EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN

MORE PERMANENT THEN, WOULDN’T IT, AND LESS SUSCEPTIBLE TO CHANGE. THE EIGHTIES WERE

AROUND THE TURNING POINT OF THE EMPIRE, AND I FIGURE THINGS WERE ALREADY STARTING TO

LOOK OLD, THEIR TEXTURES ABRADED BY THE RIGORS OF THE URBAN ENVIRONMENT AT ITS MOST

SQUALID. I FIGURE EVERYTHING WAS STARTING TO LOOK A BIT MELANCHOLY AND SAD, LIKE BEER

CANS AND DECORATIONS DO WHEN THE PARTY’S WINDING DOWN, WHEREAS THEY’D LOOKED SOMEHOW

FESTIVE A MOMENT BEFORE. ALBERT’S DEAD AND VICTORIA HAS TAKEN THE WHOLE EMPIRE INTO

HER OBSESSIVE MOURNING WITH HER. SOMEHOW IT SHOWS IN THE DEFEATED LANES, IN THE

LITTER, IN THE DIRTY LIGHT.

ANYWAY... HERE THE HORSE CHOMPS ITS BIT AND TOSSES ITS HEAD TO CLEAR THE FLIES IN THE

FOREGROUND WHILE SICKERT STRIDES TOWARDS US ALONG THE STREET FROM THE BACKGROUND WITH

THE MOONSTRUCK YOUNG PRINCE AT HIS HEELS LIKE A GREAT STUPID OVER-EAGER DOG.

EDDY:

I Say, Sickert! Isn’t she the most enchanting creature? Have

you known her long?

SICKERT:

Eddy, you’ve been too long in captivity and you’re

mooning after the first shop-girl you meet.

SICKERT:

What would your mother say?

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE. WE ARE NOW BEHIND SICKERT AND EDDY AS THEY PREPARE TO BOARD THE COACH.

THE COACH DOORS AND WINDOWS FILL MUCH OF THE BACKGROUND HERE AS IT STANDS BESIDE THE

29

Chapter 1, page 2.

CURB, WITH THE HORSES OFF PANEL SOMEWHERE ON THE LEFT. IN THE TOP LEFT CORNER WE CAN

SEE THE LOWER HALF OF THE COACHMAN AS HE SITS ATOP THE COACH, HOLDING THE REINS IN

HIS HAND. HE WEARS A LONG AND DIRTY COAT THAT HANGS DOWN OVER THE BOX SEAT HERE. EDDY

IS OPENING THE COACH DOOR AND PREPARING TO CLIMB INTO ITS INTERIOR. (THE OUTSIDE OF

THE COACH IS BLACK, BY THE WAY, BUT THERE IS NO ROYAL CREST ON THE SIDE.) AS HE DOES

SO HE PAUSES AND LOOKS WITH ALMOST COMICAL EARNESTNESS AT SICKERT, WHO LAUGHS AND

TURNS HIS HEAD TO SPEAK TO THE OFF-PANEL COACH DRIVER, WHOSE NAME IS JOHN NETLEY.

EDDY:

She rather RESEMBLES mother, doesn’t she?

SICKERT:

Oh, Eddy! What are we to do with you?

SICKERT:

Netley? Take us to Claridges. I intend to render this young

pup incapably drunk before he gets us ALL into trouble.

PANEL 6.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT WE’RE UP IN FRONT OF THE COACHMAN, AND HE SITS FACING US HEAD

AND SHOULDERS TO THE LEFT OF THE PANEL HERE. LOOKING DOWN BEYOND HIM WE CAN SEE

SICKERT LOOKING UP AT NETLEY AND LAUGHING GOOD-NATUREDLY AS HE HIMSELF PREPARES TO

CLIMB INTO THE COACH AFTER PRINCE EDDY. NETLEY DOESN’T LOOK ROUND AT SICKERT AS HE

SPEAKS TO HIM, BUT CONTINUES TO SURVEY THE OFF-PANEL ROAD AHEAD OF HIM WITH WARY

AND WATCHFUL EYES THAT ALWAYS SEEM TO BE LOOKING FOR THE MAIN CHANCE IN A CRAFTY

AND CALCULATED WAY. NETLEY IS TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OLD, AND 5´5˝ TALL. HE HAS A FAIR

COMPLEXION, DARK HAIR, A SMALL DARK MOUSTACHE... HARDLY MORE THAN A DIRTY GROWTH

ON HIS UPPER LIP REALLY, OF NO GREAT IMPORTANCE. IT MAKES HIM LOOK A BIT UNWASHED

AND SMELLY, WHICH OF COURSE HE IS. HE HAS A FULL, WIDE FACE WITH A WIDE MOUTH AND

QUITE THICK LIPS. HE’S A WOMANIZER AND A BIT OF A JACK-THE-LAD, AND THERE IS SOME-

THING CRUEL AND STUPID ABOUT THE GRIN THAT HE CUSTOMARILY WEARS SPREAD ACROSS HIS

WIDE MOUTH. HIS SHOULDERS ARE BROAD, AND HE HAS A BUILD LIKE A PIT-BULL. ATOP HIS

DIRTY, DARK HAIR HE WEARS A BLACK LEATHER PEAKED CAP. WE DON’T SEE NETLEY AGAIN FOR

A COUPLE MORE EPISODES, BUT I WANT TO FIX HIS FACE IN READERS’ MINDS SINCE HE PLAYS

QUITE A LARGE PART LATER. BEAR IN MIND WHEN GIVING HIM A FACE THAT THIS IS THE MAN

WHO WROTE THE ‘FROM HELL’ LETTER: HE’S A COCKY AND EGOTISTICAL LITTLE SOD WHO’S

RUTHLESSLY AMBITIOUS AND WANTS TO GET TO THE TOP BY THE SHORTEST ROUTE POSSIBLE.

NETLEY:

Ah, insobriety’s no proof against trouble, Mr.Sickert. I got

a cousin o’ mine in FEARFUL trouble, an’ she were as tiddly as

I

were!

SICKERT:

Ha ha ha.

SICKERT:

Carry on, Netley.

PANEL 7.

WE ARE NOW STANDING IN THE ROAD ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COACH FROM THE PAVEMENT SIDE

THAT SICKERT JUST ENTERED BY. NETLEY IS NOW VISIBLE SITTING TO THE TOP RIGHT CORNER

ATOP HIS BOX... OR RATHER, HIS LOWER HALF IS VISIBLE. PERHAPS WE CAN SEE THE WHIP IN

HIS HAND AS HE GATHERS UP THE REINS. LOOKING THROUGH THE CARRIAGE WINDOW WE CAN SEE

PRINCE EDDY LEANING FORWARDS EARNESTLY TO TALK TO SICKERT, WHO SITS OPPOSITE HIM.

SICKERT LAUGHS AND SHAKES HIS HEAD IN DISBELIEF AT HIS YOUNG CHARGE’S INFATUATION.

BEHIND THE COACH WE SEE THE FAÇADE OF THE HOUSES DOWN TOWARDS THE CORNER OF CLEVELAND

30

Part 1: Stages

STREET. (THE CORNER ITSELF IS JUST OFF PANEL LEFT IN THE BACKGROUND HERE, IF THAT

HELPS YOU GET YOUR BEARINGS.) THE HORSES ARE OFF PANEL RIGHT. NETLEY’S FACE IS NOT

VISIBLE HERE BUT HIS BALLOONS ISSUE INTO THE PANEL FROM ABOVE.

NETLEY(off):

GYAP! GYAP, ya bugger! YAA!

EDDY:

No, but seriously, Sickert... she DOES look like my mother,

doesn’t

she?

PANEL 8.

SAME SHOT. THE COACH IS NOW PULLING AWAY OUT OF THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL, SO THAT

ONLY HALF OF IT IS VISIBLE NOW. PERHAPS WE JUST CATCH A BLURRED GLIMPSE OF EDDY

THROUGH THE REAR SIDE WINDOW AS THE COACH PULLS AWAY OVER THE COBBLES, STILL TALKING

EARNESTLY TO HIS CHUM. AS THE COACH MOVES AWAY WE CAN OF COURSE SEE MORE OF THE

HOUSES BEHIND IT, WHICH WERE PREVIOUSLY OBSCURED BY IT. NETLEY’S BALLOONS TRAIL BACK

INTO THE PANEL FROM OFF-PIC RIGHT, WHILE EDDY’S ISSUE FROM THE COACH.

NETLEY (off):

YAA! YAAA!

EDDY (in coach):

She has mother’s eyes.

PANEL 9.

SAME SHOT. THE COACH HAS GONE AND WE CAN NOW SEE THE HOUSES THAT WERE BEHIND IT, DOWN

ON THE CORNER OF CLEVELAND STREET, STANDING FULLY REVEALED. IF YOU CAN MANAGE IT,

GIVEN THE LOGISTICS OF THE SHOT, WE CAN SEE THE CORNER OF CLEVELAND STREET, AT LEAST

TO THE POINT WHERE THE STREET SIGN IS VISIBLE BOLTED UP ON THE WALL, EVEN IF WE CAN’T

SEE THE ACTUAL CORNER ITSELF. THE SIGN HAS THE WORDS “CLEVELAND STREET” IN STARK

BLACK LETTERING. IF IT’S POSSIBLE, WE CAN ALSO SEE THE FRONT DOOR OF NUMBER 6, THREE

DOORS DOWN FROM THE CORNER, WITH STEPS LEADING DOWN FROM THE STREET LEVEL TO ITS

BASEMENT. IF YOU CAN’T GET BOTH THESE THINGS IN THEN JUST MAKE SURE THAT WE CAN SEE

THE “CLEVELAND STREET” SIGN AS THE COACH PULLS AWAY AND FORGET ABOUT THE SHOT OF

NUMBER 6 AND ITS BASEMENT. THE STREET SIGN IS THE MAIN THING, STRIKING AND SOMEHOW

OMINOUS AS IT HANGS THERE ON THE WALL, GIVING THE NAME OF THE PLACE WHERE ALL THAT

FOLLOWED WAS TO HAVE ITS ORIGINS.

No dialogue

Prince Eddy: I used to feel a twinge of guilt about some of our depictions of people who are

not around to defend their reputations. But lately I have come to the conclusion that the sheer daftness of

the accumulation of baloney cancels itself out. Quite apart from his connection to the Ripper murders, as

posited in 1970 by Thomas Stowell, who half-disguised him as ‘Mr. S’, Eddy has this in his account:

a pair of alternative history novels, written by Peter Dickinson, set in a world where Albert Victor survives and reigns as Victor I. In Gary Lovisi’s parallel universe Sherlock Holmes short story, “The

Adventure of the Missing Detective”, he is a tyrannical king, who rules after the suspicious deaths

of both his grandmother and father. The Prince also appears as the murder victim in the first of the Lord Francis Powerscourt crime novels Goodnight Sweet Prince, as a vampire in the novel I, Vampire by Michael Romkey, and as a murder suspect in the novel Death at Glamis Castle by Robin Paige. (I’m lifting this from his Wikipedia entry.) In 1964 Philip Magnus called his death a “merciful act of providence”, supporting the theory that his death removed an unsuitable heir to the throne, but the real relief in being 120 years dead is that he doesn’t have to know about any of this crap. Next up, we picture him with his pants off...

31

Chapter 1, page 3.

At the outset Alan had decided there

would be no captions in FROM HELL. All

would be shown and not told. Certainly it would

have been easier with captions. A simple matter

could be stated in its entirety in one sentence,

but in our book we would be taking the labour-

intensive path of showing everything. The sex

in this scene is forensic “evidence” that Prince

Eddy fathered a baby upon Annie Crook, the

shop-girl. Exhibit A: the penis. Exhibit B: the

vagina. Exhibit A can clearly be seen to enter

Exhibit B. Aside from that, it’s as funny as real

sex. The funniest part, in our house, is that

these people, who actually existed in 1888, just

happened to have the same names as my wife and

me. Some of the dialogue from this page was still

being mischievously replayed, by our children at our dinner table, many years after. “Oh

Eddy, I think your Mr. Perkins wants to go somewhere.”

This was one of the contents that put Taboo in disgrace. Issue #2 was printed but

several binders (usually a separate specialty operation in the print business) refused to bind

it. “I have a feeling we became a hot potato,” Bissette said, “…the word got around

about us, because some binders wouldn’t even look at the book. We were refused

by no less than nine.” (report, Comics Journal #131 Sept. 1989) Taboo #2 was released in Sept. 1989, ten months after the first issue. #3 appeared in March ’90, #4 in Feb ’91. I

took to describing Taboo as “a quarterly anthology that comes out once a year,” to Steve’s

eternal annoyance.

PAGE 3. (1,145 words) PANEL 1.

IT IS NOW A MONTH LATER DURING THE SAME YEAR. WE ARE INSIDE THE BASEMENT OF

NUMBER SIX CLEVELAND STREET, IN THE BEDROOM. IT IS LATE AFTERNOON, AND ONLY A FEW

LAST SHAFTS OF SUNLIGHT PENETRATE THE CHINK BETWEEN THE RAILINGS AT STREET LEVEL

OUTSIDE AND THE TOP OF THE BASEMENT WINDOW. THERE ARE JUST LITTLE RANDOM BLOBS OF

SHAFTLESS SUNLIGHT ON THE WALLS AND FLOOR HERE AND THERE, BUT FOR THE MOST PART

THE ROOM IS SLIGHTLY DIMLY LIT. WE CAN’T SEE ANY OF THE ROOM IN THIS FIRST PANEL

HOWEVER, SINCE WE OPEN WITH A TIGHT CLOSE-UP OF THE COUPLE ON THE BED. TO THE LEFT-

HAND SIDE OF THE BED, ANNIE LIES ON HER LEFT SIDE, FACING INWARD. WE CANNOT SEE

HER HEAD AND SHOULDERS HERE. NO MORE OF HER THAN HER TORSO REALLY. LYING ON HIS

BACK ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BED, WITH HIS HEAD TURNED TO FACE INWARDS, IS EDDY.

ANNIE LEANS UP ON ONE ELBOW SO AS TO LET HER BREAST TRAIL CLOSE TO EDDY’S FACE.

32

Part 1: Stages

ONE HAND ENTERS THE PICTURE FROM THE LEFT TO HOLD THE LEFT BREAST SO THAT EDDY CAN

GET IT INTO HIS MOUTH. EDDY SUCKS AT THE NIPPLE, WHICH IS WET WITH SALIVA. HIS EYES

ARE CLOSED. ONE OF HIS OWN HANDS ENTERS THE PICTURE AND RESTS GENTLY OVER ANNIE’S

AS SHE CUPS HER BREAST FOR HIM TO SUCK AT. ANNIE IS NAKED, WHILE EDDIE WEARS ONLY A

GENTLEMAN’S WHITE SINGLET WITH NOTHING ON HIS LOWER HALF.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE LOOKING DOWN ON THE BED FROM ROUGHLY ABOVE IT, SO THAT WE CAN SEE BOTH

EDDIE AND ANNIE MORE OR LESS FULL FIGURE AS THEY SPRAWL BENEATH US. LEANING UP

STILL, ANNIE PULLS BACK SLIGHTLY, WITHDRAWING HER BREAST FROM EDDY’S MOUTH, ALTHOUGH

BOTH HIS AND HER HANDS ARE STILL TOUCHING IT. SHE SMILES AS SHE LOOKS DOWN AT HIM.

HE GAZES UP AT HER ACROSS HER BREAST AS HE SPEAKS. HIS PENIS IS LOLLING AND HALF-

ERECT. HE LOOKS LOVE-STRUCK.

ANNIE:

Do you like my bubbies, Albert? See...they’re standing up for you.

EDDY:

They’re very beautiful.

EDDY:

YOU’RE very beautiful.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE ARE DOWN TOWARDS THE FOOT OF THE BED, LOOKING ALONG THE LENGTH OF EDDY’S BODY

AS ANNIE SITS UP IN BED BESIDE HIM. SHE GAZES SOFTLY DOWN AT HIS HARDENING COCK.

EDDY DIRECTS HIS SOFT DOE-EYED GAZE AT HER AS HE REACHES OUT TO LIGHTLY TOUCH HER

ELBOW, TAKING HOLD OF IT LIGHTLY IN HIS HAND. BOTH OF THEM HAVE QUIET EXPRESSIONS

HERE, AND THERE IS SOMETHING A LITTLE SAD IN EDDY’S DESPITE HIS BURGEONING TUMESCENCE.

ANNIE:

Ah, go on. It’s you’s the beauty, if you weren’t always

mopin’. Lookin’ after’s what you need.

EDDY:

No, that’s the TROUBLE. My FAMILY look after EVERYTHING, plan

my whole LIFE for me...

EDDY:

Put your hand on my pego.

PANEL 4.

A DIFFERENT ANGLE NOW, AS IF WE WERE ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE BED LOOKING ACROSS ITS LOWER

HALF AT ANNIE AS SHE KNEELS UP ON THE BED. ALL WE CAN SEE OF EDDY IS HIS LOWER HALF. HIS

SPEECH BALLOON ENTERS THE PANEL FROM OFF-PIC TO THE RIGHT HERE. LEANING UP ON ONE OF

HER HANDS, ANNIE TAKES HOLD OF EDDY’S COCK IN THE OTHER AND BEGINS TO MASTURBATE HIM.

SHE STARES DOWN AT THE HAND WORKING ON EDDY’S PENIS WITH A KIND OF DISTANT AND DETACHED

LOOK... APPARENTLY ABSORBED IN WHAT SHE IS DOING AND YET WITH HER MIND SOMEWHERE ELSE.

THE BASEMENT’S FRONT WINDOW IS BEHIND HER SOMEWHERE TO THE RIGHT OF PANEL HERE, WITH

THE BED RUNNING PARALLEL TO THE WALL AND WINDOW. IT DOESN’T NEED TO BE VISIBLE HERE, BUT

THAT’S WHERE WHAT LITTLE DAPPLING OF SUNLIGHT THERE IS, IS ISSUING FROM.

ANNIE:

Like this, now?

EDDY (OFF):

Oh yes. Yes. Frig me, will you?

ANNIE:

Mm. Your BROTHER doesn’t seem much bothered by your family.

PANEL 5.

NOW WE PAN UP THE BED SO THAT WE CAN ONLY SEE EDDY’S TOP HALF AND PERHAPS A LITTLE

33

Chapter 1, page 3

OF ANNIE’S BACK AS SHE KNEELS UP HALFWAY DOWN THE BED, HER FACE OFF PANEL HERE AS

SHE CONTINUES TO JERK EDDY OFF, ALSO OFF PANEL IN THIS INSTANCE. EDDY TURNS HIS FACE

TOWARDS US, EYES CLOSED AND MOUTH OPEN IN A GASP OF PLEASURE. EDDY IS LYING SO THAT

LOOKING BEYOND HIM WE CAN SEE THE BASEMENT WINDOW HERE. IT LOOKS OUT ONTO BRICKWORK

WITH A LITTLE RIBBON OF RAILINGS AND SKY VISIBLE AT THE TOP.

EDDY:

You...you don’t understand. It isn’t the same for him. He isn’t...

EDDY:

Oh. Oh, Annie...

PANEL 6.

NOW WE’RE AT THE FOOT OF THE BED AGAIN. TURNING HER BACK TOWARDS US AND THUS

FACING EDDY AS HE LIES THERE ON HIS BACK, ANNIE SWINGS ONE LEG OVER EDDY TO KNEEL

STRADDLING HIS HIPS. LOWERING HERSELF, SHE REACHES DOWN BETWEEN HER LEGS TO TAKE

HOLD OF THE HEAD OF HIS PENIS, GUIDING IT UP BETWEEN THE LIPS OF HER VAGINA. SHE

LOOKS DOWN AWAY FROM US IN A BUSINESSLIKE WAY AT WHAT SHE IS DOING, WHILE EDDY

GAZES IN SOFT AWE AT HER FACE.

ANNIE:

Oh dear. I think your Mr. Perkins has got himself all

restless. I think he wants to go somewhere.

ANNIE:

Hold still...and never you mind about your rotten family.

PANEL 7.

WE LOOK AT THE BED SIDE-ON NOW. ANNIE LOWERS HERSELF DOWN ONTO EDDY’S COCK, STILL

REACHING BEHIND HER WITH ONE HAND TO GUIDE IT INTO HER. EDDY STARTS TO GASP STRAIGHT

AWAY, COMING ALMOST AS SOON AS HE’S INSIDE HER. AS HE CLOSES HIS EYES AND GASPS

BREATHLESSLY THROUGH GRITTED TEETH, ANNIE’S EXPRESSION REMAINS CALM.

ANNIE:

We’ll do as we please, and they’ll not prevent it.

EDDY:

Oh Annie. Annie, my love, I’m going to spend...

PANEL 8.

WE CLOSE IN, PAST THE COUPLE, UPON THE BASEMENT WINDOW. IT LOOKS OUT ONTO SOLID RED

BRICK, MOSS GROWING IN THE CHINKS BETWEEN THE BRICKS AND A SLIGHT DEPOSIT OF SOOT

AND GRIME ADHERING TO THE BRICKWORK EVERYWHERE. THERE IS SOMETHING CRUEL AND SAD AND

SURREAL AND OMINOUS ABOUT A WINDOW THAT LOOKS OUT ONTO SOLID BRICKS. IT LOOKS AS IF

THE ONLY WAY OUT IS BLOCKED, BUT MORE CRUELLY THAN IF IT WERE BLOCKED BY A WALL.

WINDOWS ARE A SYMBOL OF FREEDOM AND ESCAPE, AND TO HAVE ONE BLOCKED BY DIRTY BRICKWORK

HAS A CERTAIN POIGNANCY ABOUT IT. AS WE STUDY THE DULL AND UNINTERESTING BRICKWORK

BEYOND THE GLASS, THE CRIES OF THE LOVERS ISSUE INTO THE PANEL FROM OFF PICTURE.

EDDY (OFF):

Uh...uh...oouh...uh.

ANNIE (OFF):

Oh Albert. Oh, my lovely boy.

PANEL 9.

IN THIS FINAL PANEL WE SIMPLY REPRODUCE PART OF A CONTEMPORARY STREET PLAN OF

LONDON DURING THAT TIME, SHOWING CLEVELAND STREET AND ITS TRIBUTARIES FROM ABOVE,

ALL CLEARLY LABELLED. THE WORDS “CLEVELAND STREET”, AS WITH THE LAST PANEL ON PAGE

TWO, ARE THE MOST PROMINENT HERE.

No dialogue

34

Chapter 1, page 4.

The theory that a Masonic cover-up lies

behind the Whitechapel murders comes from

Stephen Knight’s book, Jack the Ripper: The Final

Solution (1976). The theory sounds convincing at

first precisely because so many details fit into its

pattern. It’s only when you get to pinning down

these details, as Alan undertook in writing FROM

HELL, a process I had to extend in illustrating

it, that the theory starts to unravel. One of its

foundation stones is the connection between

Marie Kelly and Walter Sickert, and the

painting by the artist titled Blackmail or Mrs

Barrett. The painting is usually dated to at least

twenty years later than the Ripper murders.

While later eruptions from the artist’s morbid

fascination with the case are documented, it is

stretching things to see Kelly in the picture.

One of the details influencing the dating of it, I presumed,

is the fashion in women’s hats, which became quite large

in the later Edwardian period. I tried to diminish the hat’s

presence here and even more so in subsequent scenes.

However, I’ve just come across this:

I knew Marie quite well by sight... She was

usually in the company of two or three of her

kind, fairly neatly dressed and invariably

wearing a clean white apron, but no hat.

(memoir of Detective Walter Dew (1863-1947) (casebook.org)

In line with my earlier comments on the subject of the commonplace wearing of

hats (under prologue, page 1) not wearing one would have attracted attention, so such an

observation is likely to carry some weight. This gives us one of the earliest complications

in depicting Marie Kelly. While the theory does not fall apart on this specific point,

her resemblance to the subject of the painting was something that I felt we shouldn’t

commit to wholeheartedly.

PAGE 4. (1491 words) PANEL 1.

WE NOW JUMP TO THE JANUARY OF THE FOLLOWING YEAR, 1885, AND ALSO TO THE UPSTAIRS

STUDIO OF MR WALTER SICKERT, ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE STREET FROM ANNIE’S

35

Chapter 1, page 4

BASEMENT FLAT AND THE SWEETSHOP EIGHT DOORS DOWN THE STREET FROM IT. BOTH OF THESE

ARE AT LEAST PARTIALLY VISIBLE FROM SICKERT’S WINDOW, AND INDEED, IT IS SICKERT’S

STUDIO WINDOW THAT WE ARE LOOKING OUT THROUGH HERE. UP IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN

SEE SICKERT’S HANDS ENTERING THE PANEL. HE IS BUSILY SHARPENING A PENCIL OR CRAYON

WITH A SHARP-LOOKING KNIFE IN PREPARATION FOR DOING SOME SKETCHING. PENCIL SHAVINGS

UNPEEL LAZILY AND DROP TO THE FLOOR LIKE THE TURDS OF WOODEN BIRDS. DESPITE THE

FACT THAT HE IS INDOORS, SICKERT IS DRESSED UP VERY WARM. THERE WAS NO CENTRAL

HEATING, AND I IMAGINE IN THE COLDEST WEATHER HE’S PROBABLY HAD TO WORK IN A COAT

AND SCARF IN HIS STUDIO. OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW HERE SNOW IS FALLING UPON CLEVELAND

STREET. LOOKING THROUGH IT WE CAN SEE THE TOBACCONIST-CONFECTIONERS DOWN THE STREET

BELOW GROWING GRADUALLY MORE DICKENSIAN AND PICTURESQUE AS THE SNOW GETS DEEPER.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

WE NOW PULL BACK SO THAT WE CAN SEE SICKERT MAYBE THREE-QUARTER FIGURE AS HE

STANDS BY HIS EASEL, WHICH HAS ITS BACK TO US, WITH THE WINDOW BEHIND HIM. FRAMED

THUS AGAINST THE FALLING SNOW HE STANDS LOOKING TOWARDS US WITH HIS SHARPENED

PENCIL OR CRAYON IN ONE HAND AND THE KNIFE IN HIS OTHER. HE IS JUST ABSENTMINDEDLY

PLACING THE KNIFE DOWN ON THE WINDOW SILL HERE, HAVING FINISHED WITH IT. SINCE WE

HAVE PULLED BACK SOME WAY ACROSS THE STUDIO, WE CAN NOW SEE IN THE FOREGROUND THE

KNEE OF THE YOUNG WOMAN SITTING POSING FOR SICKERT, HER HANDS RESTING DEMURELY

UPON HER KNEE OR LAP, FOLDED TOGETHER QUITE PASSIVELY. THE WOMAN’S NAME IS MARIE

KELLY, AND ALTHOUGH WE CAN’T SEE HER FACE OR MUCH ELSE OF HER HERE, SHE IS A YOUNG

WOMAN OF IRISH PARENTAGE, AGED ABOUT TWENTY HERE, AND SHE IS PROBABLY THE MOST

CONVENTIONALLY PRETTY OF ALL OUR FEMALE CHARACTERS. AS FAR AS REFERENCE FOR HER

FACE GOES, I’M TRYING TO DIG UP PHOTOGRAPHS, BUT FOR THE MOMENT YOU’LL HAVE TO

RELY UPON THE FACE IN THE SICKERT PAINTING “BLACKMAIL OR MRS BARRETT” ALLEGEDLY

BASED UPON KELLY AND REPUTEDLY BEARING A RESEMBLANCE TO HER. HER VOICE ISSUES

FROM OFF PANEL HERE. AS FAR AS SICKERT’S STUDIO GOES, I’M NOT SURE WHAT THE DÉCOR

WOULD BE LIKE. AT FIRST I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING PICTURESQUELY CLUTTERED WITH THE ODD

PEACOCK FEATHER HERE AND THERE, BUT THAT SEEMS MORE THE STYLE OF A PRE-RAPHAELITE

LIKE HOLMAN HUNT (WHO LIVED JUST UP THE ROAD FROM SICKERT, ALSO IN CLEVELAND

STREET). AS I UNDERSTAND SICKERT, HE WAS RELENTLESSLY AND PASSIONATELY MODERN, AND

DESPISED THE USE OF CLASSICAL THEMES AND TECHNIQUE IN MODERN ART. MAYBE HIS STUDIO

WOULD BE PRETTY AUSTERE AND FUNCTIONAL, WITH SKETCHES AND PAINTINGS ALL OVER THE

PLACE, PINNED TO THE WALLS OR SCATTERED AND PILED ON THE FLOOR IN DRIFTS. ASSUMING

YOU CAN’T FIND ANY REFERENCE TO THE CONTRARY, THEN JUST DO WHAT FEELS RIGHT TO

YOU. HE SMILES FAINTLY HERE AS HE GLANCES AT THE OFF-PANEL MARIE, MUFFLED AGAINST

THE COLD IN HIS STUDIO. HIS BREATH ACTUALLY FOGS SLIGHTLY UPON THE AIR, ESCAPING

HIS SMILING LIPS IN A LITTLE SILK WISP OF VAPOUR.

MARIE:

And there I was thinkin’ you’d be wantin’ me with not a

stitch

on.

MARIE:

You’ll have me doubtin’ me attractions, Mr. Sickert.

SICKERT:

Never, Mary. Perhaps when it’s warmer...

36

Part 1: Stages

PANEL 3.

PULL BACK FURTHER STILL SO THAT MARIE IS NOW HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE F/G, IN

PROFILE AS SHE SITS THERE POSING FOR SICKERT. SHE WEARS A BROAD HAT ATOP HER DARK

HAIR (SEE “BLACKMAIL, OR MRS BARRETT”) AND AROUND HER PRETTY THROAT SHE WEARS A

NOTICEABLE AND IDENTIFIABLE RED SCARF TIED IN A GAY AND CASUAL KNOT. I DUNNO HOW

YOU’LL MANAGE TO MAKE THE RED SCARF IDENTIFIABLE IN A BLACK AND WHITE COMIC...

MAYBE A PATTERN OF BLACK SPOTS ON IT OR SOMETHING. AS SHE POSES THUS, SEATED IN

PROFILE, SHE HAS A PLEASED SMILE ON HER SMALL LIPS, SATISFIED BY THE COMPLIMENT

THAT SICKERT IS PAYING HER. SHE KNOWS THAT SHE’S PRETTY AND SHE LIKES IT, BUT WHILE

SHE’S A BIT IMMATURE AND PRONE TO PUT ON AIRS, SHE’S NOT AN UNLIKEABLE GIRL. SHE’S

HAD A PRETTY ROUGH AND POVERTY-STRICKEN TIME DURING HER LIFE THUS FAR, AND WAS A

WIDOW AT NINETEEN. AS SHE SMILES CONTENTEDLY AT SICKERT’S WORDS WE LOOK BEYOND HER

TO SEE THE ARTIST HIMSELF, STANDING BY HIS EASEL AND STARTING TO SKETCH. HE LOOKS

DOWN AT THE PICTURE RATHER THAN UP AT MARIE AS HE SPEAKS, AND SHE DOESN’T LOOK AT

HIM AS SHE CAREFULLY HOLDS HER POSE.

SICKERT:

Besides, I want you how I first SAW you, on the convent steps.

SICKERT:

The way the light caught you, in that red scarf... you looked

saintly,

Mary.

Religious.

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLES SO THAT WE ARE NOW LOOKING AT THE SCENE THROUGH SICKERT’S EYES, WITH

HIS EASEL NOW TURNED TOWARDS US IN THE F/G, A PIECE OF DRAWING PAPER TACKED TO IT.

WE SEE SICKERT’S HAND ENTERING FROM OFF PANEL IN THE F/G, LOOSELY SKETCHING THE

SHAPE OF MARIE KELLY’S HEAD. WHAT SICKERT IS DOING HERE IS A PRELIMINARY SKETCH

THAT WILL EVENTUALLY BECOME THE PAINTING, “BLACKMAIL OR MRS. BARRETT”, SO MAKE THE

ROUGH SKETCH HERE LOOK LIKE A CONCEIVABLE ROUGH SKETCH FOR THE PAINTING. HIS

SPEECH BALLOON ISSUES FROM OFF PANEL HERE. LOOKING BEYOND WHAT HE IS DRAWING WE SEE

MARIE AS SHE SITS THERE, POSING FOR HIM. SHE LAUGHS, FACE CRINKLING DELIGHTFULLY

AND PECULIARLY IRISH WRINKLES FORMING ON THE BRIDGE OF THE SLIGHTLY UPTURNED NOSE.

SOMEWHERE ON THE WALL BEHIND HER, PINNED UP, IS A CALENDAR, ALTHOUGH WE NEEDN’T

BE ABLE TO SEE IT CLEARLY HERE, SO LONG AS WE ESTABLISH ITS PRESENCE.

MARIE:

SAINTLY! Will you listen to HIM, now! He takes me

into his house, feeds me, finds me a job...

SICKERT (OFF):

Oh, yes, the confectioners. How’s it going?

PANEL 5.

THIS SHOT IS ALMOST THE SAME AS THAT IN PANEL 2 ON THIS PAGE, WITH ONLY MARIE’S KNEE

AND RESTING HANDS VISIBLE IN THE F/G HERE, WITH HER BALLOON ISSUING FROM OFF PANEL

LEFT. LOOKING BEYOND HER WE SEE SICKERT, NOW SKETCHING FURIOUSLY, WITH A FROWN OF

CONCENTRATION AS HE STARES FIXEDLY AT HIS DRAWING WHILE HE REPLIES TO MARIE.

MARIE (OFF):

Oh, it’s very nice... and so’s Annie. Lovely couple, her and

your

brother.

MARIE (OFF):

Doesn’t look much like you, for saying, does he?

SICKERT:

No. He, uh, favours his mother more. Do you see much of him?

37

Chapter 1, page 4

PANEL 6.

NOW, FROM THE FRONT, WE HAVE A HEAD-AND-SHOULDERS CLOSE-UP OF MARIE, AS SHE TURNS

TO STARE AT SICKERT, SMILING KNOWINGLY AND A LITTLE SAUCILY. SICKERT’S BALLOON

ENTERS INTO THE PANEL FROM OFF. ON THE WALL BEHIND MARIE WE CAN NOW CLEARLY SEE

THE CALENDAR, OPEN AT JANUARY 1885.

EDDY:

Not your brother, no... but there’s been more to see of Annie

lately, if you take my meanin’.

SICKERT:

I’m not sure I do. I’ve not seen her recently. I’m courting

myself,

you

know.

PANEL 7.

PULL BACK FROM MARIE SO THAT IN THE F/G WE SEE THE DRAWING THAT SICKERT IS DOING

AND HIS HAND AS HE WORKS UPON IT. LOOKING BEYOND THIS WE SEE MARIE SITTING THERE

POSING. SHE LAUGHS AT SICKERT’S WORDS, A LITTLE SCORNFULLY. IN THE FOREGROUND,

THE POINT OF SICKERT’S PENCIL SUDDENLY BREAKS AGAINST THE SURFACE OF THE FIGURE

HE IS DRAWING. THE FACE ON THE PAPER NOW IS ALMOST EXACTLY A PENCIL SKETCH FOR

“BLACKMAIL, OR MRS BARRETT.” THE PICTURE IS SET UP SO THAT WE SEE THE PENCIL

POINT SNAPPING AFTER WE’VE HEARD MARIE’S WORDS.

MARIE:

Ooh, and is it “courtin’” your brother’s been doing then?

MARIE:

The girl’s six months pregnant if she’s a day.

PANEL 8.

WE ARE NOW LOOKING AT SICKERT HALF-FIGURE AS HE STANDS THERE FACING US BY HIS

EASEL WITH THE WINDOW BEHIND HIM, GREY SNOW FALLING DREAMILY BY. HE STANDS JUST

STARING AT US AND THE OFF-PANEL MARIE IN STUNNED DISBELIEF, THE BROKEN PENCIL

STILL CLUTCHED USELESSLY IN HIS TRAILING, DANGLING HAND. THE NEWS OF ANNIE’S

PREGNANCY HAS OBVIOUSLY COME AS SOMETHING OF A SHOCK TO HIM. ON THE WINDOW SILL

BEHIND SICKERT, THE KNIFE IS STILL RESTING WHERE HE PUT IT. MARIE’S BALLOON

ENTERS THE PANEL FROM OFF PIC IN THE F/G.

MARIE:

Whatever was that? Is that your pencil broken now?

You shouldn’t be after pressin’ so hard, Mr. Sickert.

MARIE:

Now you’ll have to sharpen it again.

PANEL 9.

FOR THIS FINAL PANEL WE CLOSE IN UPON THE WINDOW, SO THAT WE CAN NO LONGER SEE

EITHER SICKERT OR MARIE. WE JUST SEE THE WINDOW, THE SNOW FALLING OUTSIDE AND THE

LITTLE SWEETSHOP ACROSS THE STREET. LYING ON THE WINDOW SILL IS A VERY SHARP KNIFE.

No dialogue

Mary Kelly , or “Marie,” as she Frenchified it, perhaps around the time of the holiday

trip to France shown in Chapter 1, page 7 of FROM HELL , has something of a romantic

attraction for men who delve into the story of the Whitechapel murders. They end up wanting

to do something for her. In the movie adaptation of the book they unburdened her of the

disagreeableness of a sex scene with a paying customer up against a fence (from Chapter 3) by

giving it to another woman. One Ripperologist (Morrison) whimsically imagined traveling back in time

to try to save her. And I’ve probably drawn her too pretty in this sketch.

38

Chapter 2, page 4.

In which William Gull, our villain, is

introduced, as a child, with his dead father laid

out in the parlour. It’s interesting that Alan, with

20 pages done, is still seeing these scenes in more

acute detail than he knows he can get out of me,

for instance the dead body not just having a

facial mole, but also a “hair growing stoutly from

it.” A page like this one does not look like it has

room for one more mote of airborne dust, but still,

I’m sure that in an alternative universe there is a

much more detailed FROM HELL. Perhaps its artist,

a short, blond Eddie Campbell with 20/20 vision,

is still working on it. Perhaps three more publishers

have gone bankrupt.

PAGE 4. (1,327 words) PANEL 1.

A NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE, WITH ALL THE PANELS SHOT FROM EXACTLY THE SAME ANGLE.

WE ARE IN THE FRONT PARLOUR OF THE GULL FAMILY HOUSEHOLD AT THORPE-LE-SOKEN, IN

ESSEX. THE FAMILY IS IN MOURNING AND THUS LONG BLACK DRAPES HANG AT THE WINDOW

WHICH WE SEE SQUARE ON IN THE BACKGROUND. THE CURTAINS ARE DRAWN BACK HERE, MAKING

A RECTANGLE OF DIFFUSED WHITE LIGHT FILTERING FROM THE DAYLIGHT BEYOND THROUGH THE

NET CURTAINS HANGING OVER THE LOWER HALF OF THE WINDOWS. IN THE EXTREME F/G WE SEE

THE HEAD AND SHOULDERS OF JOHN GULL, WHO IS DEAD. HE LIES UPON HIS BACK WITH HIS

EYES CLOSED, FACING TOWARDS THE CEILING OFF PANEL ABOVE. WE SEE THE MOLE UPON HIS

NEAREST CHEEK, PERHAPS WITH A HAIR GROWING STOUTLY FROM IT. HE IS DRESSED MORE

FORMALLY THAN WHEN WE LAST SAW HIM, IN HIS BEST SUNDAY TOPCOAT AND TIE. HIS HAIR IS

NEATLY GROOMED, HIS FACE MADE PALE AND SOMEHOW ODDLY EFFEMINATE BY THE MORTICIAN’S

ART. WE ARE LOOKING AT THIS SCENE THROUGH THE EYES OF YOUNG WILLIAM GULL, AGED

TEN, EVEN THOUGH WE CANNOT SEE ANY OF HIM IN THIS FIRST PANEL, AS HE STANDS OFF

PANEL TO ONE SIDE OF THE BODY AND LOOKING ACROSS IT, WE SEE BEYOND THE CORPSE THE

FIGURE OF A DOCTOR WHO IS JUST TURNING AWAY FROM THE BODY AND WALKING BACK ACROSS

THE ROOM TOWARDS MRS.GULL, WHO STANDS NEARER TO THE WINDOW. DRESSED IN BLACK

MOURNING CLOTHES, MRS.GULL IS A STURDY AND HANDSOME WOMAN OF MEDIUM HEIGHT AND

WITH DARK HAIR, HER MANNER STERN AND FORMIDABLE. YOUNGER THAN HER LATE HUSBAND,

SHE IS PERHAPS IN HER LATE FORTIES, AND HAS BORNE SIX CHILDREN OF WHOM WILLIAM IS

THE YOUNGEST. HER BOSOM IS LIKE THE PROW OF SOME STATELY OCEAN-GOING VESSEL, AND

DESPITE HER NO-NONSENSE DEMEANOUR, SHE IS NOT AN UNATTRACTIVE WOMAN FOR HER AGE.

AS THE DOCTOR WALKS SOLEMNLY BACK ACROSS THE ROOM TOWARDS MRS.GULL, AS SHE WAITS

BY THE WINDOW LOOKING EXPRESSIONLESSLY TOWARDS HIM, HE IS RATHER SELF-CONSCIOUSLY

CLEANING HIS SPECTACLES UPON A SMALL PIECE OF MUSLIN, AS IF TO EMPHASISE THAT HE

39

Chapter 2, page 4

HAS FINISHED EXAMINING THE CORPSE AND IS CLEANING HIS SPECTACLES PRIOR TO PUTTING

THEM AWAY, READY FOR THE NEXT THING HE MIGHT BE CALLED UPON TO LOOK AT.

DOCTOR:

Cholera. Just as the London doctors stated.

DOCTOR:

Your barges did well to bring the body back to

Thorpe-le-Soken so speedily, Mrs.Gull.

PANEL 2.

HAVING REACHED MRS.GULL WHERE SHE STANDS BY THE WINDOW, THE DOCTOR PAUSES AND

STANDS TALKING TO HER, BOTH HALF-TURNED AWAY FROM US, GAZING IDLY OUT OF THE WINDOW

AS THEY SPEAK TO EACH OTHER. PUTTING AWAY HIS FOLDED SPECTACLES WITHIN AN INNER

JACKET POCKET THE DOCTOR CASTS A GLANCE OF SYMPATHETIC WARNING AT MRS.GULL, WHO

LARGELY SEEMS TO IGNORE HIM, GAZING OUT OVER HER GARDENS BEYOND THE WINDOW. IN THE

FOREGROUND, ENTERING THE PICTURE AT THE VERY BOTTOM, WE SEE ONE OF WILLIAM’S HANDS.

IT VERY TENTATIVELY ENTERS THE PANEL AND STARTS TO REACH SURREPTITIOUSLY TOWARDS THE

DEAD FACE OF HIS FATHER. NEITHER HIS MOTHER NOR THE DOCTOR HAVE NOTICED THIS AS THEY

STAND CHATTING IN THE BACKGROUND. BEING ONLY TEN, WILLIAM’S HAND IS SMALL BUT QUITE

MEATY, IN KEEPING WITH HIS GENERAL PROPORTIONS.

MRS.GULL:

Ah, Stockport folk may prefer their locomotives, but we’ll

stick to our barges.

DOCTOR:

A widow running a barge-firm should not LIGHTLY dismiss the

Public Railway’s COMPETITION, Mrs.Gull...

PANEL 3.

NOW MRS.GULL TURNS AROUND TO FACE US, LOOKING DIRECTLY OUT OF THE PANEL AT US HERE.

SHE GIVES A SMALL SMILE, FOND OF HER OFF-PANEL SON AS SHE GAZES AT HIM. THE DOCTOR

TOO STANDS HALF-TURNED TO LOOK IN THE DIRECTION THAT MRS.GULL IS ADDRESSING, SO THAT

HE TOO IS LOOKING AT US HERE. IN THE FOREGROUND, WILLIAM HAS WHIPPED HIS ENQUIRING

HAND BACK OUT OF SIGHT AS HIS MOTHER TURNED AROUND. HIS BALLOON ISSUES FROM OFF

PANEL, BUT NOTHING ELSE IS VISIBLE OF HIM HERE. IN THE FOREGROUND, JOHN GULL LIES

FACING THE CEILING, EYES CLOSED IN ENDLESS SLEEP.

MRS.GULL:

Barge people are not WEAK folk, Doctor. We’ll hold our own,

and see off Mr. Stephenson’s contraption.

MRS.GULL:

Won’t we, William?

WILLIAM (OFF):

Yes, mother.

PANEL 4.

THE TWO ADULTS NOW TURN AWAY FROM WILLIAM AGAIN, THEIR BACKS COMPLETELY TOWARDS US

AS THEY GAZE OUT OF THE WINDOW AWAY FROM US. THE DOCTOR HAS HIS HANDS CLASPED

BEHIND HIS BACK IN A WAY SOMEHOW CHARACTERISTIC OF HIS PROFESSION. NEITHER OF THEM

ARE LOOKING TOWARDS WILLIAM. FROM THE FOREGROUND, HIS CHUBBY HAND ENTERS THE

PANEL AGAIN, REACHING SLOWLY AND CAREFULLY TOWARDS HIS DEAD FATHER’S CHEEK.

DOCTOR:

I’m sure you’ll manage your husband’s business splendidly.

DOCTOR:

Have you considered moving? Thorpe Estate is pleasant;

owned by Guy’s Hospital...

DOCTOR:

... but perhaps you’re attached to Thorpe-le-Soken?

PANEL 5.

STILL FACING AWAY FROM US AND THUS NOT LOOKING AT EITHER US OR WILLIAM, THE TWO

40

Part 1: Stages

ADULTS CONTINUE TO TALK. MRS.GULL GAZES OUT OF THE WINDOW AS SHE SPEAKS, WITH THE

DOCTOR LOOKING TOWARDS HER IN POLITE ATTENTIVENESS AS HE LISTENS. NEITHER OF THEM

ARE LOOKING AT WILLIAM. IN THE FOREGROUND, HIS FINGERS REACH OUT AND TAKE HOLD OF

THE EYELID OF THE CORPSE, PEELING IT BACK FROM THE GLAZED EYEBALL SO THAT THE EYE

IS OPEN, AND STARING WITH WHAT LOOKS LIKE ALARM AT THE CEILING.

MRS.GULL:

Not especially. We only moved here

seven year back, from Colchester.

MRS.GULL:

Even so, we’ll not be moving again till I’m

certain that the company is steady without John. He...

PANEL 6.

MRS.GULL TURNS ROUND SUDDENLY, WHEELING AROUND TO STARE AT WILLIAM. SHE SEEMS TO

GLARE AT HIM. THE DOCTOR HALF TURNS TO FOLLOW HER GAZE, ALSO LOOKING AT US AND THE

OFF-PANEL WILLIAM WHOSE EYES WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH. WILLIAM HAS AGAIN WHIPPED HIS

HAND BACK OUT OF THE PANEL HERE, BUT HE HAS LEFT THE EYE OF HIS DEAD FATHER OPEN,

STARING AT THE CEILING WITH A LOOK OF FROZEN APPREHENSION. SINCE THE EYE IS ON THE

SIDE OF THE CORPSE THAT MRS.GULL AND THE DOCTOR CANNOT SEE AS THEY STAND ON THE

OTHER SIDE FROM WILLIAM, THEY REMAIN UNAWARE OF WHAT THE BOY HAS DONE.

MRS.GULL:

William? Did you laugh?

MRS.GULL:

I thought I heard you laugh, boy.

WILLIAM (OFF):

No, mother. I just made a little sound.

PANEL 7.

PLACING A COMFORTING AND PLACATORY HAND UPON MRS.GULL’S SHOULDER THE DOCTOR TURNS

BACK TOWARDS THE WINDOW AND IN DOING SO TURNS MRS.GULL TOO SO THAT SHE IS NO LONGER

LOOKING AT THE BOY. WILLIAM’S HAND IS STILL OFF PANEL IN THE FOREGROUND NOT DARING

TO REACH INTO THE PICTURE UNTIL HIS MOTHER AND THE DOCTOR HAVE TURNED COMPLETELY

AWAY FROM HIM. HIS MOTHER IS LOOKING AT THE DOCTOR HERE.

DOCTOR:

The poor child was doubtless attempting to stifle a sob.

DOCTOR:

Tell me, have the children taken their father’s death badly

to

heart?

PANEL 8.

THE ADULTS ARE NOW BOTH FACING FULLY AWAY FROM US AGAIN AS MRS.GULL SPEAKS AND THE

DOCTOR LISTENS. FROM THE FOREGROUND, WILLIAM’S HAND REACHES INTO THE PICTURE FROM

OFF PANEL AND SWIFTLY PULLS THE WAXY EYELID DOWN OVER HIS FATHER’S STARING ORB,

CLOSING THE EYE ONCE MORE.

MRS.GULL:

Bargee’s lives are cold, flat things, doctor.

We’re not reared to make great displays of sentiment.

MRS.GULL:

We’ve private sorrows, private mirth, and strangers think us

cold

fish...

PANEL 9.

SAME SHOT. IN THE BACKGROUND, MRS.GULL AND THE DOCTOR ARE STARING AWAY FROM US OUT

OF THE WINDOW INTO THE WAN SUNLIGHT OUTSIDE. IN THE FOREGROUND, WILLIAM HAS WITHDRAWN

HIS HAND. HIS FATHER’S FACE IS BACK HOW IT WAS IN PANEL ONE, THE EYES CLOSED SO THAT

NONE WOULD SUSPECT THAT HIS ETERNAL SLEEP HAD BEEN EVER SO BRIEFLY DISTURBED.

MRS.GULL:

Cold fish with no feelings at all.

41

Chapter 2, page 5.

I remain very fond of this sequence

from William Gull’s boyhood. It has a

Dickensian humour, playing mischief with

stiff old-fashioned English politeness. Here

Alan continues to have fun at poor old Mrs.

Gull’s expense. Note also his addressing me

as a comics “theorist.” I expect I had already

bashed his ear ad nauseam with my theory that

comics are too much “in thrall to the cinematic

principle,” with which I will further bash the

reader’s ears elsewhere in this volume. At

2,204 words, this is the largest piece of script

for a single page in FROM HELL. It uses a type

of panel structure that I will discuss later under

Chapter 8 page 32. It’s one of my theories.

PAGE 5. (2,204 words) PANEL 1.

NOW WE HAVE THE FIRST OF TWO NINE-PANEL PAGES THAT MAKE UP A SEQUENCE FILLING

IN THE FORMATIVE YEARS OF WILLIAM GULL AND EXPLAINING HIS MEANS OF INTRODUCTION

TO GUY’S HOSPITAL. THE WAY I WANT TO DO THESE TWO PAGES IS BY MEANS OF RHYTHMIC

INTERCUTTING BETWEEN TWO DIFFERENT SCENES. I KNOW THIS WILL PROBABLY FEEL A LITTLE

FOREIGN TO YOU AS A TECHNIQUE, BUT I THINK IT’LL WORK AND IN THIS INSTANCE I THINK

THE USE OF THE TECHNIQUE IS JUSTIFIED: I NEED TO RELATE, BY MEANS OF DIALOGUE, THE

MECHANICAL FACTS OF WILLIAM’S LIFE AT THIS TIME. WE NEED TO ESTABLISH THAT

MRS.GULL DID MOVE TO THORPE ESTATE, AS SUGGESTED BY THE UNNAMED DOCTOR IN THE

LAST SCENE, AND THAT SHE DID THIS WHEN WILLIAM WAS SIXTEEN. WE NEED TO ESTABLISH

THAT ONCE THERE SHE MET A RECTOR HARRISON OF BEAUMONT PARISH RECTORY, WHO AGREED

TO PRIVATELY TEACH YOUNG WILLIAM EVERY DAY AT THE RECTORY, AS OPPOSED TO THE

HUMBLE VILLAGE SCHOOL THAT WAS ALL OF WILLIAM’S EDUCATION PRIOR TO THIS POINT. THE

RECTOR’S MOTIVE IN THIS IS THAT HE FANCIED THE HANDSOME WIDOW GULL. HIS IMPORTANCE

LIES IN THE FACT THAT HE WAS THE NEPHEW OF BENJAMIN HARRISON, TREASURER OF GUY’S

HOSPITAL, THUS FORGING THE IMPORTANT LINK BETWEEN GULL AND GUY’S. OKAY... NOW ALL

THE ABOVE INFORMATION IS NECESSARY BUT IT’S PROBABLY A BIT DULL. (I TYPED ‘GULL’

THERE AND HAD TO GO OVER IT.) NOW, THE OTHER INFORMATION WE HAVE TO GET OVER, NOT

NECESSARILY VERBALLY, IS YOUNG WILLIAM’S FASCINATION AND DELIGHT IN EXAMINING THE

FLORA AND FAUNA AVAILABLE IN THE GROUNDS OF BEAUMONT RECTORY. THIS ABSORPTION IN

THE INTRICACIES AND BEAUTIES OF NATURE IS ONE OF THE THINGS THAT IS THE KEY TO

GULL’S ENTIRE LIFE AND PHILOSOPHY. THE THINGS THAT WE SHOW WILLIAM DOING IN THIS

42

Part 1: Stages

SEQUENCE ARE, ADMITTEDLY, INVENTION. IT’S KNOWN THAT HE TOOK A WILD DELIGHT IN THE

FLORA AND FAUNA AVAILABLE AT THE RECTORY, AND IT IS ALSO KNOWN THAT IN LATER LIFE

HE BECAME AN ARDENT VIVISECTIONIST. HE ALSO BELIEVED THAT THERE WAS NO GREATER

OR MORE LUCID EXPRESSION OF THE MYSTERIES OF GOD’S WORKINGS THAN IN THE FLAWLESS

ARCHITECTURE OF THE ORGANIC BODY. GIVEN THE ABOVE, I DON’T THINK IT’S STRETCHING

THINGS TO SUGGEST THAT IF THE ADULT WILLIAM, ENSCONCED IN THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF

AGE AND POSITION COULD CHEERFULLY CUT UP LIVING ANIMALS, HE MIGHT IN THE HEADY

THROES OF ADOLESCENCE HAVE TAKEN IT UPON HIMSELF TO DISSECT A DECEASED RAT OR TWO.

TO ME, IT SEEMS A REASONABLY MILD AND CAUTIOUS ASSUMPTION. ANYWAY, GIVEN THAT WE

HAVE THESE TWO NECESSARY STRANDS OF INFORMATION TO IMPART (ONE DETAILED, VERBAL AND

DULL; THE OTHER SIMPLE, SILENT AND GORILY FASCINATING) I FIGURE IT’S LEGITIMATE FOR

US TO INTERTWINE THEM. WHAT I’M TRYING TO EXPLAIN HERE IS THAT I DON’T THINK THE

USE OF THIS TECHNIQUE VIOLATES THE AVOWED SIMPLICITY OF OUR STORY STRUCTURE. BOTH

STRANDS ARE CLEARLY EXPLAINED IN THE VERY FIRST PANEL, AND BOTH HAPPEN AT THE SAME

TIME, ALBEIT IN DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE SAME RECTORY. BECAUSE ONE OF THE STRANDS OF

NARRATIVE IS WHOLLY SILENT, AND BECAUSE THE SCENES WITH WILLIAM ARE ALSO ALL SEEN

FROM HIS POINT OF VIEW, THEN I THINK THE WHOLE THING WILL ADD UP TO A FAIRLY SIMPLE

AND COHERENT READING EXPERIENCE. (SEE HOW NERVOUS I GET WHEN I’M WORKING WITH A

RESPECTED COMIC BOOK THEORIST LIKE YOURSELF? ALL THAT WRITHING AND WRIGGLING JUST

TO ASSURE YOU I’M NOT GETTING FLASHY).

ANYWAY, IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE SLIGHTLY BEHIND MRS.GULL AS SHE STANDS ON THE

FRONT DOORSTEPS OF THE RECTORY OF THE PARISH OF BEAUMONT. IT IS A SUNNY DAY, AND

SHE IS DRESSED SOBERLY, ALTHOUGH IN SLIGHTLY MORE SUMMERY ATTIRE THAN USUAL. THE

HEAVY OAK FRONT DOOR OF THE RECTORY IS OPEN, AND WE SEE RECTOR HARRISON STANDING IN

THE DOORWAY SMILING AS HE USHERS MRS.GULL WITHIN, PERHAPS TAKING HER HAND LIGHTLY

AND COURTEOUSLY AS HE DOES SO. SHE RETURNS HIS SMILE. (I HAVE NO PHOTO REFERENCE

OF EITHER RECTOR HARRISON OR HIS UNCLE BENJAMIN, WHOM WE MEET IN A COUPLE OF PAGES

TIME. THEY AREN’T MAJOR CHARACTERS, AND ONLY APPEAR THIS ONCE, SO DRAW THEM HOW YOU

LIKE. I SEE THE RECTOR AS A BESPECTACLED CLERIC IN HIS EARLY FORTIES; A CELIBATE

MAN WHO DOES A LOT OF WRITHING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT AND WHO CLEARLY IS IN THE EARLY

STAGES OF AN ABIDING LOVE AND LUST FOR MRS.ELIZABETH GULL, WIDOW OF THIS PARISH).

AS WE SEE THE RECTOR IN THIS PANEL HE HAS TAKEN MRS.GULL’S HAND LIGHTLY IN ONE OF

HIS OWN, WHILE WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE GESTURES TOWARDS THE INTERIOR OF THE RECTORY,

BEYOND THE OPEN DOOR. MRS.GULL SMILES POLITELY AS SHE STEPS FORWARD IN OBEDIENCE OF

HIS ENTREATY TO ENTER.

RECTOR HARRISON:

My dear Mrs.Gull.

RECTOR HARRISON:

Welcome to Beaumont Rectory. I take it young William is

already off exploring the grounds?

MRS.GULL:

You can be sure he is, Rector Harrison. Never knew a child

so keen on nature.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE CUT TO A PANEL SEEN THROUGH THE EYES OF YOUNG SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD WILLIAM GULL,

SO THAT ALL WE CAN SEE OF HIM ARE HIS THICKENING RUDDY FOREARMS AND HIS BROAD,

43

Chapter 2, page 5

LONG-FINGERED HANDS. HE IS ON HIS KNEES INSPECTING AN AREA OF THE UNDERGROWTH

SOMEWHERE IN THE GROUNDS OF BEAUMONT RECTORY WHILE HIS MOTHER CHATS WITH RECTOR

HARRISON INDOORS. IT’S A HOT SUMMER DAY, SLIGHTLY AFTER NOON, AND AS WILLIAM KNEELS

THERE IN THE GRASS THAT PRICKS HIS KNEES, HE GLORIES IN THE THICK AND SICKLY GREEN

SCENT OF THE VEGETATION; THE SMELL OF INSECT SEX AND HIS OWN SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD

SWEAT. THE SUN BURNS RED UPON THE BACK OF HIS THICK NECK, BUT ALL WE CAN SEE HERE

ARE HIS HANDS, WHICH ARE JUST IN THE ACT OF PLUCKING A PARTICULARLY LUSCIOUS AND

RARE-LOOKING ENGLISH WOODLAND FLOWER (I’LL LEAVE IT UP TO YOU WHAT TYPE... IF YOU

HAVE ANY FAVOURITES OR IF THERE’S SOME SPECIES WITH A NAME THAT SEEMS RESONANT

TO MATTERS AT HAND THEN PLEASE STICK IT IN). IMMEDIATELY BEYOND THE FLOWER IS AN

IMPENETRABLE TANGLE OF GREENERY, SUCH AS ONE MIGHT FIND AROUND THE BASE OF A WILD

HEDGEROW, WITH THORN-STUDDED BRAMBLE STEMS LOOPING STIFFLY DOWN INTO THE PICTURE

FROM OFF AND FORMING PART OF THE CLOSE-UP WALL OF GREENERY IMMEDIATELY BEYOND THE

DELICATE FLOWER THAT YOUNG WILLIAM’S HANDS ARE SEEN PICKING HERE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 3.

BACK TO MRS.GULL AND THE RANDY RECTOR. WE ARE NOW INSIDE THE RECTORY, IN ONE OF ITS

SPACIOUS AND BOOK-LINED WITHDRAWING ROOMS, LIGHT FALLING IN THROUGH THE TALL AND

NARROW STATELY WINDOWS OFF TO ONE SIDE. THE RECTOR STILL HAS NOT RELINQUISHED HIS

LIGHT GRIP UPON MRS.GULL’S HAND, AND IS LEADING HER ACROSS THE ROOM TOWARDS ONE OF

THE TWO ELEGANT ARMCHAIRS THAT ARE ARRANGED WITH A LOW TABLE SET BETWEEN THEM. UPON

THIS LOW TABLE RESTS A SILVER TEA SERVICE COMPRISING SUGAR BOWL, MILK JUG, TEA POT,

TWO TEA CUPS WITH SPOONS AND SAUCERS AND A PITCHER OF JUST-BOILED WATER WITH A LID

TO KEEP IN THE HEAT. AS HE LEADS MRS.GULL WITH ONE HAND, HIS OTHER HAND IS ALREADY

REACHING FOR ONE OF THE ARMCHAIRS, PULLING IT UP FOR HER AS SHE STEPS TOWARDS IT.

SHE LISTENS TO THE RECTOR’S WORDS WITH A LOOK OF POLITE INTEREST, WHILE THE RECTOR

AFFECTS WHAT HE HOPES IS AN AUTHORITATIVE AIR. FACIALLY, HE ISN’T A TREMENDOUSLY

ATTRACTIVE MAN. PERHAPS HE HAS A WEAK CHIN, OR A SMILE THAT CANNOT HELP BUT LOOK

INGRATIATING AND CREEPY. A RESPECTED MINOR CHARACTER ACTOR PLAYING A CREEPY VICAR

IN AN EALING FILMS PRESENTATION WOULD SEEM ABOUT THE MARK TO AIM FOR WITH RECTOR

HARRISON, ALTHOUGH NOT OVERDONE TO THE POINT OF FARCE.

RECTOR HARRISON:

At sixteen, William is hardly a child. Still, I’m glad he’s

taken your move to Thorpe Estate so well.

RECTOR HARRISON:

At very least it would appear our flora and fauna are of

interest to the boy.

PANEL 4.

NOW ANOTHER SHOT THROUGH WILLIAM’S EYES, STILL ON HIS KNEES INSPECTING THE SAME

PATCH OF UNDERGROWTH. WITH THE PLUCKED FLOWER NOW HELD IN ONE HAND, HE IS USING

BOTH HANDS TO GINGERLY SEPARATE THE LOOPING STRANDS OF BRIAR, AS IF TO PEER INTO

THE DARKNESS IMMEDIATELY BEYOND THEM. PERHAPS HE HAS A WHITE LINEN HANDKERCHIEF

WRAPPED AROUND THE BRIAR STEM HE GRASPS MOST FIERCELY, TO PROTECT HIS HAND FROM THE

THORNS. NOT SATISFIED WITH HIS FLOWER AS A PRIZE, HE DIGS DEEPER INTO THE FOLIAGE

44

Part 1: Stages

TO SEE WHAT OTHER TREASURES MAY BE UNEARTHED.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

BACK IN THE RECTORY DRAWING ROOM. IN THE BACKGROUND, WE SEE MRS.GULL SEATED

DAINTILY UPON ONE OF THE ARMCHAIRS. MORE TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND WE SEE RECTOR

HARRISON AS HE COMES TOWARDS US, REACHING OUT TO DRAW UP HIS OWN CHAIR, HIS BACK

TURNED BRIEFLY TO MRS.GULL AS SHE SPEAKS TO HIM. NEVERTHELESS, EVEN THOUGH HE FACES

US HIS EYES SWIVEL SIDEWAYS, AS IF VAINLY ATTEMPTING TO SEE OVER HIS SHOULDER TO

WHERE MRS.GULL SITS BEHIND HIM. THE EFFECT UPON HIS FACE IS SOMEHOW CRAFTY AND

WATCHFUL, BUT SINCE HE IS FACING AWAY FROM HER, MRS.GULL DOES NOT SEE THIS AND

CONTINUES TO CHAT LIGHTLY AND PLEASANTLY.

MRS.GULL:

Aa. I just wish he’d put his interest into proper learning.

He talks of nothing but going to sea.

RECTOR HARRISON:

What BETTER basis for an education than the appreciation of

Nature in all her terrible glory?

PANEL 6.

WE ARE BACK ON OUR KNEES, LOOKING THROUGH WILLIAM’S EYES. HIS HANDS HAVE DRAWN BACK

THE BRAMBLES LIKE A PAIR OF PAINFUL AND PRICKLY CURTAINS TO REVEAL THE DARK AND

LEAFY ENCLOSURE BEHIND THEM, OPENING IT TO THE LIGHT OF THE EARLY AFTERNOON SUN. IN

THE LITTLE HOLLOW AMONGST THE WEEDS AND BRIARS THERE LIES A DEAD RAT, PERHAPS DEAD

LESS THAN A DAY, ITS GREY BODY ALREADY STIFF AND HARD TO THE TOUCH, LIKE A HARD

STUFFED TOY RATHER THAN A FLESH AND BLOOD ANIMAL. AS WILLIAM’S HANDS DRAW BACK THE

BRIARS TO REVEAL THE DEAD RAT, THE FLOWER DROPS FROM HIS HAND, FORGOTTEN IN THE

THRILL OF THE MOMENT AND THE SUPERIOR CHARMS OF THIS NEW DISCOVERY.

No dialogue.

PANEL 7.

IN THE FOREGROUND NOW, MRS.GULL SITS IN PROFILE TO US, SO THAT WE SEE THE STATELY

BATTLESHIP LINE OF HER BOSOM SWELLING OUT IN A SHAPELESS BUT FORMIDABLE HUMP

AGAINST THE BODICE OF HER HIGH-NECKED DRESS. HER HEAD SHOULD PERHAPS BE OFF

PANEL ABOVE HERE, SO THAT ALL WE SEE IS THE CURVE OF HER BUST AND HER HANDS

FOLDED DEMURELY UPON HER LAP. LOOKING BEYOND THIS WE SEE THE RECTOR AS HE LOWERS

HIMSELF DOWN INTO THE ARMCHAIR JUST ACROSS THE LOW TEA TABLE FROM MRS.GULL. HE

IS STARING FIXEDLY AT MRS.GULL’S BOSOM AS HE SPEAKS. HE LOOKS A LITTLE FLUSHED

AND UNCOMFORTABLE, QUITE OVERCOME BY THIS VISION FROM WHICH HE CANNOT WRENCH HIS

TORMENTED EYES. MRS.GULL’S PHYSICAL PRESENCE OBVIOUSLY QUITE UNSETTLES THE POOR

MAN, THOUGH SHE IS BY NO MEANS A RAVING BEAUTY BY MOST MODERN STANDARDS.

RECTOR HARRISON:

Why, the very foundation of science and medicine

lies in a preoccupation with natural forms...

RECTOR HARRISON:

Their workings; their shapes...

RECTOR HARRISON:

The very marvel in them, that moves men’s hearts.

45

Chapter 2, page 5

PANEL 8.

BACK ON OUR KNEES IN THE FOLIAGE, LOOKING THROUGH WILLIAM’S EYES. HIS HANDS ARE BOTH

RAISED REVERENTLY BEFORE HIM AND CUPPED IN THEM IS THE STIFF CORPSE OF THE DEAD RAT.

(IT’S JUST STRUCK ME THAT YOU MIGHT PREFER A BIRD INSTEAD OF A RAT, IN WHICH PLACE

PLEASE MAKE THE SUBSTITUTION. ANY SMALL ANIMAL WILL DO, SO ADAPT THIS AS YOU SEE

FIT). THE RAT JUST RESTS THERE IN WILLIAM’S POWERFUL YOUNG HANDS, AN OBJECT OF AWE

AND REVERENCE WHERE SECONDS BEFORE IT HAD BEEN ONLY THE MEREST CARRION.

No dialogue.

PANEL 9.

BACK INSIDE THE RECTORY, IN THE CENTRE OF THIS PANEL WE HAVE THE TEA TABLE. FROM THE

LEFT ENTER THE KNEES OF MRS.GULL, HER HANDS FOLDED PRIMLY UPON THEM. FROM THE RIGHT

ENTER THE KNEES AND AT LEAST ONE HAND BELONGING TO RECTOR HARRISON. HE IS CAREFULLY

POURING HOT WATER FROM THE JUG INTO THE TEAPOT, WITH STEAM BILLOWING UP INTO THE

PANEL. BOTH HIS AND MRS.GULL’S BALLOONS ISSUE FROM OFF PANEL TO THEIR RESPECTIVE

SIDES. LOOKING BEYOND THE TEA TABLE TO THE BACKGROUND WE PERHAPS SEE ONE OF THE

ROOM’S WINDOWS, THE TREES AND GRASS AND FLOWERS SWAYING IN THE SUMMER BREEZE OUTSIDE.

(WHOOPS. JUST NOTICED THAT ONLY MRS.GULL IS SPEAKING HERE, SO SCRATCH THAT BIT ABOVE

ABOUT THE RECTOR’S DIALOGUE ISSUING FROM OFF. HE HASN’T GOT ANY. ALL WE SEE OF HIM

ARE HIS HANDS AND HIS KNEES AS HE SITS POURING HOT WATER INTO THE TEA POT. MRS.GULL’S

HANDS PERHAPS GESTURE AS SHE SPEAKS FROM OFF PANEL. SEE WHAT LOOKS BEST TO YOU).

MRS.GULL (OFF):

Such talk, Rector Harrison. It makes me quite giddy.

MRS.GULL (OFF):

Besides, our William’s tutoring at village school is all a

widow’s income can afford him, providing little opportunity for

such fine notions to bear fruit.

The mousie...

Alan invited me above to select a relevant

English wildflower. Being far away in

Australia, I don’t think I gave it as much

thought as I should have. I know I made

rather a bad job of the rodent the first time

out. I originally drew the dead rat in this

scene very badly. In one of our various

revisions I had a chance to revise it, and

I’ve darkened this so you can see how much

whiteout is in the redrawing. ( See the panel

in place on facing page, dead centre.) I fixed

it by grabbing a Beatrix Potter book out

of the hands of a nearby child and casting

Samuel Whiskers as the poor unfortunate

animal. Potter sure knew her mousies.

Chapter 2, page 6.

Continuing with the boy Gull’s

dissection of the rodent and the Rector’s

interview with the widow Gull. This is

some of Alan’s best writing in the FROM

HELL scripts. Returning to Rich Kreiner’s

essay, referred to in my introduction:

“Naturally the From Hell scripts slow our

pace radically. More leisurely scrutiny is

encouraged and greater discovery promoted:

it was fresh revelation, dawning only with

the scripts, that as the child Gull splits open

a dead field mouse, he, in our company,

was divining an oracle. We, as he, read

the entrails and clearly see the future:

there’s blood on his hands.” ( TCJ 173, Dec.

1994)

PAGE 6. (1,269 words) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER NINE PANELS, FOLLOWING THE SAME PATTERN AS ON PAGE FIVE. WE OPEN HERE WITH

A SHOT THROUGH WILLIAM’S EYES AS HE KNEELS. IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND, THE DEAD

ANIMAL HAS BEEN PLACED CAREFULLY SO AS TO LIE UPON ITS BACK AT THE CENTRE OF WILLIAM’S

OUTSPREAD HANDKERCHIEF. IN THE FOREGROUND, WE SEE WILLIAM’S HANDS. HE IS CAREFULLY

OPENING UP AN OLD-FASHIONED-LOOKING PEN KNIFE. IT LOOKS LIKE IT HAS A GOOD EDGE TO IT.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

BACK IN THE RECTORY, WE HAVE THE SEATED FIGURE OF RECTOR HARRISON IN THE F/G

ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO HALF FIGURE. HE IS MORE OR LESS IN PROFILE TO US

HERE. HE’S FINISHED POURING THE TEA, BUT THE STEAM HAS FOGGED HIS WIRE RIMMED

SPECTACLES, AND HE HAS REMOVED THEM HERE TO WIPE THEM CLEAN WITH HIS HANDKERCHIEF.

AS HE SPEAKS TO MRS.GULL HE DOES NOT MEET HER GAZE BUT RATHER LOOKS DOWN AT THE

GLASSES AS HE WIPES THEM FREE FROM FOG AND CONDENSATION WITH SMALL CIRCULAR

MOVEMENTS OF HIS LINEN-ENSHROUDED FINGERS. ACROSS THE TABLE FROM HIM AND THUS

FACING US FROM THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND WE SEE MRS.GULL. HER MOUTH OPENS SLIGHTLY

AND HER EYES WIDEN IN SURPRISE AS THE RECTOR MAKES HIS OFFER. SHE HADN’T EXPECTED

THIS, BUT THEN SHE DOESN’T REALISE THE EXTENT OF THE RECTOR’S CRUSH UPON HER.

RECTOR HARRISON:

A shameful waste of one so bright. How would it be if I

should tutor him myself each day, here at the Rectory?

RECTOR HARRISON:

Then we shall see what disciplines he turns his hand to

best.

47

Chapter 2, page 6

PANEL 3.

BACK IN THE UNDERGROWTH LOOKING THROUGH WILLIAM’S EYES. STEADYING THE STIFF DEAD

RODENT IN ONE HAND, POSITIONED BELLY UP, WILLIAM PUSHES THE KNIFE BLADE INTO THE CENTRE

OF ITS LOWER BELLY AND DRAWS IT UP THROUGH THE TOUGH AND RESISTANT TISSUE, EXPOSING

A WET AND STICKY DARKNESS WITHIN. ALREADY DEAD, THE VAGUELY DISAPPOINTED-LOOKING

MINIMALIST FEATURES OF THE RAT REGISTER NO EXTRA DISTRESS AT THIS FURTHER OUTRAGE OF ITS

CORPOREAL FORM. THE KNIFE SLICES UPWARD, PARTING FUR, PARTING SKIN AND MUSCLE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

IN THE RECTORY WE HAVE A FLOOR-LEVEL SHOT, DOWN BY MRS.GULL’S FEET, WHICH WE SEE

IN THE FOREGROUND HERE. THOUGH SHE SITS WITH HER LEGS CAREFULLY AND PRUDENTLY CROSSED

BENEATH HER VOLUMINOUS SKIRTS, THE HEM OF IT HAS INADVERTENTLY RIDDEN UP TO REVEAL

PERHAPS THREE QUARTERS OF AN INCH OF FLESH IN THE VICINITY OF MRS.GULL’S ANKLE, JUST

ABOVE THE TOP OF HER BLACK LACE-UP BOOTS. AS WE LOOK BEYOND THIS WE SEE THE SEATED

RECTOR HARRISON, FULL FIGURE IN THE BACKGROUND AND LOOKING TOWARDS US. HE IS JUST

RESETTLING THE GLASSES (NOW WIPED CLEAN) UPON THE BRIDGE OF HIS NOSE, AND AS HIS

WORLD SWIMS BACK INTO FOCUS IT SEEMS THAT HIS GAZE IS FIXED UPON THE LIMITED EROTIC

VISTAS OF MRS.GULL’S ANKLE (A SLIGHTLY THICK ONE AT THAT, IT MUST BE ADMITTED). THE

RECTOR, IN DANGER OF BECOMING AN ERECTOR, CROSSES HIS OWN LEGS CONCEALINGLY AND

SHIFTS A LITTLE AGAINST THE HARDNESS OF HIS CHAIR. SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE ROOM, A

CLOCK TICKS AS DUST MOTES TUMBLE IN THE SUNBEAMS. THE LACE OF MRS.GULL’S UNDERSKIRT

RUSTLES INAUDIBLY AGAINST THE CHEAP SILK OF HER STOCKINGS. THE RECTOR SWEATS.

MRS.GULL (OFF):

Oh, I could not impose upon you so. Surely you’d soon grow

tired with both of us?

RECTOR HARRISON:

With one so charming?

RECTOR HARRISON:

Dear Mrs.Gull, I should as soon grow tired with life itself.

PANEL 5.

BACK IN THE UNDERGROWTH, THE OPENING INCISION HAS BEEN MADE AND THE STICKY KNIFE

SET DOWN TO ONE SIDE. THE RAT LIES ON ITS BACK, LEGS SKYWARDS, THERE AT THE CENTRE

OF THE BLOOD-SPECKED HANDKERCHIEF. A SLIGHTLY CYNICAL-LOOKING SIDEWAYS SMILE HAS

BEEN OPENED IN THE FLESH OF ITS STOMACH, AND HERE WE SEE WILLIAM’S BLOOD-BLACKENED

AND STICKY FINGERS PULLING BACK THE LIPS OF THE SMILE TO THRUST INSIDE AFTER THE

TINY, EXPOSED ORGANS. THE SMELL OF BLOOD AND SHIT AND RATS’ INNARDS MIXES WITH

THAT OF GRASS AND SWEAT AND SUNSHINE IN WILLIAM’S EXCITED NOSTRILS. THE MOMENT IS

TIMELESS AND GLASSY, GLAZED BY THE BUMBLEBEE-QUIET OF THE SUMMER AFTERNOON.

No dialogue

PANEL 6.

VIRTUALLY A REPLAY OF PANEL TWO UPON THIS PAGE IN TERMS OF CAMERA ANGLE NOW AS WE

CUT BACK TO THE RECTORY. IN THE FOREGROUND, RECTOR HARRISON IS REACHING OUT WITH ONE

HAND TO LIFT THE SILVER TEAPOT. WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE GESTURES TO MRS.GULL, PALM

OUTWARD IN DENIAL OF HER DAZED PROTESTATIONS. EYES CLOSED PIOUSLY AND MOUTH A PRIM

LITTLE BUD IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE RECTOR’S FACE... OTHERWISE HIS FACE COULD BE OFF PANEL

48

Part 1: Stages

AND JUST HIS HANDS VISIBLE HERE. UP TO YOU. ACROSS THE TABLE, MRS.GULL LOOKS FLUSTERED

AND ASTONISHED. ONE HAND RAISES UNCONSCIOUSLY TO LIGHTLY TOUCH THE LINEN SLOPES OF HER

UPPER BREAST. HER EYES ARE WIDE AND SURPRISED AS SHE GAZES AT THE RECTOR.

MRS.GULL:

Wh-why Rector Harrison, I...

RECTOR HARRISON:

Hush. It is settled. Let us hear no more of it.

RECTOR HARRISON:

My uncle Benjamin is treasurer at Guy’s Hospital. Who

knows? In time your son may find his true vocation there...

PANEL 7.

WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH WILLIAM’S EYES AT HIS HANDS, WHICH ARE RAISED BEFORE HIS

FACE. IN THE UPPER HAND, BETWEEN FINGER AND THUMB, HE HOLDS THE CARDIAC AND DIGESTIVE

SYSTEMS OF THE DEAD RAT, REMOVED FROM ITS OPEN CHEST. THE DELICATE LITTLE RUBBER

TUBES AND THE KIDNEY-BEAN-PIP MINIATURE ORGANS GLISTEN WETLY IN THE SUNSHINE, A SMALL

AND STICKY BUNCH OF GRAPES FROM WHICH THE STALE BLACK WINE STILL DRIPS. WILLIAM’S

OTHER HAND IS DIRECTLY BENEATH THE HAND HOLDING UP THE ORGANS FOR INSPECTION. THE

DRIPPINGS FROM THE EVISCERATED INNARDS FALL DOWN TO SPLASH IN A TINY POOL FORMED AT

THE CENTRE OF WILLIAM’S BROAD, UPTURNED PALM. EVERYTHING IS STILL. WILLIAM HOLDS HIS

BREATH.

No dialogue.

PANEL 8.

BACK IN THE RECTORY, WE ARE LOOKING NOW THROUGH THE EYES OF WILLIAM’S MOTHER, MRS.GULL.

PERHAPS ALL WE CAN SEE OF HER ARE HER HANDS CROSSED DEMURELY AND ALMOST PROTECTIVELY

UPON THE SLIPPERY FABRIC OF HER KNEE. LOOKING ACROSS THE TABLE, WE SEE THE RECTOR.

WITH ONE HAND HOLDING THE LIFTED AND STEAMING TEAPOT AND THE OTHER STEADYING ONE OF

THE BONE CHINA CUPS READY TO POUR, HE LOOKS UP BRIGHTLY THROUGH HIS SPECTACLES AT US,

LEANING FORWARD ACROSS THE TABLE PERHAPS A LITTLE MORE THAN ONE WOULD REALLY WANT HIM TO

IN HIS ATTITUDE OF EAGER ENTREATY. HE SMILES, HIS DESIRE TO IMPRESS HIMSELF ROMANTICALLY

UPON MRS.GULL ABSURDLY OBVIOUS BEHIND HIS ATTEMPT AT A RESTRAINED RECTORAL FAÇADE.

RECTOR HARRISON:

...may find a calling deep enough to make him quite

forget the ocean’s lure.

RECTOR HARRISON:

Now, how do you prefer your tea, dear Mrs.Gull...

RECTOR HARRISON:

Or might I know you as “Elizabeth”?

PANEL 9.

FINAL SHOT THROUGH WILLIAM’S EYES. WE CLOSE IN UPON THE IMAGE IN PANEL SEVEN, SO

THAT ALL WE SEE HERE IS THE LOWER OF WILLIAM’S TWO HANDS, THE PALM UPTURNED TO CATCH

THE BLOOD AND THE DEAD JUICES THAT DRIP INTO THE PICTURE FROM OFF PANEL ABOVE. THE

POOL IN THE CENTRE OF WILLIAM’S HAND HAS STARTED TO BRIM OVER, THIN BLACK RIVULETS

RUNNING DOWN ACROSS THE BLADE-EDGE OF WILLIAM’S HAND TO TRICKLE ROUND, DEFYING

GRAVITY, AND GATHER AT HIS KNUCKLES, WHENCE THEY DRIP IN SMALL BEADS TOWARDS THE

OFF-PANEL SPEARS OF GRASS BELOW. ALL THE TIME, FRESH DROPLETS CONTINUE TO

SPLASH INTO WILLIAM’S PALM FROM ABOVE. IT’S ALL VERY HOLY AND MYSTERIOUS,

A PERSONAL GRAIL REVEALED.

No dialogue.

49

Chapter 2, page 18.

A portrait of Queen Victoria. Alan

and I debated Queen Victoria’s part in the

narrative, with regard to how the chain of

command would have worked. To solve the

problem of a prominent player not being a

Mason as Knight asserted, Alan gave the

Queen a more hands-on role in the affair

than the Masonic cover-up theory had

previously attributed to her. I argued that this

would create more problems than it solved,

by having the Queen appear to so blatantly

command (of William Gull) an assassination

(of Annie Crook, the sweetshop girl).

“Well, how else would she command

it?” asked Alan.

Never having eavesdropped in the

corridors of power, I had no idea, and still haven’t got one. Nevertheless, on page 28 of

this chapter, Alan ameliorated the Queen’s words “We have promised our grandson that she

shall not be killed, but if this scandal is not to rock the throne, she must be SILENCED. We

leave it in your hands, Sir William.” to “We have promised our grandson that she will not feel

the fullest extent of our displeasure,” etc. And the changed lettering on that page, you

can see if you look carefully, doesn’t quite fit in the space allotted to it.

PAGE 18. (991 words) PANEL 1. (edited to show panel 1 only)

NOW WE HAVE A FOUR-PANEL PAGE, THE FIRST OF TWO IN A SEQUENCE DETAILING AN

ENCOUNTER BETWEEN DR. WILLIAM GULL AND HER IMPERIAL MAJESTY, VICTORIA REGINA.

THE MAIN POINT TO GET OVER IN THESE TWO PAGES, ASIDE FROM THE OBVIOUS PLOT POINTS

LIKE GULL’S APPOINTMENT AS PHYSICIAN IN EXTRAORDINARY AND SO ON, IS THE SHEER

BROODING MONUMENTAL PRESENCE OF VICTORIA. SHE WASN’T JUST A FUNNY LITTLE OLD WOMAN

WHO SAID, “WE ARE NOT AMUSED” AND REFUSED TO PASS LEGISLATION AGAINST LESBIANS

BECAUSE SHE SIMPLY DIDN’T BELIEVE THAT SUCH CREATURES EXISTED. SHE WAS A HOLY

TERROR OF A QUEEN, A MONARCH WHO’D PRESIDED OVER THE BUILDING OF BRITAIN’S GREAT

EMPIRIC ADVENTURE, A PRESENCE AT THE HEART OF ONE OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST POWER-

BLOCS. HER FAMILY AND SERVANTS WERE ALL SHIT-SCARED OF HER, AND FOR HER PART SHE

SEEMS TO HAVE HAD LITTLE TIME FOR ANY OF THEM, HOLDING EVEN HER OWN FAMILY IN

OBVIOUS CONTEMPT MUCH OF THE TIME. AT THE SAME TIME, SHE WAS THE QUEEN WHO’D GONE

INTO A TRULY MONUMENTAL SULK UPON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND ALBERT, A SULLENNESS

HEWN IN MARBLE AND ENDURING FOR DECADES WHILE THE EMPIRE BEGAN TO ATROPHY AND

50

Part 1: Stages

ROT ALL AROUND HER. SHE IS A PRESENCE THAT HAS SOMEHOW TRANSCENDED MORTAL LIMITS

AND ENTERED HISTORY WITHIN HER OWN LIFETIME, A WOMAN EMOTIONALLY AND POLITICALLY

DEAD LONG BEFORE HER ELABORATE FUNERAL. IT IS THIS QUALITY IN VICTORIA, STONE-LIKE,

HISTORIC AND MONUMENTAL THAT I WANT TO CONVEY HERE, AND THE WAY THAT I WANT TO DO

IT IS BY USING A TENSE AND REPETITIVE SEQUENCE OF STATIC PANELS. YOU’LL SEE WHAT I

MEAN AS WE GO ALONG, HOPEFULLY. THIS FIRST PAGE HAS ONE BIG PANEL AT THE TOP THAT

TAKES UP TWO THIRDS OR THREE QUARTERS OF THE WHOLE PAGE AREA. BENEATH THIS THERE ARE

THREE PANELS THAT GRADUALLY CLOSE IN UPON A DETAIL OF THE OPENING IMAGE. THE FIRST

AND BIGGEST PICTURE IS A SHOT OF QUEEN VICTORIA SITTING IN A HUGE AND SHADOWY STONE

CHAMBER, ALL ALONE, SOMEWHERE WITHIN BUCKINGHAM PALACE OR THEREABOUTS. THE ROOM IS

UNBEARABLY DARK BUT WITH SUGGESTIONS OF HUGE PILLARS AND ARCHES RISING ABOUT THE

WALLS OF THE CHAMBER IN THE BACKGROUND, INDISTINCT AND SHADOWY MASSES AGAINST THE

MIASMIC DARK OF THE CHAMBER. PERHAPS HUGE DRAPES AND TAPESTRIES EQUALLY DARK, HANG

IN A DUST-BOUND SILENCE FROM SOME PARTS OF THE CHAMBER, PERHAPS CONCEALING WINDOWS

AND BLOCKING OUT THE LIGHT. THE CHAMBER IS ALMOST BARE, AND IN THE CENTRE OF IT UPON

A RAISED STONE SEAT, CUSHIONED WITH SUMPTUOUS FABRICS AND PLUSH BOLSTERS, SITS HER

IMPERIAL MAJESTY, SHOWING US THE DISTINCTIVE PROFILE THAT LAUNCHED A THOUSAND POSTAGE

STAMPS. THE ONLY SOURCE OF LIGHT IN THE ROOM, A COMPARATIVELY WEAK ONE, SEEMS TO BE

ISSUING FROM OFF PANEL LEFT, BEHIND VICTORIA AS SHE SITS FACING TO THE RIGHT. HER

FACE IS THEREFORE COMPLETELY OBLITERATED BY A MASK-LIKE BLOT OF SHADOW, WITH ONLY

THE BACK OF HER HEAD AND A LITTLE OF THE SIDE OF HER FACE ILLUMINATED HERE. SHE SITS

PERFECTLY STILL IN THE SHADOWS, AS IF CARVED OUT OF THE SHADOWS HERSELF. SHE ALREADY

LOOKS LIKE ONE OF THE STATUES THAT WILL BE ERECTED AFTER HER DEATH, SO UNEARTHLY IS

HER MOTIONLESSNESS. SHE DOESN’T LOOK ROUND AS SHE SPEAKS, AND HER SPEECH BALLOON IS

A SMALL THING, HANGING IN THE ECHOING VASTNESS OF HER CHAMBER OF MOURNING. THE QUEEN

WEARS MOSTLY BLACK, WHICH TENDS EVEN MORE TO MAKE HER OUTLINE BLEED INTO THE SHADOWS

OF THE CHAMBER, HEIGHTENING HER VISUAL AMBIGUITY.

VICTORIA:

Dr. Gull.

Drawing paper

With this chapter I introduced a variant art technique.

I intended at the time to play around a great deal more with

different approaches, but the instances of half-tone wash

in Chapter 5 caused some difficulty in reproduction and

I played safe after that. In this one I had found a type of

paper with a “linen” textured surface. It took ink without

bleeding, and I found that I could drag a black crayon over the

white paper, and white crayon over black ink also, to obtain

an effect I had seen in some early twentieth-century political

cartoons. I employed this paper all through Chapter 2 and

then brought it back for Chapter 10. It invariably photocopied

well, but sometimes it has printed very murkily. However, it

looks good in the most recent editions of the book, suggesting

that the idea wasn’t entirely stupid.

51

Chapter 3, page 7.

The significant action of Chapter 3 is the

coming together of Marie Kelly and her friends.

Marie’s knowledge of the illegitimate royal baby,

which she has just delivered to Sickert in Cleveland

Street, leads to the writing of the blackmail letter

that starts the terrible wheels of Fate turning. I don’t

know if it’s deliberate but Liz’s glass is described

as “half full” in panel 1 and in panel 8 it’s “half

empty.”

PAGE 7. (1,476 words) PANEL 1

THIS PAGE HAS NINE PANELS, IN THREE TIERS OF

THREE, AND WE CONTINUE WITH OUR BARROOM DIALOGUE

BETWEEN THE TWO PROSTITUTES. THE FIRST TIER ON

THIS PAGE, THINKING ABOUT IT, WOULD PROBABLY

WORK JUST AS WELL AS A WIDE PANEL, OR PERHAPS

AS A CONTINUOUS BACKGROUND SHOT THAT SPANS THE

WHOLE WIDTH OF THE TIER BUT WHICH IS DIVIDED INTO THREE SMALLER PANELS. OUR BASIC

POINT OF VIEW IS THE REVERSE OF THAT MIDDLE TIER ON PAGE SIX, IN THAT WHILE WE STILL

SEE LIZ AND MARIE IN PROFILE WE ARE NOW ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TABLE, STANDING

JUST INSIDE THE WINDOW, SO THAT THE TABLE IS UP IN THE FOREGROUND WITH LIZ SITTING

IN PROFILE ON THE LEFT, MARIE IN PROFILE ON THE RIGHT AND THE BAR AND ITS DENIZENS

VISIBLE ACROSS THE TABLETOP DIRECTLY BEYOND THEM. IF YOU DO DECIDE TO DO THIS AS A

CONTINUOUS BACKGROUND SHOT DIVIDED INTO THREE RATHER THAN AS ONE BIG WIDE PANEL, THEN

IN THE FIRST SMALL PANEL WE SEE LIZ STRIDE, SITTING ROUGHLY IN PROFILE AND FACING RIGHT,

STILL WEARING THE SAME MOURNFUL LOOK AS IN OUR LAST PANEL ON PAGE 6, AS SHE CONTINUES TO

RECOUNT THE STORY OF HER EARLY YEARS. PERHAPS SHE STILL HAS HER CHIN RESTING IN HER HAND.

HER GLASS IS HALF FULL ON THE TABLE BEFORE HER AS SHE GAZES DREAMILY ACROSS IN MARIE’S

DIRECTION. (MARIE IS NOT VISIBLE HERE, BEING SEATED OVER ON THE FAR RIGHT OF THIS TIER,

IN PANEL THREE IF YOU DECIDE TO GO WITH THE CONTINUOUS-BACKGROUND-DIVIDED-INTO-THREE

IDEA. BEYOND LIZ, LIFE IN THE STYGIAN AND SMOKE-WREATHED BARROOM GOES ON AS NORMAL.

LIZ:

England... so ugly! Once, in Torslanda, I am Elizabeth

Gustafsdotter, on my parents beautiful farm, Stora Tumlehe.

LIZ:

Now, in England married, I am Elizabeth Stride.

PANEL 2.

PANNING ACROSS WE NOW JUST HAVE A SHOT OF THE TABLE BETWEEN THE TWO WOMEN, WITH THE

BEER GLASSES RESTING UPON IT. LOOKING BEYOND THIS, WE SEE MORE OF THE BAR AND THE

SHADOWY INDISTINCT FIGURES OF THE COSTERMONGERS LEANING AGAINST IT, VISIBLE THROUGH

THE PALL OF TOBACCO SMOKE. LIZ’S BALLOONS ENTER THE PANEL FROM OFF-PIC LEFT HERE.

LIZ:

Arrived, we live by canal, Limehouse Cut. I see the ugly

52

Part 1: Stages

Limehouse church, and I am thinking of Torslanda.

LIZ:

It makes me alone, that church.

PANEL 3.

CONTINUING TO PAN ACROSS THIS CONTINUOUS BACKGROUND WE REACH MARIE, SITTING FACING

LEFT OVER ON THE RIGHT-HAND SIDE OF THE TABLE OPPOSITE LIZ. SYMPATHIZING STRONGLY

WITH LIZ’S OBVIOUS DISENCHANTMENT WITH ENGLAND, MARIE MERELY LOOKS GLOOMILY INTO HER

BEER... OR PERHAPS, TO SET UP A BIT OF MINOR BUSINESS FOR THE NEXT PANEL, SHE COULD BE

TURNED AWAY FROM US AND FUMBLING AWKWARDLY WITH ONE OF HER BOOTS, STARTING TO TAKE IT

OFF SO THAT WE CAN MAYBE SEE HER MASSAGING HER FOOT IN THE NEXT PANEL. IT’S NOT ESSENTIAL,

IT’S JUST SOMETHING NATURAL SHE’D BE DOING IF SHE’S JUST SPENT THE LAST HOUR OR SO WALKING

BACK TO THE EAST END FROM CLEVELAND STREET. IN EITHER EVENT, IF WE CAN SEE HER EXPRESSION

HERE SHE LOOKS SORT OF RESIGNEDLY GLOOMY ABOUT THE CONDITION OF ENGLAND.

MARIE:

Ah, they’ve some ugly buildings, the English. I’m the same

about Ireland... or even Wales, where we lived after.

MARIE:

Anywhere but bloody London.

PANEL 4.

NOW IF THIS WORKS OUT, THE FIRST TWO PANELS OF THIS TIER ARE ANOTHER CONTINUOUS BACK-

GROUND SHOT. IN IT, WE HAVE REVERSED ANGLES SO THAT WE’RE NOW ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE

TABLE, FACING THE WINDOW. WE HAVE ALSO DROPPED DOWN TO FLOOR LEVEL SO THAT IN THIS

NEXT PANEL AND THE NEXT ONE WE ARE SEEING ONLY THE LOWER HALVES OF THE TWO WOMEN AS

THEY SIT FACING EACH OTHER ACROSS THE TABLE. IN THIS PANEL WE SEE THE LOWER HALF TO

THREE QUARTERS OF MARIE KELLY AS SHE SITS FACING TOWARDS THE RIGHT BUT PERHAPS TURNED

SLIGHTLY TOWARDS US HERE. IF IT WORKS, AND LOOKS GOOD AS A PIECE OF BUSINESS, WE SEE

THAT MARIE HAS TAKEN OFF ONE OF HER SHOES AND IS RUBBING HER SORE FOOT THROUGH THE

RIBBED BLACK MATERIAL OF HER STOCKINGS, ATTEMPTING TO SOOTHE THE BLISTERS INCURRED BY

HER WALK FROM CLEVELAND STREET. BOTH HER BALLOON AND THE BALLOON OF LIZ STRIDE ENTER

INTO THIS PANEL FROM OFF-PIC ABOVE...FROM THE LEFT AND RIGHT-HAND SIDE RESPECTIVELY.

MARIE:

It’s like you in Limehouse: I lived near that awful George’s

church, on Ratcliffe Highway.

LIZ:

Bad place. Once they hang pirates there, I’m hearing...

PAGE 5.

PANNING ACROSS WE NOW SEE THE LOWER HALF OF LIZ STRIDE, HER HEAD AND SHOULDERS OFF

PANEL ABOVE AS SHE SITS FACING TOWARDS THE OFF-PANEL MARIE. IF WE CAN SEE HER HANDS

SHE IS JUST RAISING HER GLASS AGAIN HERE TOWARDS HER OFF-PANEL LIPS TO SIP FROM IT.

BENEATH THE TABLE, LYING THERE WITH ITS MUZZLE RESTING ON ITS PAWS, WE PERHAPS SEE THE

MONGREL DOG THAT I SUGGESTED THAT YOU SHOW TROTTING AROUND THE PUB EARLIER, ITS BELLY

RESTING CONTENTEDLY IN THE SAWDUST... MARIE’S BALLOONS ISSUE FROM OFF PANEL LEFT HERE.

MARIE (OFF):

Hangin’ and WORSE! Why, they buried the Ratcliffe Highway

murderer at a crossroads, stake through his heart an’ all.

MARIE (OFF):

Why’d you leave your farm?

PANEL 6.

NOW, UP TO THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND, IN PROFILE AND FACING LEFT, WE HAVE THE FACE

53

Chapter 3, page 7

OF LIZ STRIDE. SHE GAZES INTO SPACE WITH HER SAD EYES AND GIVES A SELF-DEPRECATING

LITTLE SMILE AT THE THOUGHT OF HER YOUTHFUL FOLLY IN PREFERRING THE BRIGHT LIGHTS OF

GOTHENBURG TO THE DREARINESS OF TORSLANDA. LOOKING BEYOND HER AND ACROSS THE TABLE WE

SEE MARIE KELLY SIPPING FROM HER HALF PINT OF BEER, STARING KEENLY AT LIZ OVER THE RIM

OF THE GLASS AS SHE DOES SO, INTERESTED TO HEAR THIS BIG SWEDISH GIRL’S STORY.

LIZ:

Haha. At seventeen, not thinking so much of farms, I go working

as servant at Gothenburg. Lars Olofsson. Man with three children.

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT, BUT IN THE FOREGROUND LIZ’S EXPRESSION HAS LOST ITS LITTLE SMILE, AND SHE

JUST LOOKS SAD. THIS ISN’T FUNNY. THIS GUY IN GOTHENBURG AND HIS STILLBORN BABY FUCKED

UP LIZ’S ENTIRE LIFE, AND THAT’S WHY SHE’S HERE IN LONDON AT PRECISELY THE WRONG TIME

AND THAT’S WHY WITHIN A LITTLE OVER A MONTH SOMEONE WILL SLICE HER THROAT OPEN IN BERNER

STREET. HER EYES LOOK MOMENTARILY DEADENED WITH THE SADNESS OF HER LIFE, AND THE SMILE

EVAPORATES FROM HER LIPS AS SHE RECOUNTS THE STORY. ACROSS THE TABLE, MARIE KELLY HAS

LOWERED THE GLASS FROM HER LIPS AND IS LOOKING AT LIZ WITH A SORT OF WINCE OF SYMPATHY,

A SLIGHT SYMPATHETIC GRIMACE CONTORTING ONE CORNER OF THE MOUTH.

LIZ:

Four years, every night in my bed he wants me not as his wife,

but as servant. When I expect baby, He say “GO”.

LIZ:

Now I am here. Even born dead, baby changes our life, I think.

PANEL 8.

CHANGE ANGLES. IN THE FOREGROUND ALL WE CAN SEE OF MARIE KELLY IS ONE OF HER HANDS AS

SHE RAISES HER HALF-EMPTY GLASS ALOFT INTO THE PANEL, PROPOSING A SOLEMN TOAST TO THE

CONTINUING REGULARITY OF THE MENSTRUAL PROCESS. LOOKING BEYOND THE GLASS AND MARIE’S

UPRAISED HAND WE CAN SEE LIZ SITTING OPPOSITE US, ONCE MORE CONJURING HER WEAK LITTLE

SMILE AS SHE LOOKS UP AT WHAT MARIE IS DOING. HER EYES, HOWEVER, ARE FILLED WITH

SADNESS AND LOSS. MARIE’S BALLOON ISSUES FROM OFF-PANEL LEFT.

MARIE:

I’ve got friends as wouldn’t argue. Here’s to next month’s

blood, Long Liz. Here’s to the curse.

PANEL 9.

IN THIS FINAL PANEL WE CUT AWAY TO A STILL SHOT OF CHRIST CHURCH SPITALFIELDS. IT FILLS

THE BACKGROUND HERE, WHILE IN THE FOREGROUND WE SEE AN ANONYMOUS BLACK MAN FROM THE WEST

INDIES. HE WEARS A LONG LINEN SMOCK AND HAS A CAREFULLY LETTERED COPPERPLATE SIGN HUNG

ROUND HIS NECK, WHICH DECLARES HIM TO HAVE BEEN BATHED IN THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB. AS THE

NEGRO STANDS THERE IN THE STREET, A TEPID AND GRIMY RAIN IS JUST STARTING TO FALL FROM

THE GREY BLANKET OF CLOUD UP ABOVE. AS THE RAIN DROPLETS TRICKLE OVER HIS BLACK SKIN

LEAVING INVISIBLE TRAILS OF SOOT HE TURNS HIS EYES UPWARDS AND STARES MISERABLY INTO

THE OVERCAST LONDON SKY. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK HE’S DOING HERE. HE ISN’T AT ALL

IMPORTANT TO OUR STORY AND WE NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN, BUT I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE NICE TO

INCLUDE A SHOT OF HIM AS AN EXAMPLE OF THE UNEXPECTED EXOTICISM OF VICTORIAN LONDON. AS

HE STANDS IN THE FOREGROUND HERE, CHRIST CHURCH REARS UP BEHIND HIM, ITS SICKLY WHITE

SPIRE THREATENING TO SCAR THE CLOUDS. THE CHURCH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE BLACK GUY

HERE. HE’S JUST A BIT OF FOREGROUND BUSINESS THAT WE HAVE TO LOOK BEYOND TO SEE THE

PALLID, HUNGRY STONE MONSTER IN THE BACKGROUND, WAITING IN THE RAIN.

No dialogue

54

Part 1: Stages

Chapter 3: rethink.

The line of dialogue on panel 8 on

the facing page, “Here’s to next month’s blood,”

reminds me that chapter 3 was once going to be

titled The Harlot’s Curse. That was presumably

in the synopsis that Alan gave me over the

telephone way back in 1988. I wasn’t keen on it

at the time, but that was probably because I didn’t

fully understand its significance.

Re-reading page 7 and some near it

(pgs 16,17,18), I’m thinking we must have been

having a crisis (as Alan and Bill Sienkiewicz

were having on Big Numbers around the same

time, late 1990). In his review from which I have

already quoted, Kreiner also drew attention to

“missteps” and “opportunities missed” between

the script and the finished art. Alan’s descriptions

may have veered close to impossible around

this time (see my introduction), but my finished pages are also oversimplified. Losing the

split-panel technique and all those shifting “camera angles” is perhaps one thing; I like to

start with the simplest possible arrangement and then work from there. But I could

have made a very nice study of Marie massaging her weary foot at panel 3. I’ve drawn it

now to see how it might have looked.

Panel 9 contains a whole character that

I have treated very shabbily. Alan writes: “He

isn’t important to our story. He doesn’t know

what the fuck he’s doing here.” However, Alan

describes him so knowingly that I wonder,

knowing nothing about “altered states,” when

you go through the doors of perception: is this

guy the “meet and greet” on the other side? As

a belated penitential offering, I’ve drawn a new

panel of him too.

Having drawn him, I’m now thinking he

looks like he’s just about to get involved in the

story on the next page. I probably went through all

this head-wrenching back and forth the first time

around.

55

Chapter 3, page 15.

Following the previous selection, Marie

and Liz were joined by Annie Chapman and Polly

Nichols. The four women have now composed

their blackmail letter and leave the Ringer’s

pub, prior to Marie walking all the way back to

Cleveland Street to deliver it to Sickert. This

page brings together the four Ripper victims who

allegedly knew each other; and it relates them to

the symbolic Christ Church of Hawksmoor, the

significance of which was established by Gull in

Chapter 2, and will be elaborated in 4. It also

gives us Alan’s interesting conceit of “the four

whores of the Apocalypse,” which sounds to me

like one of those fortuitous ideas a writer gets

on the wing. It’s in the after-the-fact noticing of

a pattern you’ve made that demands not to be

ignored. In the script Marie’s final balloon comes from off-panel, but I saw a chance to get

both the women and the church in one picture so that the church is “stalking” them (as

Kreiner observed). Fortuitous ideas also occur at the art stage.

PAGE 15. (938 words) PANEL 2. (panel 1 edited out for space)

NOW WE ARE IN BRUSHFIELD STREET WITH THE WOMEN, LOOKING DOWN IT TOWARDS THE

FOREGROUND AND PERHAPS CLOSER TO THE RIGHT WE HAVE ANNIE CHAPMAN AND MARIE KELLY AS

THEY WALK TOWARDS US. BEHIND AND FURTHER TO THE LEFT WE SEE POLLY NICHOLS IN THE

NEAR BACKGROUND AS SHE BUSTLES ROUND THE CORNER FROM CRISPIN STREET LOOKING ANXIOUS

AND TRYING TO KEEP UP WITH THE OTHERS. ANNIE CHAPMAN DOESN’T LOOK AT POLLY AS SHE

SPEAKS TO HER, BUT IS STARING KEENLY AT MARIE KELLY. MARIE DOESN’T LOOK AT ANNIE

BUT JUST LOOKS STRAIGHT AHEAD OF HER, THE WAY SHE’S GOING. SHE SEEMS VERY CALM. UP

TO YOU WHETHER WE CAN SEE LIZ STRIDE OR NOT. IF WE CAN SHE IS SOME WAY BEHIND ANNIE

AND MARIE BUT NOT AS FAR AWAY AS POLLY, HOBBLING AROUND BEHIND HER. AROUND THE

WOMEN THE NIGHT HAS THE DARKNESS OF DIRTY WATER: A SENSE OF DARK SEDIMENT CHURNING.

POLLY:

Wait for ME! I don’t like walkin’ on me own...

ANNIE:

Oh, shut up and don’t be so daft.

ANNIE:

Now,

’ave you got that letter safe, Marie?

PANEL 3.

NOW PERHAPS A PROFILE SHOT OF AS MANY OF THE FOUR WOMEN AS YOU CAN FIT IN COMFORTABLY,

WALKING FROM LEFT TO RIGHT ACROSS THE PANEL. POLLY HAS PERHAPS CAUGHT UP HERE, BUSTLING

ANXIOUSLY INTO THE PANEL FROM THE LEFT AND LOOKING TOWARDS ANNIE CHAPMAN AS SHE SPEAKS

TO HER. IF WE CAN SEE HER, LONG LIZ STRIDE MERELY LOOKS ON AND HOLDS HER PEACE.

56

Part 1: Stages

REMEMBER THAT LIZ IS CONSIDERABLY TALLER THAN THE OTHER WOMEN, SO YOU SHOULD HAVE A GOOD

MIX OF DISTINCTIVE PHYSICAL TYPES TO ARRANGE YOUR PICTURES AROUND.

MARIE:

’COURSE I have. I’ve not spent all night writin’ it to wipe me

arse on it now, have I?

POLLY:

Shall ye deliver it tonight?

PANEL 4.

WE ARE NOW PROBABLY STANDING AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STEPS OF CHRIST CHURCH, LOOKING

ACROSS TOWARDS BRUSHFIELD STREET AS THE FOUR WOMEN COME AROUND THE CORNER AND START

TO WALK ACROSS THE STREET TOWARDS US. SINCE CHRIST CHURCH IS DIRECTLY BEHIND US WE

CAN SEE NO TRACE OF IT HERE. WE ARE PROBABLY TOO FAR AWAY TO MAKE OUT MUCH ABOUT THE

WOMEN HERE, BUT WE CAN PROBABLY TELL WHO THEY ARE FROM THEIR BUILDS AND POSTURES.

ANNIE TUBBY, LIZ TALL, POLLY HUDDLED, MARIE DEFIANT. THEY ARE ABOUT TO WALK ACROSS

THE TRAM LINES AS WE SEE THEM COMING TOWARDS US HERE.

MARIE:

Aa. I could use a walk.

ANNIE:

Not me. I’m off lookin’ for trade to buy me supper.

ANNIE:

I’m starvin’. Only ’ad broken biscuits all day.

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW. THE WOMEN HAVE CROSSED THE STREET AND ARE NOW WALKING FROM LEFT TO

RIGHT ACROSS THE PANEL, ALONG THE PAVEMENT IMMEDIATELY IN FRONT OF CHRIST CHURCH. AS

WE SEE THEM HERE, THE STEPS OF CHRIST CHURCH AND PERHAPS THE LOWER REACHES OF THE

DORIC PILLARS ARE IMMEDIATELY BEHIND THEM. THE WHORES DO NOT LOOK AT CHRIST CHURCH AS

THEY PASS IT BY BUT CONTINUE TO TALK AMONG THEMSELVES.

MARIE:

Sure, an I’ll take sore feet over a sore fanny any time.

LIZ:

Oh, do not speak of it, when I have my ulcers.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, BUT HERE THE WOMEN ARE WALKING OFF THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE PANEL, MARIE

LAUGHING AS SHE TALKS TO LIZ STRIDE. IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND, UNNOTICED BY THE

WOMEN, THE STEPS OF CHRIST CHURCH RISE UP AND AWAY FROM US, INVITING US UP UNDER

THEIR INHUMANELY BIG PORTICO. MARIE KELLY’S LAUGHTER, BRIGHT AND INFECTIOUS THOUGH IT

IS, IS A SMALL THING NEXT TO THE AGE AND POWER AND BRUTAL MASS OF CHRIST CHURCH.

MARIE:

Ha ha ha ha

MARIE:

Her with her STARVATION, you with yer PLAGUES, an POLLY with her

DEATH

THREATS...

PANEL 7.

THIS FINAL BIG PANEL IS A SHOT OF CHRIST CHURCH SPITALFIELDS STANDING THERE, AWFUL AND

ALONE AGAINST THE MIASMIC NIGHT. I FIGURE WE ARE LOOKING AT THE UPPER REACHES OF THE

CHURCH HERE, WITH THE MASSIVE SPIRE RISING UP ABOVE THE GIGANTIC PORTICO: ONE MAN’S

STRANGE AND TWISTED EGO IN CORPSEWHITE STONE AND BUILT TO LAST FOR ALL ETERNITY. MARIE’S

LITTLE SPEECH BALLOON ISSUES UP FROM OFF PANEL DOWN TOWARDS THE BOTTOM RIGHT OF THE PANEL

HERE, HER WORDS DRIFTING BACK ALONG THE STREET TOWARDS US AS SHE WALKS ON, LEAVING US TO

GAZE UP AT THE PALLID HELLCHURCH, LOOMING ABOVE US, A TOMB OF DEAD GODS.

MARIE (OFF):

We’re the four whores of the Apocalypse.

57

Part 2

The theme is

Alan Moore’s London.

This is where his interest

in psychogeography

begins. This part runs

from here to page 93.

See also pages 102-107

in the colour

section.

Chapter 4, page 1.

Alan Moore’s concept for this chapter

is audacious. It comprises 38 pages of a horror

comic in which the protagonist drives around

London giving a lecture on architecture. There

are two pages in this chapter that make an

interesting juxtaposed contrast: page 1, in which

Alan makes some very bold decisions, and

page 23 (see later), in which he has a crisis of

confidence in the plan he sets up here at the

beginning.

In comparing script and image, you

may think that I’m disregarding the scene as

imagined by Alan. But I had the whole chapter

in front of me and judged that these flashbacks

at the beginning would work well as unframed

and imprecise recollections with the coach thrust

up front instead of coming from afar, giving

a dynamic contrast as an opener. If we were to be concerned that it was going to be a

challenge to hold the reader’s interest, why not begin with a loud call to attention.

PAGE 1. (1560 words) PANEL 1.

HELLO, EDDIE. SORRY IT’S BEEN SO LONG IN COMING, AND I HOPE IT’S WORTH THE

WAIT. BIT OF A FUNNY EPISODE ALL ROUND, THIS: IT’S THE LONGEST TO DATE, AND

YET, UNLIKE THE GULL EPISODE, IT ISN’T STAGED IN A RAPID SUCCESSION OF ONE OR

TWO-PAGE SCENES THAT HOP ABOUT ALL OVER THE PLACE AND THUS SUSTAIN THE READERS’

INTEREST MORE EASILY. WHAT WE HAVE HERE, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF THE FIRST TWO OR

THREE PAGES, IS ONE LONG CONTINUOUS SCENE THAT ALL TAKES PLACE OVER THE COURSE

OF A SINGLE DAY, AND ALL REVOLVES AROUND A SINGLE CONVERSATION-CUM-LECTURE

THAT IS DELIVERED TO JOHN NETLEY BY SIR WILLIAM GULL ON THE OCCASION OF THEIR

COACH-JAUNT AROUND THE CITY OF LONDON. IN TERMS OF SUSTAINING A CONVERSATION

OVER THIRTY ODD PAGES, I THINK YOU’LL AGREE THAT IT PRESENTS SOME POTENTIALLY

SERIOUS STORYTELLING PROBLEMS. IN LIGHT OF THIS, I SPENT A LONG WHILE TRYING

TO THINK OF WAYS TO TART THE STRIP UP USING CONTINUOUS BACKGROUND PANELS

OR SIMILAR VISUAL DEVICES. I THOUGHT OF LIBERALLY SPRINKLING THE STORY WITH

FLASHBACK PANELS TO THE ANCIENT TIMES THAT GULL IS TALKING ABOUT, SO THAT WE

COULD LIVEN THINGS UP BY SHOWING BOADICEA IN THE HEAT OF BATTLE, OR HAWKSMOOR

CACKLING, RUBBING HIS HANDS TOGETHER AND SACRIFICING CHICKENS AS THEY LAY THE

FOUNDATIONS TO CHRIST CHURCH. THINKING ABOUT IT, HOWEVER, I THOUGHT “NAHH”. THE

59

Chapter 4, page 1

BEST WAY TO DO THIS STORY, I’VE CONCLUDED, IS ABSOLUTELY STRAIGHT AND WITHOUT

EMBELLISHMENT; RATHER LIKE A DRY VOCAL MIX IN A RECORDING STUDIO AS OPPOSED

TO LOTS OF ECHO AND REVERB AND WHATEVER. OF COURSE, THIS WILL ALSO BE THE MOST

DIFFICULT WAY TO DO THE PIECE, BUT I THINK IF WE JUST HAVE CONFIDENCE IN THE

NARRATIVE, WE CAN MANAGE IT.

BROOK STREET, TOWARDS THE GROSVENOR SQUARE END. IT IS AROUND SIX O’CLOCK IN

THE MORNING ON THE FIFTEENTH OF AUGUST, 1888, AND IT IS NOT YET LIGHT. A LOW

BLANKET OF LUKEWARM MIST AND FOG ROLLS THROUGH THE STREETS, LIKE GREY AND GASEOUS

TUMBLEWEEDS, AND EVERYTHING IS STILL. THE HIGH HOUSES TO EITHER SIDE OF THE

STREET ARE SILENT, AND THE ONLY SOUND IS THAT OF DISTANT HOOVES UPON COBBLES,

GROWING SLOWLY CLOSER. AWAY DOWN THE END OF THE STREET WE SEE THE RELATIVELY

SMALL AND INDISTINCT APPARITION THAT IS JOHN NETLEY’S COACH AS IT APPROACHES

THROUGH THE MURK, ITS CARRIAGE LANTERNS BURNING WITH A WEAK AND SULPHUROUS LIGHT.

NETLEY HIMSELF IS ALL BUT INVISIBLE, A BLACK WART PROTRUDING FROM THE BLACK AND

BOX-LIKE SHAPE OF THE CARRIAGE AS IT RATTLES THROUGH THE PRE-DAWN GLOOM TOWARDS

US. THIS EPISODE’S TITLES GO, AS USUAL, IN THE WHITE SPACE TO THE LEFT OF THE

OPENING IMAGE, WITH THE OPENING CAPTION SET IN THE FIRST PANEL ITSELF.

TITLES (IN WHITE SPACE):

Chapter Four

“What doth the Lord require of thee?”

CAPTION (IN FIRST PANEL):

Brook Street, London. August, 1888.

PANEL 2.

THE REMAINING TWO TIERS ON THIS PAGE HAVE THREE PANELS EACH, AND CONSTITUTE THE

FIRST IN OUR SEQUENCE OF THREE FLASHBACKS. THIS FIRST FLASHBACK TAKES PLACE IN A

RECEPTION ROOM, SOMEWHERE WITHIN BUCKINGHAM PALACE, AND WE SHOW THE WRETCHED AND

DISTRAUGHT WALTER SICKERT AS HE SHOWS THE BLACKMAIL LETTER THAT HE HAS RECEIVED

TO ALEXANDRA, THE PRINCESS OF WALES. IN THIS FIRST PANEL, RIGHT UP CLOSE IN THE

FOREGROUND, WE CAN SEE THE SLIM WRIST AND HAND OF THE PRINCESS, ENTERING THE PANEL

FROM OFF TO ONE SIDE AND HOLDING THE BLACKMAIL LETTER THAT WE SAW LAST EPISODE. IT

NEEDN’T BE CLOSE ENOUGH FOR US TO READ IT ALL, BUT WE SHOULD AT LEAST BE ABLE TO

SEE IT CLEARLY ENOUGH FOR THE READERS TO BE AWARE THAT IT IS THE SAME LETTER THAT

THEY SAW AT THE CLOSE OF OUR LAST EPISODE. LOOKING BEYOND THIS, INTO THE SPACIOUS

AND BEAUTIFULLY FURNISHED DEPTHS OF THE ROYAL RECEPTION ROOM, WE SEE WALTER SICKERT

AS HE SITS THERE SLUMPED IN A SUMPTUOUS ARMCHAIR, HIS ELBOWS RESTING ON HIS KNEES

AND HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS, LONG FINGERS RUNNING DISTRACTEDLY THROUGH HIS SANDY

HAIR. HE DOESN’T LOOK UP AT US OR AT THE OFF-PANEL PRINCESS ALEXANDRA AS HE SPEAKS,

BUT SEEMS LARGELY TO BE CONDUCTING A DIALOGUE OF WRETCHEDNESS WITH HIMSELF. MORNING

SUNLIGHT, PEARLY AND DIFFUSE, FALLS THROUGH THE HIGH WINDOWS INTO THE TICKING-CLOCK

STILLNESS OF THE RECEPTION ROOM, WHILE FROM THE WALLS OLD MASTERS REGARD THE SCENE

DISPASSIONATELY WITH YELLOWED OIL-PAINT EYES.

SICKERT:

You’re the only person I can turn to, Alix. You’re Eddy’s

mother...

SICKERT:

You see, I just don’t have the money. They think I’m rich, but...

60

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

PANEL 3.

WE REVERSE ANGLE NOW, SO THAT SICKERT AND HIS CHAIR ARE OVER TO THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND, WITH PRINCESS ALEXANDRA VISIBLE OVER TOWARDS THE LEFT OF THE BACKGROUND

AS SHE STANDS THERE, HER PROFILE SLIGHTLY TURNED TOWARDS US, READING AND RE-READING

MARY KELLY’S LETTER WITH AN EXPRESSION OF REGRET UPON HER CALM AND QUITE BEAUTIFUL

FEATURES. IN THE FOREGROUND, SICKERT SITS UP A LITTLE, REMOVING HIS HEAD FROM HIS

HANDS SO THAT HE CAN EMPLOY THEM TO MAKE VAGUE, WRETCHED GESTURES IN THE AIR BEFORE

HIM AS HE SITS, PALM UPWARDS AS IF IN EXPLANATION OR SUPPLICATION. THROUGHOUT, HE

KEEPS HIS HAUNTED GAZE FIXED ON THE FLOOR IN FRONT OF HIM, HIS FACE DESPERATE AND

WRETCHED WITH ANXIETY. HE CANNOT LOOK AT ALEXANDRA WHILE HE SPEAKS, AND FOR HER PART

SHE CONTINUES TO READ THE LETTER AND DOES NOT LOOK AT HIM. WE CAN TELL, HOWEVER, THAT

SHE IS LISTENING TO HIS PITIFUL MONOLOGUE WITH AT LEAST HALF AN EAR AS SHE CAREFULLY

RE-READS THE FATEFUL MISSIVE.

SICKERT:

Well, sometimes I AM, when I’ve SOLD something, but I don’t

manage money well, and...

SICKERT:

Oh, it’s all my fault. You trusted Eddy to me, and I let all

this happen: The baby, the wedding...

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT, ONLY HERE, IN THE FOREGROUND, SICKERT CLOSES HIS EYES AND LETS HIS HEAD

SINK BACK INTO HIS HANDS IN A GESTURE OF COMPLETE SURRENDER TO DESPAIR AND MISERY.

HIS EYES ARE SCREWED TIGHTLY SHUT AS IF TRYING TO BLOT OUT HIS GUILT AND SELF-

DISGUST, BUT TO NO AVAIL. LOOKING BEYOND HIM, WE SEE ALEXANDRA AS SHE STANDS THERE IN

THE OPALESCENT LIGHT OF THE MORNING ROOM. SHE LOWERS THE LETTER THAT SHE HAS

BEEN READING, BUT DOES NOT PUT IT DOWN. IT HANGS THERE IN HER HAND AS SHE TURNS HER

HEAD TO CALMLY REGARD SICKERT WITH AN EXPRESSION OF DEEP SYMPATHY AND PITY. SHE IS

A KINDLY WOMAN, WHO, FOR THE MOST PART, THINKS AS LITTLE OF THE FAMILY THAT SHE HAS

MARRIED INTO AS THEY DO OF HER. SHE IS THEREFORE NOT UNMOVED BY SICKERT’S PLIGHT,

NOR WITHOUT REGRET IN THE COURSE THAT SHE KNOWS SHE MUST ADOPT. SHE GAZES SADLY AND

STEADILY AT SICKERT’S BOWED HEAD AS HE SITS THERE AND WHIMPERS, PITIFULLY.

SICKERT:

Oh God, Alix...

SICKERT:

What am I going to DO?

PANEL 5.

WE CHANGE ANGLES NOW, SO THAT AS WE SEE SICKERT HERE HE IS SITTING IN PROFILE TO US,

FACING RIGHT, STILL WITH HIS BROW SUNK IN HIS HANDS. OUR EYE LEVEL IS ROUGHLY THE

SAME AS SICKERT’S IN THIS PANEL, SO ALL WE CAN SEE OF PRINCESS ALIX AS SHE APPROACHES

HIM FROM BEHIND IS A VIEW FROM, SAY, HER SHOULDERS DOWNWARDS, WITH HER HEAD AND

SHOULDERS OFF PANEL UP TOWARDS THE TOP LEFT. SHE REACHES OUT WITH ONE AFFECTIONATE

AND MOTHERLY HAND AND PLACES IT TENDERLY UPON SICKERT’S SHOULDER, A FRAGILE GESTURE

OF CONSOLATION. IN HER OTHER HAND, SHE HOLDS THE LETTER. SICKERT, SUNK DEEP IN THE

WELL OF HIS OWN MISERY, DOES NOT LOOK ROUND AT HER AS SHE SPEAKS FROM BEHIND HIM, OR

RESPOND TO HER LIGHT TOUCH UPON HIS SHOULDER. HE IS INCONSOLABLE. SINCE HER HEAD AND

SHOULDERS ARE OFF PANEL, ALIX’S BALLOONS ISSUE FROM OFF HERE.

61

Chapter 4, page 1

ALIX (OFF):

Poor Walter.

ALIX (OFF):

Of course, you understand that after the trouble last time,

I won’t be able to keep this to myself?

ALIX (OFF):

I’m sorry, Walter, but it’s Victoria...

PANEL 6.

NOW WE HAVE A SHOT AS IF LOOKING UP THROUGH SICKERT’S EYES AS HE LIFTS HIS HEAD

AND LOOKS WEARILY AND UNCOMPREHENDINGLY UP AT THE PRINCESS, WITH SICKERT HIMSELF

NOT VISIBLE HERE. WE LOOK UP INTO ALEXANDRA’S SAD AND PITYING GAZE AS SHE STARES

DOWN AT US WITH A WORLD OF SORROW AND REGRET IN HER EYES. SHE DOESN’T LIKE THE

COURSE OF ACTION THAT SHE MUST TAKE UP, BUT IT IS THE ONLY ONE OPEN TO HER.

ALIX:

Victoria will have to be told.

PANEL 7.

IN THIS LAST PANEL, WE CHANGE OUR POINT OF VIEW FROM THE LAST SHOT SO THAT WE ARE

NOW LOOKING DOWN, AS IF THROUGH THE EYES OF THE PRINCESS, INTO THE UPTURNED FACE

OF WALTER SICKERT AS HE SITS THERE IN THE PLUSH ARMCHAIR. WE REALLY ONLY SEE HIS

HEAD AND SHOULDERS HERE, LOOKING UP AT US AND THE OFF-PANEL PRINCESS WITH A LOOK

OF DULL, SICK HORROR ON HIS FACE. HAVING SEEN WHAT HAPPENED TO ANNIE CROOK FOR

AN INNOCENT AND UNINTENTIONAL TRANSGRESSION OF THE ROYAL WILL, SICKERT CANNOT

EVEN BEGIN TO DIMLY IMAGINE WHAT MIGHT BE IN STORE FOR THOSE WHO WOULD ATTEMPT

PREMEDITATED BLACKMAIL. HE LOOKS UP AT US, PUPILS DILATED BY SUDDEN COLD DREAD.

HE IS IN HELL ALREADY, WAITING FOR THE REST OF OUR CAST TO JOIN HIM.

No dialogue

Ripperology

Alan rejected Knight’s 1976 claim that Sickert was an

accomplice in the murders. Jean Overton Fuller in Sickert

and The Ripper Crimes (1990) made him the actual

murderer. Patricia Cornwell’s Portrait of a Killer: Jack

the Ripper — Case Closed (2002) took it a step further,

going so far as to extract DNA evidence from both a painting

and Ripper correspondence in police archives to make it stick.

“Cornwell’s book was released to much controversy, especially

within the British art world, where Sickert’s work is admired,

and also among ‘Ripperologists,’ who dispute her research

methods and conclusions. Cornwell has lashed back at these

critics, claiming that, if she were a man, or British, her theory

would have been accepted.” ( Wikipedia) But this loony sport

came too late to be included in our appendix, The Dance

of The Gull Catchers, a satirical account of the history

of ‘Ripperology.’

62

Chapter 4, page 4.

In the descriptions for this page, Alan

writes, “I want Gull to be an increasingly

unsettling and powerful figure as this book

unfolds.” In a recent live interview, I found

myself improvising some blather about

horror story villains that are bought “off the

shelf,” such as vampires and werewolves. That

is, the writer can obtain some ready-made evil

that saves him the trouble of having to actually

build it himself. I saw a possible landing from

my oral flight by bringing the subject around

to Alan’s fictitious William Gull (by the time

we were halfway through, we felt it would be

improper to still think of this literary

creation as being entirely biographical). When

FROM HELL first ran in parts, we did not say

it was to be about Jack the Ripper, who is of

course a “ready-made” in the form that one usually encounters him. Several parts had

appeared before most readers made the Ripper connection. By that time, Alan had

already constructed his villain, from childhood up, in Chapter 2.

PAGE 4. (1226 words) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER SEVEN-PANEL PAGE HERE, IN WHICH WE BEGIN OUR NARRATIVE PROPER FOR THIS

EPISODE, HAVING DISPENSED WITH THE FLASHBACKS. THE LAYOUT IS THE SAME AS ON THE

THREE PRECEDING PAGES IN THAT WE HAVE ONE BIG WIDE PANEL TAKING UP THE TOP TIER

AND THEN THREE SMALLER PANELS ON EACH OF THE TWO TIERS BENEATH THAT. THE FIRST

PANEL ONCE MORE REPEATS THE SAME BASIC IMAGE AS THE FIRST PANEL ON PAGES ONE, TWO

AND THREE, BUT HERE NETLEY’S CARRIAGE IS EVEN CLOSER TO US. IT IS SO CLOSE, IN

FACT, THAT WE CAN NO LONGER REALLY SEE THE CARRIAGE: ALL WE CAN SEE IS NETLEY AS

HIS TRAJECTORY BRINGS HIM UP CLOSE TO US, SO THAT HE IS STARING AT US HEAD AND

SHOULDERS FROM THE CENTRE FOREGROUND, HIS EYES STILL HIDDEN BY THE SHADOWS OF HIS

DERBY HAT-BRIM. HE HOLDS THE REINS IN ONE HAND AND THE WHIP FOLDED ACROSS HIS CHEST

WITH THE OTHER. HIS THIN LIPS OPEN ONLY SLIGHTLY AS HE GIVES THE COMMAND FOR THE

OFF-PANEL HORSE TO STOP, AND HIS FACE IS OTHERWISE COLD AND EXPRESSIONLESS. BEHIND

HIM, BROOK STREET IS TANGLED IN FOG AND THE GREY WOLF-LIGHT THAT COMES BEFORE DAWN.

THE STREETS, OTHER THAN NETLEY AND HIS CARRIAGE, ARE STILL OTHERWISE DESERTED.

NETLEY:

Whoah.

63

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

PANEL 2.

THE THREE PANELS ON THIS CENTRAL TIER ARE ALL FROM THE SAME SHOT. IN THE FOREGROUND,

WHAT WE BASICALLY SEE ARE THE HANDS OF JOHN NETLEY, RESTING THERE ON HIS KNEES AND

STILL CLUTCHING THE WHIP AND THE LIMP REINS AS HE PERCHES ATOP HIS BOX. OTHER THAN

THIS AND THE VISIBLE BIT OF THE CARRIAGE THAT HE IS SITTING ATOP, WE CANNOT SEE HIM

AT ALL. WE CANNOT, FOR EXAMPLE, SEE HIS FACE. LOOKING BEYOND HIS HANDS, THE WHIP,

AND THE REINS, WE ARE GAZING AT THE FRONT DOOR OF WILLIAM GULL’S HOUSE, WHICH IS

SITUATED AT 74 BROOK STREET. (SEE ATTACHED PHOTO. I’M SURE IT’S BEEN REPAINTED SINCE

THEN, BUT THE BASIC STRUCTURE SHOULD BE PRETTY MUCH THE SAME.) WE SEE THE FRONT DOOR

AND PERHAPS A LITTLE OF THE IRON RAILINGS THAT FENCE IN THE NARROW DROP DOWN TO THE

LEVEL OF THE HOUSE’S BASEMENT. MIST ROILS ACROSS THE PAVEMENT OUTSIDE, AND THERE ARE

AS YET NO SIGNS OF LIFE FROM WITHIN. WE ARE JUST LOOKING AT THE CLOSED AND SILENT

DOOR WITH THE NUMERAL 74 CLEARLY VISIBLE UPON IT. IN THE FOREGROUND, NETLEY’S HANDS

REMAIN CALM AND PATIENT UPON THE SLACK REINS. HE IS WAITING.

No dialogue.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT, WITH NETLEY’S HANDS REMAINING STILL IN THE FOREGROUND. LOOKING BEYOND

THIS, WE SEE THE FRONT DOOR OF NUMBER 74 BROOK STREET AS IT OPENS AND LETS THE

YELLOW GASLIGHT WITHIN TRICKLE OUT INTO THE DARK STREET. ALMOST SILHOUETTED AGAINST

THIS AS HE STANDS BRIEFLY FRAMED IN THE OPEN DOOR WE SEE THE FORM OF WILLIAM GULL,

STOCKY AND SOLID AND POWERFUL, A THICK CLOAK DRAPED AROUND HIS SHOULDERS AND A

BLACK TOP HAT PERCHED UPON HIS ROUND, CANNON-BALL HEAD. BENEATH ONE ARM, ALTHOUGH

IT NEEDN’T BE VISIBLE HERE, HE CARRIES A LARGE AND ROLLED UP MAP, AND PERHAPS A

DRAUGHTSMAN’S RULER. IN THE OTHER HAND, IF YOU THINK IT MIGHT MAKE A USEFUL PROP FOR

LATER ON, HE CARRIES A GENTLEMAN’S WALKING CANE. HE STANDS POISED ON THE ILLUMINATED

THRESHOLD OF HIS HOME HERE, ABOUT TO STEP OUT INTO THE DARK STREETS, PULLING THE DOOR

CLOSED BEHIND HIM AS HE DOES SO. HIS APPEARANCE AT THE DOOR IS SILENT AND OMINOUS.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT, WITH NETLEY’S HANDS STILL VISIBLE IN THE FOREGROUND. LOOKING BEYOND THIS,

WE SEE THAT THE DOOR TO NUMBER 74 IS NOW CLOSED AGAIN, AND THAT SIR WILLIAM’S DARK

AND TOP-HATTED FIGURE IS NOW GLIDING ACROSS THE PAVEMENT IN THE DIRECTION OF THE

CAB, A DARK AND SHADOWY MASS WHOSE FEATURES ARE NOT VISIBLE HERE. AGAIN, ALL THIS

IS CARRIED OUT IN SILENCE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE. WE ARE NOW SLIGHTLY BEHIND GULL, OUR EYE-LEVEL DOWN AROUND NEAR HIS

MIDSECTION, AND LOOKING BEYOND HIM TOWARDS THE CARRIAGE, WHICH WAITS IN THE NEAR

BACKGROUND AS GULL APPROACHES IT. WE CAN SEE ONE OF HIS ARMS HANGING DOWN, WITH THE

ROLLED UP MAP AND THE LONG RULER TUCKED BENEATH IT, ALTHOUGH AT THIS POINT THEIR

PURPOSE IS OBSCURE. OTHER THAN THIS ONE HAND AND A LITTLE OF HIS FLANK, WE CAN’T

64

Chapter 4, page 4

SEE MUCH OF SIR WILLIAM IN THIS PANEL. LOOKING PAST HIM AND UP, WE SEE NETLEY AS HE

SITS THERE ON HIS BOX, TURNING TOWARDS US AND LOOKING DOWN AT SIR WILLIAM WITH A

RATHER OVER-FAMILIAR GRIN OF COMRADELY GREETING. PERHAPS HE REACHES UP AND TOUCHES

THE BRIM OF HIS DERBY WITH RESPECT AS HE SPEAKS. FROM HIS GENERAL POSTURE, HE LOOKS

AS IF HE MIGHT BE ABOUT TO COME DOWN FROM THE CARRIAGE AND HELP SIR WILLIAM ABOARD.

IF THE GESTURE DOESN’T LOOK AWKWARD, WHAT WITH THE MAP AND RULER TUCKED BENEATH HIS

ARM, THEN PERHAPS SIR WILLIAM’S VISIBLE HAND, UP TO THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND

HAS ITS PALM TURNED OUTWARDS TOWARDS NETLEY AS IF IN MILD PROTEST AT HIS PROPOSAL.

NETLEY, ATOP HIS BOX, IS MORE VISIBLE TO THE LEFT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND HERE.

NETLEY:

Ha! Bang on time, your Lordship. ’Ang on, I’ll hop down

an’ open the door...

GULL (OFF):

That won’t be necessary. It would better suit my purposes

to ride up top, beside you.

GULL:(OFF)

Come, give me your hand.

PANEL 6.

NOW WE ARE SLIGHTLY NEARER THE CARRIAGE, AND LOOKING UP AT IT THROUGH GULL’S

EYES. ALL WE CAN SEE OF HIM IS ONE OF HIS HANDS... PROBABLY NOT THE ONE WITH

THE MAP AND RULER... REACHING UP INTO THE FOREGROUND FROM OFF PANEL TO ONE SIDE.

THE HAND IS REACHING UP TO CLASP THAT OF JOHN NETLEY AS HE LEANS DOWN TO PULL

SIR WILLIAM UP ALONGSIDE HIM. AS NETLEY LOOKS DOWN AT US AND THE OFF-PANEL SIR

WILLIAM HE LOOKS SOMEWHAT APPREHENSIVE AND ILL AT EASE.

NETLEY:

Well, as you wish, Sir William, though it ain’t very

comfortable.

NETLEY:

Y’see, like, normally, I just puts luggage up here ...

PANEL 7.

NOW WE HAVE A SHOT LOOKING THROUGH NETLEY’S EYES AS GULL, NOW ATOP THE CAB,

SETTLES HIMSELF ONTO THE BOX BESIDE NETLEY. PERHAPS REACHING UP TO ADJUST HIS TOP

HAT SLIGHTLY WITH ONE HAND, GULL SEEMS IN A JOVIAL MOOD AS HE SETTLES HIMSELF

INTO HIS SEAT FOR THE RIDE. IT IS A SINISTER JOVIALITY, HOWEVER, THAT ALMOST HAS

A MANIC, MOCKING EDGE TO IT. GULL TURNS HIS FACE TOWARDS US AND THE OFF-PANEL

NETLEY HERE, THE GASLIGHT DOING STRANGE THINGS TO THE PLANES AND SHADOWS OF HIS

FACE. HIS EYES GLITTER AND AS HE SMILES AT NETLEY HIS SMILE IS PREDATORY AND

DANGEROUS. I WANT GULL TO BE AN INCREASINGLY UNSETTLING AND POWERFUL FIGURE AS

THIS BOOK UNFOLDS, AND IN THIS EPISODE WE FIRST REALLY GET A CLEAR SENSE THAT DR.

WILLIAM GULL IS ACTUALLY STARK, STARING MAD; HAS BEEN SINCE HIS STROKE, IN FACT.

THE MIST AND SHADOWS SEEM TO SHUDDER AND MOVE BEHIND HIM AS HE SMILES DISARMINGLY

AT US, EYES TWINKLING WITH A SECRET FIRE, A SECRET AMUSEMENT.

GULL:

Ha ha ha! Then I shall be your luggage!

GULL:

Oxford Circus first, then Oxford Street.

GULL:

Drive on, Netley.

65

Chapter 4, page 5.

There is a huge amount going on in

this chapter, in terms of information. Since the

action takes place in a single day, I saw it as

my challenge to capture the environment of

London in all the times of day in sequence,

with their changes of light and atmosphere,

and even weather, since we have a shower

of rain in the mid-afternoon. In my youth, I

was avidly interested in Impressionism, with

its focus on the optical appreciation of the

contemporary world, the way light falls upon

objects and landscapes and cityscapes, and the

way smoke and rain and other atmospheric

effects tend to obscure detail. I started in on this

chapter with a thrill of anticipation.

Alan mentions Sir Francis Dashwood

in the opening paragraph. Along with several other books necessary to draw this

chapter, including the London A-Z mentioned in the second paragraph, he threw in

a gift of Eric Towers’ excellent biography of the 18th century figure. I was at the

time planning a comic book about him and his doings. It came to nothing, but

Dashwood and some of the ideas went into my four-issue writing stint on a comic titled

Hellblazer (1994), long out of print.

PAGE 5. (1088 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE FIVE PANELS ON THIS PAGE, WITH BIG WIDE PANELS TAKING UP THE TOP AND

THE BOTTOM TIER AND THEN THREE SMALLER PANELS OCCUPYING THE CENTRAL TIER. IN THIS

FIRST PANEL, WE HAVE A WIDE-ANGLE SHOT LOOKING DOWN BROOK STREET IN THE OPPOSITE

DIRECTION TO THAT IN WHICH WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING OVER OUR FIRST FOUR PAGES. AS

OPPOSED TO LOOKING DOWN IT TOWARDS THE GROSVENOR SQUARE END WE ARE NOW LOOKING

ALONG IT TOWARDS THE HANOVER SQUARE END AS NETLEY STARTS UP THE COACH AGAIN AND

SETS IT RATTLING OFF AWAY FROM US ALONG BROOK STREET, HEADING BACK TOWARDS THE

CITY. AS THE COACH MOVES SLOWLY AWAY FROM US DOWN THE FOGGY PRE-DAWN STREET WE

SEE CLARIDGE’S HOTEL OVER TO OUR RIGHT OF THE STREET, PERHAPS WITH A SOLITARY AND

ANONYMOUS DOORMAN STANDING WATCH IN THE EARLY MORNING FOG. THE STREET RUNS AWAY

FROM US, CURVING AWAY TOWARDS THE LEFT OF THE BACKGROUND, HEADING TOWARDS HANOVER

SQUARE WHERE, ALTHOUGH WE CANNOT SEE IT HERE A GOLDEN BALL IS SET ATOP THE SPIRE

OF ST. GEORGE’S CHURCH TO REPRESENT THE ORB OF THE SUN, A FEATURE COPIED BY YOUR

PAL SIR FRANCIS DASHWOOD WHEN HE BUILT HIS TEMPLE TO APOLLO AT WEST WYCOMBE PARK.

66

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

HERE, THE COACH SHIFTS AND GROANS AS IT TRUNDLES AWAY FROM US, THE BACKS OF THE TWO

FIGURES PERCHED ATOP ITS BOX CLEARLY VISIBLE, SITTING HUNKERED DOWN AGAINST THE FOG

AS THE COACH RECEDES.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

HMM... IT STRIKES ME THAT RATHER THAN GIVING GULL A CANE IN ADDITION TO HIS ROLLED

MAP AND RULER BACK ON PAGE FOUR, IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN BETTER TO GIVE HIM A PAPER BAG OF

GRAPES, CLUTCHED PROTECTIVELY TO HIS CHEST AS HE WALKS TOWARDS THE CARRIAGE. SOUNDS

LIKE A MORE USEFUL PROP TO ME, ANYWAY. IF THIS IS INDEED THE CASE, THEN IN THIS

PANEL, AS WE SIT BESIDE GULL AND NETLEY, WE SEE THE BAG OF GRAPES RESTING OPEN IN

GULL’S LAP. AS I SEE THIS PANEL, WE ARE BESIDE GULL, LOOKING PAST HIM AT NETLEY. ALL

WE CAN REALLY SEE OF GULL AS HE SITS IN PROFILE TO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND FACING

RIGHT ARE HIS LAP, HIS HANDS AND A LITTLE OF HIS BODY. ONCE MORE, WE CANNOT SEE HIS

HEAD OR SHOULDERS. HE SITS WITH THE MAP AND RULER RESTING BESIDE HIM, BETWEEN HIM

AND US, AND THE BAG OF GRAPES RESTS IN HIS LAP, HIS OLD, STRONG HANDS FOLDED CALMLY

ABOUT IT. LOOKING BEYOND WHAT LITTLE WE CAN SEE OF GULL WE SEE NETLEY AS HE SITS

HUNCHED FORWARD OVER HIS REINS, TURNING HIS HEAD SLIGHTLY TOWARDS US AS HE SPEAKS TO

SIR WILLIAM WITH A SUITABLY HUMBLE EXPRESSION. THE CARRIAGE HAS BY NOW TURNED LEFT

UP REGENT STREET, AND THUS IT IS REGENT STREET THAT MAKES UP ANY BACKGROUND WHICH WE

MIGHT SEE CRAWLING BY BEYOND NETLEY. I DOUBT WE’LL NEED ANYTHING IDENTIFIABLE HERE,

BUT I’M JUST TELLING YOU WHERE WE ARE SO THAT YOU’LL AT LEAST BE ABLE TO KEEP THE

JOURNEY CLEAR IN YOUR HEAD. IN FACT, I THINK I’LL INCLUDE AN A-Z OF LONDON IN THIS

PACKAGE SO THAT YOU’LL BE ABLE TO FOLLOW THE JOURNEY PROPERLY.

NETLEY:

Pardon me for askin’, Sir William, but when you sent your

message, you said as ’ow you might ’ave some work you could

put

my

way?

PANEL 3.

NOW A LONG SHOT OF THE COACH, LOOKING DOWN OXFORD STREET TOWARDS OXFORD CIRCUS.

FROM THE LEFT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND, PULLING FROM REGENT STREET AND ACROSS OXFORD

CIRCUS, THE COACH STARTS TO TURN THE CORNER SO AS TO COME TOWARDS US, ALONG OXFORD

STREET. IT IS STILL PRETTY DARK AND MIASMIC, BUT SINCE OXFORD STREET WOULD BE A

MORE WELL-POPULATED AREA THAN BROOK STREET I FIGURE THAT IN THE BACKGROUND HERE WE

CAN MAYBE SEE ONE OR TWO PEOPLE IN THE DISTANCE, GOING ABOUT THEIR EARLY MORNING

BUSINESS. OUR MAIN FOCUS OF ATTENTION HOWEVER IS UPON THE COACH AS IT SWINGS ROUND

THE CORNER TOWARDS US, THE TWO DARK FIGURES OF GULL AND NETLEY PERCHED ATOP ITS BOX.

GULL:

Indeed I did, and grand work it shall be.

GULL:

TOO grand, I fear, to be encompassed by a coachman’s

cul-de-sac

philosophies...

NETLEY:

You TRY me! You just try me, sir! I’m sharper than I look.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE HAVE A REVERSE OF PANEL TWO, IN THAT IT IS NOW AS IF WE ARE SITTING BESIDE

NETLEY AND LOOKING PAST HIM AT GULL. NETLEY AND GULL ARE BOTH IN PROFILE, FACING

67

Chapter 4, page 5

LEFT, BUT ALL WE CAN SEE OF NETLEY HERE, ENTERING THE PANEL FROM OFF RIGHT, ARE HIS

HANDS AND KNEES AND PERHAPS A LITTLE OF HIS JACKET FRONT. HIS HEAD AND SHOULDERS

ARE OFF PANEL SO AS TO FOCUS THE ATTENTION PAST HIM AND ONTO GULL. GULL, SITTING IN

PROFILE A LITTLE MORE TO THE LEFT OF THE PANEL HERE DOES NOT LOOK ROUND AT NETLEY

AS HE SPEAKS. ONE HAND IS SLIGHTLY RAISED, TRANSPORTING A GRAPE TOWARDS HIS MOUTH

FROM THE PAPER BAG THAT HE CRADLES UPON HIS LAP. ALTHOUGH HIS EYES ARE HIDDEN BY THE

SHADOWS OF HIS TOP HAT, HIS FACE IS CREASED WITH SINISTER MERRIMENT, LAUGHING AS

HE RESPONDS TO NETLEY. ALL THE WHILE HE KEEPS HIS EYES UPON THE ROAD BEFORE THEM,

PAYING CAREFUL ATTENTION TO THEIR ROUTE.

GULL:

Ha ha ha! Let us HOPE so, Netley. Let us hope so most

fervently.

GULL:

Very well. I shall attempt an explanation while we ride.

Left at Gray’s Inn Road incidentally.

GULL:

Make for King’s Cross.

PANEL 5.

THIS LAST SHOT TAKES UP THE WHOLE BOTTOM TIER. WE ARE LOOKING STRAIGHT DOWN THE

LENGTH OF OXFORD STREET, AND THE SQUEAKING, LISTING BULK OF NETLEY’S COACH IS

PROPELLING ITSELF TOWARDS US WITH THE TWO SINISTER FIGURES CROUCHED ATOP IT. BEHIND

AND ABOUT IT, THE GLOOM IS SLOWLY LIGHTENING AS DAWN APPROACHES, AND THE EARLY

MORNING FOG SEEMS SOMEWHAT THINNER. THE SHOPFRONTS FAN OUT TO EITHER SIDE, CLOSED

AND SHUTTERED, NOT YET OPEN FOR THE BUSINESS OF THE DAY. THE AIR OF DESERTION IS

QUITE STRONG, AS IN MOST CITIES AT THIS TIME OF THE MORNING. SINCE THEY HAVE SO

MANY PEOPLE CROWDING THROUGH THEM DURING THE DAY, THEY TEND TO LOOK ALL THE MORE

EMPTY WHEN THEY ARE RELATIVELY UNPOPULATED. IF WE CAN SEE GULL CLEARLY ENOUGH

FROM THIS DISTANCE, HE IS JUST POPPING A SUCCULENT BLACK GRAPE INTO HIS MOUTH,

TEETH TEARING DOWN THROUGH THE BLACK SKIN TO THE SWEET PULP BENEATH.

No dialogue.

An honourable man, “and an outstanding physician,

a giant besmirched by pygmies,” was the opinion of Ripperologist

Melvin Harris on Knight’s theory that Gull was the Whitechapel

murderer (The Ripper File, 1989 - a useful work that is still on

my shelf) . “It was just so much clever deception, a deception that has

been fully exposed in my book, Jack the Ripper: The Bloody

Truth.” He was scathing about the 1988 movie based on the theory:

“On screen we saw coachman Netley carrying the Duke to the whores

and Gull to the shambles. It was an affront to every viewer who had

been waiting for an authentic solution.” I saw the end of that film

myself recently and it looked so daft I wondered how anybody could

get ruffled about it. Michael Caine played Abberline, having replaced

previously-cast Barry Foster. Interestingly, Foster had earlier replaced

Caine on Hitchcock’s Frenzy because Caine wouldn’t play a killer

who mutilates women. ( source Wikipedia ).

68

Chapter 4, page 9.

In his first paragraph, Alan addresses the

problem of keeping things visually interesting in

this episode. I found the whole thing delightful

to draw, as I’ve already said, concerning myself

with light and the time of day and imagining how

it would be to ride around on a coach all day. I

recognise that there are many who wouldn’t find

it interesting in the least, and I leave them to their

video games. However, more than keeping it

interesting for the reader, I was concerned with

the challenge of keeping it logical. For example,

what would be the difference between traveling

to Hackney in comparison to traveling back

from there? I thought that establishing a sense of

east and west might be useful, since the map of

London is to play an important part in the story.

Thus, as Gull and Netley go from west to east

in this page, I have them travelling to the right, conventional map location of the east.

There isn’t really a return trip and they end up moving mostly eastward, but we do see

them turning to face west in places, such as on page 31.

PAGE 9. (1639 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS ON THIS PAGE WITH THREE ON THE TOP TIER, ONE BIG ONE TAKING

UP THE MIDDLE TIER AND THEN THREE SMALLER ONES ON THE BOTTOM TIER. I SHOULD POINT

OUT THAT WITH THIS EPISODE, SINCE IT’S GOING TO BE SUCH A BLOODY DIFFICULT THING

FOR YOU TO KEEP IT VISUALLY INTERESTING, I’D BE PERFECTLY HAPPY IF YOU WANT TO RE-

JIG THINGS SO THAT THREE SMALL PANELS ARE COMPRESSED INTO ONE TIER-WIDTH PANEL OR

WHATEVER. SOME BITS OF THE NARRATIVE REQUIRE SPECIFIC PICTURES TO GO WITH THEM,

BUT IN THE STRETCHES WHERE THERE’S ONLY GULL TALKING YOU SHOULD FEEL FREE TO TAKE

WHATEVER LIBERTIES YOU LIKE WITH THE PANEL ARRANGEMENTS OR THE VISUALS. MY PANEL

NOTES DURING THESE SEQUENCES ARE, AS EVER, ONLY THERE TO GIVE YOU A WORKABLE

SEQUENCE OF PICTURES THAT WOULD FIT WITH THE DIALOGUE IF YOU CAN’T COME UP WITH

ANYTHING BETTER. OKAY, ASSUMING YOU GO FOR THE SEVEN-PANEL PAGE LAYOUT MENTIONED

ABOVE,THEN THIS FIRST TIER HAS THREE PANELS WITH MORE OR LESS THE SAME SHOT. WE ARE

SITTING UPON THE BOX ALONGSIDE GULL, WHOM WE CAN JUST SEE ENTERING THE PANEL FROM

THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, IN PROFILE AND FACING RIGHT, QUITE CLOSE TO US, PERHAPS

HALF-FIGURE AS HE SITS AND THUS NOT VISIBLE BELOW THE KNEES. THE CURLED-UP MAP AND

RULER LAY BESIDE GULL ON OUR SIDE, ALTHOUGH IT DOESN’T MATTER IF WE CANNOT SEE THEM

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Chapter 4, page 9

HERE. THE BAG OF GRAPES RESTS IN GULL’S LAP, AND AS WE SEE HIM HERE HE’S REACHING

INTO IT AND TUGGING AT A SINGLE GRAPE HELD IN BETWEEN HIS FOREFINGER AND THUMB,

ABOUT TO PULL IT FREE AND SNAP IT FROM ITS STEM, PLUCKING IT FROM THE CENTRAL

CLUSTER. HE GLANCES SIDEWAYS AT NETLEY AS HE DOES THIS, ADDRESSING HIS QUESTION

TO THE COACH DRIVER, WHO WE CAN SEE IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND BEYOND GULL AND

JUST A LITTLE FURTHER TO THE RIGHT OF PANEL. NETLEY CROUCHES ON THE BOX, HIS

REINS IN HAND, IN PROFILE TO US HERE, HIS WEASEL EYES SCANNING THE ROAD AHEAD

FOR POTHOLES OR FOR MUD. BEYOND THE COACH, THE BACKGROUND SHOWS THE WALLS OF

BATTLE BRIDGE ROAD CRAWLING PAST, NOW LIGHTENED BY THE RISING SUN, THE MIST THAT

SHROUDS THEM ALL BUT BURNED AWAY. THE SUNLIGHT IS BRIGHT AND COLD: IT DAZZLES,

BUT AS YET IT DOES NOT WARM, AND MAYBE WE CAN SEE THE TRAVELLERS’ BREATH HUNG

ON THE CHILLY AIR, THOUGH THIS EFFECT WILL GRADUALLY DIMINISH AS WE MOVE ON WITH

OUR STORY THROUGH THE DAY AHEAD, JUST AS THE SUN WILL MOVE ACROSS THE SKY. HERE,

NETLEY GRIPS THE LEATHER REINS WHILE GULL PICKS AT A GRAPE AND SHOOTS A SIDEWAYS

GLANCE TOWARDS THE COACHMAN THAT IS ALMOST SLY IN ITS INQUIRY. NETLEY DOES NOT

LOOK AT GULL, AND THUS REMAINS OBLIVIOUS TO THIS NUANCE.

GULL:

Do you begin to grasp how truly great a work is

London? A veritable textbook we may draw upon in

formulating great works of our own!

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT. GULL TURNS HIS GAZE FROM NETLEY AND REGARDS THE ROAD AHEAD, HIS

EYES AS COLD AS MARBLE, FIXED UPON SOME INNER VISION, HIS FACE EXPRESSIONLESS,

YET SOMEHOW FIRED WITH STERN AND SCIENTIFIC ZEAL, A HARD RESOLVE LIKE THAT OF

BATTLE-HARDENED SCHOOLTEACHERS ON THE FIRST DAY OF TERM. ONE HAND RESTS IN HIS

LAP AROUND THE BAG OF GRAPES. THE OTHER LIFTS TOWARDS HIS LIPS A PURPLE

GRAPE BETWEEN THE THUMB AND FOREFINGER. BEYOND HIM, HUNCHED OVER THE REINS,

JOHN NETLEY TURNS HIS FACE SLIGHTLY TOWARDS US, SO THAT WE CAN SEE HIM IN HALF-

PROFILE NOW. A LOOK OF VAGUE UNEASE FLICKERS ACROSS HIS RODENT FEATURES; AN

ANXIETY. BEYOND HIM, KINGS CROSS STATION FLOATS BY THE EARLY MORNING SUNLIGHT

GLINTING FROM ITS GREY-GREEN GLASS.

GULL:

We’ll penetrate its metaphors, lay bare its structure and

thus come at last upon its meaning.

GULL:

As befits great work, we’ll read it carefully, and with

RESPECT.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. PENTONVILLE ROAD MOVES PAST THERE IN THE BACKGROUND BEYOND NETLEY,

THE SUNLIGHT BRIGHTENING THE BACKDROP MORE WITH EACH SUCCESSIVE PANEL. NETLEY,

THOUGH HE OBVIOUSLY STILL SITS IN PROFILE AT THE REINS, NOW TURNS HIS FACE FULLY

TOWARDS SIR WILLIAM, SO WE SEE IT FULL-ON HERE. IT HAS A WRETCHED LOOK OF WORRY

AS HE MAKES HIS HESITANT CONFESSION. HE’S AFRAID THAT HIS ILLITERACY MIGHT COST

HIM BOTH A LUCRATIVE AND MOST PRESTIGIOUS JOB. UP IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL LOWERS

HIS EMPTY FINGERS FROM HIS LIPS AND THOUGHTFULLY REGARDS THE ROAD AHEAD WHILE

GRAVELY CHEWING ON THE GRAPE.

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Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

NETLEY:

Uh, with respect, sir...

NETLEY:

I can’t read.

PANEL 4.

NOW, IF YOU’RE STILL FOLLOWING THE PANEL LAYOUTS THAT I SUGGESTED EARLIER, WE

HAVE A BIG WIDE PANEL TAKING UP THE CENTRAL TIER. WE SEE A LONG SHOT OF THE COACH,

PERHAPS IN PROFILE HEADING LEFT TO RIGHT ACROSS THE PAGE, ALTHOUGH I’LL LEAVE

THE ANGLE LARGELY UP TO YOU. THE BACKGROUND THAT WE SEE BEHIND THE COACH COULD

BE ALMOST ANYTHING: THE STREETS OF PENTONVILLE AS THEY MOVE PAST, OR, LACKING

REFERENCE SOME SIMILARLY ANONYMOUS STRETCH OF INNER LONDON STREET. ALTERNATELY,

THE BACKGROUND COULD BE SOLID WHITE, OR, IF YOU FEEL ADVENTUROUS, A PASTE-UP OF

A LONDON STREET PLAN WITH THE COACH SUPERIMPOSED ABOVE IT, IN THE FOREGROUND. THE

SHAPES OF GULL AND NETLEY SIT ATOP THE BOX, THOUGH FROM THIS DISTANCE WE CAN’T SEE

TOO MUCH OF THEM OR THEIR EXPRESSIONS, EXCEPT THAT NETLEY IS MAYBE TURNED TOWARDS

GULL EAGERLY AS HE PROUDLY CONFIRMS HIS COMPETENCE IN READING NAMES ON SIGNS. GULL

JUST SITS THERE GAZING BLEAKLY AHEAD, PERHAPS SHAKING HIS HEAD RUEFULLY.

GULL:

Oh, Netley.

GULL:

Netley, Netley, Netley, what are we to do with you?

GULL:

Proceed by Essex Road to Balls Pond Road, thence to

London Fields. I take it street signs aren’t beyond your

literary

grasp?

NETLEY:

Oh no, sir! I reads them right enough!

PANEL 5.

NOW ANOTHER THREE SMALL PANELS FROM THE SAME BASIC ANGLE AS THE THREE PANELS ON OUR

TOP TIER, WITH GULL IN THE FOREGROUND FACING RIGHT FROM OVER ON THE LEFT AND NETLEY

VISIBLE BEYOND HIM, ALSO FACING RIGHT AS HE SITS CROUCHED ABOVE HIS REINS. HERE,

IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL PERHAPS REMOVES A GRAPE PIP FROM HIS LIPS WITH ONE HAND AS

HE ADDRESSES NETLEY. HE SMILES, HIS OLD FACE CRINKLING, HIS EYES RECEDING IN THE

SHADOWS CAST ACROSS THEM BY HIS HAT BRIM. WHEN GULL SMILES, HE LOOKS QUITE SATANIC,

KNOWING AND SARDONIC WITH A FIERCE INTELLIGENCE THAT GLITTERS WICKEDLY WITHIN HIS

ANCIENT EYES. I REALLY WANT GULL TO HAVE A PRESENCE THROUGHOUT THIS STORY, UNLIKE

THE KINDLY OLD DOCTOR IN THE MICHAEL CAINE TELEVISION MOVIE. ALTHOUGH MOSTLY GULL’S

COMPOSURE IS AS PERFECT AS COLD MARBLE, FULL OF SILENT DIGNITY AND POWER AND

PRESENCE, SOMETIMES IN HIS EYES WE SHOULD CATCH JUST A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING MAD AND

ALIEN AND EVIL, LIKE THE GLIMPSES YOU CAN SOMETIMES CATCH WITHIN THE EYES OF THOSE

CARRION BIRDS THAT GULL IS NAMED FOR. IT IS A MIND THAT CAN CONSIDER CENTURIES OF

BLOOD AND WAR AND SLAUGHTER WITH FULL KNOWLEDGE OF THEIR IMPLICATIONS, YET REMAIN

AMUSED. HE SMILES AND TAKES THE GRAPE SEED FROM HIS MOUTH, WHILE NETLEY, IN THE

BACKGROUND, PRUDENTLY RETURNS HIS GAZE TOWARDS THE ROAD AHEAD OF THEM. BEYOND HIM,

ESSEX ROAD MOVES PAST, THE SUNLIT HOUSES GROWING GRADUALLY MORE SLUM-LIKE AND RUN

DOWN AS WE PROGRESS TOWARDS THE FILTHY AND DILAPIDATED SUBURBS THAT ARE ALL THAT’S

LEFT OF PROSPEROUS MERCHANTS’ HOMES, THERE IN THE SLUMS OF HACKNEY.

71

Chapter 4, page 9.

GULL:

Splendid! By chance, our lesson for today requires of

you no further scholarship.

GULL:

The greater part of London’s story is not writ in words.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT. IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL FLICKS THE GRAPE SEED DOWN INTO THE STREET

DISMISSIVELY, THE SMILE FADING FROM HIS LIPS AS HIS EXPRESSION TAKES UPON ITSELF

A SERIOUSNESS MORE SUITED TO THE GRAVITY OF WHAT HE IS DISCUSSING. ONCE MORE HE

DOES NOT LOOK AT NETLEY BUT INSTEAD GAZES AWAY INTO SOME INNER DISTANCE; SOME POINT

BACK IN LONDON’S DIMMEST HISTORY. BEYOND HIM NETLEY TURNS AND LOOKS AT GULL, STILL

WITH A VAGUE UNEASE IN HIS EXPRESSION. THIS TIME THOUGH, IT’S NOT JUST ANXIETY AT

BEING THOUGHT UNWORTHY FOR HIS JOB: HERE THE UNEASE IS SOMETHING NETLEY FEELS

WITH GULL HIMSELF; THE CURIOUS THINGS HE SAYS; THE ODDLY PURPOSEFUL AND YET

PECULIAR ROUTE THAT HE’S DIRECTING THEM ALONG. NETLEY IS NOT YET AS TERRIFIED

OF GULL AS HE WILL LATER BECOME, BUT FOR THE FIRST TIME IT LOOKS AS IF HE’S

EXPERIENCING A VAGUE SENSE OF DOUBT. BEYOND HIM, BALLS POND ROAD MOVES PAST,

THE SUNLIGHT BRIGHTENING WITH EACH SUCCESSIVE FRAME.

GULL:

It is instead a literature of stone, of place-names and

associations...

GULL:

...where faint echoes answer back from off the distant,

ruined walls of bloody history.

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT. HERE, IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL LIFTS HIS FINGER AND POINTS TO AN OFF-

PANEL SPOT SOMEWHERE AHEAD OF THE COACH AND OFF PANEL TO THE RIGHT HERE. HIS GAZE

IS ALSO FIXED IN THAT DIRECTION, LOSING A LITTLE OF ITS VISIONARY LOOK AS HE TURNS

HIS ATTENTIONS TO THE PRACTICAL REQUIREMENTS OF DIRECTIONS. HE DOES NOT LOOK AT

NETLEY, WHOM WE SEE THERE BEYOND GULL. NETLEY HAS TURNED HIS HEAD BACK ROUND TO

FACE THE FRONT, SQUINTING BENEATH THE BRIM OF HIS BROWN DERBY HAT TOWARDS THE PLACE

THAT GULL IS POINTING AT. BEYOND, THE GRIM SLUM STREETS OF HACKNEY WANDER BY AS

NETLEY GUIDES THE COACH DOWN GREENWOOD ROAD’S MILD SLOPE TOWARDS THE LONDON FIELDS

THAT WAIT BELOW. THE LIGHT IS THAT OF FULL-FLEDGED MORNING NOW.

GULL:

Turn right, down Greenwood Road as far as Albion Drive,

then

stop.

GULL:

“Albion Drive”. ’Twould seem auspicious in that we aspire

to probe the ventricles of London; England’s heart.

Costello to Gull’s Abbott

The Wikipedia entry for John Netley notes that

FROM HELL depicts him as “semi-literate.” At

this stage of writing the book, Alan was uncertain

that Netley had been an actual person (I’ll come

back to this), but it’s the storyteller’s craft that keeps

this chapter manageable. part of this is the comedic

relationship that Alan creates between Gull and Netley

in the above page and in the scenes to follow.

72

Chapter 4, page 14.

As research for this chapter Alan made

a tour around the locations he would need, and

in the process satisfied himself that it could be

done in one day. He also took a large number of

photographs, some of which are shown in our

colour section along with the drawings that

resulted from them. Alan asked his fellow writer

Jamie Delano to be driver for the day: “I was

happy to play Netley to his Sir William

Gull; to have the distraction of traffic and

navigation to alleviate the dark magic of

our treading the paths of obsession… And an-

other church, don’t ask me which – derelict,

roofless, peopled by a congregation of scrubby

trees twisting among its fallen stone. There

was a locked wrought-iron gate to climb, a

dark crypt with an unhealthy smell to explore. I remember descending into this

with Alan, waiting in the half-light at the foot of the steps, watching him set off

into the pitch blackness of the interior with a flickering cigarette lighter held

futilely over his head to light his way… I fully expected him to plunge at any

moment into some unseen abyss and hurtle directly to Hell.” (see bibliography)

There’s a line at the end of panel 5’s description that is like something out of

Raymond Chandler. There are many such lines in the FROM HELL scripts. It must have

taken an effort to subjugate the words to the image for the 500 pages. In the pedestrian

lane, I concentrated on the arrangement of volumes on this page, playing with pictorial

space, of which more later.

PAGE 14. (913 words) PANEL 1.

SIX PANELS HERE, IN ANY LAYOUT THAT YOU WISH, ALTHOUGH PERHAPS A LAYOUT OF TWO

FRAMES PER TIER WOULD SUIT IT BEST. THIS FIRST SHOT HERE NEED ONLY BE A SMALL ONE,

WITH A FRONTAL CLOSE-UP OF SIR WILLIAM GULL AND NETLEY, ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS

AS THEY COME TOWARDS US, SAT ATOP THEIR BOX. BEHIND THEM DOWN THE ROAD, WE SEE A

VIEW OF ST. LUKE’S OLD STREET, OR AT LEAST ITS LOWER PORTIONS, SHADED BY THE GREEN

LATE-SUMMER TREES, RECEDING INTO THEM AS WE WITHDRAW FROM IT. JOHN NETLEY, ON THE

RIGHT, LOOKS ROUND AT GULL WITH AN EXPRESSION OF REAL INTEREST, THE MENTION OF

FREEMASONRY HAVING GAINED HIS ATTENTION. HIS EXPRESSION IS EAGER; ALMOST CHILDLIKE

IN ITS NAKEDNESS. GULL, ON THE LEFT JUST SETS HIS HAT MORE FIRMLY ON HIS HEAD, WITH

73

Chapter 4, page 14

BOTH HANDS HERE RAISED INTO VIEW. HIS FACE IS NEUTRAL, HIS EXPRESSION SERIOUS. HE

DOES NOT LOOK AT NETLEY. OVERHEAD, THE SUN BEGINS ITS CLIMB THROUGH STRATA OF GREY

CLOUD TOWARDS MIDDAY.

GULL:

Yes, London has its obelisks. So too have Paris,

Washington,

New

York...

GULL:

Freemasons in those cities, through this century, have had a

hand in situating obelisks at certain points, aware of their

significance.

NETLEY:

Freemasons,

Sir?

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE IN NORTHAMPTON SQUARE, LOOKING TOWARDS ITS ENTRANCE FOR WHICH SEE THE

REFERENCE PHOTOGRAPHS. THE COACH, WITH GULL AND NETLEY SAT ATOP OF IT, IS TURNING

HERE INTO THE SQUARE, COMING TOWARDS US. NOTHING IN THE SQUARE SEEMS THAT

REMARKABLE. THE CENTRE OF IT IS A RAILED-OFF AREA OF GREEN, A SMALL PAVILION AT

ITS CENTRE. MAYBE HERE WE LOOK TOWARDS THE COACH FROM IN THE RAILED-UP AREA, SO

THAT WE HAVE THE IRON RAILS UP IN THE FOREGROUND, JUTTING INTO VIEW, THE COACH

APPROACHING FROM BEYOND THEM. ON ITS BOX, NETLEY STILL HAS HIS HEAD TURNED,

GAZING HOPEFULLY AT GULL, WHILE GULL STILL GAZES AT THE SQUARE AHEAD OF THEM

WITHOUT RETURNING NETLEY’S GAZE. HERE, WITH ONE HAND, GULL INDICATES THE SQUARE,

THOUGH THERE SEEMS LITTLE THERE TO INDICATE.

NETLEY:

Why, beggin’ your pardon Sir William, but I’d ’eard as you

yourself was of that order?

GULL:

Oh, the world of masonry has many denizens, and many fields

of

influence.

GULL:

Take this Square, for example...

PANEL 3.

WE PULL BACK NOW ACROSS THE SQUARE, RIGHT OVER TO THE OTHER SIDE, SO THAT WE LOOK

ACROSS THE CENTRAL RAILED-IN PLOT OF GRASS TOWARDS THE COACH, BEYOND THE RAILINGS

ON THE OTHER SIDE. UP IN THE FOREGROUND, ON THE RAILS AND FACING US WE SEE THE SIGN

THAT READS NORTHAMPTON SQUARE, FOR WHICH A REFERENCE PICTURE IS ATTACHED. WE GAZE

ACROSS THE EMPTY, HAUNTED PARKLAND AT THE COACH, THERE AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK UPON A GREY

VICTORIAN MORNING, GULL AND NETLEY TINY FIGURES HERE, THAT SIT ON TOP OF IT.

GULL:

Why, with so many London poets uncommemorated, should we

name streets after an insignificant marquis?

GULL:

Here’s why: He was a leading Mason, marquis of Northampton,

site of Hawksmoor’s Easton Neston Hall, characteristically

aligned with local churches...

PANEL 4.

NOW WE HAVE A FAIRLY TIGHT CLOSE-UP OF GULL AND NETLEY, FACING US, BOTH HEAD AND

SHOULDERS, WITH GULL ON THE LEFT AND NETLEY ON THE RIGHT. GULL TURNS HIS HEAD JUST

SLIGHTLY TO LOOK DOWN AT NETLEY, GIVING HIM A FAINTLY SUPERCILIOUS LOOK, WHILE NETLEY, ON

THE RIGHT, LEANS FAR TOO CLOSE TO GULL, HIS FACE WRACKED WITH A WRETCHED, PLEADING SMILE

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Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

BEHIND WHICH ALL HIS BURNING NEED FOR SOCIAL ELEVATION IS GROTESQUELY VISIBLE.

NETLEY:

Sir

...?

NETLEY:

I’ve ‘eard the way a man might best advance ’imself is

that he join the Masons.

NETLEY:

I-If my work please your Lordship, would you have a word on

my

behalf,

like?

PANEL 5.

STILL IN CLOSE-UP HERE, BUT WITH OUR ANGLE SLIGHTLY CHANGED, WHEREAS IN OUR LAST

PANEL WE HAD GULL TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND MORE AND NETLEY JUST BEYOND HIM, HERE,

UPON THE RIGHT, WE SEE JOHN NETLEY CLOSEST TO US, WITH GULL TO THE LEFT, AND

FURTHER TOWARDS THE BACKGROUND. TURNING TO FACE NETLEY, GULL CLAPS ONE PALE,

POWERFUL HAND UPON THE COACHMAN’S SHOULDER, AT WHICH NETLEY SEEMS TO GLANCE

DOWN WITH UNEASE AS WE LOOK AT HIM IN THE FOREGROUND HERE. BEYOND HIM, GULL

STARES STRAIGHT AT NETLEY, FEATURES WRINKLING INTO THE MOST INSANE AND CHILLING

SMILE WE’VE WITNESSED YET. HE LAUGHS, HIS EYES GLITTERING, WHILE NETLEY JUST

GLANCES UNCERTAINLY DOWN AT THE HAND ON HIS SHOULDER, AS IF AFRAID THAT IT MIGHT

SUDDENLY TRANSFORM INTO A BLANCHED TARANTULA.

GULL:

Ha ha! Why, Netley! I can offer more than THAT!

GULL:

Promise you’ll put your heart and soul into this task and

I will guarantee your name shall swiftly pass into Masonic

HISTORY.

PANEL 6.

NOW A SHOT OF THE COACH AS IT LEAVES THE SQUARE BY ONE OF THE SQUARE’S OTHER

CORNERS, SHOWN HERE IN THE REFERENCE PHOTOGRAPH, AS MARKED. IT HEADS AWAY FROM

US, TOWARDS THE SMOKE-HUED BUILDINGS THAT REAR UP BEYOND, WITH NETLEY ON THE LEFT

HERE, GULL UPON THE RIGHT. NETLEY IS TURNED TO GULL, GUSHING ENTHUSIASTICALLY IN

GRATITUDE, WHILE GULL REMAINS STOCK STILL, SITS STARING AT THE ROAD AHEAD OF HIM

AND DOES NOT TURN HIS HEAD TO SPARE EVEN A GLANCE FOR NETLEY.

NETLEY:

S-Sir William... this’ll change my life! You can’t IMAGINE, Sir-

GULL:

Oh, but I CAN, dear Netley. Most ASSUREDLY I can.

GULL:

Proceed down

Clerkenwell to

Theobald’s Road, then

on to Bloomsbury Way.

Netley “has been in several works based on the

Jack the Ripper conspiracy theory. ...He was featured in

a TV episode of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost

World called ‘The Knife’ in which Jack the Ripper was

really the collaborated work of Netley, Sir William Gull

and a police inspector, Robert Anderson” (Wikipedia).

It’s amusing how all these people pop up in assorted

mix-and-match permutations, in their junk culture

afterlives.

75

Chapter 4, page 17.

Midday and lunch occur at the chapter’s

mid-point, one a cue to talk of sun-gods, the other

to draw dripping meat in counterpoint.

If you’re reading this book in order you

will have noticed that Alan begins each page

by giving the number of panels, and if one or

more are joined up he says exactly where. I

had asked him to do this to enable my assistant

to pencil all the panel outlines using our

nine-panel template and then ink-rule them

accordingly, without having to search for the

information in the body of the script.

FROM HELL’s publishing schedule

was so exasperating (see pg 32 here), I needed

to be doing several other things as well. To keep

everything moving and not piling up in a queue,

I came up with the idea of employing a casual

assistant. First it was a young guy named John Barry, who wasn’t an artist, but it was

at the beginning of Chapter 2, which involved a lot of straightforward cutting and

pasting of flat black paper onto the panels. Right off the bat, John told me all my

templates were off-square, so I had him spend time cutting new ones. They’re looking

very weary now, but I still use them. Money well spent.

PAGE 17. (1031 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE FIVE PANELS ON THIS PAGE, WITH ONE BIG WIDE ONE TAKING UP THE TOP TIER

AND THEN TWO PANELS ON EACH OF THE TWO TIERS BENEATH THAT. IN THIS FIRST WIDE

PANEL I THINK IT’D BE NICE TO HAVE A SHOT OF THE NOON SUN, JUST TO UNDERSCORE ALL

THIS TALK OF SOLAR DEITIES WITH A PICTURE OF THE REAL OBJECT ITSELF. MAYBE, IF

THE SHOT ISN’T TOO DIFFICULT OR DOESN’T LOOK TOO ARTIFICIAL, WE COULD BE LOOKING

STRAIGHT UP AT THE SUN ABOVE US, SO THAT AROUND THE SIDES OF THE PANEL THE TALL

VICTORIAN BUILDINGS OF EARL’S COURT LOOM AWAY FROM US IN PERSPECTIVE, POINTING

TOWARDS THE BLIND AND STARING SUN THAT HANGS ABOVE THE BUILDINGS. THE SKY MAYBE

HAS A FEW DARK STREAKS OF SMOKE RUNNING IN BLACK BANDS ACROSS IT, BUT IS OTHERWISE

FAIRLY UNCLOUDED, FOR A CHANGE. THE GLARE OF THE SUN IS BRIGHT AND OPPRESSIVE. IF

THIS SHOT DOESN’T WORK FOR YOU, MAYBE A SIMPLE SHOT OF THE SUN IN AN OTHERWISE

EMPTY PANEL WOULD BE JUST AS EFFECTIVE... A SIMPLE SKY-SCAPE, WITH GULL’S BALLOONS

ISSUING UP INTO IT FROM OFF-PANEL BELOW. IN EITHER EVENT, GULL AND NETLEY ARE

OFF-PANEL HERE, AND OUR MAIN FOCUS OF ATTENTION IS THE SUN, A HUGE AND DISTANT

THERMONUCLEAR GOD, STARING DOWN UPON LONDON AND ITS INHABITANTS AS A ZOOLOGIST

76

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

MIGHT DISPASSIONATELY INSPECT A TERRARIUM.

GULL (OFF):

Crete fell, and the Mycenaeans next occupied the area,

employing Crete’s artificers, as demonstrated by Cretan

designs upon those times’ Mycenaean artifacts.

GULL (OFF):

Did the Dionysiacs thus infiltrate Mycenaean culture?

Roam the world with them? Help shape that world into their

grand and secret edifice?

GULL (OFF):

There are Mycenaean symbols etched upon Stonehenge. Could

the Dionysiacs have helped design that ancient Solar shrine,

where Druids once made sacrifice?

PANEL 2.

NOW, IF THE LAST SHOT WAS A SHOT LOOKING UP AT THE SUN, MAYBE WE REINFORCE THE

EFFECT OF THE SUN STARING HARSHLY DOWN UPON LONDON BY TAKING AN OVERHEAD VIEW

FOR THIS PANEL, LOOKING DOWN. WE ARE DIRECTLY ABOVE THE COACH, SOME DISTANCE UP

IN THE AIR, SO THAT TO ONE SIDE OF THE PICTURE THE ERODED RED BRICK WALLS OF THE

BUILDINGS THAT THE COACH IS PASSING DROP DOWN AWAY FROM US, TOWARDS THE RIBBON OF

THE STREET BELOW WHERE THE COACH AND ITS TWO PASSENGERS PROGRESS AT A COMFORTABLE

PACE ALONG THE STRIP OF COBBLESTONES THAT IS THE ROAD. IF WE AREN’T TOO HIGH UP TO

MAKE OUT ANY SENSE OF POSTURE AT ALL, THEN GULL IS PERHAPS GESTURING EXPANSIVELY

WITH BOTH HANDS, IN A SORT OF ALL-INCLUSIVE GESTURE. IF WE’RE TOO HIGH UP TO SEE

THIS THEN IT ISN’T IMPORTANT. LIKE A KEPHRA BEETLE HAULING ITS PELLET OF DUNG, THE

HORSE AND ITS CARRIAGE CRAWL ALONG THE STREET BENEATH US, WATCHED ONLY BY THE SUN;

BATHED IN ITS INDIFFERENT, FAINTLY RADIOACTIVE GAZE.

GULL:

Always in the Sun! Whether his name be Lud, Apollo, Helios or Atum.

GULL:

Be he Belinos, or Bel, or Baal...

PANEL 3.

NOW WE HAVE A SHOT OF THE COACH COMING TOWARDS US ALONG A CURVING CRESCENT

SOMEWHERE IN EARL’S COURT, FOR WHICH SEE THE ENCLOSED REFERENCE PHOTOGRAPHS. I’M

AFRAID I DON’T HAVE REFERENCE OF AN ACTUAL PUB IN EARL’S COURT, SO MAYBE YOU COULD

SORT OF MAKE ONE UP AND GRAFT IT INTO THE PICTURE SOMEWHERE IN THE FOREGROUND,

SO THAT THE COACH IS COMING DOWN THE STREET TOWARDS IT FROM THE BACKGROUND. AS IT

COMES CLOSER, WE SEE THAT GULL IS POINTING TOWARDS THE PUB IN THE FOREGROUND WITH

A CASUAL GESTURE. ALL ABOUT THEM STAND THE TALL AND VAGUELY STIFF-NECKED BUILDINGS

OF EARL’S COURT, FORMAL AND BLAND AND SEDATE. THE COACH, A BLACK SHAPE, MOVES

BETWEEN THE WHITE BUILDINGS LIKE A RUMOUR OF PLAGUE.

GULL:

Earl’s Court, which we approach, was once called

Billingswell, after “Belinos’ Well”, sacred unto the Solar

God-King Belinos, son of King Lud.

GULL:

Stop at this inn.

PANEL 4.

NOW A SILENT PANEL. IN THE FOREGROUND, WE SEE THE FRONT END OF NETLEY’S HORSE, JUST

ITS HEAD AND SHOULDERS PROTRUDING INTO THE PANEL FROM ONE SIDE, A FEED BAG HANGING

FROM ITS BRIDLE, WHICH IT MUNCHES WITHIN CONTENTEDLY. THE HORSE IS TETHERED TO

77

Chapter 4, page 17.

SOME CONVENIENT POST OR RAIL JUST OUTSIDE THE INN, WHICH WE CAN SEE TAKING UP THE

IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND. GULL AND NETLEY ARE IN THE MIDDLE GROUND, HEADING AWAY FROM

US AND ABOUT TO ENTER THE INN. NETLEY PERHAPS HOLDS THE DOOR OPEN REVERENTLY FOR

GULL, ALLOWING HIM TO ENTER FIRST IN A SPLENDID DISPLAY OF FORELOCK-TUGGING CLASS

SUBSERVIENCE. GULL DOESN’T GLANCE AT NETLEY AS HE SWEEPS INTO THE RELATIVE DARKNESS

OF THE INN, FOR ALL THAT NETLEY’S SOMEHOW DOG-LIKE GAZE IS FIXED HOPEFULLY UPON HIM

AS HE GLIDES PAST. IN THE FOREGROUND, THE HORSE MUNCHES AWAY, OBLIVIOUS TO EVERYTHING.

No Dialogue.

PANEL 5.

NOW WE ARE INSIDE THE INN, WHICH SEEMS FAIRLY REPUTABLE AND CLEAN. IN THE FOREGROUND,

GULL AND NETLEY HAVING DIVESTED THEMSELVES OF THEIR HATS, SIT OPPOSITE EACH OTHER

ACROSS A BROAD WOODEN TABLE. A PORTLY INNKEEPER’S WIFE IS JUST SETTING DOWN A TRAY

UPON THEIR TABLE UPON WHICH TWO STEAMING PLATES OF KIDNEY PIE WITH POTATOES, CARROTS

AND GRAVY ARE RESTING. BEYOND HER, WE CAN JUST MAKE OUT A SUGGESTION OF THE INN’S

COMFORTABLE LOOKING INTERIOR. AS SHE SETS THE TRAY DOWN ON THE TABLE AND STARTS TO

DISH OUT THE FOOD TO NETLEY AND GULL, GULL LOOKS UP AT HER AND SMILES. IT ISN’T A

SINISTER SMILE - IT’S A SMILE OF A GENIAL AND FRIENDLY ELDERLY MAN, COMPLIMENTING A

MIDDLE-AGED MATRON UPON THE EXCELLENCE OF HER COOKING. THE INNKEEPER’S WIFE GIVES

GULL A SMALL AND GRATEFUL SMILE IN RETURN, PLEASED WITH HERSELF TO BE COMPLIMENTED BY

SUCH A GRAND AND WELL-SPOKEN GENTLEMAN. NETLEY MERELY STARES HUNGRILY AT THE FOOD,

HIS KNIFE AND FORK ALREADY GRIPPED IN HIS GRUBBY HANDS SO THAT HE CAN DIG IN WITHOUT

A SECOND TO SPARE. BENEATH THEIR FLAKING SKIN OF PASTRY THE KIDNEYS STEAM LURIDLY.

GULL:

Ahh! Thank you, my good woman.

GULL:

May I say your kidney pie smells excellent? Most

excellent

indeed!

INNKEEPER’S WIFE:

Why bless you, sir. Enjoy your meal.

Watercolour

Detail from the signed

drop-in plate in the

Graphitti Designs

1000-copy limited

edition hardcover

FROM HELL

published in 2000. For

a long time that was the

only hardcover edition in

English. Pleased with

the roof of the cab;

watercolour is often about

the bit where you didn’t

touch the paper.

Chapter 4, page 18.

This page has achieved a level of fame

out of proportion to its intrinsic artistic value, as it

is the one during the writing of which Alan Moore

had a life-changing epiphany. It happened after he

typed the line, “The one place the gods exist is in

our minds, where they are real beyond refute…”

That is, the gods exist in the imagination. The

important conclusion from this is not that the gods

are therefore not real or not important, but rather

that the imagination is exquisitely more important

than is commonly acknowledged.

From a 2001 interview: “After writing

it I thought, oh shit, that’s true. Now I am

going to have to rearrange my entire life

around this. There is no way to disprove

it. I thought I was writing this great piece

of Gothic villain dialogue. The gods and monsters inarguably exist and they

are real. Because if they don’t exist how many people died because of them,

or how many history-changing things have been done in the name of these

Gods that don’t exist? If they don’t exist why do they kill so many of us in

their name? So at that point, it was just before my 40th birthday. I thought,

well I could have a mid-life crisis and just bore everybody to death by going

on about, what’s it all about, what does it all mean? Or I could sort of just

go spectacularly mad, which would at least be more entertaining for those

around me.” ( Comic Book Resources, Oct 22, 2001)

Alan subsequently declared himself a magician and set his career upon yet

another change of direction. Naturally it would be nice to put a date on this page, but

all I can offer is that this chapter first appeared in Taboo #5 (Nov. 1991.)

PAGE 18. (1,113 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS ON THIS PAGE, WITH THREE ON EACH OF THE UPPER TWO TIERS AND

THEN ONE BIG WIDE ONE ON THE BOTTOM TIER. THE FIRST THREE PANELS ARE ALL BASICALLY

THE SAME SHOT. IT IS AS IF WE ARE SITTING TO GULL’S RIGHT, SO THAT WE SEE A LITTLE

OF HIM OVER TO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, AND THEN WE ARE LOOKING ACROSS THE TABLE

AT NETLEY. IF POSSIBLE, I’D LIKE IT IF WE COULD ONLY SEE THE LOWER HALF OF GULL’S

FACE, MORE OR LESS IN PROFILE AND FACING ACROSS TOWARDS THE RIGHT OF THE IMMEDIATE

BACKGROUND, WHERE NETLEY SITS FACING US OVER HIS PLATE OF KIDNEY PIE AND VEG. WE

79

Chapter 4, page 18

CAN’T SEE GULL’S EYES HERE, MAKING NETLEY’S FACE THE FOCUS OF ATTENTION AS HE SITS

ACROSS THE TABLE, GAZING AT US. IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL HAS A LITTLE TRIANGLE OF

PASTRY AND SOME MEAT SPEARS UPON HIS FORK, WHICH HE IS JUST POPPING INTO HIS MOUTH.

ACROSS THE TABLE, NETLEY IS HOLDING A KIDNEY DOWN WITH HIS FORK WHILE HE SAWS AT IT

WITH HIS KNIFE. HE LOOKS UP FROM BENEATH HIS LOW BROWS AT SIR WILLIAM AS HE DOES

THIS, WITH A NEANDERTHAL’S QUESTIONING LOOK OF PUZZLEMENT.

NETLEY:

’Scuse my ignorance, Sir William, but what’s all these old

Gods got to do with them as ’ave upset ’er Majesty?

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT. GULL NOW LIFTS HIS NAPKIN TO DAB AT HIS LIPS BEFORE HE REPLIES, HAVING

HASTILY SWALLOWED HIS MOUTHFUL OF PASTRY AND KIDNEY. ACROSS THE TABLE, NETLEY LIFTS

AN IMPALED PORTION OF KIDNEY TOWARDS HIS MOUSTACHE-FRINGED LIPS, NOT TAKING HIS EYES

OFF OF SIR WILLIAM AS HE DOES SO. HIS EXPRESSION IS SERIOUS AND ATTENTIVE, AS IF HE

REALLY IS ANXIOUS TO UNDERSTAND WHATEVER SIR WILLIAM MIGHT BE TELLING HIM, IN CASE

HE HAS TO BE TESTED ON IT BEFORE BEING ALLOWED TO JOIN THE MASONS OR SOMETHING.

WE CAN’T SEE MUCH OF GULL’S EXPRESSION HERE, SINCE HIS MOUTH IS AT LEAST PARTIALLY

CONCEALED BY THE RAISED NAPKIN. WHAT WE CAN SEE IS FAIRLY NEUTRAL, ANYWAY.

GULL:

Gmmg. Excuse me...

GULL:

Scorn not the Gods. Despite their non-existence in material

terms, they’re no less potent, no less terrible.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. GULL HAS NOW SET HIS NAPKIN DOWN AND SITS WITH HIS FISTS RESTING ON THE

TABLE, CLUTCHING, RESPECTIVELY, HIS KNIFE AND HIS FORK. HIS EXPRESSION IS ONCE AGAIN

NEUTRAL AS HE GAZES ACROSS THE TABLE DIRECTLY AT NETLEY, AND WE CANNOT SEE HIS EYES.

ACROSS THE TABLE, NETLEY LOWERS THE NOW-EMPTY FORK FROM HIS MOUTH AND CHEWS STUPIDLY

AS HE STARES AT GULL, STILL FROWNING WITH THE EFFORT OF CONCENTRATION AS HE VAINLY

ATTEMPTS TO FOLLOW GULL’S STRAND OF LOGIC, CHEWING A KIDNEY THOUGHTFULLY AS HE DOES SO.

GULL:

The one place Gods inarguably exist is in our minds,

where they are real beyond refute, in all their grandeur

and

monstrosity.

PANEL 4.

AS I SEE IT, THE SET-UP FOR THIS SECOND TIER IS PRETTY SIMILAR TO THE SET-UP ON THE

TOP TIER, EXCEPT THAT WE HAVE ZOOMED IN SLIGHTLY CLOSER TO GULL’S PLATE, SO THAT

ALL WE CAN SEE OF GULL AT THIS POINT AT HIS HANDS, HOLDING THE KNIFE AND FORK AS HE

CONTINUES TO EAT HIS MEAL, PILED UP ON THE PLATE WHICH RESTS IN THE IMMEDIATE LOWER

FOREGROUND. LOOKING ACROSS THE TABLE BEYOND THIS WE SEE NETLEY AS HE SITS, STILL

FACING US, TOWARDS THE RIGHT OF THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND. IN THIS FIRST PANEL ON THE

LEFT, UP IN THE FOREGROUND, WE CAN SEE GULL’S FORK AS IT PIERCES A WHOLE KIDNEY, THE

TINES PUNCTURING THE SMOOTH OUTER MEMBRANE AND THEN SLIDING THE ORGAN ABOUT ON THE

PLATE IN ORDER THAT IT MIGHT SOAK UP A LITTLE MORE GRAVY. IN HIS OTHER HAND, GULL’S

KNIFE HOVERS POISED, READY TO MAKE THE FIRST INCISION. ACROSS THE TABLE, NETLEY

ABSENT-MINDEDLY SAWS AT ANOTHER PIECE OF KIDNEY AS HE GAZES UP AT THE OFF PANEL

POINT WHERE GULL’S FACE MUST BE. HIS PUZZLED FROWN IS STARTING TO MELT INTO A LOOK

80

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

OF HOPELESS MYSTIFICATION.

GULL (OFF):

What’s Mars but mankind’s violent attributes personified?

Or Aphrodite, save mankind’s desires?

GULL (OFF):

The Hemuristic Sages recognized all Gods as aspects of “The

One”, yet missed the greater truth.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. HERE, WITH THE KIDNEY FIRMLY TRANSFIXED BY HIS FORK, GULL STARTS TO

SLICE IT IN HALF WITH HIS KNIFE. ACROSS THE TABLE, HIS CONCENTRATION UPON WHAT

GULL IS SAYING STARTING TO MELT AWAY ALONG WITH ANY PRETENCE AT COMPREHENSION.

HE LETS HIS GAZE SINK DOWN TO THE KIDNEY THAT GULL IS SAWING IN HALF, WHICH HE

GAZES AT, ODDLY TRANSFIXED, HIS EXPRESSION DULL AND STARING. HIS OWN KNIFE AND

FORK GRADUALLY GROW STILL UPON HIS PLATE, HIS HANDS COMING TO REST AS HE SINKS

INTO A VAGUE TRANCE OF BOREDOM AND INCOMPREHENSION.

GULL (OFF):

“The One” is US, each with a pantheon of Gods in our Right

Brain, whence inspiration and all instinct springs.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT. SPEARED ON THE TINES OF HIS FORK, GULL NOW RAISES A KIDNEY TOWARDS

HIS OFF PANEL MOUTH, A BEAD OF GRAVY DRIPPING VISCOUSLY FROM ITS UNDERSIDE.

ACROSS THE TABLE, NETLEY LOOKS SHARPLY UP AT GULL’S OFF-PANEL FACE ONCE MORE,

AS IF SUDDENLY STARTLED BY GULL’S COMMAND THAT HE SHOULD GET ON AND EAT HIS PIE.

HIS EYES SHOW THIS MILD STARTLEMENT, GAPING AT GULL IN SURPRISE AS HIS HANDS

ONCE MORE START TO RE-BUSY THEMSELVES ABOUT THE TASK OF KIDNEY CUTTING.

GULL (OFF):

Athena gives us automobiles; Mars our Mahdi Uprisings. Is

that not plague and miracle enough to sate the God of Exodus?

GULL (OFF):

Finish your pie. We cannot tarry long.

PANEL 7.

THIS FINAL PANEL TAKES UP THE WHOLE TIER. WE ARE ONCE MORE OUTSIDE THE FRONT OF

THE INN, AND JUTTING INTO THE PANEL FROM ONE SIDE OF THE FOREGROUND WE SEE THE

HEAD AND SHOULDERS OF NETLEY’S HORSE, STILL MUNCHING AT ITS FOOD, ALBEIT WITH

SLIGHTLY LESS INTEREST NOW THAT ITS INITIAL HUNGER HAS BEEN SATISFIED. LOOKING

PAST THIS INTO THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND WE SEE THE FRONT DOOR OF THE INN, WHICH

NETLEY IS HOLDING OPEN AS SIR WILLIAM SWEEPS OUT OF THE INN WITH HIS DARK COAT

OR CLOAK DRAPED AROUND HIM, SETTLING HIS TOP HAT BACK UPON HIS HEAD AS HE COMES

TOWARDS US AND THE COACH. ONCE MORE, HE DOESN’T LOOK AT NETLEY AS HE PASSES HIM,

ALTHOUGH NETLEY CONTINUES TO STARE WITH CRINGING AWE AND RESPECT AT SIR WILLIAM.

IT IS A LITTLE LATER NOW, AND THE SHADOWS HAVE STARTED TO

LENGTHEN AGAIN, ALMOST IMPERCEPTIBLY, AS THE SUN MOVES

FURTHER PAST THE ZENITH OF NOON.

No dialogue

81

Chapter 4, page 19.

And so, it’s on into the afternoon,

beginning with the weather forecast. And note

the description of the stone sphinx in the final

panel. You can see Alan’s photo of it later in

the colour section. On finishing this chapter, I

rounded up all the photographs sent by Alan,

and photocopies made from books he’d sent,

and others accessed by me at the library. The

total number of photo-references came to 67

pieces, just for this 38-page chapter. The trick

with this sort of thing is to make everything

look like it comes from the same artistic eye. An

object on a page of comics that attracts too

much attention to a photographic origin is

likely to rupture the suspension of disbelief

rather than support it, which is the reason for

using photos in the first place.

PAGE 19. (1216 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SIX PANELS ON THIS PAGE, WITH THREE ON THIS TOP TIER, ONE BIG ONE

TAKING UP THE MIDDLE TIER AND THEN TWO PANELS ON THE BOTTOM TIER. IN THIS

FIRST PANEL ALL WE SEE IS A LONG SHOT OF THE COACH, WHICH NEEDN’T BE TERRIBLY

DISTINCT OR DETAILED. ALL WE NEED TO CONVEY IS THAT THE COACH IS MOVING AGAIN,

AND THAT GULL AND NETLEY HAVE THUS PRESUMABLY RESUMED THEIR JOURNEY.

A BACKGROUND ISN’T REALLY NECESSARY, BUT IF YOU SEE ONE YOU LIKE, MAYBE YOU

COULD USE ONE OF THE EARL’S COURT BACKGROUND SHOTS THAT YOU HAVEN’T USED

ALREADY? (SEE REFERENCE PHOTOS).

GULL:

Myths are the key to your Right Brain; that world of Gods, that,

like Atlantis, sank beneath the waters of the Age of Reason.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE MOVE IN FOR A CLOSER SHOT OF THE PAIR, SEEN FROM THE FRONT HERE AS THEY SIT

ATOP THE COACH WITH GULL ON THE LEFT AND NETLEY ON THE RIGHT. AS HE SPEAKS, GULL IS

STARTING TO UNFURL THE MAP THAT HAS RESTED ON THE SEAT BESIDE HIM THROUGHOUT THIS

EPISODE. IT IS A MAP OF LONDON, ALTHOUGH SINCE WE CAN ONLY SEE THE BACK OF THE MAP

HERE AS GULL UNROLLS IT, THIS IS NOT YET APPARENT. NETLEY DOES NOT LOOK AT GULL

ANY MORE THAN GULL LOOKS AT NETLEY. NETLEY CONTINUES TO PERUSE THE OFF-PANEL ROAD

IN FRONT OF HIM WHILE GULL CONCENTRATES UPON UNROLLING HIS MAP. IF WE CAN SEE ANY

OF THE SKY, IT IS JUST EVER SO SLIGHTLY CLOUDIER THAN WHEN WE SAW IT BEFORE GULL

AND NETLEY WENT IN TO HAVE THEIR LUNCH. IF WE CAN’T SEE THE SKY HERE, THEN DON’T

82

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

WORRY. JUST TAKE IT AS A GENERAL STAGE DIRECTION: THE SKY BECOMES GRADUALLY CLOUDIER

UNTIL PAGE 22, WHEN IT BEGINS TO RAIN. THIS LASTS ROUGHLY UNTIL PAGE THIRTY-ONE, WHEN

THE SUN COMES OUT AGAIN. OKAY ... THAT’S THE END OF THE WEATHER FORECAST. NOW BACK TO

THE MAIN NEWS...

GULL:

That drowned realm of the mind: those intellects that dive

the deepest, salvaging its treasures, we call sorcerers.

GULL:

Where next? Let me consult the map...

PANEL 3.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW, SO THAT WE SEE THE TWO MEN IN PROFILE, AS IF WE WERE SITTING TO

GULL’S RIGHT AND LOOKING PAST HIM AT NETLEY. THUS, WE SEE A LITTLE OF GULL’S FRONT

ENTERING THE PANEL FROM THE LEFT HERE AND FACING RIGHT. WE NEED REALLY ONLY SEE HIS

HANDS, UNLESS YOU WANT TO SHOW A LITTLE OF HIS LOWER FACE UP AT THE TOP LEFT CORNER

OF THE PANEL. IN HIS HANDS HE HOLDS THE UNFURLED MAP, ALTHOUGH, ONCE AGAIN, SINCE

WE SEE IT SIDE ON, WE ARE UNABLE TO MAKE IT OUT PROPERLY. LOOKING PAST THIS WE SEE

NETLEY AS HE SITS WITH HIS REINS IN HAND. OVERCOME BY CURIOSITY, HE GLANCES SIDEWAYS

TO SEE WHAT GULL IS DOING WITH THE MAP, HIS EYES DARTING BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS

BENEATH THE SHADOWS OF HIS DERBY HAT BRIM.

GULL (OFF?):

Ah, yes: Knightsbridge via Cromwell Road, then Grosvenor

Place onto Victoria Street...

GULL (OFF?):

I think I’ll mark the sites we have already visited...

PANEL 4.

THIS IS A BIG WIDE PANEL, RUNNING RIGHT THE WAY ACROSS THE PAGE. WHAT WE SEE IN IT,

BASICALLY, STRETCHED FROM BORDER TO BORDER, IS THE STREET MAP THAT GULL IS LOOKING

DOWN AT, FOR WHICH I SUGGEST YOU USE A PASTE UP. I’M CURRENTLY TRYING TO GET A SERIES

OF ORDINANCE SURVEY MAPS OF LONDON DURING THE PERIOD, BUT IF I CAN’T THEN ANY OLD

MAP OF LONDON COULD BE USED, AS LONG AS IT’S REDUCED ENOUGH TO MAKE THE PLACE NAMES

ILLEGIBLE AND THEN PASTED UP ACROSS THIS PANEL. THE ONLY OTHER THINGS WE SEE IN THIS

PANEL ARE GULL’S HANDS, ONE OF THEM RESTING ON THE MAP TO STEADY IT WHILE IN THE

OTHER HE HOLDS A PENCIL THAT HE HAS PRESUMABLY REMOVED FROM SOME HIDDEN RECESS OF HIS

JACKET. HE HAS MARKED WITH CONSPICUOUS CIRCLES OR CROSSES THE SITES ALREADY VISITED,

WHICH HE LISTS BELOW. WE DON’T NEED TO SEE ALL THE POINTS THAT HE MENTIONS: WE JUST

NEED TO SEE ENOUGH TO GET THE IDEA ACROSS THAT GULL IS MARKING DOWN THE POINTS THAT

THEY HAVE VISITED UPON HIS MAP. SEEN HERE, THE POINTS ARE JUST RANDOM MARKS, WITH NO

REAL SENSE TO THEM. GULL’S BALLOONS ISSUE FROM OFF PANEL IN THE LOWER FOREGROUND.

GULL (OFF):

There’s Battle Bridge, where Matriarchy fell with Boadicea;

London Fields where Saxons praised the Moon’s assassin;

Bunhill Fields, with Blake asleep beneath his obelisk;

Old Street, where Hawksmoor raised its twin...

GULL (OFF):

Northampton Square, bought with Masonic gold, and Bloomsbury,

St. George, where Hawksmoor raised his pagan mausoleum...

GULL (OFF):

Finally, Earl’s Court, where Belinos once had his well. That’s

all our stops thus far, this random scattering of points...

GULL (OFF):

This earthbound constellation.

83

Chapter 4, page 19

PANEL 5.

NOW WE HAVE A SHOT THAT’S PRACTICALLY A REVERSE OF PANEL THREE, IN THAT WE ARE

STILL FAIRLY CLOSE TO GULL AND NETLEY AND VIEWING THEM IN PROFILE. THE DIFFERENCE

HERE IS THAT WE ARE NOW VIEWING THEM FROM THE OTHER SIDE SO THAT NETLEY IS IN THE

FOREGROUND, ENTERING INTO THE PANEL FROM THE RIGHT AND FACING LEFT. THE REINS HELD

TIGHT IN HIS HANDS, HE SWIVELS HIS EYES AWAY FROM US TOWARDS GULL, WHOM WE SEE IN

THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND BEYOND HIM. NETLEY WATCHES GULL, AS GULL ROLLS UP THE MAP

AGAIN AFTER USING IT, HAVING NOTED ALL THEIR POINTS OF CALL. AS HE DOES SO, GULL

LOOKS TOWARDS NETLEY AND SMILES, FIXING NETLEY WITH HIS UNBLINKING EYES. UP IN THE

FOREGROUND, NETLEY LOOKS FAINTLY NERVOUS, ALTHOUGH HE DOES HIS BEST TO CONCEAL IT.

SOMETHING ABOUT THE OLD MAN’S PRESENCE IS STARTING TO UNSETTLE NETLEY... SOMETHING

BEYOND THE NORMAL UNEASE THAT HE FEELS WHEN TALKING TO MEN WHO ARE MUCH MORE RICH

AND POWERFUL THAN HE IS. DIMLY, EVEN THOUGH THE THOUGHT IS TOO BLASPHEMOUS TO FULLY

EXPRESS, EVEN TO HIMSELF, IN THE BACK OF HIS MIND NETLEY IS STARTING TO WONDER IF

GULL MIGHT POSSIBLY BE INSANE. GULL, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAS NO SUCH ANXIETIES.

HE KNOWS THAT HE IS AT LEAST TOUCHED BY INSANITY AND IT DOESN’T BOTHER HIM EVEN

SIGHTLY. HE SMILES BENIGNLY AT NETLEY, WHO QUAKES INWARDLY.

GULL:

Maps have POTENCY; may yield a wealth of knowledge past

imagining if properly divined.

GULL:

Encoded in this City’s stones are symbols thunderous enough

to rouse the sleeping Gods submerged beneath the sea-bed

of

our

dreams...

PANEL 6.

TO THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND HERE, LOOMING INCONGRUOUSLY INTO THE PICTURE, WE SEE

A LITTLE OF THE BASE OF CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE, FLANKED AS IT IS BY SPHINXES, ONE OF

WHICH WE CAN PROBABLY SEE HERE. THIS LOOMS STRANGELY IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND,

WHILE LOOKING BEYOND IT TO THE LEFT OF THE BACKGROUND WE CAN SEE NETLEY’S COACH AS

IT APPROACHES THE MONUMENT DOWN THE VICTORIA EMBANKMENT, WITH THE THAMES TO ITS LEFT

(OUR RIGHT). IF WE CAN SEE ONE OF THE BLACK SPHINXES THEN IT SMILES FAINTLY AS THE

COACH APPROACHES, ALTHOUGH WE CANNOT TELL WHAT IT’S SMILING AT.

GULL (FROM COACH):

...for

better, or for worse.

GULL (FROM COACH):

Stop

just ahead.

Variations

This is another panel, in halftone from

the original art, from my autobiographical

After the Snooter, 2001. The book

has around twenty-five panels of FROM

HELL variant scenes, created as part of my

ruminative narrative. That includes panels

shown here on pages 3 and 284. Alec also

has a couple of stories about Alan Moore.

Chapter 4, page 23.

As I wrote above for page 1, having

launched into a 38-page chapter consisting

entirely of one conversation, or more correctly

an occasionally interrupted lecture, without

any breaks or diversions apart from the passing

scenery, Alan started to worry that he might

have bitten off more than we could chew.

Remember of course that I received the whole

thing in one finished lump so at the time he

was writing this page, FROM HELL Chapter

4 existed only in Alan Moore’s head. This page

also has a memorable line of script (end of panel

3’s description). Another writer might tell you

that “it is raining”, but in Alan Moore’s script it

says that the noise of it is like “like Morse code for

some huge, depressing Russian novel.”

PAGE 23. (1616 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS ON THIS PAGE, WITH THREE EACH ON THE TOP AND BOTTOM TIERS

AND THEN ONE BIG WIDE PANEL IN THE MIDDLE. THESE FIRST THREE PANELS ARE BASICALLY

THE SAME SHOT, IN THAT WE ARE SITTING BESIDE GULL AND LOOKING PAST HIM TOWARDS

NETLEY. THUS, IN THE FOREGROUND TO THE LEFT WE CAN SEE A LITTLE OF GULL, AS HE SITS

ROUGHLY IN PROFILE AND FACING RIGHT. AS BEFORE, MAYBE WE SET UP THE PANEL SO THAT

WE ONLY SEE HIS FACE FROM THE NOSE DOWN, SO THAT WE CAN JUST SEE HIS MOUTH AND

CHIN UP TOWARDS THE TOP LEFT CORNER OF THE PANEL. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS THAT

WE SEE THE BAG OF GRAPES THAT STILL RESTS IN HIS LAP. AS WE SEE HIM HERE HE HAS

TAKEN A GRAPE FROM THE BAG AND IS JUST LIFTING IT TOWARDS HIS LIPS, ABOUT TO PLACE

IT IN HIS WAITING MOUTH. LOOKING PAST HIM WE SEE JOHN NETLEY, SITTING HUNCHED OVER

HIS REINS AND LOOKING COMPLETELY WRETCHED. HE STARES AHEAD OF HIM INTO THE FALLING

RAIN WITH A VAGUELY SICK LOOK. HE IS REALLY STARTING TO WISH THAT HE HADN’T COME.

GULL:

Madness is a Dionysian fruit... like grapes.

GULL:

Forgive me for not offering you one. Your hands are filthy,

and I fear disease.

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT, ONLY HERE, UP TO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, GULL HAS PLACED

THE GRAPE IN HIS MOUTH AND IS NOW CHEWING IT WITH EVIDENT SATISFACTION,

HIS EMPTY HAND LOWERING ITSELF BACK FROM HIS MOUTH TOWARDS HIS LAP AS HE

DOES SO. LOOKING BEYOND HIM WE SEE THAT NETLEY HAS TURNED HIS HEAD TO LOOK AT

SIR WILLIAM AS HE SPEAKS. WITH HIM FACING US IN THIS MANNER WE CAN SEE HOW ILL AND

85

Chapter 4, page 23.

WRETCHED HE IS STARTING TO LOOK. HE LOOKS THOROUGHLY MISERABLE AND BLEARY-EYED. THE

RAIN CONTINUES TO FALL AROUND THEM, OBSCURING THE STREETS THAT THEY PASS THROUGH WITH

A VEIL OF COLD LIQUID GREY.

NETLEY:

I’m not that ’ungry, sir. I’ve got bad guts, and feels peculiar, like.

NETLEY:

It must ’ave been that pie we ’ad, them kidneys...

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. HERE, GULL SITS IN THE FOREGROUND WITH BOTH HANDS RESTING CALMLY ABOUT THE

HALF-EMPTY BAG OF GRAPES. LOOKING BEYOND HIM WE SEE NETLEY, WHO HAS TURNED HIS FACE

AWAY FROM GULL SINCE LAST PANEL SO THAT HE IS NOW VISIBLE TO US IN PROFILE ONCE MORE,

FACING RIGHT. HIS EYES, HOWEVER (OR AT LEAST THE ONE THAT WE CAN SEE) HAVE SWIVELED

TO HIS RIGHT, SO THAT HE REGARDS GULL ANXIOUSLY OUT OF THE CORNER OF HIS EYE AS HE RIDES.

THE RAIN CONTINUES TO FALL LIKE MORSE CODE FOR SOME HUGE, DEPRESSING RUSSIAN NOVEL.

GULL:

Possibly... or have these stones and symbols’ morbid

airs

afflicted

you?

GULL:

Their language speaks direct to our unconscious mind;

provokes unease, as well the Dionysiacs knew.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE HAVE A BIG WIDE PANEL TAKING UP THE WHOLE TIER, FOR WHICH I THINK A SIMPLE

LONG SHOT OF THE COACH AS IT MOVES THROUGH THE LONDON RAIN WOULD GO NICELY. JUST

SOMETHING SCRATCHY AND TENTATIVE. A GREY MIST OF HATCHING TO SUGGEST THE DIAGONAL

FALL OF THE RAIN; A SLIGHTLY DARKER PATCH OF HATCHING IN THE CENTRE TO SUGGEST THE

CONTOURS OF THE COACH AS IT CRAWLS ALONG OVER THE SLIPPERY COBBLES, SOMETHING LIKE

THAT? I DUNNO... TO BE FRANK, ED, I’M HAVING A BIT OF A CRISIS OF CONFIDENCE ABOUT

THESE PANEL DESCRIPTIONS AND I’M NOT SURE WHETHER I’M JUST WINGING IT OR WHAT. I

DON’T KNOW IF THIS RELENTLESS AND LIMITED SERIES OF IMAGES (LONG SHOTS OF THE COACH,

FRONT REAR AND PROFILE; CLOSE UP OF GULL AND NETLEY FRONT REAR AND PROFILE) IS ENOUGH

TO HANG THE STRIP ON VISUALLY, AND I SUPPOSE I WON’T KNOW UNTIL YOU’VE HAD A CHANCE

TO READ THE THING AND GET BACK TO ME. BASICALLY, IF THERE IS ANYTHING THAT YOU THINK

MIGHT WORK VISUALLY, THEN TRY IT. IF YOU WANT TO USE INCREASINGLY STRANGE-LOOKING

COLLAGES OF LONDON BUILDINGS FOR BACKGROUND THEN GO AHEAD. IF POINTILLISM LOOKS GOOD

ON THE EARLY MORNING MIST SCENES THEN FEEL FREE TO TRY IT. IF SOME BIG, WIDE, TIER-

WIDTH PANELS WORK BETTER AS THREE SMALLER ONES, THEN DO THEM THAT WAY, AND THE SAME

IF THREE SMALL PANELS COULD SAY AS MUCH IF THEY WERE COMBINED INTO ONE BIG PICTURE.

JUST LET DESPERATION BE THE MOTHER OF INVENTION AND TRY TO LOOK ON IT AS A CHALLENGE

(ALTHOUGH I HAVE A FEELING THAT IN THIS INSTANCE I MIGHT AS WELL SAY “TRY TO LOOK ON

IT AS A CHALLENGE” TO SOMEONE I’VE JUST ASKED TO CATCH A BULLET BETWEEN THEIR TEETH).

ANYWAY, JUST FEEL FREE TO TAKE AS MANY LIBERTIES AS POSSIBLE AND CALL ME IF THERE ARE

REAL PROBLEMS. IN THE MEANTIME, I’LL CONTINUE TO PUT DOWN WHATEVER PANEL DESCRIPTIONS

OCCUR TO ME, BUT YOU SHOULD FEEL FREE TO TAKE ALL OF THEM WITH A PINCH OF SALT, EVEN

MORE SO THAN USUALLY. IN THIS PANEL, UNLESS YOU CAN THINK OF ANYTHING BETTER, THE COACH

CRAWLS SLOWLY FORWARD THROUGH THE RAIN, HEADING TOWARDS CAMBERWELL AND HERNE HILL.

(edited, 4 panels only)

86

Chapter 4, page 27, (and 28.)

We ran into a problem with this page.

Alan has our cheery pair going over Tower

Bridge, which was being built at the time and

wasn’t opened for another six years. This is not

something I would have known myself until I

sought out the photographic reference. But I

wasn’t going to let that stand in the way of some

collegial mockery. I photocopied the half-built

bridge and sent it to Alan with a sketch of the

little coach falling off it, and Gull and Netley

plunging to their deaths in the river. I attach a

copy of it to the end of this page of script.

In the meantime, rather than bother

Alan with the problem, I added in an extra

page (28 left below), stretched the dialogue

out, and sent them the long way round. This

way I got to record in our pages a bridge that

I find much more interesting. It was built by

the great Scottish engineer John Rennie and

opened in 1831. In 1968, the bridge was sold to

Missouri oil millionaire Robert McCulloch. It

was reconstructed and currently stands in Lake

Havasu City, Arizona, where it is reckoned to

be Arizona’s second biggest tourist attraction

after the Grand Canyon. Another of Rennie’s

achievements, Waterloo Bridge, appears on

page 21 of this chapter. Although it’s still there,

it was damaged by German bombs during World

War 2 and looks quite altered. “It is frequently

asserted that the work force was largely female

and it is sometimes referred to as ‘The ladies’

bridge’” (Wikipedia).

PAGE 27. (666 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE FOUR PANELS ON THIS PAGE, WITH TWO ON THE TOP TIER, AND THEN ONE BIG

WIDE PANEL ON EACH OF THE TWO TIERS BENEATH THAT. THIS FIRST PANEL IS A SMALL,

NORMAL WIDTH PANEL, AND IT JUST SHOWS NETLEY HELPING GULL BACK UP ONTO THE TOP OF

87

Chapter 4, page 28.

THE COACH. PERHAPS HERE NETLEY HAS CLIMBED ABOARD THE COACH FIRST AND IS PULLING

GULL UP BESIDE HIM RATHER THAN PUSHING HIM UP FROM UNDERNEATH. THIS SHOULD BE A SORT

OF MIDDLE DISTANCE SHOT, I THINK, SINCE IN THE NEXT PANEL WE SEE THE COACH IN LONG

SHOT. GULL CONTINUES HIS HISTORY LESSON IN A GENIAL WAY AS NETLEY, WHO CONTINUES TO

LOOK ILL AND WORRIED, HELPS HIM ABOARD THE COACH.

GULL:

Druids believed locations were empowered by suffering; soaked

up despair and terror which reverberated in the soil and

stones for ever more.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE HAVE A DOUBLE-WIDTH PANEL WHICH TAKES UP THE REST OF THE TIER. IT SHOWS

A LONG SHOT OF TOWER BRIDGE, WITH THE TOWER ITSELF VISIBLE OVER TO THE RIGHT AND

THE COACH APPROACHING IT ACROSS THE BRIDGE FROM THE LEFT. THE RAIN CONTINUES

TO EASE UP, AND MAYBE THERE ARE SOME PATCHES OF WHITE AND SILVER STARTING TO

SHOW IN THE MISERABLE-LOOKING CLOUDS ABOVE THE RIVER. THE SUN IS NOW DESCENDING

SLOWLY FROM MID TO LATE AFTERNOON, ALTHOUGH IT PROBABLY WON’T BE VISIBLE HERE AS

ANYTHING EXCEPT A LIGHT AREA IN THE BLANKET OF CLOUD. THE COACH IS QUITE SMALL

HERE, WITH GULL’S BALLOONS ISSUING FROM IT AS IT MOVES ACROSS THE BRIDGE, A DARK

SHAPE AGAINST THE RAINCLOUDS AND THE RIVER BEYOND.

GULL:

This Tower must HUM, a dynamo of Blood and History...

GULL:

Built on the “White Mount” named in pagan myths, where

Britain’s founder Brutus, late of Troy, lies mouldering.

GULL:

Guided by Moon Goddess-sent dreams, Brutus seized Britain

from its rulers, Gog and Magog, raising New Troy. “Troy-

Novantum” ... here, pledged to Diana.

PANEL 3.

WE ARE BEHIND GULL AND NETLEY ATOP THE COACH HERE AS IT RUMBLES ACROSS TOWER

BRIDGE. WITH THE BULK OF THE BLOODY TOWER RISING UP IN THE BACKGROUND THEY SIT

FACING AWAY FROM US IN THE FOREGROUND, WITH GULL ON THE RIGHT AS THEY GAZE AWAY

FROM US HERE. IF IT’S POSSIBLE TO SHOW AMIDST ALL THIS RAIN, A FLOCK OF THE

TOWER’S RAVENS ARE MAYBE CIRCLING AGITATEDLY ABOUT SOME POINT OF THE TOWER’S

EXTERIOR. I DON’T HAVE REFERENCE PICTURES OF THE TOWER YET, BUT I’LL TRY TO FIND

SOME BEFORE I SEND THIS PACKAGE OUT. IF NOT, SHOTS OF THE TOWER SHOULDN’T BE TOO

HARD TO FIND OVER THERE.

GULL:

Here, Bran’s head’s buried, Celtic God whose name means

“Blessed

Raven”.

GULL:

His birds nest here still. ‘Tis said London’s destroyed if

they depart. Their population is therefore restored occasionally;

Ravens imported from elsewhere that seem to stay ‘til death.

GULL:

The “Sol Tower” of the Sun King Lud stood here, rebuilt by

Romans; Normans; Britain’s conquerors.

GULL:

Here died Jane Grey, Judge Jeffreys, Anne Boleyn, Guy Fawkes,

the Little Princes ...infant sacrifices even Druids might

admire.

88

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

PANEL 4.

NOW IN THIS LAST WIDE PANEL WE ARE ON THE LAWNS IN FRONT OF THE TOWER, WHERE

THE RAVENS PICK OVER THE GRASS LIKE A SCATTERING OF CURSES. LOOKING BEYOND THIS

WE SEE THE COACH AS IT PASSES THE TOWER AND MOVES AWAY FROM US, OFF THE OTHER

SIDE OF TOWER BRIDGE AND HEADING ON TOWARDS BILLINGSGATE. THE RAVENS STARE AT

ITS DEPARTURE WITH EYES LIKE LITTLE BLACK WATCH-JEWELS, THEIR FEATHERS SLICK

AND SHINY IN THE RAIN.

GULL:

Here, 1817, a keeper and his wife perceived a cylinder

of viscous azure light, thick as an arm, that hovered

briefly, then was gone.

GULL:

Another sentry saw a bear-like apparition slide beneath the

Jewel-Room door. He fell into a fit, and shortly died.

GULL:

Perhaps some places do indeed possess vitality. They dream,

and feed, and propagate themselves.

GULL:

Take Ratcliffe Highway next, to Billingsgate.

Hollywood’s map of London

In Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes (2009), Robert Downey Jr. and Lord Blackwood (who, like Jack the Ripper,

has killed five young women) do battle atop the unfinished bridge in a fictitious 1891. The writer may have seen

the joke below, which I showed in print ten years ago, as the film shows no evidence of having consulted anything

more serious than comic books. It has been criticized for taking liberties with the layout of London. Blogger Karen,

“An American running around London,” observed: “One gets the feeling that Guy Ritchie got the idea to look in

a history book to see what was happening in London in the late 19th century, found that Tower Bridge was being

constructed, and never looked back. At one point in the story, when Holmes realizes he’s actually in a Dan Brown

novel, he shouts to someone, ‘MAP!’ If only one person in the production of this movie had done the same.”

89

Chapter 4, page 29.

Straight after the Tower Bridge

problem, we came up against another one. It was

important that this page refer to the mythical

sun-god, Belinos, (see also page 17 of this chapter)

who gave his name to Billingsgate, former site of

London’s fish market. This just didn’t fit the point

of the pentagram where it needed to go. Frankly

we should be surprised that Alan was able to

make anything fit into such a scheme. Due to this

insurmountable difficulty, he had to rethink the page

from scratch. Therefore in its original form it’s a

page of script for which there isn’t a corresponding

page of art. All that’s left of the scene, apart from

some important lines of dialogue moved to another

venue, is the typescript. Shame to have lost the

fish.

PAGE 29. (now 30) (800 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE THREE WIDE HORIZONTAL PANELS ON THIS PAGE, TAKING UP A TIER EACH. IN THIS

FIRST ONE, WE HAVE A WIDE ANGLE SHOT OF BILLINGSGATE FISH MARKET, FOR WHICH I’M

AFRAID I COULD GET VERY LITTLE IN THE WAY OF USEFUL REFERENCE. WE SEE THE VARIOUS

FISH STALLS SET OUT WITH THE TRADERS AND CUSTOMERS BUSTLING AROUND THEM. THE MAJORITY

OF THE BUSTLE SEEMS TO BE GOING ON TOWARDS THE LEFT OF THIS WIDE PANEL, WITH PEOPLE

THRONGING ABOUT AMIDST THE BUCKETS OF FISH ENTRAILS, PICKING THEIR WAY OVER COBBLES

SHINY WITH PARED-AWAY SCALES AND SLIVERS OF FISH SKIN. OVER TOWARDS THE RIGHT OF THE

PANEL, BEYOND THE IMMEDIATE PRECINCT OF THE MARKETPLACE, WE SEE NETLEY’S COACH, WITH

HIM AND GULL SITTING ON TOP OF IT, SURVEYING THE SPRAWL OF BILLINGSGATE. ASSAILED BY

THE STENCH OF FISH GUTS, NETLEY LOOKS QUEASIER THAN EVER, WHILE GULL SEEMS COMPLETELY

RELAXED AMIDST THE STENCH AND CLAMOUR AND CONTINUES TO CONVERSE IN HIS USUAL, GENIAL

FASHION. THE RAIN IS DEFINITELY STARTING TO THIN OUT HERE, WITH NO MORE THAN A FEW

SPOTS FALLING. ABOVE THE MARKET, THE SUN THREATENS TO PEEK THROUGH ITS RAGGED BANDAGE

OF CLOUD, ALTHOUGH IT IS BY NOW VERY LOW ON THE HORIZON, AND NOT FAR AWAY FROM SUNSET.

THE BALLOONS BELONGING TO THE MARKET TRADERS ARE ALL FREE-FLOATING AND TAILLESS,

AND THEY JUST BOB AROUND ABOVE THE CROWD OVER TO THE LEFT OF THIS WIDE PANEL. GULL’S

BALLOONS ARE DISTINGUISHED FROM THEM BY VIRTUE OF THE TAIL THAT POINTS TOWARD GULL.

TAILLESS BALLOON:

YE-O-O! All alive TURBOT!

TAILLESS BALLOON:

Fine grizzlin’ SPRATS, large an’ no small!

TAILLESS BALLOON:

Had-had-had-had-HADDICK!

TAILLESS BALLOON:

Now or never! Five brill a pound!

TAILLESS BALLOON:

YE-O-O!

90

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

GULL :

Sometimes, an act of social magic’s NECESSARY: Man’s triumph

over Woman’s INSECURE, the dust of history not yet SETTLED.

GULL :

Changing times erase the pattern that constrains society’s

irrational,

female

side...

PANEL 2.

IN THIS SECOND WIDE PANEL WE CLOSE IN UPON GULL AND NETLEY FACING US ATOP THE BOX OF

THEIR COACH. GULL IS ABSENTLY PLUCKING ONE OF THE REMAINING TWO OR THREE GRAPES, BUT

GAZES STRAIGHT AHEAD AT US WITH HIS PALE GREY EYES. PERHAPS WITH HIS FREE HAND HE

GESTURES TOWARDS THE SQUALOR OF BILLINGSGATE SURROUNDING THEM, THE MURKY OUTLINES OF

WHICH WE CAN SEE RISING UP IN THE BACKGROUND BEYOND THE COACH. NETLEY, SITTING ON THE

RIGHT HERE, LOOKS VERY SICKLY INDEED, AND HAS PERHAPS PULLED OUT A HANDKERCHIEF TO

PROTECT HIS NOSE FROM THE STOMACH-TURNING SCENT OF THE FISH. THE VERY LAST FEW SPOTS

OF RAIN SPLASH DOWN UPON THE REEKING COBBLES, AND THEN THE RAIN IS OVER AND A LATE

AFTERNOON LIGHT ONCE MORE BEGINS TO GRADUALLY PERVADE THE MARKET PLACE.

GULL:

Our workers, lately given VOTES, now talk of SOCIALISM, talk

of RIGHTS, riot in Trafalgar and won’t quit ’til they are

shot, whereon their fury DOUBLES! King Mob’s clamour drowns

out

Apollonian

debates.

GULL:

Reason’s BESIEGED: For all our science we are become an age

of table-rappers, tealeaf readers and Theosophists; where

Dr. Westcott founds his “Golden Dawn”, mistaking hokum for

the wisdom of Antiquity!

GULL:

The Séance-Parlour’s murmurings; the gutters’ pandemonium...

these threaten Rationality itself!

PANEL 3.

NOW, FOR THE FINAL SHOT OF THIS PAGE, WE ARE LOOKING ACROSS THE SLAB-TOPPED COUNTER

OF ONE OF THE MARKET STALLS. SPREAD OUT UPON THE SLAB AND RANGING ACROSS THE PANEL ARE A

ROW OF FRESH FISH. THEIR SIGHTLESS EYES ALL STARE COLDLY AT THE LIGHTENING SKY, A CHILL

AND WATERY GLEAM OF LIGHT IS GLISTENING ON THEIR BELLIES. TO ONE SIDE OF THE PANEL, MAYBE

WE SEE THE ARMS OF A FISHWIFE INTRUDE INTO THE PANEL FROM OFF, CAUGHT HERE IN THE ACT OF

SLITTING A FISH’S BELLY OPEN. HELD IN HER STRONG HAND, ITS DEAD EYES STARE AND ITS MOUTH

SAGS IN DISMAY AS THE KNIFE SLICES EFFORTLESSLY UPWARDS THROUGH ITS WHITE FLESH. LOOKING

BEYOND THIS, AND WHATEVER SHADOWY FIGURES ARE GATHERED AROUND THE MARKET STALL WE ARE

LOOKING AT THE REAR OF NETLEY’S COACH AS IT HEADS AWAY FROM US, MAKING ITS WAY BACK ALONG

THE RATCLIFFE HIGHWAY OR THEREABOUTS IN THE DIRECTION OF SPITALFIELDS, ITS PENULTIMATE

STOP. AS THE COACH PULLS AWAY, GULL CONTINUES HIS DISCOURSE WHILE LUCKLESS FISH HAVE

THEIR STOMACHS RIPPED OPEN IN THE FOREGROUND.

GULL:

Our Suffragettes demand that women vote, and have equality!

They’d drag us back to that Primordial nursery, the rule of

instinct and the Tyranny of mother’s milk!

GULL:

We can’t have that.

GULL:

Not though they bawl like all the fisherwives of Billingsgate,

named for the Sun God Belinos.

GULL:

Up Cotton Street, beside East India Docks towards Commercial Road.

GULL:

Come, why so SILENT! Is your biliousness worse?

91

Chapter 4: silent buildings.

The visually repetitive traveling sequences that Alan worried about are

strung between a series of large open architectural studies that, if drawn in great detail,

I felt would create a pattern to hold the reader’s interest through the chapter. They also

established the points on the map that would later be joined up to make the London

pentacle. These are the ley lines that would be the flight path of Gull’s “ascension”

in Chapter 14 (not that I knew this at the time). The huge churches were also sombre

polarities in later episodes, sucking wrongness into their vicinities.

A young artist named Steve Stamatiadis

assisted me on this chapter. I’d letter and lay out

these architectural pages and tape the relevant

photos to the boards. He would rule up the

perspective lines and fill in the laborious detail.

Steve’s own style was derived from manga and

I’m sure he regarded his couple of months with

me as drudgery. He didn’t want to come back for

chapter 5. But he did well, and he worked with

me on another book that never got published.

Nowadays he runs his own video games company

and employs people to do the laborious stuff.

So then I’d take the neatly ruled

“technical drawings” and add light source and

atmosphere, with particular attention to the time-

of-day plan that had been worked out. You can

follow the sequence from midday to dusk in the

four images shown here.

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

Alan imagined the chapter’s closing image

as a double-page spread. Given that the story was

to appear in the anthology Taboo, each issue a thick

squarebound book, I figured that was too complicated

and made it just one page (left). Since I had already

added a page at the bridge, the count still totaled 38.

For this last one I asked Steve to pencil it based on

three photocopy references I had lined up, but whose

perspectives didn’t quite correspond. However, when

I came to the final decision on it I found that while

it was a great piece of drawing, I couldn’t “see” the

necessary atmosphere using this approach. I glued the photocopies onto another board

and attacked them with ink, adding and subtracting details to pull the parts together.

Recently I came across Steve’s unused pencil drawing on the back of a contemporaneous

page of art from Doing the Islands with Bacchus. That’s it below.

PAGES 37 & 38 (171 words) (edited)

TO FINISH WE HAVE A DOUBLE PAGE SPREAD THAT SHOWS A WIDE VIEW OF THE ROOFTOPS OF

LONDON. THE CENTRE OF THE NIGHTBOUND CITY IS THE DOME OF ST. PAUL’S, RISING ABOVE

THE STREETS. THE SPIRES OF THE SURROUNDING CHURCHES RADIATE OUT FROM IT IN ODDLY

REGULAR LINES, STRETCHING AWAY TO THE HORIZON. THIS IS LONDON; A FANTASTIC PILE

OF STORIES AND STONES AND LEGENDS AND DEAD MEN, BASKING IN THE LIGHT OF THE LARGE

FULL MOON THAT WE SEE CLIMBING INTO THE DARK NIGHT SKY, SILVERING THE CITY WITH ITS

RAYS. WE CANNOT SEE THE DOCTOR HERE. ALL WE SEE IS THE CITY: OLD AND TERRIBLE.

GULL: ...engraved in stone.

Part 3

Pages 95 to 131.

The theme of this

part is what I call the

cinematic principle.

There will be a few

side-glances at the

FROM HELL

movie.

Chapter 5, page 1.

This page of FROM HELL first

appeared in Taboo #6, in July 1992, eight

months after the previous chapter. We were

109 pages and some three and a half years in,

and we’d only just arrived at the first murder.

This chapter was the one in which Pete

Mullins started assisting me in what would

amount to an almost full-time capacity for

about five years, and on occasion after that. He

worked on backgrounds at first and eventually

some secondary characters. He had more liberty

on my Bacchus stories. If you think you can

always separate what he did from what I did,

then you have a better eye than either of us.

Things do tend to look a bit sharper after this,

but I was heading in that direction anyway.

The thumbnail sketch is from Alan’s

notebooks. He sketched each page in miniature

entirely for his own benefit as an organising

procedure prior to typing the scripts and I

believe he worked this way on all his books.

His verbal descriptions are so detailed that

the sketch is often remarkably similar to the

finished design even though I never saw the

sketch. Worth noting on this one is that Alan

has replaced a provisional title. The scored-out

one reads “Grand Work” (“Grand work it shall

be,” said Gull in Chapter 4, page 5 [p67 here]).

PAGE 1. (1622 words) (edited- panels 1,3,5,8 complete) PANEL 1.

HELLO, EDDIE. WELL, HERE WE ARE: MORE THAN A HUNDRED PAGES INTO THE STORY AND WE

FINALLY REACH THE FIRST MURDER. IT STRIKES ME THAT HAVING DONE SUCH A GOOD JOB OF

MAKING THE MUNDANE MEANINGFUL AND DRAMATIC FOR THE PAST FIVE INSTALLMENTS, WE MAY

HAVE SOMETHING OF A PROBLEM WHEN IT COMES TO THIS FIRST MURDER; THE FIRST

CONVENTIONALLY DRAMATIC MOMENT THAT WE’VE BEEN CALLED UPON TO DESCRIBE. I THINK WE

NEED TO MAKE IT AS FLAT AND UNEVENTFUL AS WE DID THE SEX SCENE BETWEEN ANNIE AND

EDDY BACK IN CHAPTER ONE, ALTHOUGH AT THE SAME TIME WE DO NEED TO CONVEY SOME OF

THE HIDEOUS FORCE AND MOMENT THAT HAS GONE INTO THE EVENT. ALSO, WHILE WE MAINTAIN

THE AIR OF NORMALITY THAT WE’VE CAREFULLY BUILT UP, WE ALSO HAVE TO MAINTAIN THE

ATMOSPHERE OF STRANGENESS THAT WE’VE IMPLIED BEHIND THE EVERYDAY VICTORIAN FAÇADE.

A TRICKY ONE, BUT I’M SURE WE’LL HANDLE IT OKAY WHEN WE ACTUALLY GET TO THE SCENE

95

Chapter 5, page 1

IN QUESTION.THIS FIRST PAGE IS ONE OF THREE THAT MAKE UP OUR OPENING SEQUENCE, A PUZ-

ZLING AND ANOMALOUS LITTLE VIGNETTE THAT TAKES PLACE IN AUSTRIA. THE FIRST PAGE HAS

THREE TIERS. ON THE UPPERMOST TIER WE HAVE THE BORDERLESS WHITE SPACE TO THE LEFT

WHERE WE TRADITIONALLY SET OUR EPISODE TITLE, AND THEN A DOUBLE WIDTH PANEL TAKING

UP THE REST OF THE TIER. THE LOWER TWO TIERS EACH HAVE THREE PANELS, MAKING THIS AN

EIGHT-PANEL PAGE, INCLUDING THE TITLE PANEL.

TITLES:

Chapter V: The Nemesis of Neglect

PANEL 2.

IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE HAVE AN AERIAL SHOT OF A SMALL TWO-STORY BUILDING THAT STANDS

ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE UPPER-AUSTRIAN TOWNSHIP OF BRAUNAU. WE ARE LOOKING DOWN AT

THE HOUSE, WHICH STANDS IN A FAIRLY ISOLATED POSITION RELATIVE TO THE REST OF THE

TOWN, THROUGH A FINE VEIL OF POWDERY, FALLING SNOW. WE ARE HIGH ABOVE IT HERE AS WE

LOOK DOWN, AND THE ISOLATED HOUSE IS THE MAIN FOCUS OF OUR VISUAL ATTENTION...

CAPTION:

Braunau, Upper Austria. August, 1888.

PANEL 3.

NOW THE FIRST OF THE THREE SMALLER PANELS THAT MAKE UP THIS CENTRAL TIER. SLOWLY, WE

ARE CLOSING IN FROM OUR OPENING IMAGE, ZOOMING SLOWLY DOWN TOWARDS THE HOUSE BENEATH

US. (YOU SEE WHAT A SEMANTIC MUDDLE YOU GET INTO WHEN YOU START USING CINEMATIC

TERMINOLOGY? “ZOOMING SLOWLY”.) ALTHOUGH THE SNOWFLAKES STILL BOWL IN A LUMINOUS

FREE-FALL ACROSS THE FOREGROUND OF THE PANEL, WE CAN NOW SEE THE HOUSE IN MUCH

GREATER DETAIL, SINCE WE ARE HOVERING JUST ABOVE THE ROOF AND LOOKING DOWN. WE CAN

CLEARLY SEE THE LIGHT IN THE UPPER-STORY WINDOW, ALTHOUGH THE REST OF THE WINDOWS

ARE DARK. ALTHOUGH IT IS MADE NOWHERE EVIDENT IN THE TEXT THAT FOLLOWS, THE HOUSE IS

THAT BELONGING TO THE CUSTOMS OFFICIAL ALOIS HITLER AND HIS WIFE KLARA. I’M AFRAID

THAT THE BIOGRAPHY OF HITLER THAT I’VE CONSULTED FOR MY REFERENCE HAS NO PICTURE

SECTION, SO YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN AS FAR AS FINDING REFERENCE FOR THIS ONE GOES. IF YOU

CAN’T LOCATE A SPECIFIC IMAGE OF HITLER’S PARENTS’ HOUSE THEN JUST DO A PIECE OF

TYPICAL AUSTRIAN ARCHITECTURE FROM THAT PERIOD. AS WE LOOK DOWN ON THE HOUSE HERE,

THE ILLUMINATED WINDOW ON THE UPPER STORY IS BECOMING OUR VISUAL FOCUS OF ATTENTION.

PANEL 5.

NOW WE CLOSE IN SO THAT THE WINDOW FRAME ALSO FILLS THE ENTIRE PANEL, STILL WITH SOME

FLAKES OF SNOW TUMBLING PAST IN THE FOREGROUND. AS WE LOOK DOWN AND THROUGH THE WINDOW

WE CAN SEE INTO THE BEDROOM BEYOND, AND WE CAN SEE THE TOP HALF OF THE DOUBLE BED THAT

IS PRESUMABLY POSITIONED NEAR TO THE WINDOW. THE SCENE INSIDE THE ROOM IS LIT BY AN

OIL LAMP, SOMEWHERE OFF PANEL. SPRAWLED UPON THE BED, ONLY PARTLY VISIBLE TO US HERE,

ARE A MAN AND A WOMAN. THEY ARE HAVING SEX IN THE MISSIONARY POSITION, THE WOMAN’S

LONG NIGHTGOWN PULLED UP IN A CRUMPLED RUCK TO JUST ABOVE THE BREASTS AS SHE LIES FACE

UP BENEATH HER HUSBAND. THIS IS KLARA HITLER, FORMERLY KLARA PÖLZL, AND AS WE SEE HER

HERE SHE IS TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD. THE MAN ON TOP OF HER IS ALOIS HITLER OR HIEDLER,

AND HE IS FIFTY-ONE YEARS OLD. AS WITH THE HOUSE IN WHICH THIS IS HAPPENING, I HAVE NO

VISUAL REFERENCE FOR EITHER OF HITLER’S PARENTS. IF YOU CAN’T FIND ANY EITHER, THEN

JUST GO AHEAD AND MAKE THEM UP. I SEE BOTH OF THEM AS BEING QUITE FLESHY PEOPLE, NOT

96

Part 3: The cinematic principle

ESPECIALLY ATTRACTIVE IN ANY OBVIOUS PHYSICAL SENSE. AS ALOIS GRUNTS AND THRUSTS ON

TOP OF HIS WIFE, HIS OWN NIGHTSHIRT HAVING RIDDEN UP TO HIS WAIST TO REVEAL A DIMPLED

AND CORPULENT BEHIND, BOTH OF THEIR EYES ARE CLOSED. ALOIS CLOSES HIS EYES WITH A

SQUINT OF MIGRAINE-INDUCING EFFORT, WHILE KLARA CLOSES HERS TO ESCAPE TO SOMEWHERE

WITH A MORE PLEASING VIEW. FROM OUR VANTAGE POINT AS WE LOOK DOWN INTO THE ROOM WE CAN

SEE MOST OF THE BED, AND WE CAN PROBABLY SEE THE TWO BODIES MORE OR LESS FULL FIGURE

HERE AS THEY LIE THERE ON TOP OF EACH OTHER. LIT BY THE CREPUSCULAR YELLOW GLOW OF THE

OFF-PANEL OIL LAMP, THE LEANING SHADOWS MAKING SOMETHING STRANGE AND FANTASTIC OF THE

SCENE. IT IS THE LIGHTING OF A CRIMEA SURGICAL TENT, OR THE MURDER ROOM IN A VICTORIAN

MELODRAMA. THE BALLOON, BELONGING TO ALOIS HITLER, IS NEVERTHELESS TAILLESS AND FREE

FLOATING, HANGING THERE IN THE FOREGROUND AMONGST THE TUMBLING SNOW.

TAILLESS BALLOON:

ungh

PANEL 8.

IN THIS FINAL PANEL WE CLOSE RIGHT IN FOR A HEAD AND SHOULDERS SHOT OF KLARA AS SHE

FACES UP TOWARDS US FROM UNDER HER HUSBAND, HER EYES TIGHT SHUT AS HER HEAD PITCHES TO

AND FRO WITH THE RHYTHM OF THE COUPLING. THE SWEAT STANDS OUT ON HER BROW, HER FACE

RED AND FILLED WITH BLOOD SO THAT THE SKIN BECOMES TIGHT AND SHINY. IF WE CAN SEE

ANYTHING OF THE BACK OF ALOIS’ HEAD IT SHOULD ONLY BE ONE EAR OR A BIT OF ONE SHOULDER,

VISIBLE OVER TO THE EXTREME RIGHT EDGE OF THE PANEL, WITH THE FOCUS OF OUR ATTENTION

BEING FIXED SQUARELY UPON KLARA’S FACE. TO BE MORE EXACT, THE FOCUS OF THE PANEL IS

KLARA’S EYE, SINCE THIS IS THE POINT THAT WE WILL BE ZOOMING IN UPON NEXT PANEL. (I KNOW

THAT YOU HATE MEANINGLESS TIGHT CLOSE UPS OF EYES, BUT THERE IS A VALID STORYTELLING

PURPOSE BEHIND THIS ONE, SO TRUST ME.) THE EXPRESSION OF KLARA’S FACE IS THAT OF SOMEONE

WHO IS TWISTING AND TURNING IN A RESTLESS NIGHTMARE RATHER THAN IN THE THROES OF PASSION.

THE TAILLESS BALLOON HANGS IN SPACE, SOMEWHERE OVER TOWARDS ALOIS’ SIDE OF THE PANEL.

TAILLESS BALLOON :

ungh

Alternative sequence. Early thumbnail version of Chapter 5, pages 4-6. You can see Gull wak-

ing in bed at the bottom of far left, and then Polly on the clothesline at bottom in the middle page (more on this after the break). For the rest, they seem to be sharing a horrid dream and then we’re back with Hitler’s parents in page 6 before this version is abandoned. In the finished book, Mrs. Hitler has a bad dream and then it is forgotten until Mr. Lees describes having had the same one, in 1923 on the last page of the epilogue.

97

A pictorial interlude

Steve Bissette gave Alan the

inside back covers of Taboo for

these pastel drawings he made

in red, black and white. They

appeared in Taboo #2-4,

Sept. ‘89, Mar. ‘90, Feb. ‘91.

They were effectively our first

covers for FROM HELL. .

Lost Girls by Moore and Melinda

Gebbie started in Taboo #5 and

supplanted FROM HELL in the

back cover spot.

98

Covers from the FROM HELL volumes published by Tundra: #1 Apr. ’91, #2 July ’93. And Kitchen

Sink Press: effectively a restart, #3 Dec. ‘93, #4 Mar. ‘94; new editions of #1 and #2, June ‘94.

99

Covers from the FROM HELL volumes published by Kitchen Sink Press:

#5 June ’94, #6 Dec. ’94, #7 Apr. ’95, #8 July ’95.

Covers from the FROM HELL volumes published by Kitchen Sink Press:

#9 Apr. ’96, #10 Aug. ’96, #11 Sept. ’98; cover of The Comics Journal #220 Apr. 2000.

For Chapter 4, Alan Moore, with the help of

Steve (no relation) Moore and Jamie Delano,

made a daylong tour of London, taking copious

photographs. (Note that (no relation) has

become Steve’s middle name in the way that DC

heroes used to have middle names, as in Bruce

(Batman) Wayne.) Steve is the guy in the blue

shirt. On another occasion, Alan photographed

Bournemouth. On these pages we’re showing

some of these along with the black-and-white

images I made from them. It was interesting to

see the reverse of this situation when the FROM

HELL movie based some scenes quite clearly on

panels from the book, and we present a few of

those in later pages.

102

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

106

Part 2: Alan Moore’s London

The drawing below is after a second

photo taken on the same occasion (1989).

107

Photos 1986-1999

1986 Brighton (with Alan’s kids)

1994 Northampton (with two of mine)

1998

(with Melinda Gebbie)

1999

(with Dave Gibbons)

108

A page of thumbnails from Alan’s notebooks. This is for Chapter 5, pages 10-17.

Polly Nichols, Gull, John Merrick. The rethinking of 14-17 is intriguing.

109

Chapter 5, page 5.

I want to include a

couple of scenes here for no

other reason than the movie

people included them intact in

the FROM HELL film. It was

quite a thrill to see these scenes

come out of my head onto

the screen. To be truthful, it

was in Alan’s head first, as you

can follow from the thumbnail

down through the inked panel

to the movie still (©2000

Twentieth Century Fox). The

film has the whole female cast

sleeping on the “clothesline,”

not entirely logically since

we know at least one of

them has a room and a bed,

but I presume it was a way

of showing a connection

among the five women (a

theory lately challenged)

Image from the film From Hell © 20th Century Fox.

PAGE 5. (989 words) PANEL 1.

ONCE AGAIN, THE PAGE IS DIVIDED UP INTO THREE HORIZONTAL PANELS, EACH TAKING UP A

FULL TIER. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE HAVE A CLOSE-UP SHOT OF POLLY NICHOLS, ASLEEP, TO

MATCH THE IMAGE OF THE SLEEPING WILLIAM GULL THAT CLOSED OUR LAST PAGE. SINCE THE

NEXT SIX PAGES DEPEND TO SOME DEGREE UPON THE RHYTHM OF THE ALTERNATING CROSS-CUTS

BETWEEN GULL AND POLLY, MAYBE IT WOULD LOOK GOOD IF YOU FOUND SOME SIMPLE VISUAL WAY

TO DIFFERENTIATE BETWEEN THE WORLDS OF THE TWO CHARACTERS. PERHAPS, FOR EXAMPLE, YOU

COULD UTILIZE A LOT OF EMPTY WHITE SPACE IN THE IMAGES OF GULL, WHILE WITH THE SHOTS

OF POLLY YOU COULD MAYBE USE THAT LITHOGRAPHIC CRAYON OR WHATEVER IT WAS THAT YOU

USED IN CHAPTER 2, WHICH WOULD GIVE A FLICKING DARK-LIGHT-DARK-LIGHT-DARK RHYTHM TO

THE VISUAL PROGRESSION OF IMAGES. AS EVER, IT’S ONLY A SUGGESTION AND THE END RESULT

IS UP TO YOU. HOWEVER YOU DECIDE TO HANDLE IT, THIS PANEL SHOWS A CLOSE UP OF POLLY,

ASLEEP. NOW, I CAN’T FIND ANY REFERENCE TO EXACTLY WHERE POLLY STAYED ON THE NIGHT

OF THE 29th/30th OF JANUARY, ALTHOUGH IT WOULD SEEM THAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN IN EITHER

THE COMMON LODGING HOUSE AT THRAWL STREET, OR IN THE COMMON LODGING HOUSE AT FLOWER

AND DEAN STREET. BASICALLY, WE CAN TAKE OUR PICK. WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO SHOW, IF IT

110

Part 3: The cinematic principle

SEEMS RIGHT TO YOU, IS THE PRACTICE OF “SLEEPING ON A CLOTHESLINE” WHICH WAS SEEMINGLY

COMMON IN THE DOSS HOUSES OF THAT PERIOD. THE VAGRANTS UNABLE TO AFFORD EVEN THE

LOWLIEST BED FOR THE NIGHT WOULD PAY A PENNY TO SLEEP SITTING UP IN A ROW AGAINST THE

DOSS HOUSE WALL WITH A LENGTH OF CLOTHESLINE STRETCHED OUT IN FRONT OF THEM TO STOP

THEM FALLING FORWARD COMPLETELY IN THEIR SLEEP. I’D LIKE TO INCLUDE IT BECAUSE OF THE

STRANGENESS OF THE IMAGE, AND ALSO BECAUSE IT WOULD PROVIDE A MORE STRIKING CONTRAST

WITH THE IMAGES OF WILLIAM GULL AWAKENING TO A SUNNY, WELL-FURNISHED BEDROOM IN BROOK

STREET. ON THE OTHER HAND, IF YOU HAVE A BETTER IDEA, OR A DIFFERENT DEPICTION THAT

YOU’RE MORE COMFORTABLE WITH THEN PLEASE STICK IT IN. IF YOU DO DECIDE TO GO FOR THE

CLOTHESLINE IDEA, HOWEVER, THEN WHAT WE SHOW IS AS FOLLOWS: HERE WE SEE A CLOSE-UP OF

POLLY, WHO IS SITTING WITH HER BACK TO THE DAMP AND STAINED DOSS-HOUSE WALL, WHICH

IS OVER TOWARDS THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL. SHE IS ASLEEP, FULLY CLOTHED, AND THE UPPER

HALF OF HER BODY SAGS FORWARD AGAINST THE STOUT ROPE OF THE CLOTHESLINE, HER HEAD

NODDING DOWN ONTO HER NARROW, BIRD-LIKE BREAST. PERHAPS A THIN STRAND OF SOUR DROOL

ESCAPES ONE CORNER OF HER MOUTH AND SETS OUT ACROSS THE BIG ADVENTURE OF HER CHIN.

HER EYES ARE CLOSED AND HER FEATURES SLACK. HER HAIR IS AWRY, WITH THE MOUSEY STRANDS

ESCAPING WISPILY FROM THE BUN OF HER HAIR THAT IS SLOWLY LOOSENING AND UNRAVELING AT

THE BACK OF HER HEAD. SHE IS RIGHT AT THE END OF THE LINE OF SLEEPERS, AND THUS THE

ONLY ONE THAT WE CAN SEE HERE. TO THE LEFT OF THE PANEL, WE CAN SEE WHERE THE END OF

THE CLOTHESLINE IS FASTENED TO EITHER A POST OR A RING IN THE WALL. A PAIR OF MALE

HANDS ARE ENTERING THE PANEL FROM OFF, UNTYING THE KNOT THAT HOLDS THE CLOTHESLINE

WITH DEFT AND PRACTICED FINGERS. THE INTERIOR OF THE DOSS HOUSE ROOM HAS A MIASMIC

AND SOOTY DARKNESS, ALTHOUGH CHINKS OF MORNING SUNLIGHT FALL UPON THE WORN THREADS

OF POLLY’S CLOTHING FROM SOMEWHERE OFF PANEL, WHILE SHE DREAMS ON. UNCONCERNED WITH

POLLY’S DREAM, THE HANDS OVER TO THE LEFT OF THE PANEL CONTINUE TO UNTIE THE ROPE THAT

IS HOLDING UP HER SLEEPING FORM.

No dialogue

PANEL 2. Gull’s scene (not in the film and excluded here)

PANEL 3.

WE CUT BACK TO POLLY IN THE DOSS HOUSE. HERE, WE HAVE PULLED BACK A LITTLE FROM

OUR SHOT OF HER AT THE TOP OF THIS PAGE, SO THAT NOW WE CAN SEE HER SITUATION MORE

CLEARLY. WE CAN SEE THE OTHER VAGRANTS SITTING TO POLLY’S LEFT, TOWARDS OUR RIGHT IN

THIS PANEL. THEY ALL SIT FACING US, AND ACROSS TO THE LEFT OF THE PANEL WE CAN SEE

THE LOWER HALF OF THE MAN WHO HAS JUST UNTIED THE CLOTHESLINE, LETTING IT GO SLACK.

AS HE DOES THIS, THE SLEEPING PAUPERS ARE ONCE MORE SUBJECTED TO THE NORMAL COURSE OF

GRAVITY, AND ALL TOPPLE FORWARDS WITH A START, POLLY INCLUDED, HER GUMMY EYES COMING

OPEN AS SHE WAKES TO FIND HER FACE PRESSED AGAINST THE FLOORBOARDS. THE PANEL IS

ARRANGED SO THAT POLLY IS OUR VISUAL FOCUS, WITH MOST OF OUR ATTENTION UPON HER AS SHE

IS RUDELY AWAKENED IN THE CUSTOMARY FASHION. THE EXPRESSION CAUGHT BRIEFLY IN HER

OPENING EYES IS ONE OF A SORT OF DISAPPOINTED BEWILDERMENT.

No dialogue

111

Chapter 5, page 7.

The second of two

scenes that found their way

into the movie. Alan asked for

a lot of specific refuse around

the edges of the street here, but

I omitted it, as the noticeable

thing I was finding in my

research into the poorer areas

of big cities in those days is

that there was no garbage to

be seen, just horseshit and kids

with bent legs from rickets and

other evidence of deprivation.

I presume that whatever there

was lying around after market

hours would get scavenged

Image from the film From Hell © 20th Century Fox.

pretty quickly.

I never had to make decisions about the colours of women’s dresses in FROM

HELL, but all the gay party frocks on show here strike an odd music hall note. In Jack

the Ripper — A Legacy in Pictures, Clive Bloom wrote in the caption to a photo: “In this

publicity shot for The Hands of the Ripper (1971), Eric Porter is caressed by

actresses dressed in the obligatory boas and feathers which always signify

fallen women in such films. The costumes are Victoriana rather than

Victorian.” I used to fret about stuff like that a great deal. William Gaunt, in The Pre-

Raphaelite Tragedy, observed that the Victorians wore their clothes “an unconscionably

long time,” and he wasn’t talking about the poor folk.

PAGE 7. (647 words) PANEL 1.

BACK TO POLLY FOR THIS FIRST PANEL. SHE IS NOW IN THE EARLY MORNING STREETS OF

THE EAST END. THERE ARE CABBAGE LEAVES IN THE GUTTER, AND THE GAUDY TISSUE-

WRAPPINGS OF EXPENSIVE TANGERINES. ALONG WITH A COUPLE OF OTHER ANONYMOUS

WOMEN, POLLY STANDS NEAR A PUBLIC HORSE TROUGH STRIPPED TO HER PETTICOATS. SHE

SITS ON THE SIDE OF THE TROUGH, HOLDING A BROKEN PIECE OF MIRROR IN ONE HAND,

COMBING HER FAINTLY GREYING HAIR WITH A BROKEN COMB. SHE GAZES INTO THE MIRROR

AS SHE COMBS OUT HER SURPRISINGLY LONG HAIR. SHE HAS HER MOUTH SHUT TO COVER

HER MISSING TEETH, AND HER EYES ARE SERIOUS AS SHE STUDIES HER REFLECTION IN

THE BROKEN GLASS. SHE REALLY DOES LOOK QUITE PRETTY, IN A FADED WAY, AND A GOOD

112

Part 3: The cinematic principle

FIVE YEARS YOUNGER THAN HER ACTUAL AGE. STARING INTO THE MIRROR, SHE SEEMS TO

LOSE SIGHT OF HER DISMAL SURROUNDINGS FOR A MOMENT, COMPLETELY ABSORBED. NEXT

TO POLLY, STANDING FACING AWAY FROM US, ONE OF THE ANONYMOUS WOMEN WITH WHOM

POLLY SHARES HER ABLUTIONS IS DOURLY LIFTING HER PETTICOATS AND SPLASHING WATER

FROM THE TROUGH UP BETWEEN HER LEGS. IT IS STILL VERY EARLY IN THE MORNING, AND

THE STREET THAT WE SEE STRETCHING AWAY BEHIND THE BATHING WOMEN IS PRACTICALLY

DESERTED SAVE FOR THE OMNIPRESENT RUBBISH. THERE IS A LITTLE LIGHT BETWEEN

THE SQUAT BUILDINGS, AND THE VISUAL TONE OF THE PANEL IS STILL DARK, AS IT IS

THROUGHOUT POLLY’S RUN OF PANELS. POLLY’S BREASTS ARE BARE, AND HER FROCK AND

OTHER CLOTHING ARE DRAPED OVER THE SIDE OF THE HORSE TROUGH, OR ARE LAYING

SOMEWHERE NEARBY, INCLUDING THE BLACK RIBBED STOCKING. POLLY IS ALSO BAREFOOT

HERE. I SEE THE PANEL AS HAVING ALMOST A CLASSICAL COMPOSITION: LIKE SHOTS OF

DIANA AND HER NYMPHS BATHING BESIDE A POOL, BUT GRIMLY TRANSPOSED TO A SQUALID

NINETEENTH CENTURY URBAN SETTING SO THAT THE GODDESS AND HER NYMPHS BECOME

AGEING VAGRANT PROSTITUTES, AND THEIR POOL A WATER TROUGH. BEHIND THEM, BLIGHTED

TERRACES REPLACE THE SYLVAN GLADES. NEVERTHELESS, A SORT OF INNOCENT, CLASSICAL

QUALITY IS RETAINED, IF ONLY IN THE ABSORBED EXPRESSION OF THE SEMI-CLAD WOMEN.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2. (not in the film)

NOW WE CUT BACK TO GULL. HE IS OUT OF THE BATH, AND HAS RETURNED TO THE

ADJOINING CHAMBER TO DRESS. PERHAPS WE COULD SET UP THIS PANEL SO THAT WE ARE

IN THE BATHROOM LOOKING OUT AT GULL, ENABLING US TO SHOW THE NOW-EMPTIED BATH,

THE USED TOWELS CRUMPLED AS THEY HANG OVER ITS SIDE. LOOKING OUT BEYOND THIS

WE SEE GULL AS HE DRESSES, PERHAPS CAUGHT HERE IN THE ACT OF FASTENING HIS

TIE, OR ADJUSTING HIS HIGH, STARCHED COLLAR OR SOMETHING. HIS BLACK COAT IS

DRAPED NEATLY UPON A CONVENIENT HANGER SOMEWHERE NEARBY, PRESSED AND CLEANED

AND READY TO PUT ON. GULL STUDIES HIMSELF IN HIS WARDROBE MIRROR (OR WHATEVER)

WITH SATISFACTION. HIS SHIRT IS A HOLY, PRISTINE WHITE. IT CATCHES THE SUN

BEAUTIFULLY, ALMOST BLINDING TO LOOK AT.

No dialogue

PANEL 3.

CUT BACK TO POLLY. THE PANEL IS ARRANGED SO THAT THE CORNER OF THE HORSE TROUGH

THAT WE SAW LAST PANEL IS NOW IN THE FOREGROUND ON THE LEFT, QUITE LARGE. WE

LOOK ACROSS IT TOWARDS POLLY AS SHE STANDS DRESSING SOME FEW FEET AWAY. HER HAIR

IS NOW DONE UP INTO A FAIRLY NEAT AND PRESENTABLE BUN, AND SHE HAS REPLACED HER

FROCK AND HER STOCKINGS, ONE OF WHICH SHE IS PERHAPS ADJUSTING HERE. SHE LOOKS A

LOT MORE PRESENTABLE THAT SHE DID UPON WAKING, AND HER EXPRESSION IS QUIET AND

SERIOUS AND RESIGNED AS SHE ADJUSTS HER DRESS. BEHIND HER, WE SEE THE TERRACED

DOORSTEPS OF FLOWER AND DEAN STREET, GREY IN THE OVERCAST MORNING LIGHT. PERHAPS

ONLY THE VERY TOPS OF THE HOUSES, IF WE CAN SEE THEM, ARE LIT BY THE RISING SUN,

WITH NO LIGHT FILTERING DOWN INTO THE NARROW STREETS BELOW AS YET.

No dialogue

113

Chapter 5, page 22.

There’s more than one thing going on

here, and since Alan wanted to emphasize the

darkness, it wasn’t easy to draw. Alan extends

the comedic roles of Gull and Netley, and to this

end I took the liberty of stretching the dialogue

over more panels than was requested in the

script, for the sake of timing. Thus, the first

and last panels now have dialogue. The final

panel, which was supposed to take its place in

a rhythmic march toward doom (in a five-page

sequence with wide silent finishing panels), now

has dialogue dished out from the panels above,

risking an upset of the balance of the sequence.

I never cleared it with Alan. Maybe when we’re

cranky old geezers, we’ll fall out over it.

PAGE 22. (724 words) PANEL 1.

NOW A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE IN WHICH WE RETURN TO GULL AND NETLEY, THE LAUREL AND

HARDY OF SERIAL MURDER, AS THEY PROGRESS THROUGH THE EAST END. THE TOP TWO

TIERS HAVE THREE PANELS EACH WHILE THE BOTTOM TIER HAS ONE WIDE PANEL. IN

THIS FIRST SILENT PANEL WE HAVE A LONG SHOT OF THE DARK BULK OF THE COACH AS

IT CREAKS AND RATTLES THROUGH THE MIASMAL BLACKNESS, ONLY JUST DISCERNABLE

TO US AS A RECOGNIZABLE HORSE AND CARRIAGE. OTHERWISE, IT IS JUST A VAGUE AND

THREATENING MASS TRUNDLING AWAY FROM US THROUGH THE NARROW STREETS. A SINGLE

COACH LAMP BURNING DIMLY AND BALEFULLY INSIDE IT.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE UP ON THE BOX BESIDE GULL, WITH GULL ONLY PARTLY VISIBLE TO ONE

SIDE OF THE FOREGROUND. ALL WE CAN REALLY SEE OF HIM ARE HIS LAP AND HIS ARMS

AS HE SITS THERE JUST OFF THE PANEL. HE HAS A BAG OF GRAPES IN HIS LAP, AND

IN HIS HANDS HE HOLDS THE SMALL BOTTLE OF LAUDANUM, NOW OPENED, AND A SMALL

PAINTBRUSH. HE IS JUST DIPPING THE BRUSH INTO THE LAUDANUM HERE, HIS SPEECH

BALLOON ISSUING FROM OFF-PANEL. LOOKING BEYOND GULL’S HANDS, THE GRAPES AND THE

LAUDANUM WE CAN SEE A HALF-FIGURE SHOT OF JOHN NETLEY AS HE SITS THERE NEXT TO

GULL ON THE BOX, HOLDING THE REINS IN ONE HAND AND HIS WHIP IN THE OTHER. HE IS

GAZING AHEAD INTO THE DARKNESS AS HE RIDES, RATHER THAN LOOKING TOWARDS US, OR

GULL, AND HE WEARS A FAIRLY NEUTRAL EXPRESSION.

GULL (OFF) :

Hark, Netley! It is two o’clock, and still our bag is empty.

GULL (OFF):

You DID locate the woman earlier, according to instructions?

114

Part 3: The cinematic principle

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL IS NOW APPLYING THE LAUDANUM-SOAKED PAINTBRUSH

TO THE GRAPES, PAINTING THEM WITH THE STICKY TINCTURE. LOOKING BEYOND GULL’S

HANDS WE CAN SEE NETLEY AS HE TURNS TO FACE US WITH AN ANXIOUS EXPRESSION,

WORRIED THAT SIR WILLIAM MAY BE DISPLEASED WITH HIM, AND ANXIOUS TO GIVE A GOOD

ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. BEYOND NETLEY THERE IS ONLY DARKNESS AS THE CAB CONTINUES TO

MOVE SLOWLY AND ALMOST SILENTLY THROUGH THE EAST END.

NETLEY:

Oh, yes, sir. Three of ’em. Two I’ll know again. The third I

singled out by givin’ ’er a token, like you said.

GULL (OFF):

Excellent! How shall we know her?

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, NETLEY TURNS HIS EYES BACK TO THE ROAD SO

THAT HE IS ONCE MORE IN PROFILE AND NO LONGER FACING TOWARD US OR SIR WILLIAM.

HE ALLOWS HIMSELF A SMUG, SELF-SATISFIED SMIRK, PROUD OF HIS GREAT INITIATIVE AND

CLEVERNESS. IN THE FOREGROUND, GULL’S HAND PAUSES HALFWAY BETWEEN THE GRAPES AND

THE BOTTLE OF LAUDANUM, TOWARDS WHICH IT WAS HEADING TO REFILL THE BRUSH.

NETLEY:

I gave ’er a bonnet, sir.

NETLEY:

A black bonnet.

PANEL 5.

NOW A LONG SHOT OF THE COACH, SIMILAR TO PANEL ONE. IT IS MOVING AWAY FROM US

INTO THE DARKNESS OF WHITECHAPEL. AN INDISTINCT BLACK SHAPE AGAINST THE EQUAL

BLACKNESS BEYOND. IT IS NOT YET TOO FAR AWAY FROM US HERE, SO THAT WE CAN STILL

JUST MAKE OUT THE HUDDLED FORMS OF GULL AND NETLEY AS THEY SIT ATOP THE COACH.

OTHERWISE, THE PANEL IS ALMOST COMPLETELY BLACK. WHITECHAPEL IS BLACK. THE COACH

IS BLACK. YOU CAN BARELY SEE YOUR HAND IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE.

GULL:

A black bonnet. How very helpful.

GULL:

Netley, do you know what your foremost distinguishing

feature

is?

NETLEY:

Why, I... I can’t think, sir.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, ONLY NOW THE COACH IS FURTHER AWAY, MOVING FURTHER INTO THE IMPENETRABLE

DARKNESS OF THE BACKGROUND, THE SHADOWS SMOTHERING THE IMAGE.

GULL:

Precisely.

GULL:

Head for Whitechapel Road, and let us hope your eyes are

equal to the task your ailing wits have set them.

PANEL 7.

NOW A BIG WIDE PANEL IN WHICH WE SEE A GENERAL VIEW OF THE EAST END AT NIGHT,

DIFFERENT FROM THE SHOT WITH WHICH WE CLOSED PAGE TWENTY-ONE, BUT EVOCATIVE OF THE

SAME THINGS. THERE CAN BE PEOPLE ABOUT, OR NOT, DEPENDING ON HOW YOU FEEL. MAYBE

WE’RE LOOKING ALONG THE DARK LENGTHS OF THE COMMERCIAL ROAD, FOR EXAMPLE, WHERE SMALL

KNOTS OF MEN GATHER IN FOGGY CONVERSATION AROUND THE GLOW OF THEIR CLAY PIPES.

No dialogue

115

Chapter 5, page 25.

The tension mounts as we arrive at the

first of the Whitechapel murders. Alan’s script

for the final panel on this page was one of the

shorter descriptions in the work, but I knew

what this low-angle view of the carriage had to

clearly say: this is where the horror begins. I also

used it to take up the slack for where I’d fudged

the details earlier in this dark scene. This more

clearly realized coach gets to lend its detail to its

more cursory rendition on page 24, the two being

adjacent in the book.

PAGE 25. (943 words) (4 panels only) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER SEVEN PANEL PAGE, AGAIN WITH THE BIG

WIDE PANEL TAKING UP THE BOTTOM TIER AND

THREE SMALLER PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS

ABOVE THAT. IN THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL WE ARE

CROUCHING BEHIND POLLY ON THE PAVEMENT, ABOUT WAIST HEIGHT, AND LOOKING UP PAST

HER. ALL WE CAN SEE OF HER IS SOME OF HER MIDSECTION OVER TO THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND, HER HANDS CLASPED NERVOUSLY IN FRONT OF HER AS SHE STANDS THERE

LOOKING UP AT THE COACH. LOOKING UP PAST HER AT THE COACH, WE CAN SEE GULL AS HE

TURNS TOWARDS US AND LOOKS DOWN WITH A FATHERLY SMILE AND A TWINKLE IN HIS EYES.

HE TOUCHES THE BRIM OF HIS HAT IN GREETING. BEYOND HIM, NETLEY IS ONLY VISIBLE AS

A DARK SHAPE, HUNCHED OVER THE REINS.

GULL:

Good morning to you, my child.

GULL:

Why, three o’clock’s no time for a young lady such as

yourself to be out unescorted. Might I offer transport?

PANEL 2.

NOW A SHOT LOOKING DOWN AT POLLY FROM GULL’S POINT OF VIEW, A FORLORN AND ISOLATED

FIGURE, LIT ONLY BY THE WEAK GLOW FROM THE CARRIAGE LAMP. IN THE FOREGROUND WE

CAN PERHAPS SEE GULL’S HANDS, QUIETLY HOLDING HIS OPEN BAG OF GRAPES. POLLY

LOOKS GRATEFUL AND RELIEVED AS SHE GAZES UP AT US, AND OFFERS US A WEAK SMILE

BY WAY OF A THANK-YOU. SHE’S STILL WEARING HER BLACK BONNET, FASTENED UNDER

HER CHIN IN A BOW, AND I SHOULD ALSO POINT OUT THAT DURING THIS ENTIRE EPISODE,

WHENEVER WE SEE POLLY’S HANDS IN CLOSE-UP, WE SHOULD MAKE SURE TO SHOW THE RING

THAT WE FIRST SHOWED IN PANEL FOUR OF PAGE ELEVEN. JUST A SMALL CONTINUITY

POINT WHICH YOU SHOULD APPLY WHERE APPROPRIATE, IF ANYWHERE. HERE, POLLY LOOKS

UP AT US AND GIVES US A WAN SMILE. THE BREEZE RUSTLES THE PAPER BAG IN GULL’S

LAP. THE GRAPES HAVE A PALE AND SICKLY GLEAM.

116

Part 3: The cinematic principle

POLLY:

Why... why, thank you, sir. You’re very kind.

POLLY:

I’d surely feel safer with you than out ‘ere in the street.

You

’ear so many stories.

-------------

PANEL 6.

NOW WE ARE LOOKING AT GULL THROUGH POLLY’S EYES AS HE TAKES HIS SEAT BESIDE HER

IN THE CARRIAGE. WE CANNOT SEE HER. ALL WE SEE IS HER VIEW OF HIM AS HE SITS

THERE, THREE QUARTER FIGURE, AND TURNS TOWARDS US. HE SMILES, A SMILE OF ALMOST

BOYISH PLEASURE AND SATISFACTION. HE’S NOT SIR WILLIAM NOW, OR EVEN DOCTOR GULL.

HE’S JUST THE LITTLE BARGE BOY ONCE AGAIN, WHO PLAYED AMONGST THE FLOWERS THERE

AT THE RECTORY; WHO MOVED THROUGH TUNNELS SLOWLY INTO LIGHT.

GULL:

William.

GULL:

My name’s William.

PANEL 7.

IN THIS FINAL WIDE PANEL WE ARE LOOKING AT THE COACH. THE DOORS ARE CLOSED, AND

AS NETLEY SNAPS THE REINS, IT RESUMES MOTION, TRUNDLING SLOWLY OVER THE COBBLES

FROM A DEAD START. A PALE HOSPITAL LIGHT SEEPS FROM THE WINDOWS OF THE COACH,

DIFFUSING INTO DARK. GULL’S BALLOON ISSUES FROM THE NEAREST WINDOW AS THE COACH

TRUNDLES AWAY.

GULL (OFF, FROM WINDOW): Now, tell me, child...

GULL (OFF, FROM WINDOW): Do you like grapes?

The grapes.

Trying to do something in the manner of the clock in Watchmen , clicking down the minutes till midnight, we had a bunch of grapes appear at the end of each episode of FROM HELL when it

was in Taboo, with one less grape each time around. We swiftly tired of the idea, and I can’t recall

anything more about it, except that I left it to editor Steve Bissette to deal with, just one of his many

uncelebrated contributions to the work in its early days. Alan inserted it into the actual script at the end

of Chapter 3, along with an optimistic estimation of how long the whole thing was going to take.

WE SEE THE UNFINISHED SKETCH OF MARIE KELLY THAT HE WILL LATER DUST OFF

AND TURN INTO “BLACKMAIL OR MRS.BARRETT”. THROUGH THE PALL OF GREY SHADOW

THAT FILLS THE ROOM, SCRIBBLED GRAPHITE EYES TWINKLE DARKLY AT US .

AN EXPRESSIVE MOUTH MADE OF LOOSELY KNOTTED PENCIL LINES LIFTS

AT THE CORNERS INTO AN UNREADABLE SMILE. DOWN AT THE

BOTTOM RIGHT-HAND CORNER OF THE PAGE WE SEE THE

BUNCH OF GRAPES, OUR LITTLE SIGNING-OFF MOTIF.

A COUPLE OF THE GRAPES ARE MISSING AS THE

FRUIT BECOMES GRADUALLY WHITTLED DOWN TO

A BARE STEM, PERHAPS SOMETHING OVER

EIGHTEEN MONTHS HENCE.

(The Taboo grapes are the ones on page 65 here. This bunch

was for the debossed motif on the Graphitti limited edition, 2000.)

117

Chapter 5, page 26.

You may notice that my pictures for

this page do not follow the framing instructions

in Alan Moore’s script. In my head, I was trying

to get a clearer impression of the action in this

scene. The first problem to be addressed is the

idea that we’re always looking through a camera.

In a comic book script it shows itself in ways that

we have long stopped being conscious of. For

instance, the writer will automatically describe a

view as being in long-shot or close-up. We tend

to forget that these are movie terms. They have

entered into everyday usage. But looking further,

if we place a long shot beside a close up, we’ve

introduced another cinematic technique, that of

“cutting.” And another is “tracking.” One of

my guiding principles in making comics, long

before FROM HELL came along, was to eliminate

unnecessary cutting and replace it with an observation of body language. In order to

record subtle interactions between two bodies, they both need to be seen in each

and all of the pictures. My thoughts along these lines developed after reading an

interview with artist Bernard Krigstein in which he expressed a feeling that the

excessive fragmentation you get in comics goes against pictorial logic and usually works

against the drama that the artist is supposed to be expressing. He felt that the Will

Eisner way of doing things had led comics down the wrong path. On finding

ourselves in the cramped space of this carriage, I reasoned that moving a hypothetical

camera around would distract from the action, and also the words, and framed

the scene as a repetitive set-up. I can’t remember, and have no justification for, why

I left Gull’s hat on. I’m a hat nut.

PAGE 26. (1,130 words) PANEL 1.

NOW WE HAVE A NINE-PANEL GRID, THE BETTER TO REPRODUCE THE SLIGHTLY CLAUSTROPHOBIC

ATMOSPHERE WITHIN THE COACH. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES,

SO THAT ALL WE CAN SEE OF HIM ARE HIS HANDS AS THEY HOLD OUT THE OPEN BAG OF GRAPES

TOWARDS POLLY. LOOKING BEYOND GULL’S HANDS AND THE BAG OF GRAPES WE SEE POLLY AS

SHE SITS ON THE SEAT BESIDE US, TURNING TOWARDS US AND REACHING OUT ONE HAND TO

DIP INTO THE BAG AND TAKE A GRAPE. SHE SMILES WITH DELIGHT, ALMOST DISBELIEVINGLY.

POLLY:

Oh, sir, I loves ’em. Never can afford ’em, though.

POLLY:

Oh, can I really ’ave one?

118

Part 3: The cinematic principle

PANEL 2.

NOW WE REVERSE ANGLES SO THAT IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE POLLY IN PROFILE TO US. SHE

HAS HER HEAD TILTED BACK SLIGHTLY AND IS NOT LOOKING AT GULL AS SHE TIPS A COUPLE

OF GRAPES INTO HER MOUTH FROM HER UPLIFTED HAND. SHE LOOKS TO BE IN A STATE OF BLISS

AT BEING ALLOWED SUCH LUXURY. IMMEDIATELY BEYOND HER GULL SITS TURNED SO THAT HE FACES

DIRECTLY AT POLLY AND US. (I SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED, INCIDENTALLY, THAT HE HAS TAKEN OFF

HIS HAT ON ENTERING THE COACH.) HE SMILES QUIETLY AND WARMLY AT POLLY AS HE SPEAKS TO HER.

GULL:

Dear Polly, have as many as you wish.

GULL:

Now come, child. Tell me all about yourself. Where were you

born?

PANEL 3.

NOW A SHOT FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COACH, SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING FACE-ON AT POLLY

AND GULL, BOTH FULL FIGURE, AS THEY SIT THERE SIDE BY SIDE ON THE SEAT OPPOSITE TO

US. WIPING GRAPE JUICE FROM HER LIPS, POLLY LOOKS MOMENTARILY TAKEN ABACK, ALBEIT

IN A PLEASANT WAY. SHE LOOKS AT GULL WITH A SURPRISED AND GRATEFUL SMILE THAT IS

SOMEHOW POIGNANT. GULL RETURNS HER SMILE WITH A QUIET, GENUINELY WARM SMILE OF HIS

OWN, GAZING INTO HER EYES. THE GLADSTONE BAG RESTS BY POLLY’S FEET.

POLLY:

Well... nmg... excuse me...

POLLY:

Well, sir, I hardly knows where I should start. It’s not

often anybody shows an interest.

POLLY:

I were born in Shoe Lane.

PANEL 4.

HERE WE CLOSE IN, SO THAT WE CAN ONLY SEE POLLY SITTING CLOSE THERE WITH THE WINDOW

BESIDE HER, THE DARKNESS OF WHITECHAPEL CRAWLING BY OUTSIDE. SHE IS LOOKING TOWARDS

GULL, WHOSE HAND ENTERS THE PANEL FROM OFF TO ONE SIDE, HOLDING OUT THE BAG OF

GRAPES. POLLY LOOKS INTO HIS OFF-PANEL EYES AS SHE REACHES OUT AND DIPS INTO THE

BAG FOR ANOTHER GRAPE. AS SHE ROCKS UNSTEADILY FROM SIDE TO SIDE WITH THE MOTION OF

THE COACH, HER BLACK BONNET HAS SLIPPED DOWN SLIGHTLY TO ONE SIDE, SO THAT IT RESTS AT A

SLIGHTLY ODD ANGLE, BUT IT IS STILL FASTENED WITH A BOW BENEATH HER CHIN. AS SHE REACHES

FOR A GRAPE, HER WEDDING RING GLEAMS DULLY UPON HER FINGER.

POLLY:

That’s off Fleet Street. 1851 it was, ‘cause I remember

bein’ took to see the exhibition.

POLLY:

Another grape? Ooh, can I really, sir?

PANEL 5.

NOW POLLY IS IN PROFILE IN THE FOREGROUND AS SHE PUTS THE GRAPES INTO HER STARVING

MOUTH, NOT LOOKING AT GULL AS SHE DOES SO. POLLY IS ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO

HALF FIGURE AS WE SEE HER HERE. LOOKING BEYOND HER WE SEE GULL AS HE SITS BESIDE HER,

TURNED ROUND SO AS TO GAZE AT BOTH POLLY AND US. HIS FACE LOOKS GENUINELY PAINED AND

SYMPATHETIC AS HE GAZES AT HER, HIS GRAPES STILL HELD IN ONE HAND. AS SHE RECOUNTS

HER TALE, POLLY’S FACE IS MORE OR LESS EXPRESSIONLESS. SHE DOES NOT SEEM TO SEE IT AS

AN OCCASION FOR SELF PITY.

POLLY:

Anyway... mmp... me dad, ’e were a blacksmith. ’ad me married off by’64.

GULL:

When you were... let me see... Good Lord! When you were but thirteen?

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Chapter 5, page 26

PANEL 6.

NOW WE REVERSE ANGLES SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING AT POLLY THROUGH GULL’S EYES, AND ALL

WE CAN SEE OF GULL HIMSELF ARE HIS HANDS, HOLDING THE BAG OF GRAPES. MOSTLY, WE ARE

LOOKING JUST PAST THIS TO FOCUS ON POLLY AS SHE SITS THERE IN PROFILE TO US, NOT

LOOKING AT US AS SHE SPEAKS. SHE STARES INTO SPACE, TOYING ABSENTMINDEDLY WITH HER

WEDDING RING AS SHE DOES SO, SEEMINGLY UNAWARE OF THE GESTURE. IF WE CAN SEE THEM,

HER PUPILS ARE VERY TINY, AND HER GENERAL MANNER IS ONE OF ENTRANCEMENT. THE LAUDANUM

IS STARTING TO TAKE EFFECT. POLLY SWAYS SLIGHTLY, A CHILDLIKE EXPRESSION SUFFUSING

HER FACE AS SHE REMEMBERS THE SNOW FALLING SLOWLY DURING HER WEDDING AT THE PRINTERS’

CHAPEL. SHE SPEAKS SOFTLY, AS IF IN A DREAM.

POLLY:

Aye. To a printer, Billy Nicholls. We was married in the

printers’ church, St. Bride’s...

POLLY:

...an it were winter. Snowin’. Little flakes, caught in me ’air.

PANEL 7.

NOW WE HAVE A SIMILAR SHOT TO THAT IN PANEL THREE, IN THAT WE ARE LOOKING ACROSS THE

CARRIAGE AT GULL AND POLLY AS THEY SIT SIDE BY SIDE ON THE OPPOSITE SEAT, BOTH SEEN

THREE-QUARTER TO FULL FIGURE HERE. POLLY IS NOT LOOKING AT GULL, BUT JUST GAZING

DAZEDLY INTO SPACE, LOOKING IN OUR GENERAL DIRECTION, BUT CLEARLY NOT FOCUSED ON

ANYTHING. BESIDE HER, GULL IS STILL SITTING HALF TURNED TO FACE TOWARDS HER. HE HOLDS

OUT HIS BAG OF GRAPES TOWARDS HER WITH AN EXPRESSION OF DEEP AND HEARTFELT SYMPATHY

THAT SEEMS TO BE SINCERE.

POLLY:

We went to live in Stamford Street. Two children. Second

one, my Billy, ’e runs off like, with the midwife.

POLLY:

Just runs off.

GULL:

Poor child. Do have another grape.

PANEL 8.

NOW WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES AT THE DAZED–LOOKING POLLY AS SHE TURNS TOWARDS US

AND TAKES ANOTHER DRUGGED GRAPE FROM THE BAG. HER EYELIDS ARE STARTING TO LOOK HEAVIER

OVER HER PIN-PRICK PUPILS, AND HER EXPRESSION IS SORT OF SLACK AS SHE REACHES OUT AND

TAKES ANOTHER GRAPE FROM THE BAG. ALL WE CAN SEE OF GULL IS ONE HAND, HOLDING OUT THE BAG

TOWARDS POLLY. BEHIND HER, THROUGH THE WINDOW, THE WHITECHAPEL DARKNESS CRAWLS BY.

POLLY:

Why... why, thank you, sir. You’re...

POLLY:

You’re very kind.

GULL:

Think nothing of it, child. Come now, continue

with your narrative. Your husband left you...

PANEL 9.

NOW A SHOT OF THE CLOSED GLADSTONE BAG AS IT RESTS THERE BETWEEN POLLY’S FEET

AND THE CARRIAGE DOOR. BOTH POLLY AND GULL’S BALLOONS ISSUE FROM OFF PANEL IN

THE APPROPRIATE DIRECTIONS. THE BLACK LEATHER BAG HAS A DULL GLEAM IN THE

SICKLY LIGHT OF THE CARRIAGE.

POLLY (OFF):

Yes, Yes, ’e did. I went to Lambeth Workhouse...

GULL (OFF):

Lambeth, indeed? A famous poet lived there once, you know...

120

Chapter 5, page 28.

I always thought of this one as being

set up like a scene in a theatrical play, with Gull

and Polly on one side of the stage, and John

Merrick on the other. The hand gestures are

clearly in view, and you can imagine the words

echoing around the auditorium. Note Merrick’s

little hand against his huge head, contrasted with

Gull’s large hands around his victim’s throat.

In the movie, instead of the

Elephant Man, Polly is looking out the

coach window at Cleopatra’s Needle,

which is about three miles away. See

earlier, page 89, for Hollywood’s map

of London.

Image from the film From Hell © 20th Century Fox.

PAGE 28. (1,198 words) PANEL 1.

A NINE-PANEL PAGE NOW. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE INSIDE THE CARRIAGE. IN THE

FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE GULL’S HANDS AS HE SITS THERE WITH THE GRAPES UPON HIS LAP.

LOOKING PAST THIS, WE CAN SEE POLLY ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE. SHE’S NOT LOOKING TOWARDS

US, BUT IS SITTING IN PROFILE. ONCE MORE, SHE CLOSES HER EYES AS SHE SPEAKS AND

RAISES HER HAND TO HER BROW AS IF DIZZY OR FAINT. BEYOND HER, THROUGH THE CARRIAGE

WINDOW, WE CAN ONLY SEE DARKNESS.

POLLY:

W-where are we, Sir? I’ve been all over tonight...

POLLY:

I remember... I came out of The Frying Pan, into...

GULL (OFF):

Hush, child. We’re by the London Hospital.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE JUST OUTSIDE THE CARRIAGE WINDOW ON POLLY’S SIDE, WHICH IS THE SIDE FACING

THE HOSPITAL. FROM THE SOFTLY LIT INTERIOR OF THE CARRIAGE, POLLY IS TURNED TO GAZE

OUT OF THE WINDOW AT US, PEERING INTO THE NIGHT. GULL IS VISIBLE SITTING JUST BEYOND

121

Chapter 5, page 28

HER, ALSO TURNED TO LOOK IN THE DIRECTION IN WHICH HE IS DIRECTING HER TO TRAIN HER

EYES. HE RESTS ONE HAND ON HER SHOULDER IN A FATHERLY WAY, WHILE WITH THE OTHER HE

POINTS PAST HER, OUT THROUGH THE CARRIAGE WINDOW TOWARDS US AND OUT INTO THE DARKNESS.

HE SMILES, A CALM, DARK SMILE OF TOTAL SELF ASSURANCE. POLLY PEERS UNCERTAINLY OUT

INTO THE DARK AT US, NOT QUITE SURE WHAT SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING AT.

GULL:

I wish to show you someone. Someone who requires an offering

at the commencement of each journey or important venture.

GULL:

Look there... between the railings.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE CLOSE IN FROM OUR LAST PANEL, CLOSING IN THROUGH THE WINDOW UPON POLLY’S FACE

SO THAT IT ALMOST FILLS THE ENTIRETY OF THE PANEL, OVER TO THE LEFT. SHE SQUINTS

OUT INTO THE DARKNESS, TRYING TO SEE WHAT GULL IS ATTEMPTING TO POINT OUT TO HER.

IMMEDIATELY BEHIND HER, ON THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL, THE REST OF THE IMAGE SPACE IS TAKEN

UP BY GULL AS HE LOOMS OVER HER SHOULDER. HE HAS PLACED BOTH HIS HANDS UPON HER SHOULDERS

NOW, WITH ONE ON EACH, AS IF HE IS STEERING HER TO LOOK IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. IT

ISN’T A THREATENING GESTURE, AND IS CONDUCTED VERY GENTLY, WITH A FATHERLY TOUCH.

GULL:

Do you see him, Polly?

GULL:

Do you see?

PANEL 4.

NOW WE HAVE THE FIRST OF THE THREE SILENT PANELS THAT TAKE UP THIS CENTRAL TIER. IN

THIS FIRST ONE WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH POLLY’S EYES WITH POLLY HERSELF NOT VISIBLE.

SHE IS LOOKING OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW OF THE COACH, ALTHOUGH IT’S UP TO YOU WHETHER

THE FRAME OF THE WINDOW IS VISIBLE OR NOT. WE ARE LOOKING WITH POLLY ACROSS THE

COBBLES OF THE WHITECHAPEL ROAD TOWARDS THE RAILED–OFF GROUNDS OF THE LONDON HOSPITAL

BEYOND. THERE DOES SEEM TO BE A VAGUE DARK FIGURE MOVING THROUGH THE SHADOWS BEYOND

THE RAILINGS, BUT AT THIS DISTANCE IT IS DIFFICULT TO MAKE OUT.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

NOW WE START TO CLOSE IN UPON THIS IMAGE, SO THAT WE APPEAR TO HAVE CROSSED THE ROAD

AND ARE PASSING THROUGH THE RAILINGS HERE. WE CAN NOW SEE THE FIGURE MORE CLEARLY,

BEING CLOSER TO IT, AS IT WANDERS SLOWLY AND FORLORNLY THROUGH THE GROUNDS OF THE

HOSPITAL. AS WE SEE IT HERE IT IS SHAMBLING SLOWLY TOWARDS ONE OF THE SICKLY ROSE-

BUSHES PLANTED AROUND THE FRINGE OF THE GROUNDS. IT WEARS A CLOAK, AND A GIGANTIC

SAILOR’S PEAKED CAP. OVER ITS GIGANTIC HEAD IT WEARS A WHITE BAG WITH A SINGLE EYEHOLE

ROUGHLY CUT INTO IT. IT IS STILL PROBABLY TOO SHADOWY AND INDISTINCT HERE TO MAKE OUT

ALL THESE DETAILS, BUT I’M JUST TELLING YOU FOR FUTURE REFERENCE. THE FIGURE IS, OF

COURSE, JOHN MERRICK, OUT FOR A NOCTURNAL STROLL AROUND THE HOSPITAL GROUNDS.

No dialogue

PANEL 6.

WE CLOSE IN EVEN FURTHER FOR A HALF-FIGURE SHOT OF MERRICK AS HE PAUSES TO GAZE AT

THE SICKLY ROSEBUSH. IN WHATEVER WEAK LIGHT SHINES FROM THE HOSPITAL WE SEE HIM,

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Part 3: The cinematic principle

A SHADOWY YET UNMISTAKABLE FIGURE. HE STOPS BY THE ROSEBUSH, REACHING SLOWLY OUT

TOWARDS ONE OF THE BLOSSOMS.

No dialogue.

PANEL 7.

NOW WE ARE WITHIN THE CARRIAGE ONCE MORE, SITTING BESIDE GULL SO THAT HE IS CLOSEST

TO US HERE. HE IS TURNED AWAY FROM US WITH POLLY SITTING JUST BEYOND HIM, ALSO

TURNED AWAY AS SHE GAZES OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW INTO THE NIGHT. GULL STILL HAS HIS

HANDS RESTING GENTLY UPON POLLY’S SHOULDERS FROM BEHIND, BUT SHE APPEARS NEITHER

TO MIND NOR NOTICE AS SHE GAZES OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW. IF WE CAN SEE ANY OF HER

EXPRESSION SHE LOOKS VAGUELY SURPRISED AND PLEASED TO HAVE LOCATED THE FIGURE THAT

SIR WILLIAM WAS POINTING OUT TO HER.

POLLY:

Why... why... yes! I sees ’im, standin’ by the rosebush

there. That mask. He...he looks so quaint...

GULL:

Yes, yes. Now, child, there’s something you must SAY for me.

PANEL 8.

REVERSE ANGLES NOW SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING AT POLLY FROM THE FRONT AS SHE GAZES

TOWARDS US OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW OF THE COACH, ALTHOUGH THE WINDOW NEEDN’T BE

VISIBLE HERE, BEING OFF PANEL IN THE FOREGROUND. SHE GIVES AN OPIATED HALF SMILE AND

LOOKS VAGUELY PUZZLED, NOT LOOKING ROUND TOWARDS GULL AS SHE DOES SO BUT CONTINUING

TO GAZE DREAMILY OUT INTO THE NIGHT TOWARDS US. BEHIND HER, WE SEE GULL. HIS HANDS

STILL REST UPON HER SHOULDERS, AND HE HAS COMMENCED TO GENTLY STROKE EITHER SIDE OF

HER FACE WITH HIS THUMBS. SHE DOESN’T SEEM TO NOTICE. GULL’S EYES ARE IN SHADOW AND

HIS SMILE IS DARK AS HE WHISPERS INTO HER EAR FROM JUST OVER HER SHOULDER,

POLLY:

Say, sir?

GULL:

Yes. You must say “salutation to Ganesa”. Can you do that?

PANEL 9.

IN THIS LAST PANEL WE CLOSE IN UPON THE IMAGE IN OUR LAST SHOT, SO THAT WE ARE SO

CLOSE TO POLLY WE CANNOT EVEN SEE ALL OF HER FACE. ALL THAT WE CAN SEE IS THE LOWER

HALF OF HER FACE. AND HER EYES ARE NO LONGER VISIBLE. WE CAN ALSO SEE HER NECK AND

HER SHOULDERS CLEARLY. GULL’S HANDS ARE VISIBLE, REACHING INTO THE PICTURE FROM

BEHIND TO EITHER SIDE OF HER THROAT. THE WAY HIS FINGERS ARE ARRANGED WILL SEEM A

LITTLE UNNATURAL, BUT I THINK IT CAN BE DONE: HIS THUMBS REST ON HER CHEEKBONES, OR

THEREABOUTS, HOLDING HER FACE IMMOBILE BETWEEN THEM. HIS INDEX FINGER AND HIS SECOND

FINGER ARE SPLAYED OUT SO THAT THEY ARE LOWER DOWN, AND ARE JUST RESTING LIGHTLY

AGAINST THE SIDES OF POLLY’S THROAT, WHERE HER CAROTID ARTERY IS LOCATED. THE OTHER

TWO FINGERS ON EACH HAND CAN BE WHEREVER THEY LOOK BEST. THE HANDS ARE RELAXED

HERE. AND STILL ONLY TOUCHING POLLY VERY GENTLY. THEY ARE LIKE THE CARESS OF AN

AFFECTIONATE PARENT, OR PERHAPS A LOVER, AND THEY AROUSE NO

SUSPICION. POLLY’S EYES ARE DREAMY AND UNFOCUSED AS SHE GAZES

OUT OF THE WINDOW AT US, HER MIND CLOUDED BY DRINK AND LAUDANUM.

POLLY:

Ha. I... I think I can, sir.

POLLY:

“Sa... sal’tation... to Ga-nee-sha.”

123

Chapter 5, page 31.

The first of the murders has been

done, and Gull is about to perform his symbolic

ministrations upon the body. The case of

surgical knives seems to want more attention than

I gave it here, but what was I to do in the grim

darkness of the location and with nine tiny

pictures to put on the page? The film solved the

problem with a case lined with blood red velvet,

not an option down here in my black and white

world. I did show Gull’s cutlery in detailed

close-up on the cover, both front and inside, of

the third volume from Kitchen Sink Press, in

which this chapter first appeared. The painted

front is reproduced here on page 99.

PAGE 31. (1437 words) (edited) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE. TOWARDS THE

FOREGROUND, GULL CROUCHES IN A BUSINESSLIKE MANNER BY THE OPEN GLADSTONE BAG, FROM

WHICH HE IS REMOVING THE WOODEN CASE CONTAINING THE AMPUTATION KIT. NETLEY HOVERS IN

THE BACKGROUND, NEAR WHERE POLLY NICHOLS’ BODY LIES SPRAWLED. HE IS LOOKING TOWARDS

GULL NERVOUSLY AS HE SPEAKS, HOLDING UP THE LANTERN SO THAT HE CAN SEE GULL PROPERLY.

HE LOOKS AGITATED AND SCARED. GULL, CROUCHING OVER THE GLADSTONE BAG, PAYS HIM NO HEED

AND DOES NOT LOOK AT HIM. HE CHUCKLES TO HIMSELF AS HE EXTRACTS THE AMPUTATION KIT

FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE GLADSTONE.

NETLEY:

Right. We’ll be away then, shall we, sir?

GULL:

Ha ha! With the job half done? I think not. She must be

finished with according to the ritual.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE REVERSE ANGLE SO THAT WE ARE SLIGHTLY BEHIND NETLEY, LOOKING PAST HIM AS

HE STANDS FACING AWAY FROM US, ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE FOREGROUND, THE

LANTERN HELD UP IN HIS HAND. FROM WHAT LITTLE WE CAN SEE OF HIS EXPRESSION HE

JUST LOOKS MISERABLE AND UNEASY. LOOKING BEYOND HIM WE SEE GULL, WHO HAS RISEN TO

HIS FEET, LEAVING THE OPEN GLADSTONE BAG THERE ON THE COBBLES BEHIND HIM, AND HAS

TURNED AND APPROACHED NETLEY. HE HOLDS THE AMPUTATION KIT BEFORE HIM, AND HE IS

OPENING IT AS HE SPEAKS TO NETLEY. HE IS LOOKING DOWN AT THE CASE AS HE DOES THIS,

RATHER THAN AT NETLEY. THE LANTERN TREMBLES WITH THE PULSE IN NETLEY’S UPRAISED

ARM. THE SHADOWS SHIFT AND THEN REGROUP.

NETLEY:

But... but she’s dead, sir. There’s no need...

124

Part 3: The cinematic principle

GULL:

Would you be a Mason, Netley? Three Rivals betrayed Hiram

Abiff,

Masonry’s

founder.

GULL:

Their throats were cut from left to right.

PANEL 3.

CHANGE ANGLES. ALL WE CAN SEE OF GULL IN THE FOREGROUND ARE HIS HANDS, EMERGING

FROM OFF PANEL. IN FACT, IT’S AS IF WE SEE THIS PANEL THROUGH GULL’S EYES. WITH ONE

HAND, HE HOLDS THE SMALL WOODEN AMPUTATION CASE. WITH THE OTHER, HE HAS EXTRACTED

THE LISTON KNIFE FROM ITS SLIT-LIKE RECESS AND IS HOLDING IT UP INTO THE LANTERN

LIGHT, FOR NETLEY TO SEE. IT HAS A LONG, STRAIGHT, DOUBLE-EDGED BLADE OF ABOUT EIGHT

INCHES. THE METAL HANDLE IS A FURTHER THREE INCHES AND HAS A CRISS-CROSS PATTERN

IN THE METAL TO ENHANCE THE GRIP IN SLIPPERY CONDITIONS. IT IS AN EXCEPTIONALLY

BEAUTIFUL KNIFE. LOOKING BEYOND IT WE SEE NETLEY HOLDING UP THE LANTERN AND LOOKING

TOWARDS US AND THE KNIFE WITH A SLIGHTLY SICK EXPRESSION. HE CAN FEEL STRONG

RIPTIDES SUCKING THE SAND AWAY FROM BENEATH HIS FEET. THE CURRENTS ARE STRONGER

HERE THAN HE EVER IMAGINED, AND HE FEARS THAT THEY WILL TUG HIM OUT INTO AN OCEAN

TOO TERRIBLE TO BE THOUGHT OF.

GULL:

Now, this is a Liston knife.

GULL:

A Crimean battle-surgeon, Liston had legs on the sawdust in

less than a minute with these blades.

GULL:

Remarkable.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH NETLEY’S EYES. ALL WE CAN SEE OF NETLEY IS HIS FREE HAND,

THE ONE NOT HOLDING THE LANTERN. IT ENTERS INTO THE PANEL FROM OFF IN THE FOREGROUND.

IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND, LIT BY THE LIGHT OF THE OFF-PANEL LANTERN, WE SEE GULL

AS HE STANDS FACING US, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE. HE HAS TUCKED THE SMALL AMPUTATION CASE

UNDER HIS ARM, LEAVING HIS HANDS FREE. WITH ONE HAND, HE GRASPS NETLEY’S VISIBLE

HAND BY THE WRIST, QUITE GENTLY, AND RAISES IT, PALM UPWARDS, INTO VIEW. WITH HIS

OTHER HAND, HE GENTLY PLACES THE COLD LENGTH OF THE LISTON KNIFE UPON NETLEY’S PALM,

GIVING THE COACHMAN THE BLADE AS IF HE WERE A KINDLY GRANDPARENT DISPENSING TREATS ON

CHRISTMAS MORNING. AS HE DOES THIS, HE STARES INTO OUR EYES AND SMILES BENIGNLY, HIS

EYES TWINKLY WITH AMUSEMENT.

GULL:

So, Netley...

GULL:

Left to right.

PANEL 8.

SAME SHOT. NETLEY MAKES A WILD SWIPE WITH THE BLADE ACROSS POLLY’S THROAT. AS HE DOES

SO, HE TURNS HIS HEAD AWAY AND CLOSES HIS EYES. THE LANTERN LURCHES WILDLY IN HIS FREE

HAND, AND THE SHADOWS LEAP LIKE AN ASYLUM GYMNASTICS TEAM. THE SLASH ACROSS HER THROAT

KNOCKS POLLY’S FACE TO ONE SIDE A LITTLE HERE, AND A FEW DARK SPECKS OF BLOOD FOLLOW

THE BLADE IN ITS UPWARDS ARC AFTER IT HAS TRAVELLED ACROSS THE THROAT. GULL STANDS

MOTIONLESS IN THE BACKGROUND, LOOKING ON INDULGENTLY AS NETLEY BOTCHES THE FIRST CUT.

No dialogue.

125

Chapter 5, page 31

PANEL 9.

A SIMILAR SHOT NOW, IN THAT WE ARE STILL DOWN NEAR THE HEAD OF THE BODY. GULL HAS

WALKED ACROSS FROM THE BACKGROUND HERE AND IS KNEELING DOWN TO INSPECT THE WORK

THAT NETLEY HAS DONE. HE HOLDS POLLY’S CHIN, LIGHTLY AND FIRMLY BETWEEN THE FINGERS

OF ONE HAND, TILTING HER HEAD SLIGHTLY THIS WAY AND THAT AS HE INSPECTS THE WOUND

ACROSS HER THROAT. WITH HIS FREE HAND, HE REACHES OUT ABSENTLY BEHIND HIM, PALM

UP, NOT LOOKING AT NETLEY AS HE ASKS NETLEY TO GIVE HIM THE KNIFE, BUT KEEPING HIS

INTERESTED DOCTOR’S GAZE UPON POLLY’S THROAT WHILE HE SPEAKS. LOOKING UP BEYOND

GULL AND POLLY WE SEE NETLEY, STANDING TREMBLING IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND. THE

LANTERN STILL HANGS IN ONE HAND AS HE LEANS WEAKLY AGAINST THE WALL, AND PERHAPS

HE RAISES THE HAND HOLDING THE LISTON KNIFE TO HIS BROW, WIPING THE SWEAT AWAY. HE

LOOKS TOWARDS GULL WITH SICK HORROR AS HE DOES THIS. WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE COACH

MAN WHILE HE INSPECTS POLLY NICHOLS’ CORPSE, GULL HOLDS OUT HIS HAND AND ASKS FOR

THE KNIFE.

GULL:

Oh, Netley...

GULL:

I fear that you will never be a surgeon. See...the blade’s

glanced off her collar-bone.

GULL:

Ah, well, then. Give it here. Give me the knife.

The knives.

With the next murder I gave the case a foreground spot and lingered on its detail. As I feared, it starts to look

like a schematic, like the above diagram that we drew for the inside cover of the Kitchen volume. I say “we”

recalling that it was April Post working with me at the time. I also see some of her touches in the backgrounds

of the chapter 7 panels on the facing page.

126

Part 3: The cinematic principle

The visions

In our foreword, Hatfield

and Fischer wrote at length on the

theme of the visions in FROM HELL.

With Gull there is an escalation in his

“aura phase hallucinations,” evolving

from the simple but magical light

emanating from the innards of Polly

Nichols after the first of the murders,

through the walk-in fantasia of Gull’s

Miller’s Court vision all the way to

his ascension to a kind of godhood

in Chapter 14. Just before the second

murder, of Annie Chapman in

chapter 7 page 24, he looks through a Above, chapter 5, page 33; below, chapter 7, page 24

window and sees a twentieth century

living room with electric lighting and

television. Here Alan was tying the

tradition of a local ghost story into

the narrative. According to FROM

HELL’s appendix 1, “the story is that

a Mr Chapman on four separate

occasions over a number of years,

pulled back his curtains to witness

a man and woman disappearing

along the passageway of No. 29

Hanbury Street. The man was

dressed in a heavy topcoat and tall

hat. These apparitions would, it

seems, usually occur in the very

early hours of morning during

Autumn. ( FROM HELL, Appendix 1 p.25)

Alan ingeniously incorporated many

such sightings into Gull’s “ascension”

in Chapter 14.

Meanwhile,

on the telly in

Hanbury Street, I drew that great

British funnyman, Eric Morecambe.

In twenty years, nobody has ever

mentioned noticing this.

127

Chapter 5, page 34.

Polly Nichols now lies dead on

the cobbles. Alan had the idea that for the

next couple of pages she should occupy the

same spot exactly in each panel while people

come and go around her corpse. To this end,

I started the series of repeated panels on the

previous page. Altogether there are 28 of

them. In retrospect, I think this is a cinematic

idea, and the movie makes more of it than I

have. Tip of the hat to the Hughes Brothers.

On film, the effect is amplified with the

characters buzzing around the corpse like

flies in some speeded-up sequence of a

David Attenborough nature documentary,

and all the dialogue is dispensed with (left,

below).

PAGE 34. (662 words) PANEL 1.

NOW A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE, WITH ONE WIDE

HORIZONTAL PANEL ON THE TOP TIER AND

Image from the film From Hell © 20th Century Fox.

THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS UNDER

THAT. IN THE FIRST WIDE PANEL ALL WE HAVE IS A STILL LIFE SHOT OF POLLY NICHOLS’

BODY AS IT LIES THERE MOTIONLESS UPON THE COBBLES IN THE DARK, THE BONNET BY ITS

RIGHT SIDE. I GUESS WHAT THIS PANEL IS SUPPOSED TO BE SAYING IS “SOME TIME PASSES

AND POLLY IS STILL DEAD.” THIS WIDE PANEL PROBABLY AFFORDS YOU YOUR BEST CHANCE TO

DO A STUDY OF THE MURDERED WOMAN’S BODY IN REPOSE, SO MAKE WHAT YOU CAN OF IT.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

A SIMILAR SHOT HERE TO THE LAST PANEL ON PAGE THIRTY-THREE. POLLY’S BODY LIES IN

THE FOREGROUND, AND LOOKING PAST IT WE ARE LOOKING UP THE LENGTH OF BUCK’S ROW

TO WHERE IT JOINS BRADY STREET. A SOLITARY FIGURE HAS JUST ENTERED THE STREET

AND IS COMING LEISURELY DOWN IT TOWARDS US. ALTHOUGH WE ARE TOO FAR AWAY TO MAKE

HIM OUT AS MORE THAN A DARK SHAPE HERE, THE MAN IS IN FACT CHARLES A. CROSS, A

CARMAN EMPLOYED BY PICKFORD AND CO. THE TIME IS NOW 3:45 A.M. ON THE MORNING OF

THE THIRTY-FIRST OF AUGUST. RELIABLE HISTORY STARTS HERE.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT, ONLY NOW CROSS HAS WALKED CLOSER TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND AND HAS DRAWN

LEVEL WITH THE BODY. HE STOPS AND LOOKS DOWN AT THE DEAD WOMAN DOUBTFULLY. IT IS TOO

128

Part 3: The cinematic principle

DARK TO SEE THAT HER THROAT IS CUT, OR THAT THERE ARE TERRIBLE WOUNDS IN HER BELLY.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT. HERE, ANOTHER DARK FIGURE HAS ENTERED BUCK’S ROW FROM THE TOP ENTRANCE,

THERE IN THE BACKGROUND. CROSS, IN THE FOREGROUND, LOOKS ROUND AND NOTICES THIS

NEWCOMER AS HE STANDS THERE NEAR THE BODY. RAISING HIS HAND HE CALLS OUT TO THE MAN

AS HE ENTERS THE STREET. THE NEW MAN UPON THE SCENE IS ROBERT PAUL, ANOTHER CARMAN,

POSSIBLY EMPLOYED BY THE SAME COMPANY. CROSS CALLS OUT TO HIM, EAGER TO ENLIST A

SECOND OPINION CONCERNING THE INERT WOMAN LYING AT HIS FEET.

CROSS:

OY!

CROSS:

OY THERE!

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. PAUL HAS APPROACHED A LITTLE CLOSER TO US. BUT HE STILL HANGS BACK WARILY,

UNCERTAIN AS TO WHETHER CROSS MEANS TO HARM HIM. CROSS HOLDS OUT ONE PALM TO CALM THE

OTHER MAN AND INDICATES THE MOTIONLESS WOMAN LYING AT HIS FEET, WHO DOES NOT MOVE

THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE EXCHANGE.

PAUL:

Wha... what are you after?

CROSS:

Oh, I’m not about to ’urt yer.

CROSS:

Come an’ look ’ere. There’s a woman. She might be drunk, but...

PANEL 6.

NOW BOTH MEN ARE KNEELING BY THE BODY. CROSS, KNEELING NEAR THE TOP HALF, IS HOLDING

UP ONE OF POLLY’S LIMP, DEAD HANDS. PAUL, LOWER DOWN IS SMOOTHING DOWN POLLY’S LIFTED

SKIRTS FOR THE SAKE OF DECORUM. HIS OTHER HAND HE PLACES BENEATH POLLY’S BREAST. THE

SCENE IS VERY DARK. THERE IS ALMOST NO LIGHT AT ALL.

CROSS:

’Er ’and’s cold. Why, I believe she’s dead...

PAUL:

No...

’er face was warm. I think she’s breathin’, but it’s

very little if she is. Let’s sit ’er up...

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT. BOTH MEN HAVE RISEN TO THEIR FEET ONCE MORE AND ARE ABOUT TO DEPART OFF

THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE PANEL. CROSS WAVES ONE HAND DISMISSIVELY TO INDICATE THAT

HE WANTS NO MORE TO DO WITH THE WOMAN, WHETHER SHE BE DRUNK OR DEAD. HE LOOKS DOWN

AT THE BODY WITH DISGUST. PAUL, ON THE OTHER HAND, INDICATES SOME POINT OFF PANEL

DOWN THE ROAD WHERE HE HOPES THEY WILL FIND A POLICEMAN. HE LOOKS TOWARDS CROSS FOR

APPROVAL. AT THEIR FEET, POLLY LIES MOTIONLESS, COOLING SLOWLY IN THE NIGHT AIR.

CROSS:

I’m not goin’ to touch ’er. Anyway, I’m late enough for work

already...

PAUL:

Aa. I am too. We’ll try and find a copper down the road, shall we?

Design. . I’ve got more mileage out of this five minutes work than any other

five minutes of my entire life. Mick Evans, designer, ordered me to produce a slash

for the title page of the 2000 edition. It’s currently on the front of the Knockabout

hardcover in blood red against flat solid back, in combination with a second design

element, the splatter, which took even less time.

129

Chapter 6: Taboo.

T aboo was a grand idea, an anthology whose goal was to

present the most radical of artistic outrage in the comics medium.

It was Steve Bissette’s project. Steve and Alan had worked

together on the well received Swamp Thing horror comic and under

the influence of self-publishing guru Dave Sim, both Steve, as

Spiderbaby Graphics , and Alan, as Mad Love, had set themselves

up as small publishers. Both found the challenge overwhelming

and threw in the towel by the middle of the 1990s. The sixth

chapter was the last one to make its initial appearance in Taboo, in

Issue #7, late 1992.

Taboo was bound up in the conception of FROM HELL

and publisher/editor Steve Bissette did a great deal to make it work. For example, for

Chapter 6 he undertook a load of research into the movements of Buffalo Bill during

1888. We couldn’t place him where we needed him so we had to settle for a poster

of him and a stand-in named

Mexican Joe.

I didn’t think an irregular

anthology was the best place to

be running an ambitious serial

and I pressed to get it out of

there.

We attempted to collect

it in self-contained volumes

beginning with prologue and

chapters 1 and 2 in April 1991

with the publisher Tundra,

but this stalled. A new printing

plus a second volume with

chapters 3 and 4 came out in

June 1993, but things didn’t

pick up until Kitchen Sink Press

took over the Tundra operation

later that year, with Volume 3 in

Dec 1993 reprinting Chapters

5 and 6. (see pages 98-101 for

cover gallery). I can no longer

recall the precise order of

things, but chapter 7 must have been sitting on the shelf a long time before its publication

in its own volume in June 1994, as I made a reference to it in my Dance of Lifey Death

pages in August 1992 (it’s in the big Alec book; see here page 174).

FROM HELL was winning awards from its early days in Taboo, I think beginning

with an Eisner in 1993, and then there was a Harvey the year after that. The one in the

background of the photo at left is the SPX Ignatz brick. We got that in 1997, in that halcyon

age before 9-11, when it was still possible to take a brick in your cabin carry-on baggage.

Every winner of the Ignatz Award has an

anecdote about getting it home.

The beast in the foreground was given

to us by the International Horror Critics

Guild, for Best Graphic Novel, 1995. It was

the second year of the IHG Awards and they

were still figuring out how to do it. Nancy

Collins, founder of the award, phoned me and

asked if the plaster-cast gargoyle statuette had

arrived in one piece. I said yes, sure, it arrived

fine. In fact it arrived in a multitude of pieces,

all broken up and it was quite a challenge

gluing it all back together, to the excitement

of my kids. If you look closely you can see the

various lines on the wing where the parts were

re-attached. But I didn’t want to cast a shadow

over such an impressive endeavour. Nancy was

very pleased to hear it as it was the only one

of the awards sent out that arrived undamaged,

and proved that the idea was a good one after

all.

Left,

Alec: The

Years Have

Pants, from page

543.

Right, cover

TABOO #2

Sept. 1989,

art by

John Totleben.

131

Fred and “Emma”

Following the first of the murders, Chapter 6 introduces to FROM HELL

the police and the official investigation, with Fred Abberline unhappily called in to head

it. The rest of the chapter is full of autopsy and inquest and introducing key people in

positions of authority. Then we go to Fred’s extended gripe about Whitechapel, quoted

pictorially in my Introduction. At the end of that we left him just about to walk into the

Ten Bells Pub. Here he finds himself talking to a woman who calls herself Emma. This

was Alan’s invention, “for dramatic purposes.” It was a way

of enabling a couple of turns in the story, such as Abberline’s

hatred of prostitutes and Kelly’s raising of enough funds

to get out of the country, her attempt at blackmail having

turned sour. Formally, the device would also weave together

two major threads that might otherwise be in danger of

being separate stories. In other words, when all the theorizing

and sifting of evidence is done, it’s the storyteller’s art that

counts. The quality of this may be gauged by comparison

with the movie, which seized upon the device as a way of

getting a romance between the attractive leads into the

production. If Alan hadn’t put it there in his own way,

they’d have had to make it up.

So Emma is really Marie Kelly, except of course

we can’t actually say that since there is no evidence that

such a meeting ever occurred, and we’ve set ourselves the

discipline of avoiding any contradiction of recorded facts.

Alan wanted to have a scene depicting such a meeting but

in which nothing was given as fact, so it was written in a way

that “Emma” was only ever seen partially, a hand coming in

from off panel,

“EMMA” IS REACHING ONE HAND INTO THE PANEL AND

STARTING TO LIFT HER GLASS...

or we’re looking from her point of view:

“EMMA” IS STANDING TO THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL AND WE

ARE LOOKING DOWN OVER HER SHOULDER...

Given that this was spread over two pages and was a

situation that we would be returning to, I thought that

might feel inauthentic, not just using filmic technique,

but almost the anachronistic technique of the televised

132

Part 4: Men and women

interview, in which the interviewer is known to be

off screen but is only heard and half-seen. Or else

it was Will Eisner’s Octopus, of whom we only ever

saw the distinctive gloves, and that was played for

comedy. I don’t wish to imply that Alan doesn’t know

what he’s doing, but rather that this was a problem

best solved at the art stage.

I figured it was within the bounds of

authenticity that a person can be seen across a

crowded bar, but who never quite turns our way for

a clear identification. So I asked Alan to let me just

draw Marie Kelly from the back without showing

her face. The reader can read that “Fred” is giving

himself a false backstory (“a saddlemaker, like

me dad”), so it’s plausible that “Emma” is doing

likewise, and we can trust the reader’s intelligence

to figure out what we’re up to. Alan agreed to give

it a try, and I drew it that way. Most readers got it,

I presume, but to this day I still occasionally read

that Eddie Campbell’s women all look the same.

My thinking about the book was that

it needed a drawing style that could embrace

ambiguity and hypothesis while still presenting a

literal narrative happening in front of us. Such

and such a person could have been in the room,

but we’re not saying it definitely. Let’s draw that

other person just so until a better description

turns up. The situation called for a kind of

ambiguous drawing that I shall name here “the

graphics of theory and guesswork.” And I’ll come

back to it later.

On facing page, Mary Kelly as last seen in Chapter 3, when

she walked from Cleveland Street to Whitechapel. On this page

left and above, “Emma” (thus named in the script in this and

her later appearances) in Chapter 6.)

133

Part 4

Pages 132 to 170.

The theme is

men and women,

sex and censorship,

with some odd

moments of affection

suspended in the

darkness right at the

centre of the book.

Chapter 8, page 1.

I didn’t have a clear grasp of the

layout of this room in 1993, but I read now

that it was a “single twelve-foot-square room,

with a bed, two tables and a chair and a wash-

stand.”Above the fireplace hung a print of The

Fisherman’s Widow. It’s described as cramped,

but it sounds better than a couple of places I

lived in myself in my early single days. I never

had a fireplace, or a fisherman’s widow either.

The fireplace should be facing the door, and the

bed should be on the right as you come in. I

think Rick Geary pointed this out at the time.

There’s too much space in this room, (as there

was in contemporary reportage drawings, but

that’s no excuse).The problem could be solved

by cropping everything more tightly (see detail

after script).

I couldn’t see how light could get

from the window all the way across to Mary’s

sleeping head, as requested in the script, so I let

that one go. Believe it or not, even that has been

thoroughly documented by the Ripperologists,

though I didn’t have access to the details.

Regarding an examination of the photos later

taken in the room: “…in the middle of the

morning of November 9th, 1888, the sun

was towards the south (Mary Kelly’s

windows looked north) and cloud cover

was at 100%. Hardly sufficient illumination

to create the hot spots of light seen on the items on the table…” ( From Room 13,

Miller’s Court, Simon D. Wood 2005 at casebook.org)

PAGE 1. (858 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE EIGHT PANELS ON THIS FIRST PAGE INCLUDING THIS FIRST TITLE PANEL, ARRANGED

WITH THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE TWO LOWER TIERS AND TWO ON THIS FIRST ONE, BEING

THE TITLE PANEL AND THEN A DOUBLE SIZED PANEL TAKING UP THE REST OF THE TIER.

TITLES:

Chapter Eight: “Love Is Enough”

135

Chapter 8, page 1

PANEL 2.

NOW A BIG DOUBLE PANEL TAKING UP THE REST OF THE TIER. WE ARE INSIDE MARIE KELLY’S

SINGLE ROOM IN MILLER’S COURT, LOOKING DOWN UPON THE DILAPIDATED AND RELATIVELY

SMALL DOUBLE BED THAT FORMS THE ROOM’S CENTREPIECE. IT IS SOMETIME AROUND NINE OR

TEN IN THE MORNING, AND PERHAPS A CHINK OF WAN SUNLIGHT FALLS ACROSS THE BED FROM

BETWEEN THE RAGS DRAWN ACROSS THE DIRTY WINDOWS. THE ROOM IS SQUALID, AND YET

FAINTLY COSY, WITH SMALL AND POIGNANT FEMININE TOUCHES HERE AND THERE TO ALLEVIATE

THE WRETCHEDNESS OF THE PLACE. IN THE BED BENEATH US AS WE LOOK DOWN, MARIE KELLY

AND HER COMMON-LAW HUSBAND JOE BARNETT ARE SLEEPING IN A COMFORTABLE CHAOS OF TORN

AND DIRTY SHEETS. THEIR ARMS ARE WRAPPED LIMPLY ABOUT ONE ANOTHER, AND THEY LOOK AS

VULNERABLE AS SLEEPING CHILDREN. PERHAPS THE NEEDLE OF LIGHT FROM THE FILTHY

CURTAINS DRAWS A STRIPE ACROSS MARIE’S CHEEK HERE, INCHING PURPOSEFULLY TOWARDS HER

CLOSED EYELIDS.

CAPTION:

Miller’s Court, September 22nd, 1888.

PANEL 3.

WE MOVE IN FOR A HEAD-AND-SHOULDERS CLOSE UP OF MARIE AS SHE WAKES UP, BLEARY-EYED

AND SQUINTING, JOE BARNETT’S HEAD RESTING UPON HER SHOULDER AS SHE LIES THERE ON HER

BACK LOOKING UP AT US HALF AWAKE, SHE SCRATCHES AT SOME IRRITATION IN HER HAIR WITH

ONE HAND AND WIPES SALIVA FROM HER CHIN WITH THE OTHER. THERE IS A RAZOR-SLIT OF

SUNLIGHT ACROSS HER EYE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE FOR A SEMI-LONG SHOT OF THE BED. MARIE HAS SAT UP AND IS SWINGING

HER LEGS OVER THE SIDE OF THE BED, RESTING HER BARE SOLES UPON THE COLD FLOOR.

SHE WEARS A GRUBBY NIGHTGOWN. AS SHE SITS UP ON THE EDGE OF THE BED SHE RAISES

HER HAND TO HER MOUTH TO COVER A YAWN. BEHIND HER, JOE BARNETT SLEEPS ON AMONGST

THE HUMAN MARINADE OF DIRTY SHEETS WHILE THE UNSETTLED DUST DANCES IN THE PILLAR

OF SUNLIGHT, POETRY IN BROWNIAN MOTION. BENEATH THE BED WE SEE A CHAMBER POT.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

WE ARE NOW ON THE BED, LOOKING INTO THE DINGY ROOM, SO THAT WE SEE A LITTLE OF

THE BED IN THE BOTTOM FOREGROUND HERE, INCLUDING PERHAPS A PART OF THE SLEEPING

JOE BARNETT AS HE CONTINUES TO SNORE FAINTLY JUST OFF PANEL. LOOKING BEYOND THE

BED AND INTO THE ROOM WE SEE THAT MARIE HAS PULLED THE CHAMBER POT FROM UNDER THE

BED AND IS SITTING UPON IT A COUPLE OF FEET FROM THE BED, FACING AWAY FROM US

WITH HER NIGHTGOWN PULLED UP AROUND THE SMALL OF HER BACK. ABOUT HER IS THE SMALL

AND MISERABLE ROOM THAT SHE HAS ATTEMPTED, POIGNANTLY, TO BRIGHTEN WITH HER FEW

KNICKKNACKS AND PERSONAL TOUCHES. SHE GAZES AT IT, DULLY, STILL ONLY HALF AWAKE AS

SHE RELIEVES HER BLADDER OF THE NIGHT’S PRESSURES.

No dialogue.

136

Part 4: Men and women

PANEL 6.

CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN. THE BED IS IN THE BACKGROUND NOW, WITH JOE BARNETT STILL

ASLEEP ON IT. MARIE STANDS ROUGHLY THREE-QUARTER FIGURE IN THE FOREGROUND, FACING

TOWARDS US AS SHE REACHES OUT EXPRESSIONLESSLY AND PICKS UP A LONG BLACK DRESS

THAT IS HUNG OVER THE BACK OF A WOODEN CHAIR. IN THE BACKGROUND, JOE BARNETT HAS

MOVED SLIGHTLY SO THAT HE NOW RESTS ON HIS BACK RATHER THAN ON HIS SIDE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN. IN THE LEFT FOREGROUND NOW, ANGLED SO AS TO FACE SLIGHTLY AWAY

FROM US INTO THE ROOM, WE HAVE A HEAD-AND-SHOULDER SHOT OF THE RECLINING JOE BARNETT

AS HE HALF OPENS HIS EYES AND GAZES INTO THE ROOM AND TOWARDS MARIE, WHO WE SEE

STANDING DOWN AT THE END OF THE BED, FACING AWAY FROM US AS SHE PULLS THE LONG BLACK

DRESS OVER HER HEAD, OBSCURING HER FACE LIKE ONE OF MAGRITTE’S SHROUDED LOVERS.

BARNETT SMILES WITH A FAINT, HALF-AWAKE PLEASURE AS HE WATCHES MARIE DRESSING.

BARNETT:

Mrm.

BARNETT:

It’s a lovely arse you’ve got on ye, Marie Kelly.

MARIE:

And it’s a dirty mouth ye’ve got on you, Joe Barnett!

Go back to sleep.

PANEL 8.

CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN SO THAT MARIE IS HALF FIGURE, FACING US IN THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND WITH HER BACK TO THE REST OF THE ROOM, WHERE WE SEE JOE BARNETT

LOUNGING AGAINST HIS PILLOW IN THE LEFT BACKGROUND AND STILL SMILING FAINTLY AND

PLEASANTLY AS HE TALKS TO MARIE. MARIE IS BUTTONING HER DRESS, OR PUTTING ON HER SHOES

AND STOCKINGS OR WHATEVER LOOKS BEST, GETTING READY TO GO OUT. SHE HAS HER LIPS PURSED

STERNLY AND PRIMLY AS SHE SPEAKS TO JOE WITHOUT LOOKING ROUND AT HIM. BUT THERE IS A

SUGGESTION OF SUPPRESSED AMUSEMENT.

BARNETT:

I can’t. I’m off down Billingsgate, looking’ for work.

BARNETT:

God, your hair’s a lovely red where the sun catches.

MARIE:

Ha! It’s drinking money you’re after, is it?

Rethink.

Although the room is too

spacious, this isn’t one to

lose sleep over. But since

I’m about to make a point

(under Chapt. 8, page 8)

about contrasting the cramped

city with the open country, it

would have been nice to get

this right. It could be fixed

as shown in the sample at

right, which I’ve cropped and

adjusted for perspective.

Chapter 8, page 4.

Another lusty sex scene, with something

of the spirit of Kurtzman in Alan’s thumbnail. In

the first paragraph he writes, “If they’re going to

bust this fucking book, let’s give them something to

bust us for.”

Alan may be referring to a situation

that had occurred in South Africa. (I can no

longer find the page online; but start looking

with the words CENSORS CAUGHT BETWEEN

ROCKETS AND A HARD PLOT: “In the light of

the Directorate’s response to the first four, it

is equally likely to ban “From Hell”, written

by Alan Moore, regarded as poet laureate of

...”)(Weekly Mail, Feb 1, 1992) Called upon by The

TIMES for his view on the matter, Alan could see

that he was being manipulated into commenting

on the South African political situation. Since the

book had also been seized in England, he declined

to say anything. “‘How shocking, this brutal

regime, those South Africans, what a bunch

of bastards.’ Which goes without saying, but

that wasn’t the point.” Later he remarked: “We

showed a lot of women getting chopped up.

Nobody minds about that, But occasionally

we showed a couple of erect penises. And

these are Eddie Campbell penises, which are

a squiggle.” When I brought up the subject, with

a slight air of mock indignation, he got all mock

conciliatory and said, “I meant your drawing, not

your actual penis.” (ref 1996, interview w/Andy Diggle)

PAGE 4. (772 words) PANEL 1.

A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE HERE WITH ONE PANEL TAKING UP THE TOP TIER AND THEN THREE SMALLER

PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS BELOW THAT. IN THIS FIRST WIDE-SCREEN PANEL, WE ARE IN

THE LODGING ROOM OF JOHN KELLY IN FLOWER AND DEAN STREET, AND IT IS STILL MORNING. WE

ARE LOOKING DOWN AT JOHN KELLY AND CATHERINE EDDOWES AS THEY HAVE QUITE STRENUOUS

AND SWEATY SEX ON KELLY’S SINGLE BED. MAKE THIS POWERFUL AND ANIMAL, WITH A FERAL

QUALITY TO IT. MAYBE EDDOWES BITES AT KELLY’S SHOULDER. IF THEY’RE GOING TO BUST

THIS FUCKING BOOK WHATEVER WE DO THEN LET’S AT LEAST GIVE THEM SOMETHING TO BUST US

FOR. No dialogue

138

Part 4: Men and women

PANEL 2.

IT IS AFTERWARDS. WE HAVE A HALF-FIGURE SHOT OF THEM IN BED, THE COVERS UP AROUND

THEIR WAISTS IN THE POST COITAL CHILL. THE HEAD OF THE BED IS TOWARDS THE LEFT OF

THE PANEL HERE, AND WE SEE HALF OF CATHY AS SHE RESTS ON HER BACK, BLISSFULLY

CONTENTED, AGAINST THE STAINED PILLOW. BEYOND HER, LEANING UP IN BED UPON HIS ELBOW

AND CRADLING HIS CHEEK AGAINST HIS PALM AS HE GAZES AT CATHY, JOHN KELLY RESTS

FACING US. CATHY’S EYES ARE CLOSED, AND SHE SMILES.

KELLY:

God, Kate Eddowes, but you’re a marvel.

KELLY:

How old is it y’are now? Your sister said you was forty-three

CATHY:

Ha! That’s what she knows!

PANEL 3.

KELLY’S EYE VIEW HERE (KELLY’S EYE?). WE CAN ONLY SEE HIS ARM IN THE FOREGROUND AS HE

REACHES OUT TO TRACE THE MARK OF A TATTOO ON THE FOREARM ON THE RECLINING CATHY, WHO

RESTS ON HER BACK IN THE BACKGROUND WITH HER HEAD TOWARDS THE RIGHT. AS I SEE HER, SHE

HAS ONE ARM RESTING LAZILY ACROSS HER BELLY, BELOW THE BREAST LINE, AND THE OTHER UP

BEHIND HER HEAD. DESPITE THE FACT THAT SHE IS BY A SLIGHT MARGIN THE OLDEST OF THE

RIPPER’S VICTIMS, SHE WAS ALSO BY ALL ACCOUNTS THE LIVELIEST AND FAR FROM UNATTRACTIVE.

SHE SMILES SOFTLY, EYES STILL CLOSED, AS SHE CONTINUES TO CHIDE JOHN KELLY FOR HIS

IMPUDENCE. ON HER ARM WE CAN SEE THE LETTERS “T.C.” CRUDELY BUT DISTINCTLY TATTOOED,

AND IT IS THIS MARK THAT THE LARGELY OFF-PANEL KELLY TRACES WITH HIS FINGERTIP.

CATHY:

Anyway, fancy asking a woman’s age when you’ve just ’ad ’er!

CATHY:

Not that I could tell you. Can’t remember. Old enough.

KELLY:

AN’ WHAT’S THIS ON YOUR ARM? THIS “T.C.”?

PANEL 4.

ANGLE FOR A DOWNSHOT NOW, SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING DOWN ON CATHY AS SHE RESTS THERE

WITH ONE HAND UP BEHIND HER HEAD AND THE OTHER RESTING ACROSS HER BELLY. WE SEE HER

FROM ABOUT THE WAIST UP, WITH THE EDGE OF THE COVERS VISIBLE DOWN AT THE BOTTOM OF

THE PANEL. KELLY IS OFF PANEL TO THE RIGHT, WITH JUST HIS HANDS VISIBLE, ENTERING

THE PANEL FROM THE RIGHT. CATHY OPENS HER EYES AND TURNS HER HEAD SLIGHTLY TO LOOK

TOWARDS THE OFF-PANEL KELLY WITH A FLICKER OF ANNOYANCE. KELLY’S LEFT HAND, ENTERING

THE PANEL FROM THE RIGHT, PLAYS WITH HER LEFT NIPPLE, HAVING MOVED UP FROM THE

TATTOO ON HER LEFT ARM, RESTING JUST BENEATH IT. HE TWEAKS IT BETWEEN THUMB AND

FOREFINGER. CATHY IGNORES THIS AS SHE REPLIES TO HIM.

CATHY:

You KNOW what it is! I ’ad it done in Wolver’ampton when I

left ’ome with old Tommy Conway. I were just nineteen.

KELLY (OFF):

Good ride, was he?

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. CATHY LOOKS BACK AWAY FROM KELLY NOW AND GAZES DREAMILY OUT OF THE TOP

LEFT OF THE PANEL SOMEWHERE. KELLY’S HAND MOVES UP FROM HER BREAST AND STARTS TO

STROKE HER CHEEK AS SHE SPEAKS, NOT LOOKING AT HIM WHILE SHE DOES SO.

CATHY:

Oh, you’ve no competition. Though he didn’t do bad, for a

pensioner. Lived off these chapbooks ’e wrote.

139

Chapter 8, page 4

CATHY:

We ’ad three kids.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, WITH CATHY STILL GAZING DREAMILY OUT OF THE LEFT OF THE PANEL AS SHE SPEAKS.

KELLY’S FINGER HAS MOVED FROM HER CHEEK EVER SO SLIGHTLY AND IS NOW TRACING THE ORBIT

OF HER MOUTH.

CATHY:

Not that the little buggers ’ave lifted a finger for me

since I left the blind drunk old brute.

CATHY:

My Annie, she avoids me now she’s married!

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT. AS KELLY’S FINGERTIP REACHES HER MOUTH, CATHY TURNS HER HEAD, LOWERS HER

EYELIDS AND CLOSES HER LIPS OVER THE TIP OF IT, SUCKING AT IT GENTLY.

KELLY (OFF):

Oh, never you mind her, snotty little madam she is.

KELLY (OFF):

I was thinkin’ we might go hop-pickin’ you and me. Over in Kent

CATHY:

m?

All thumbs

Thumbnails left, chapter 8,

pages 2,3. Marie kisses Joe, goes to

the pub, scene with Liz Stride.

Below, page 5, second page of

Eddowes and John Kelly,

6,7, Liz and Michael Kidney.

Interestingly, on these there is more

repetition than in my finished art.

Liz and Kidney scene discussed on

148-9

140

Chapter 8, page 8.

Since his last appearance, “Eddy” has

become “Eddie,” and he’s “Eddie” in the comic

although he remains Eddy in the notes in the

appendix proper to FROM HELL. As that was

entirely retyped at one point by the wife of my

bosom, who knows one Eddie from another, I’m

not certain what Alan had there in the first place.

This scene and the following one take place

in the British countryside. The two are flanked by

scenes in London in which the action takes place in

cramped quarters and in close-up. To emphasize

the air and space I staged the country scenes at

a distance, with full figures. Holding the book at

arm’s length, the contrast is between the scenes

as a whole rather than components within each

scene. To get a quick idea of the effect, compare

the reduced image at left with the one for Chapter

8, page 12, coming up shortly.

PAGE 8. (965 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS ON THIS PAGE, WITH

A BIG WIDE ONE TAKING UP THE TOP TIER AND

THEN THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE TWO TIERS

BENEATH THAT. IT IS A FEW DAYS LATER, THE

TWENTY-SEVENTH OF SEPTEMBER, AND WE HAVE

CUT TO THE GROUNDS OR THE MOORLANDS AROUND

THE ROYAL RETREAT AT ABERGELDIE IN SCOTLAND

(I’M GUESSING HERE, EDDIE, SINCE I HAVE NO

IDEA WHAT KIND OF PLACE THE ROYALS HAD AT

ABERGELDIE, OR WHAT SORT OF COUNTRYSIDE IT IS.

I FIGURED I’D HAVE THE FOLLOWING SCENE TAKE PLACE IN THE GROUNDS TO CUT OUT ANY

REFERENCE PROBLEMS THAT WE MIGHT HAVE IN DEPICTING A SPECIFIC BUILDING. IF, HOWEVER,

YOU SHOULD STUMBLE ACROSS ANY REFERENCE FOR A BUILDING THEN PLEASE FEEL FREE TO

STICK IT IN THE BACKGROUND SOMEWHERE). WE ARE LOOKING AT AN EXPANSE OF ROLLING

MOOR WITH PERHAPS A FEW LONELY TREES HERE AND THERE, AND WE CAN SEE PRINCE ALBERT

VICTOR CHRISTIAN EDWARD AS HE STANDS WITH A WALKING STICK BENEATH HIS ARM, DRESSED

IN OUTDOOR TWEEDS OR SOMETHING SUITABLE TO THE PLACE AND THE CLIMATE. HE IS GAZING

OUT MOODILY ACROSS THE MOORLANDS, DEEP IN THOUGHT. HUGE GREY CLOUDS SCUD ACROSS THE

SUNLIT SKY BEHIND HIM BUT HE PAYS THEM NO ATTENTION, LOST IN THE WORLD OF HIS OWN.

141

Chapter 8, page 8

FROM HIS EXPRESSION, IT DOESN’T LOOK LIKE A TERRIBLY HAPPY WORLD.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE HAVE PRINCE EDDIE STARING DREAMILY TOWARDS US, HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE RIGHT

OF THE FOREGROUND AND GAZING RIGHT OUT OF THE PANEL AT US. HE HAS NOT MOVED SINCE LAST

PANEL, BUT WE HAVE SWUNG ROUND SO THAT WE ARE FACING HIM. LOOKING PAST HIM, ACROSS THE

MOORLANDS OR GROUNDS OR WHATEVER TOWARDS THE BACKGROUND WE CAN SEE THE TALL AND WELL-

BUILT FORM OF A NEW CHARACTER STRIDING TOWARDS US AND THE PRINCE. THIS IS J.K. STEPHEN:

TWENTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD POET, FORMER FELLOW OF KING’S COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE, WHERE HE BECAME

PRINCE EDDIE’S TUTOR AND POSSIBLY LOVER; RELATIVE OF VIRGINIA WOOLF; DIEHARD

MISOGYNIST. STEPHEN, DRESSED FOR OUTDOORS LIKE THE PRINCE BUT PERHAPS WITH MORE OF

A DASH TO HIS CLOTHING, IS STILL SOME WAY OFF HERE, STRIDING THROUGH THE GORSE AND

HEATHER TOWARDS US AND HIS FRIEND. LOST IN HIS THOUGHTS, PRINCE EDDIE DOES NOT HEAR

STEPHEN APPROACH AND CONTINUES TO GAZE MOODILY OUT OF THE PANEL AT US, HIS DARK EYES

SAD, GIRL-LIKE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT, WITH EDDIE STILL MOONING IN THE FOREGROUND, UNMOVING SAVE FOR SOME STRANDS

OF HIS HAIR THAT ARE FLIPPED THIS WAY AND THAT BY THE HIGHLAND BREEZE DURING THE

COURSE OF THIS THREE-PANEL SEQUENCE. BEHIND HIM, J.K. STEPHEN HAS COME MUCH CLOSER,

WITHIN EARSHOT, AND HE IS RAISING ONE HAND TOWARDS EDDIE’S TURNED BACK IN GREETING

AS HE CALLS OUT TO HIS FRIEND, HIS MOOD SEEMINGLY JOVIAL IN CONTRAST TO EDDIE’S

MOROSENESS. EDDIE DOESN’T RESPOND IN ANY WAY, STILL GAZING THOUGHTFULLY OUT OF THE

PANEL AT US.

STEPHEN:

HALLOOO! I say, EDDIE!

STEPHEN:

Whatever’s the matter old chap? No sooner do we get here to

Abergeldie than you’re off mooning about on the MOORS!

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT. EDDIE REMAINS UNMOVED IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND, SAVE FOR WHATEVER

STRANDS OF HIS HAIR ARE BLOWING ABOUT, STILL GAZING DISTRACTEDLY OUT OF THE PANEL,

STILL LOOKING SAD AND WORRIED AS HE SPEAKS TO STEPHEN WITHOUT TURNING ROUND AND

LOOKING AT HIM. STEPHEN HAS NOW COME RIGHT UP INTO THE FOREGROUND AND IS STANDING

BEHIND EDDIE OVER EDDIE’S SHOULDER. HE LOOKS AT EDDIE IN PUZZLEMENT.

EDDIE:

DEAR JEM.

EDDIE:

I was thinking about London. All the terrible things that happen.

EDDIE:

These murders...

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLES NOW, SO THAT WE ARE BEHIND STEPHEN, WITH HIM NOW OVER TO THE RIGHT

AND FACING MOSTLY AWAY FROM US TOWARDS EDDIE, WHO STANDS A LITTLE BEYOND HIM AND

MORE TO THE LEFT. EDDIE STILL HASN’T TURNED ROUND, AND IS STILL GAZING OUT OVER

THE MOORS. WE CAN SEE BOTH MEN IN ABOUT A QUARTER PROFILE HERE AS THEY LOOK AWAY

FROM US, AND WE SEE THEM BOTH HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO HALF FIGURE. STEPHEN FROWNS AND

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Part 4: Men and women

SMILES AT THE SAME TIME AS HE LOOKS AT EDDIE, AS IF AMUSED BUT BEWILDERED BY EDDIE’S

PREOCCUPATIONS. EDDIE CONTINUES TO STARE INTO THE DISTANCE AND SAYS NOTHING.

STEPHEN:

Eddie, DO buck up! You came to Scotland to get AWAY from

London for a bit!

STEPHEN:

Whitechapel’s MILES away, Eddie. Anyway, what’s two whores less?

PANEL 6.

PULL BACK FROM OUR LAST PANEL, SO THAT NOW WE SEE BOTH MEN ROUGHLY THREE QUARTER

FIGURE. EDDIE AT LAST TURNS HIS FACE TO GLANCE QUESTIONINGLY AT STEPHEN, STILL WITH

THE SAME BIG, SAD REPROACHFUL EYES. STEPHEN RAISES HIS LEFT ARM, PALM UPWARDS IN A

REASONING AND EXPLANATORY GESTURE AS HE REPLIES TO EDDIE. HE STARES AT EDDIE WIDE-

EYED, MAKING AN ALMOST COMICAL FACE OF INCOMPREHENSION AT EDDIE’S OPINIONS.

EDDIE:

Jem... those women. They didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.

They hadn’t DONE anything.

STEPHEN:

Oh. Eddie! Come OFF it! They were WOMEN! They must have

done

SOMETHING!

PANEL 7.

PULL BACK STILL FURTHER, SO THAT NOW WE SEE BOTH MEN FULL FIGURE AS THEY STAND THERE

CALF DEEP IN THE HEATHER OR WHATEVER...STILL LOOKING AT THEM FROM BEHIND. THE ARM

THAT STEPHEN WAS RAISING LAST PANEL CONTINUES TO RISE AND FINALLY SETTLES AROUND

EDDIE’S SHOULDER IN A BROTHERLY HUG. EDDIE HAS TURNED HIS FACE AWAY FROM STEPHEN,

SO THAT WE CANNOT SEE IT HERE. STEPHEN LOOKS AT EDDIE WITH A BROTHERLY GRIN OF

REASSURANCE, TRYING TO SMOOTH HIS FRIENDS EVIDENTLY HURT FEELINGS.

EDDIE:

It isn’t funny, Jem.

STEPHEN:

EDDIE, I WAS joking. ALRIGHT?

STEPHEN:

I just can’t see why you’re so concerned about wretched hags

that you don’t even know.

Page 9, second of Eddie and JK. Stephen (under the tree) page 11, second of John Kelly and Cathy Eddowes, at the

bottom cut to outside the Ten Bells, kids trying to trap a pigeon, continuing in the scene described on page 150 here.

Chapter 8, page 10.

Alan’s sketch for this page, or the

top row of it at least, is a work of art in

itself, but I’ll come to that in a minute. The

scene is another in what amounts to a little

suite of peculiar, irregular, couples. There

was Marie and Joe Barnett, Prince Eddie

and JK Stephen, Liz and Michael, Fred

and “Emma,” Netley and a pornographic

print. The title of this chapter, remember, is

“Love is Enough,” and I think it’s my favourite

chapter in the book.

This bucolic scene belongs to Cathy

Eddowes and John Kelly. Scriptwise it’s a long

one, coming in at over 1300 words when all its

neighbours are under a thousand. Alan draws

a page and then describes what he sees on it,

what he sees in his mind’s eye more than on the

paper. The panels he sees must be lifesize, as

he sees what everybody’s wearing, and he tells

me all the colours, even though I don’t need to

know. He also spent more time than usual on

this page’s thumbnail, working it in two different

inks as though trying to penetrate its tiny

mystery, the human fragility in that little sleeping

figure. (You can see it in colour in Gary Spencer

Millidge’s book, referenced elsewhere in here.

Even on a whole notebook page surrounded

by the thumbnails for the rest of the chapter, it

commands attention.)

I wanted to hold onto the spacious open

countryside here for as long as possible, so I

saved this scene’s close-ups for page 11.

Page 10. (1331 words) PANEL 1.

A NINE-PANEL PAGE. IT IS THE SAME DAY, BUT A LOT FURTHER SOUTH, IN THE HOP-FIELDS

OF KENT. WE ARE LOOKING STRAIGHT DOWN ON CATHERINE EDDOWES AS SHE LIES SUNBATHING

UPON THE GRASS VERGE BENEATH US. HER EYES ARE CLOSED AND SHE HAS A BLACK CLOTH

JACKET SPREAD OUT UPON THE GRASS BENEATH HER, WITH IMITATION BLACK FUR AROUND THE

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Part 4: Men and women

COLLAR AND SLEEVES AND TRIMMINGS AND TWO OUTSIDE POCKETS. (I’M TELLING YOU THIS

FOR FUTURE REFERENCE OBVIOUSLY. WE DON’T NEED TO SEE ALL THIS HERE.) SHE WEARS A

CHINTZ SKIRT WITH THREE FLOUNCES AND A BROWN BUTTON ON THE WAISTBAND AND SHE WEARS

A BROWN LINSEY DRESS BODICE WITH A BLACK VELVET COLLAR AND BROWN METAL BUTTONS DOWN

THE FRONT. HER SKIRT AND THE PETTICOATS BENEATH ARE DRAWN UP ABOVE HER KNEES IN A

VAIN ATTEMPT TO GET SOME SUN TO HER THIN LEGS. SHE WEARS A PAIR OF MEN’S LACE-UP

BOOTS, THE RIGHT BOOT REPAIRED WITH RED THREAD. BESIDE HER ON THE GRASS RESTS A

BLACK STRAW BONNET, TRIMMED WITH GREEN AND BLACK VELVET AND DECORATED WITH BLACK

BEADS, WITH BLACK STRINGS TO FASTEN BENEATH THE CHIN. AS SHE LIES THERE ON HER

BACK, HER BODY, AS IF OBEYING SOME STRANGE PRE-MEMORY, ARRANGES HER LIMBS INTO AN

EXACT DUPLICATE OF THE SPRAWL THAT THEY WILL OCCUPY IN DEATH: HER ARMS BY HER SIDE,

RESTING WITH THE PALMS UPWARDS; HER LEGS STRAIGHT, ONLY SLIGHTLY PARTED; HER HEAD

TURNED SLIGHTLY TO ONE SIDE. CONSIDERING THE UNGAINLINESS OF HER POSTURE AND THE

RAVAGES OF HER AGE AND HER SOCIAL POSITION, SHE IS NOT AN UNATTRACTIVE WOMAN IN

REPOSE. THE TOP HALF OF HER IS IN THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT, BUT THE FLAT GREY SHADOW OF

A CLOUD IS SLIDING UP OVER HER EXPOSED LOWER LIMBS, WHERE THE GOOSE FLESH STARTS TO

BRISTLE. SHE DOES NOT MOVE. SHE MIGHT BE DEAD.

No dialogue

PANEL 2

SAME SHOT. HERE, THE SHADOW OF THE CLOUD HAS SLID ONWARD SO AS TO COMPLETELY

ENGULF CATHY. SHE IS NO LONGER IN THE SUNLIGHT. SHE OPENS HER EYES AND FROWNS AT

US, PETULANT AND DISAPPOINTED. PERHAPS SHE STARTS TO LIFT HERSELF UP ON HER ELBOWS

SLIGHTLY. SHE HAS THE MANNER OF A BRIGHT AND VIVACIOUS SCHOOLGIRL TRAPPED IN AN

AGING WOMAN’S BODY, AND THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT THE EFFECT THAT’S QUITE ENDEARING.

CATHY:

Tt.

PANEL 3

CHANGE ANGLE NOW SO THAT WE ARE BESIDE CATHY AS SHE SITS UP IN PROFILE, OVER ON

THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND AND FACING RIGHT, DRAWING HER KNEES UP AND DRAGGING

THE BLACK JACKET UP AROUND HER SHOULDERS FOR WARMTH, LEAVES AND SPLINTERS AND

DEAD GRASS STILL CLINGING TO IT HERE AND THERE. SHE GAZES OFF THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND AND SQUINTS HER EYES, FROWNING, PERHAPS WITH HER ARMS LOOPED AROUND

HER DRAWN UP KNEES. LOOKING BEYOND HER, IN THE RIGHT OF THE MIDDLE GROUND WE SEE

HER BOYFRIEND, JOHN KELLY, FACING SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US AND VISIBLE FULL FIGURE

AS HE STANDS (OR STOOPS) PICKING HOPS, SUITABLY ATTIRED WITH HIS SHIRT SLEEVES

ROLLED UP. BEYOND HIM, TOWARDS THE BACKGROUND AND LESS SIGNIFICANT HERE, WE SEE

AN OLD WOMAN, ALSO PICKING HOPS. KELLY HAS ONE OF CATHY’S SKIRTS, A RAGGED OLD

BLUE ONE WITH A RED FLOUNCE AND A LIGHT TWILL LINING, INTO WHICH HE IS PLACING

THE HOPS THAT HE HAS PICKED. HE DOESN’T LOOK AT US HERE, ABSORBED IN HIS MEAGRE

WORK, AND NEITHER DOES CATHY LOOK TOWARDS HIM AS SHE COMPLAINS TO HIM.

CATHY:

The Sun’s gone in and I’m cold.

CATHY:

We’ve been here nearly a week now, John, and the work’s

rubbish. When are we goin’ home?

145

Chapter 8, page 10

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT, WITH CATHY SITTING ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE IN THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND,

HER KNEES DRAWN UP AND HER JACKET ABOUT HER SHOULDERS. SHE TURNS TO LOOK

TOWARDS JOHN IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND AND LIFTS ONE HAND TO BRUSH HER HAIR BACK

FROM HER FACE. IN THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR MIDDLEGROUND, KELLY HAS TURNED TOWARDS

HER, HOLDING OUT THE SKIRT BETWEEN BOTH HANDS TO SHOW HER THE FAIRLY PITIFUL

NUMBER OF HOPS THAT HE HAS MANAGED TO GATHER IN IT. CATHY FROWNS AT HIM. AWAY IN

THE FAR BACKGROUND, THE OLD WOMAN CARRIES ON PICKING HOPS FOR ALL SHE’S WORTH,

EVIDENTLY DOING BETTER AT IT THAN KELLY HAS.

KELLY:

Oh, I don’t know about rubbish. Look, I picked all these

while you’ve been asleep

CATHY:

I wasn’t asleep. Is that my best blue skirt you’ve got

there?

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. KELLY HAS NOW WALKED CLOSER TO US SO THAT HE IS DECAPITATED BY THE

UPPER PANEL BORDER AS HE STANDS JUST BEYOND THE SEATED CATHY IN THE IMMEDIATE

BACKGROUND. HE HOLDS OUT THE SKIRT TO SHOW HER THE PITIFUL COLLECTION OF HOPS

THAT NESTLES IN ITS FOLDS. CATHY TURNS HER HEAD AWAY FROM HIM AND THE HOPS AND

GRIMACES WITH CONTEMPT. IN THE BACKGROUND, THE OLD WOMAN IS STILL BENT OVER HER

WORK, GATHERING THE HOPS INTO HER APRON.

KELLY (OFF):

BEST? How long has THIS rag been your best? Anyway, look at

what

I

got...

CATHY:

Oh, John, those won’t buy us a half of bitter BETWEEN us!

PANEL 6.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT NOW WE HAVE THE OLD WOMAN IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND,

HALF FIGURE AND FACING TOWARDS US AS SHE CONTINUES TO PICK HOPS AND THEN DROP

THEM INTO HER APRON. KELLY AND THE SEATED CATHY ARE OVER IN THE LEFT OF THE

NEAR BACKGROUND, BOTH OF THEM LOOKING SOMEWHAT SURPRISED AT HER INTRUSION UPON

THEIR PRIVATE DISAGREEMENT. THE OLD WOMAN SPEAKS TO THEM WITHOUT LOOKING ROUND,

CHUCKLING TO HER SELF, FAINTLY SENILE.

WOMAN:

Haha! Well, you’ll never make good money off ’ops, me duck!

WOMAN:

If you want good money you wanna win a CONTEST or a REWARD

or

summat.

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT. THE WOMAN CONTINUES TO PICK HOPS HALF FIGURE IN THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND WITHOUT LOOKING ROUND AT THE PAIR BEHIND HER. IN THE BACKGROUND, KELLY

HAS LOST INTEREST IN THE OLD WOMAN AND IS STARTING TO WANDER OFF DISCONSOLATELY,

LOOKING FOR MORE HOPS TO ADD TO HIS PATHETIC LOAD. CATHY, SEEMING MORE INTERESTED,

IS BRUSHING HERSELF DOWN AS SHE RISES TO HER FEET, KEEPING HER EYES UPON THE OLD

WOMAN WITH A VERY SERIOUS EXPRESSION, LISTENING TO WHAT THE CRONE HAS TO SAY.

WOMAN:

Like what they’re offering for that Jewish feller who’s

been doing’ them girls over Whitechapel.

WOMAN:

That’s be worth ‘avin’! Hoohoo! What I wouldn’t do with that!

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Part 4: Men and women

PANEL 8.

SAME SHOT, WITH THE WOMAN STILL FACING US IN THE FOREGROUND, BUSILY PICKING,

SO THAT WE ONLY SEE HER ELBOW OR SHOULDER OR SOMETHING, WITH HER BALLOON

COMING FROM OFF RIGHT. WE ARE MAINLY LOOKING AT CATHY WHO HAS SLOWLY WALKED

ACROSS ABOUT HALF OF THE DISTANCE BETWEEN HER AND THE OLD WOMAN SO THAT WE

MAYBE SEE HER THREE-QUARTER FIGURE HERE, HER HANDS UP TO RUB HER COLD SHOULDERS

AS SHE GAZES AT THE OLD WOMAN, HER FACE SERIOUS AND LOST IN THOUGHT. IN THE FAR

BACKGROUND WE SEE JOHN KELLY, FACING AWAY FROM US AS HE SEARCHES FRUITLESSLY

FOR HOPS. AS WE LOOK AT CATHY, WE CAN SEE THAT HER INTEREST HAS BEEN AROUSED.

SHE HAS REMEMBERED SOMETHING.

WOMAN:

Anybody who could tell them anything about what ’appened to

Nichols or the other one, Chapman.

WOMAN:

More’n two hundred pounds I think they said it was.

PANEL 9.

NOW WE HAVE FLASHBACK PANEL, REPEATING A SCENE FROM LAST EPISODE (CHAPTER

SEVEN PAGE EIGHT), ONLY THIS TIME SHOWING IT FROM CATHY’S POINT OF VIEW. WE

ARE LOOKING AT WALTER SICKERT AS HE STANDS AT THE BAR OF THE BRITANNIA LOOKING

EARNESTLY TOWARDS US, ABOUT HALF FIGURE, HIS BOWLER HAT RESTING ON THE BAR.

SINCE WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH CATHY’S EYES HERE WE CANNOT SEE HER.

SICKERT:

I’m just looking for a woman. She drinks here sometimes,

with her friends. Perhaps you know her?

CATHY (OFF):

I know ’er. Always in ’ere with Annie Chapman and Liz

Stride

Thumbnails for chapter 8, pages 17-19, including Netley’s scene, after which he takes out

the coach and horse.

147

Chapter 8: a thought.

I had the intention of including page 7 from this chapter, but when I reread the

script for that page, I was thrown for a loop because it wasn’t coming out the way I remem-

bered it. But first, this is how things were tending to work in FROM HELL: in Chapter 6,

Fred Abberline has Polly Nichols’ effects on the floor of his office. In the script is the

artistic conceit that the

clothes follow the form

of the woman after her

moment of death:

With

regard to

Liz Stride, there is also

a moment that involves

clothes, after Liz has

been thrown out in

the street by Michael

Kidney. In this case it’s a pre-echo, but remember that in the Architecture of Time, “pre”

and “post” are as arbitrary as reading left to right or right to left. Alan wrote very briefly, in

contrast to his usual manner:

PAGE 7, PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND LIZ TURNS AROUND AS SHE HEARS THE DOOR SLAM

BEHIND HER, LOOKING BACK OVER HER SHOULDER AT US HERE. IN THE FOREGROUND, THE DOOR

OF NUMBER THIRTY-THREE IS CLOSED ONCE MORE, AND LIZ’S BELONGINGS LIE IN AN UNTIDY

SPRAWL ON THE PAVEMENT IN THE FOREGROUND. (No dialogue)

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT. LIZ HAS TURNED AND IS TRUDGING WRETCHEDLY TOWARDS US, COMING BACK TO

RETRIEVE HER CLOTHING, HER PACE IS LEADEN, WEIGHTED BY MISERY. (No dialogue)

I didn’t consult with Alan but presumed that the right thing to do was to make

the pile of clothes a pre-echo of Liz’s death position.

(left, page 7, below page 33.)

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Part 4: Men and women

I can no longer recall whether I had the script for page 33 (the death) when I was drawing

page 7 (the clothes). This was a chapter that did not come all at once:

wrote Alan, in mock imitation of Stan Lee’s chummy 1960’s Marvel manner. But I reasoned

that as Mary Kelly got a pre-echo (see script on page 176 herein):

(left Chapter 9 page 17,

below Chapter 10 page

30.)

And Catherine Eddowes got one

(page 142 herein):

(left far, Chapter 8 page

10, left near, page 45.)

...then I should say that Liz Stride is entitled to one, and Alan must have just forgotten to

include it. However, if you were to say, “Yeah, but Mary Kelly didn’t get one until the next

chapter, which you wouldn’t have known about yet!” then I would say: “Go back and read

what I said above about the Architecture of Time.”

149

Chapter 8, page 12.

Back in the crowded city. The middle

panel is not the biggest close-up in the book (that

being Gull’s eyeball on page 218 herein), but

it’s pretty big. The page as a whole is somewhat

out of style with the previous meetings between

Fred and “Emma,” because Pete Mullins does

much of the inking here. Pete would work with

me for four days and on Fridays he’d stay home

and do a full-page full-colour cartoon of his

own for a sexy Australian magazine. He drew

that in what I would unhesitatingly call his own

style, but it’s difficult to find anything of “Pete’s

Style” in the FROM HELL pages (for example,

Pete didn’t normally use nibs — see page 187).

For that matter, I’ve never thought that Eddie

Campbell’s style was in there either.

For

FROM HELL I worked out a style by studying George du Maurier

and Charles Keene, both of London Punch, much as Charles Dana Gibson must have

done when he was starting out in 1886. When Pete came on board, he worked out his

own version of the FROM HELL style. It’s sharper and more hard-edged than mine.

Usually I’d rough the pages up a bit before closing on them, to preserve that ambiguous

feeling that’s all through the book. But this two-page scene was so striking after Pete

had done the finishes that I didn’t want to touch anything.

PAGE 12. (878 words) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE CAN NOW SEE THE CHILDREN, HEAD

AND SHOULDERS, DOWN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE FOREGROUND. FROM THE EXCITED LOOK ON THEIR

FACES IT IS CLEAR THAT SOMETHING EXCITING HAS HAPPENED OFF PANEL IN THE BOTTOM

FOREGROUND, BUT WE CANNOT SEE WHAT IT IS. LOOKING BEYOND THEM WE CAN SEE FRED

ABBERLINE, THREE-QUARTER FIGURE, AS HE PUSHES OPEN THE DOOR OF THE TEN BELLS, ABOUT

TO ENTER THE PUB. HE TURNS HIS HEAD TOWARDS US AND GIVES THE CHILDREN A BRIEF AND

EXPRESSIONLESS GLANCE AS HE ENTERS. THE CHILDREN IGNORE HIM, THEIR EYES ALIGHT

WITH THE PROSPECT OF CRUELTY.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

ABBERLINE IS NOW HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, FACING ROUGHLY

AWAY FROM US SO THAT WE ONLY SEE HIM IN QUARTER PROFILE HERE AS HE GAZES INTO THE

PUB. BEYOND HIM WE SEE THE MODERATELY CROWDED BARROOM OF THE TEN BELLS, WITH THE

150

Part 4: Men and women

USUAL ASSORTMENT OF COSTERMONGERS, WHORES AND GENERAL LOW LIFE. ABBERLINE GAZES OUT

ACROSS THE SMOKY ROOM WITHOUT EXPRESSION, TOWARDS THE BAR. HE OBVIOUSLY HASN’T YET

SEEN WHOEVER HE IS LOOKING FOR.

No dialogue.

PANEL 3.

NOW A FULL FIGURE SHOT OF ABBERLINE AS HE STANDS AT THE BAR, GETTING HIMSELF A DRINK,

IN PROFILE TO US HERE, STANDING ON THE LEFT AND FACING RIGHT. THE LANDLORD FACES

HIM ACROSS THE BAR FROM THE RIGHT, HOLDING OUT ONE HAND TO ACCEPT THE MONEY THAT

ABBERLINE IS DROPPING INTO IT WHILE WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE PUSHES A PINT OF BEER

ACROSS THE TOP OF THE BAR TOWARDS THE PLAINCLOTHES POLICE INSPECTOR.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE SEE ABBERLINE AS HE PULLS BACK A CHAIR AT AN ISOLATED AND OTHERWISE UNOCCUPIED

TABLE, ABOUT TO SIT DOWN, HIS PINT OF BEER ALREADY RESTING UPON THE TABLE TOP. THERE

IS ANOTHER CHAIR ACROSS THE TABLE FROM HIM, BUT IT IS AS YET UNOCCUPIED. HIS FACE IS

STILL EXPRESSIONLESS.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

ABBERLINE IS NOW SEATED, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE AS WE LOOK AT HIM FROM ACROSS THE OTHER

SIDE OF THE TABLE HERE, AS IF WE WERE SEATED OPPOSITE HIM, SHARING HIS EYE LEVEL.

STILL EXPRESSIONLESS HE LIFTS HIS PINT GLASS TO HIS MOUTH AND SUPS FROM IT, GETTING

A MOUSTACHE OF FOAM SUPERIMPOSED UPON HIS OWN NATURAL GROWTH. FROM THE LEFT OF THE

BACKGROUND, BEHIND ABBERLINE, WE CAN SEE A WOMAN APPROACHING, FULL TO THREE-QUARTER

FIGURE, ALREADY SO CLOSE TO US THAT THE TOP HALF OF HER FACE IS INVISIBLE OFF THE TOP

OF THE PANEL. THIS IS “EMMA”, AND UNBEKNOWNST TO THE SUPPING ABBERLINE SHE IS WALKING

PURPOSEFULLY TOWARDS HIS CHAIR FROM THE REAR ACROSS THE CONGESTED PUB.

No dialogue.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL. “EMMA” HAS NOW COME RIGHT UP CLOSE INTO THE FOREGROUND AND IS

STANDING IMMEDIATELY BEHIND AND TO OUR LEFT OF ABBERLINE’S CHAIR AS THE INSPECTOR SITS

FACING US ACROSS THE TABLE, JUST LOWERING HIS PINT HERE WITH A LOOK OF SURPRISE IN HIS

EYES AS HE HEARS THE WOMAN’S VOICE BEHIND HIM. SHE IS NOW COMPLETELY DECAPITATED BY

THE UPPER PANEL BORDER, AND WE ONLY SEE HER FROM THE BOSOM DOWN HERE, HER HANDS FOLDED

IN FRONT OF HER AND PERHAPS CLUTCHING A LITTLE CLASP BAG OR SOMETHING.

“EMMA” (OFF):

Hello, Fred.

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLES NOW SO THAT IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND, WE SEE “EMMA” HEAD AND

SHOULDERS AS SHE FACES ALMOST DIRECTLY AWAY FROM US TOWARDS ABBERLINE, ONLY THE

MEREST SLIVER OF HER PROFILE VISIBLE TO US HERE. LOOKING BEYOND HER WE SEE A

STARTLED-LOOKING ABBERLINE AS HE SCRABBLES TO HIS FEET AND AWKWARDLY ATTEMPTS TO

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Chapter 8, page 12

PULL OUT THE OTHER CHAIR SO THAT SHE CAN SIT DOWN ON IT, GAPING AT HER LIKE A CROSS

BETWEEN A GOLDFISH AND A LOVE STRUCK GOBSMACKED SCHOOLBOY AS HE DOES SO. PERHAPS HE

IS EVEN ATTEMPTING TO TAKE OFF HIS HAT TO HER WITH HIS FREE HAND, HIS PINT OF BEER

NOW RESTING UPON THE TABLE IN FRONT OF HIM.

ABBERLINE:

Oh. Emma. It’s you. I was ’opin’ I might run into you.

ABBERLINE:

I’m just here on me dinner-break, like. Can I get you a drink?

PANEL 8.

NOW A LONG SHOT OF THE TABLE WITH BOTH OF THEM FULL FIGURE, BUT WITH “EMMA” JUST TOO

FAR AWAY TO BE RECOGNIZED. SHE IS TAKING THE SEAT THAT ABBERLINE HAS PULLED OUT FOR

HER, BUT SHE HOLDS ONE HAND UP, REFUSING HIS OFFER OF A DRINK. STEADYING THE BACK OF

HER CHAIR WITH ONE HAND AS SHE SITS, ABBERLINE STARTS TO LOWER HIMSELF BACK INTO HIS

OWN SEAT, STARING AT HER ALL THE WHILE.

“EMMA”:

No, it’s kind of ye but I mustn’t stop. I’m only passin’

through. There’s money needs earning’. Badly.

ABBERLINE:

Why, what’s up? You’re not, y’know in trouble?

PANEL 9.

SAME LONG SHOT, BUT WITH BOTH OF THEM NOW PROPERLY SEATED, FACING EACH OTHER. EMMA LOOKS

WEARY AND DISTRAUGHT, AND FRED GAZES TOWARDS HER SYMPATHETICALLY AND LOVINGLY. SHE PUTS

ONE HAND TO HER FACE, ALMOST IN EMBARRASSMENT, AND WAVES ASIDE HIS DIAGNOSIS.

“EMMA”:

No! No, not like THAT. It...it’s just this DEBT I have.

“EMMA”:

God, Fred, if I don’t find some money somewhere I don’t know

WHAT’LL become of me!

The weasels. Pages 25-27, Marie Kelly goes to see the Old Nichol gang. with the two quid Abberline gives

her on the page following the above. The way I’d drawn these blokes, Pete thought they looked like the weasels out of an old version of Wind in The Willows (not the ‘96 film obviously as this was earlier and they were too posh), and spent the rest of the afternoon doing the voices.

152

Chapter 8: Netley’s horse.

On pages 18- 19 of this chapter, Netley

sits around feeling miserable and hopeless, has

an affair with a pornographic image, and then

gets up and we “cut to a shot” of him leading

the horse out of its stable. Whose horse? How

far away the stable? I did ask these questions

at the time, but they got lost in the shuffle.

The way we have depicted Netley, he’s

certainly not a man of enough substance that

could own a horse and carriage. When we first

see him in Chapter 1, he’s driving Prince Eddy,

and he seems to be wearing a uniform of some

sort. We see him again in Chapter 2, whereupon

it is clarified that it was he who passed word

up the line about Eddy and Annie Crook. In

that scene he is to be Gull’s driver, as though

he had been assigned the duty. I gave him a swish-looking limousine of a carriage, with

two horses, as requested in the script. Later, when it started to appear unlikely that he was

still working under official sanction, that didn’t feel right and I tried to make it look less

imposing, and with just one horse, without giving enough visual information to imply that

it was a different rig altogether.

Was he in the employ of the Royal household, perhaps in a casual capac-

ity? If so, was there a Mason of some rank in charge of the royal stables? Was Netley

moonlighting with official property, or does he have a horse on a payment plan? Was

somebody somewhere worrying about why their horse was tuckered out when they got

up in the morning? We see how everybody else in the book makes a living, but Netley

is a mystery.

Hey, I just want the details. I’ve known some scallywags who could always

manage to obtain wheels for a Saturday night, and the details were always interesting,

well at least to me. A few years after all this I was working on a western/detective

adaptation from a movie script titled The Black Diamond Detective Agency. The hero of the

piece is on the lam, heading for Chicago. At some point, with the lights of a town up

ahead, he cuts his horse loose and slaps it on the rump, the way they do in that kind

of story. I ignored that and instead inserted a scene with him coming out of a horse

trader’s yard, counting the cash he’d just picked up. I figure a hero in a story is thinking

about the coins in his pocket as much as I am. And I’m thinking about it all the time.

153

Chapter 8, page 31.

There’s a complicatedness to this scene

that would have been beyond my ability when

we started the book a few years before. It first

appeared in volume #5 June 1994, just a few

months before I set myself up as a self-publisher.

That isn’t relevant to the publishing of FROM

HELL yet; I mention it purely to underline my

growing confidence, where before it might more

correctly be described as arrogance.

Netley gives Liz Stride a flower and

asks her to meet him later, during which time

he brings Gull to the rendezvous. She takes

Gull into the back yard of a club’s meeting hall

inside of which noted Victorian literary man,

William Morris, is about to give a reading.

PAGE 31. (999 words) PANEL 1

SORRY, WE’VE GOT ANOTHER NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE CLOSE IN UPON

THE LIGHTED WINDOW ON THE UPPER FLOOR OF THE ADJOINING CLUB THAT WE COULD SEE UP IN

THE BACKGROUND OF THE LAST PANEL ON PAGE 30. AS WE CLOSE IN UPON THE WINDOW WE CAN

SEE FIGURES INSIDE, INCLUDING PERHAPS A MAN STANDING BEHIND A TABLE AS HE ADDRESSES

THE MEETING FROM A PLATFORM, EVEN THOUGH HE NEEDN’T BE DISTINCT AND WE WILL SEE MORE

OF HIM IN A PANEL OR SO, WHEN I’LL BE DESCRIBING THE ROOM THAT HE’S IN MORE DETAIL

AS WELL. HERE WE SIMPLY CLOSE IN TOWARDS THE LIGHTED UPSTAIRS WINDOW, SO THAT GULL

AND LIZ ARE NO LONGER VISIBLE. THE MAN

IS CALLED MORRIS EAGLE (also known as

Morris Siegal -ec), AND HE IS A RUSSIAN

IMMIGRANT WHO TRAVELLED IN JEWELRY AND

THUS WOULD PROBABLY BE SMARTLY DRESSED.

THERE MAY BE ANOTHER MAN PARTLY VISIBLE

STANDING BESIDE THE TABLE FROM BEHIND

WHICH EAGLE SPEAKS, IN OUR NEXT PANEL IF

NOT THIS ONE. THIS IS MR. WILLIAM MORRIS,

NOTED MARXIST, POET AND DESIGNER OF THE

PRINT ADORNING THE COVER OF THE HARD-

BACKED W.H.SMITH’S NOTEBOOK THAT THE

NOTES FOR THIS EPISODE OF “FROM HELL”

Gary Millidge had the foresight to scan the covers of the

ARE SCRIBBLED IN.

notebooks. Above is the one by Morris.

154

Part 4: Men and women

EAGLE:

If I could have your attention, gentlemen...

PANEL 2.

WE HAVE NOW CLOSED INTO THE ROOM SO THAT WE CAN SEE EAGLE AS HE SITS BEHIND HIS

TABLE, INTRODUCING WILLIAM MORRIS TO THE REMAINING DRINKERS IN THE ROOM, OF WHOM

THERE ARE ABOUT TWENTY OR THIRTY LEFT. EAGLE LOOKS JOVIAL, WHEREAS MORRIS LOOKS A

LITTLE SELF-CONSCIOUSLY LION-LIKE, DOING HIS BEST TO CUT A HEROIC DASH AS HE STANDS

THERE ON THE PLATFORM BESIDE THE SEATED EAGLE, WITH A SLENDER VOLUME OF HIS POEMS IN

HIS HAND. LOOKING OUT OVER THE SMALL CROWD THAT EAGLE IS ADDRESSING, OF WHOM WE CAN

MAYBE SEE A REPRESENTATIVE SAMPLING IN THE BACKGROUND HERE. THE ROOM, ACCORDING TO PAUL

BEGG HAD “PLAIN BENCHES WITHOUT BACKS STRETCHED THROUGH IT CROSSWISE AND ALONG THE

WALLS. ON THE WALLS HUNG A NUMBER OF PORTRAITS: MARX, PROUDHON, LASSALLE OVERTHROWING

THE GOLDEN CALF OF CAPITALISM. AT THE FRONT THE ROOM WAS ENCLOSED BY A SMALL STAGE.

THE ROOM HAD THREE WINDOWS, ALL LOOKING OUT ON THE REAR YARD OF THE BUILDING. MAYBE

ONE OR MORE OF THE PORTRAITS MENTIONED ABOVE COULD BE HANGING ON THE STAGE BEHIND

MORRIS AS HE SPEAKS DURING THE REMAINDER OF THIS SCENE.

EAGLE:

I’m returned from walking my lady home, but before those left

after tonight’s discussion begin more Russian songs, a

regular guest has a poem...

EAGLE:

Our comrade, Mr. William Morris.

PANEL 3.

START TO CLOSE PAST EAGLE WHO SITS BACK IN HIS CHAIR WITH A LOOK OF SELF-SATISFIED

ANTICIPATION, SO THAT WE ARE ZOOMING IN UPON MORRIS AS HE OPENS HIS BOOK AND

STARTS TO SCAN IT FOR A POEM, EYES DOWNCAST AS HE GLANCES OVER THE PAGES LOOKING

FOR A CROWD-PLEASER.

MORRIS:

Thank you, brothers. Next week I’ll recite my “Chants for

Socialists”, but tonight I thought an older work might suffice.

MORRIS:

It’s entitled “Love is Enough”.

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE FOR A SHOT OF MORRIS FROM THE FRONT, WITH ONE OF THE PORTRAITS

MENTIONED ABOVE HANGING BEHIND HIM... PROBABLY MARX WOULD BE THE MOST ICONIC AND

RECOGNIZABLE. WE SEE HIM ABOUT THREE-QUARTER TO FULL FIGURE AS HE BEGINS TO READ,

WITH EAGLE OFF PANEL SOMEWHERE ON HIS LEFT AND NOT VISIBLE HERE.

MORRIS:

“Love is enough:

MORRIS:

have no thought for tomorrow

If ye lie down this even in rest from your pain.

PANEL 5.

WE ARE BACK IN THE DARK YARD WITH GULL AND LIZ BOTH SEEN MAYBE THREE-QUARTER TO

HALF FIGURE HERE. LIZ LOOKS FRIGHTENED AND IS USING BOTH HANDS TO PUSH GULL AWAY

AS SHE MAKES A BID FOR ESCAPE. SURPRISED, GULL TAKES A STEP BACK. THE YARD IS DARK

AS LIZ STRUGGLES TO GET TOWARDS THE PARTLY OPEN GATES THAT WILL LEAD HER TO THE

STREET BEYOND AND WHICH SHOULD BE VISIBLE IN THE BACKGROUND HERE SO THAT WE KNOW

155

Chapter 8, page 31

WHERE LIZ IS HEADED.

No dialogue.

PANEL 6.

CUT BACK TO MORRIS, READING. THE SHOT IS THE SAME AS IN PANEL FOUR, BUT WE HAVE

MOVED IN A LITTLE, SO THAT IF HE WAS FULL FIGURE BEFORE HE’S NOW THREE QUARTER

FIGURE AS HE STANDS THERE WITH THE PICTURE OF MARX BEHIND HIM, CONTINUING TO

READ FROM HIS SLIM BOOK OF POEMS.

MORRIS:

“Ye who have paid for our bliss with great sorrow:

For as it was once so it shall be again...

PANEL 7.

NOW WE ARE IN BERNER STREET, JUST OUTSIDE THE GATE ON THE YARD. LIZ COMES FLYING

OUT THROUGH THE GATE LOOKING SCARED WITLESS WITH GULL UNSEEN SOMEWHERE IN THE

DARK YARD BEHIND HER. NETLEY, KEEPING WATCH, SEES LIZ DOING A RUNNER AND TAKES

SOME SWIFT PACES TOWARDS HER TO INTERCEPT HER BEFORE SHE CAN GET FAR, HIS RATTY

LITTLE EYES STEELY AND DETERMINED.

No Dialogue.

PANEL 8.

BACK TO MORRIS. SAME SHOT, BUT ONCE AGAIN WE ARE CLOSER TO HIM, SO THAT HE’S

MAYBE HALF FIGURE HERE, MARX LOOMING OVER HIS SHOULDER AS HE READS.

MORRIS:

“Ye shall cry out for death as you stretch forth in vain.”

PANEL 9.

Moon dandy

BACK TO BERNER STREET, JUST OUTSIDE THE YARD.

ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE STREET, NEARER

TO US AND COMING TOWARDS US SOMEWHERE IN THE

FOREGROUND THERE IS A JEWISH-LOOKING PASSER-

BY NAMED ISRAEL SCHWARTZ, WHOSE APPEARANCE

WAS “SEMITIC AND THESPIAN” WHATEVER THAT

MEANS. AS WE SEE HIM HERE, SCHWARTZ IS

LOOKING BACK OVER HIS SHOULDER AND ACROSS THE

STREET TOWARDS WHERE WE CAN SEE NETLEY AND

LIZ OUTSIDE THE GATE OF THE YARD. NETLEY IS

GRABBING LIZ BY THE SHOULDERS AND VIOLENTLY

SHOVING HER TO THE GROUND. SHE CRIES OUT IN

PAIN, AND IT IS THIS THAT ATTRACTS SCHWARTZ’S

ATTENTION. GULL, STILL IN THE DARK YARD

BEYOND THE GATES, IS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN HERE.

NETLEY’S EXPRESSION IS AN ANGRY, DOG-LIKE

William Morris pops up again

SNARL.

in our Snakes and Ladders ,

LIZ:

Aaa

2000, collected in A Disease of

Language, in which he is cast

as a ‘moon dandy.’.

156

Chapter 8, page 32.

This page represents for me one of

the most particular attractions of the “nine-

panel grid,” which is just one of many ways

of arranging pictures on a page until you

make a feature of it. If two is an accident and

three is a pattern, then it follows that 3x3 is

the smallest arrangement out of which you

can hope to make and find patterns. It’s also

the basis of the game “noughts and crosses,”

in which the horizontals, verticals and also the

diagonals form independent lines. Looking at

this page the reader, whether they think about

it or not, simultaneously reads in all directions.

For example, follow a line from the bottom left

to the top right and it reads as a sequence. Even

the wording in this case does not obstruct a

backward reading.

PAGE 32. (717 words) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE, KEEPING UP THE SHARP INTERCUTTING BETWEEN MORRIS

READING AND THE MURDER HAPPENING. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE HAVE MORRIS, AGAIN SEEN A

LITTLE CLOSER UP THAN WE SAW HIM IN PANEL EIGHT ON THE PREVIOUS PAGE. HE CAN MAKE

WHATEVER SMALL GESTURES SEEM APPROPRIATE TO YOU, THROUGHOUT THIS SEQUENCE.

MORRIS:

“Feeble hands to the hands that would help but they may not...

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE BACK IN BERNER STREET, BUT WE HAVE REVERSED THE ANGLE FROM PANEL NINE

ON PAGE 31, SO THAT HERE IN THE FOREGROUND WE HAVE JOHN NETLEY AS HE CROUCHES OVER

THE FALLEN LIZ STRIDE, DRAGGING HER ROUGHLY TO HER FEET HERE. AS HE DOES SO, HE

GLARES ACROSS THE STREET TOWARDS THE STRONGLY SEMITIC-LOOKING SCHWARTZ, WHO IS

GAZING ACROSS THE ROAD AT NETLEY AND LIZ WITH ALARM AND CONSTERNATION, ALTHOUGH

HE MAKES NO MOVE TO COME TO LIZ’S AID. THERE MIGHT ALSO BE ANOTHER MAN VISIBLE ON

SCHWARTZ’S SIDE OF THE STREET, THIS ONE ENGAGED IN THE ACT OF LIGHTING A PIPE AND

ALSO GLANCING ACROSS THE ROAD AND NETLEY AND LIZ WITHOUT ACTUALLY INTERVENING.

NETLEY:

What are you looking at?

NETLEY:

FUCKING

LIPSKI!

PANEL 3.

BACK TO MORRIS, BUT ONCE MORE WE ARE A LITTLE CLOSER AS HE CONTINUES TO READ,

THE PICTURE OF MARX IS HUGE BEHIND HIM.

MORRIS:

“Cry out to deaf ears that would hear if they could”

157

Chapter 8, page 32

PANEL 4.

BACK IN BERNER STREET FOR A SHOT WITH A SIMILAR ANGLE TO THAT USED IN PANEL NINE

ON PAGE 31, WITH SCHWARTZ COMING TOWARDS US ON THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND AS HE

HURRIES ON HIS WAY, UNNERVED BY WHAT HE HAS SEEN. WE CAN NOW CLEARLY SEE THE SECOND

PASSER-BY, HASTILY FOLLOWING SCHWARTZ’S EXAMPLE ON THE SAME SIDE OF THE STREET.

ACROSS THE STREET WE SEE NETLEY MANHANDLING LIZ BACK THROUGH THE GATES OF DUTFIELD’S

YARD. SCHWARTZ GLANCES BACK AT THIS WITH A LOOK OF DREAD, BUT HURRIES ON ANYWAY.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

BACK TO MORRIS AS HE READS, PERHAPS CONTINUING OUR CLOSE IN IF THAT LOOKS GOOD TO

YOU. THE PICTURE OF MARX FILLS THE BACKGROUND.

MORRIS:

“Til again shall the change come, and words your lips say not...”

PANEL 6.

NOW WE ARE BACK IN THE YARD. GULL IS HALF CROUCHED IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, FACING

AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE PARTLY OPEN GATE. HE HAS HIS BAG OPEN BEFORE HIM AND IS

REACHING INTO IT AS HE LOOKS TOWARDS THE GATE WHERE NETLEY IS COMING INTO THE YARD,

PUSHING THE TERRIFIED LIZ BEFORE HIM, ONE OF HIS HANDS GRABBING HER NECK SCARF BY THE

BACK, HIS FACE A MIXTURE OF RAGE AND FEAR. LIZ STARES TOWARDS THE DARK SHAPE OF GULL

IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND. HER EYES SHRUNKEN TO PIN PRICKS WITH FEAR.

No dialogue.

PANEL 7.

BACK TO MORRIS. I FIGURE THAT HERE WE START TO PAN UP OVER MORRIS’ HEAD SO THAT HE

STARTS TO DROP OFF THE BOTTOM OF THE PANEL WITH PERHAPS ONLY THE TOP OF HIS FACE

VISIBLE HERE. WE ARE MOVING IN MORE TOWARDS THE GIANT PORTRAIT OF MARX BEHIND HIM.

MORRIS:

“Your hearts make all plain in the best wise they would...”

PANEL 8.

BACK IN THE YARD, IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND LIZ IS FACING TOWARDS US, MAYBE HALF FIGURE.

NETLEY IS RIGHT BEHIND HER, HOLDING HER NECK SCARF WITH BOTH HANDS, USING IT TO

PULL HER HEAD BACK SO AS TO EXPOSE HER THROAT TO SIR WILLIAM. LIZ HAS ONE HAND UP

CLUTCHING AT THE SCARF, HER CHIN PULLED UP AND BACK BY IT SO THAT SHE LOOKS DOWN THE

LENGTH OF HER NOSE WITH TERRIFIED EYES TOWARDS THE RIGHT FOREGROUND WHERE WE CAN

JUST SEE A LITTLE OF GULL AS HE ADVANCES UPON HER. HIS HEAD IS OFF PANEL. ABOVE IN

THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, BUT WE CAN SEE HIS HAND AS HE WITHDRAWS IT FROM THE BAG. IT IS

HOLDING THE GLEAMING LENGTH OF THE LISTON KNIFE, AND IT IS UPON THIS THAT LIZ’S EYES

ARE FIXED.

No dialogue.

PANEL 9.

BACK TO THE MEETING ROOM FOR A CLOSE-UP SHOT OF THE PORTRAIT OF MARX STARING OUT AT

US, WITH MORRIS’ BALLOON ISSUING FROM OFF BELOW.

MORRIS( OFF):

“And the world ye thought waning is glorious and good.”

158

Chapter 8, page 33.

The rhythmic interplay climaxed on the

previous page. Now the cut, then the applause.

PAGE 33. (1337 words) (edited) PANEL 1.

BACK TO THE YARD FOR A FULL TO THREE-QUARTER

FIGURE SHOT OF THE THREE OF THEM. NETLEY IS

HOLDING LIZ’S HEAD BACK BY MEANS OF THE SCARF,

A LOOK OF TERROR IN HIS WHITE EYES AS HE IS

CAUGHT IN THE WHITE-HOT MADNESS OF THE INSTANT.

HE IS IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND HERE, FACING

TOWARDS US OVER LIZ’S SHOULDER AS SHE FACES US

FROM JUST IN FRONT OF HIM. HER EYES ARE WIDE

OPEN; BLANK, AMAZED AND DISBELIEVING. GULL

IS IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, FACING AWAY FROM

US AT A SLIGHT ANGLE TOWARDS THE LEFT NEAR

BACKGROUND. HE IS STARING INTO LIZ’S EYES WITH

AN EXPRESSIONLESS YET INTENSE DEGREE OF FIXED

ATTENTION. IT IS ALMOST LIKE A KEEN SCIENTIFIC

INTEREST. HIS HAND IS CAUGHT HERE AT THE END OF ITS ARC, WITH DROPLETS OF BLOOD

HANGING IN SPACE BEHIND THE SCALPEL TO MARK ITS SWIFT PASSAGE THROUGH THE AIR. IT HAS

CUT THROUGH LIZ’S LEFT CAROTID ARTERY AND PART OF HER WINDPIPE IN PASSING, AND THERE

IS A SPRAY OF ARTERIAL BLOOD, FORCEFUL AND STEAMING IN THE COLD NIGHT AIR AS IT

SPATTERS AGAINST THE WALL OF THE YARD TO STRIDE’S LEFT, MOSTLY MISSING SIR WILLIAM.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

WE ARE NOW BACK IN THE MEETING ROOMS WHERE MORRIS HAS JUST CONCLUDED HIS READING,

POSITIONED SOMEWHERE IN AMONGST THE BENCHES WHERE THE AUDIENCE ARE SEATED, TOWARDS

THE BACK SOMEWHERE AND LOOKING THROUGH THE AUDIENCE TOWARDS THE FRONT, WHERE MORRIS

STANDS FACING US. HE IS CLOSING HIS BOOK AND BOWING HIS HEAD SLIGHTLY AS HE RECEIVES

HIS APPLAUSE. IN THE FOREGROUND, WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SEA OF APPLAUDING PEOPLE,

PEHAPS WITH ONE BIG SET OF CLAPPING HANDS ENTERING THE PANEL FROM THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND. EVERYONE IS CLAPPING. GIVEN THE JUXTAPOSITION WITH THE PREVIOUS PANEL,

IT IS ALMOST AS IF THEY ARE UNWITTINGLY APPLAUDING STRIDE’S MURDER.

No dialogue

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW SO THAT WE ARE OVER BY THE SLIGHTLY OPEN GATE OF THE YARD, THE

BOTTOM OF WHICH WE CAN SEE ENTERING THE FORGROUND OVER ON THE RIGHT. LOOKING BEYOND

THIS WE CAN SEE ACROSS THE YARD TO WHERE LIZ LIES DEAD SOME FEW FEET AWAY WITH

NETLEY STANDING FULL FIGURE TO OUR LEFT OF THE BODY AT SIR WILLIAM WHO STANDS ON

OUR RIGHT OF THE BODY, STILL HOLDING HIS KNIFE. HE IS IGNORING NETLEY, AND STARING

159

Chapter 8, page 32

EXPRESSIONLESSLY DOWN TOWARDS THE DEAD WOMAN. HE PERHAPS SQUINTS AND FROWNS SLIGHTLY,

AS IF TRYING TO RECALL SOMETHING THROUGH THE LUMINOUS FOGBANKS THAT ROLL THROUGH HIS

MND DURING THE MURDERS. NETLEY IS LOOKING SICK AND SCARED, TRAPPED IN AN UNBEARABLE

SITUATION WITH NOTHING TO DO BUT GO ALONG WITH IT.

NETLEY:

Let’s not do any more, sir, ay? Not on this one, ay? I keep

thinkin’

I

’ear somebody comin’...

GULL:

Yes...Yes, I remember now...

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT, ONLY NOW IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE THE FEET AND LOWER LEGS

OF A POLICE CONSTABLE AS HE ENTERS THE YARD, FACING AWAY FROM US BY HIS STANCE TO GAZE

DIRECTLY ACROSS THE YARD AT GULL AND NETLEY. NETLEY, ON THE LEFT OF THE BACKGROUND,

TURNS TO LOOK AT THE LARGELY OFF-PANEL NEW ARRIVAL WITH AN EXPRESSION OF JAW-DROPPING

DISMAY, WIDE EYED WITH MUTE ALARM. GULL DOES NOT LOOK UP, BUT CONTINIUES TO GAZE DOWN

AT THE BODY QUIZZICALLY. HE IS TALKING ALMOST TO HIMSELF, FAR AWAY IN HIS THOUGHTS.

GULL:

This is the one that I didn’t finish, isn’t it?

PANEL 6.

NOW A SHOT THROUGH NETLEY’S EYES, JUST LOOKING SQUARE ON AT THE POLICEMAN FRAMED

IN THE GATEWAY OF THE YARD, FACING US ABOUT THREE QUARTER FIGURE. IT IS THE YOUNG

POLICEMAN WHOM WE SAW HURRYING AWAY FROM THE POLICE STATION WHERE KATE EDDOWES IS

CURRENTLY INCARCERATED. PERHAPS HE IS HOLDING A BULL’S-EYE LANTERN THAT IS TURNED TOWARDS

US. HE LOOKS YOUNG, OUT OF HIS DEPTH AND FRIGHTENED TO DEATH, HIS EYES WIDE AND HIS FACE

PALE AND SWEATING AS HE STARES AGHAST IN THE BLOOD SPATTERED DARKNESS OF THE YARD.

POLICEMAN:

S — Sir William Gull?

PANEL 8.

NOW A SHOT OF ALL THREE MEN, PROBABLY FULL FIGURE, AS THE FRIGHTENED YOUNG POLICEMAN

FACES GULL AND THE SHRINKING NETLEY ACROSS THE BODY OF THE MURDERED PROSTITUTE, AT

WHICH THE STUNNED-LOOKING YOUNG COPPER IS STARING DOWN FIXEDLY ALL THE WHILE HE IS

TALKING. HE CAN’T TAKE HIS EYES OFF THE AWFUL FACT OF IT. GULL JUST STARES AT HIM

EXPRESIONLESSLY AND LEVELLY, THE BLOODY KNIFE HANGING FORGOTTEN IN HIS HAND.

POLICEMAN:

I...I went to Brook Street. Your wife, Lady Gull, she said you

had a patient in Whitechapel. Described your coach.

POLICEMAN:

Hours, sir, I’ve been looking.

PANEL 9.

...GULL IS STANDING CLOSER TO US, ABOUT HALF TO THREE QUARTER FIGURE, SILENTLY AND

EXPRESSIONLESSLY GAZING AT THE YOUNG CONSTABLE IN THE FOREGROUND. GULL’S EYE SOCKETS

ARE FILLED WITH SHADOW, HIS MONK-LIKE HAIR PLASTERED TO HIS FOREHEAD, MOUTH SET AND

JOWLS HEAVY. HIS IS A MASSIVE, STILL AND IMPASSIVE FIGURE AS HE STANDS SILENTLY

LISTENING TO THE CONSTABLE BLATHER FROM THE FOREGROUND.

POLICEMAN:

I — It’s the woman, Sir. Kelly. We’ve got her at Bishopsgate

lock-up, but they throw out the drunks at One.

POLICEMAN:

You’ll have to hurry.

160

Chapter 8, page 37, 39.

Gull is interrupted in the killing of

Liz Stride and hastens to Mitre Square where a

Masonic messenger has informed him he will find

Marie Kelly. A mistake has been made, drawing

Cathy Eddowes instead into his sights. This is the

“double event” numbered as part 10 in the original

contents table, a term used by the Ripperologists.

I tend to be suspicious of art that

manipulates its audience. If I sense an attempt

to manipulate my emotional responses, I

always turn off the telly, leave the cinema,

close the book. If somebody’s in a sad state,

just tell me. Don’t put me in one too. Thus in

FROM HELL I occasionally depressed some

moments that were meant to be expressive. I

levelled them out into statements …He walked

up the street… he walked down the street…he effected the following mutilations upon

his victim. etc . I avoided the this-is-you “points of view” and other devices intended to

put the reader inside the action. That includes images both pathetic (Annie Crook in

chapter 3) and repulsive (all over the place). But here, after eight chapters we have an

explosion of violence and everything, including me, gets carried along in the rush.

PAGE 37. (1018 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS HERE, WITH ONE BIG ONE ON THE MIDDLE TIER AND THREE ON EACH

OF THE OTHER TIERS, THE TOP AND THE BOTTOM. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE HAVE CHANGED

ANGLE SO THAT WE ARE IMMEDIATELY BEHIND NETLEY AND CATHY AS THEY WALK AWAY FROM US

TOWARDS THE COACH, WHICH WE SEE IN THE BACKGROUND. THE COACH IS PARTLY IN SHADOW,

SO THAT ITS WINDOWS ARE DARK AND WE CANNOT SEE ANYONE WITHIN. AROUND THIS, IN

THE BACKGROUND, WE CAN PERHAPS SEE A LITTLE OF THE ESTABLISHING DETAILS OF MITRE

SQUARE. IN THE FOREGROUND, MAYBE NETLEY IS EVEN LEADING CATHY BY ONE HAND, THE

HAND-CLASP LIGHT AND ALMOST REVERENT, AS IF NETLEY WERE GIVING AWAY THE BRIDE,

WALKING WITH HER TOWARDS THE ALTAR OF THE COACH. PERHAPS CATHY, ON OUR LEFT HERE,

TURNS HER HEAD SLIGHTLY TOWARDS NETLEY AND SPEAKS TO HIM.

CATHY:

So, this old chap: Bit of a nob, is ’e? A gentleman, like?

NETLEY:

Gentleman? Ho ho! ’e’s more than that, gal...

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT, STILL POSITIONED BEHIND NETLEY AND CATHY AS THEY WALK TOWARDS THE

WAITING COACH. NOW HOWEVER, THEY HAVE GOT MUCH CLOSER, SO THAT THE COACH STARTS TO

LOOM AND FILL MORE AND MORE OF THE BACKGROUND BEHIND THEM. IT IS STILL DARK INSIDE

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Chapter 8, page 37

THE COACH, BUT WE MAYBE HAVE A MURKY SENSE OF SOMETHING MOVING. THE DOOR OF THE COACH

IS STARTING TO OPEN JUST A CRACK, BUT THIS IS PROBABLY IMPERCEPTIBLE HERE. WE ARE

PERHAPS EVEN A LITTLE CLOSER UP BEHIND NETLEY AND CATHY, ALMOST AS IF WE WERE ABOUT

TO OVERTAKE THEM, ZOOMING IN BETWEEN THEM TO FOCUS ON THE DOOR OF THE COACH.

NETLEY:

’E’s one o’ the finest.

NETLEY:

The finest in the land.

PANEL 3.

WE CLOSE IN UPON THE COACH DOOR. IT IS OPENING OUT TOWARDS US. PERHAPS IN THE CHINK

OF THE OPEN DOOR WE CAN EVEN GLIMPSE GULL’S WHITE HAND UPON THE INNER HANDLE,

EMERGING FROM THE IMPENETRABLE SHADOWS WITHIN THE COACH. THIS PANEL IS THE SILENT

INTRODUCTION TO AN EXPLOSION OF VIOLENCE, THE MOST FRENETIC THUS FAR IN THE STRIP WHICH

WILL TAKE US THROUGH THE NEXT TWO OR THREE PAGES IN ONE HEADLONG RUSH, SO GET READY.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

BIG PANEL, WITH CATHY AND NETLEY PARTLY VISIBLE IN THE FOREGROUND, PERHAPS HEAD AND

SHOULDERS TO EITHER SIDE AS THEY RECOIL AWAY FROM THE DOOR OF THE COACH, WHICH IS

BURSTING WIDE OPEN IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND HERE. HUGE AND DARK, GULL EXPLODES

OUT OF THE OPEN DOORWAY TOWARDS US, THE INK-BLOT OF HIS CLOAK SPLASHED OUT BEHIND

HIM, MASKING HIS TRUE DIMENSIONS AND MAKING HIS SIZE AMBIGUOUS. HIS WHITE FACE IS

STARK MAD AND HIS FIXED STARE IS FEROCIOUS AND INTENSE. HIS HANDS SPREAD, AND IN ONE

OF THEM HE CLASPS THE LISTON KNIFE. HE EXPLODES STRAIGHT TOWARDS US OUT OF THE COACH

LIKE SOME MONSTROUS AND FRENZIED BIRD BURSTING FREE OF A CAGE FINALLY GROWN TOO SMALL

FOR IT. IN THE FOREGROUND, CATHY LOOKS STUNNED WITH SHOCK AND STARTS TO HALF-LIFT HER

HANDS AS IF TO COVER HER FACE. NETLEY GASPS AND TAKES A STEP BACK, HIS EYES FIXED ON

GULL AND FILLED WITH TERROR. HE KNEW THAT GULL WAS COMPLETELY OFF THE MAP, BUT THIS IS

SOMETHING NEW AND TERRIBLE. PERHAPS A STRIPE OF SHADOW FALLS IN A SOLID BAND ACROSS THE

TOP OF GULL’S FACE AS HE EMERGES, FROM WHICH HIS WHITE EYES STARE FIXEDLY AT CATHY.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT NOW WE HAVE CATHY IN THE FOREGROUND, SEEN IN HALF-FIGURE SHOT

HERE AND FACING ROUGHLY TOWARDS THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL SO THAT WE MORE OR LESS SEE

HER IN PROFILE, LEAPING OUT OF THE COACH IN A MAD RUSH, GULL IS PASSING CATHY ON

HER FURTHER SIDE HEADING TOWARDS THE LEFT OF THE PANEL AND PERHAPS EVEN ABOUT TO

VANISH OFF THE SIDE OF IT. HE IS A DARK BLUR AS HE MOVES, THE ONLY MOVING THING IN A

LANDSCAPE FROZEN WITH SHOCK. AS HE RUSHES PAST CATHY LIKE A DARK WIND ON HER FAR SIDE

HE SNAKES OUT HIS LEFT ARM AND HOOKS IT AROUND CATHY’S NECK, SO THAT HE STARTS TO

DRAG HER OVER BACKWARDS WITH HIS MOMENTUM APPLIED TO THIS GRIP UPON HER WINDPIPE. CATHY’S

EYES BULGE IN SHOCK, THE PUPILS REDUCED TO PINPOINTS, AND HER HANDS RISE UP IN A FUTILE

ATTEMPT TO UNHOOK GULL’S ELBOW FROM AROUND HER THROAT AS SHE IS HELPLESSLY DRAGGED OVER

BACKWARDS, WITHOUT EVEN TIME TO SCREAM. GULL ISN’T EVEN LOOKING AT HER AS HE RUSHES PAST,

CATCHING HER UP IN HIS WAKE AND BOWLING HER OVER BACKWARDS.

CATHY:

wuch...

162

Part 4: Men and women

PANEL 6.

NOW A FULL-FIGURE SHOT FROM ABOUT THE SAME ANGLE BUT PULLED BACK A BIT.

WE SEE CATHY AS SHE FALLS OVER BACKWARDS ONTO THE FLOOR OF THE YARD, THE

BREATH DRIVEN FROM HER AS SHE DOES SO. GULL, WHO HAS BOWLED HER OVER AND FLUNG

HER ON THE FLOOR IS STILL MOVING FORWARDS, ADJUSTING HIS STRIDE NOW AND STEPPING

SO AS HE STRADDLES CATHY’S FALLEN BODY. HE KEEPS HIS EYES FIXED UPON HER FACE

THROUGHOUT, HIS EXPRESSION WHITE HOT AND BURNING IN ITS INTENSITY. HE STILL HAS

THE KNIFE IN HIS RIGHT HAND, PERHAPS STARTING TO DRAW IT BACK JUST A LITTLE HERE.

CATHY:

Nnnugh!

PANEL 7.

WE ARE LOOKING UP THROUGH CATHY’S EYES AS GULL STANDS ABOVE HER, HIS LEFT HAND

REACHING DOWN TO CLUTCH THE COLLAR OF HER APRON. HIS RIGHT HAND IS EXTENDING BEHIND

HIM ALMOST STRAIGHT, RUNNING AWAY FROM US IN A PERSPECTIVE THAT ENDS IN THE VANISHING

POINT OF THE LISTON KNIFE’S TIP. PERHAPS IN THE FOREGROUND, ALL WE CAN SEE OF CATHY

IS ONE HAND RAISED UP FEEBLY AS IF ATTEMPTING TO DEFLECT THE BLOW THAT IS ABOUT TO

FALL. GULL STARES DOWN AT HER OFF PANEL FACE, EXPRESSIONLESS SAVE FOR THE INTENSITY

IN HIS EYES, WHICH IS FRIGHTENING. IN THE BACKGROUND WE CAN SEE NETLEY HOVERING,

STILL IN SHOCK AND LOOKING TERRIFIED. PERHAPS THE COACHMAN IS EVEN STARTING TO COVER

HIS EYES, IN ORDER NOT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

No dialogue.

PAGE 39. (532 words) PANEL 1. (edited- 3 panels only)

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT WE ARE NOW AT GROUND LEVEL ABOUT A FOOT BEYOND THE TOP OF CATHY’S

HEAD, LOOKING UP AT GULL AS HE CROUCHES ACROSS HER. WE CANNOT SEE CATHY’S FACE HERE.

INSTEAD WE ARE LOOKING UP INTO GULL’S MURDEROUS AND ONLY SEMI-HUMAN FACE AS HE STARTS TO

SLASH PRECISE GROOVES ACROSS CATHY’S FACE, ACROSS HER NOSE AND LIPS.

GULL:

Uehh

PANEL 3.

NOW A SHOT THROUGH GULL’S EYES LOOKING DOWN AT THE FUCKING MESS HE’S MADE OF CATHY’S

FACE. BOTH OF THE LOWER EYELID’S ARE CUT THROUGH, ALMOST LIKE THE MAKEUP OF A CLOWN,

WITH OTHER SCRATCHES AND CUTS AROUND THE EYES. THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE IS SLICED

THROUGH AND THE TIP OF THE NOSE IS ALMOST COMPLETELY SEVERED. THE CHEEKS HAVE BEEN

SLASHED WITH TRIANGULAR FLAPS ABOUT AN INCH AND A HALF LONG PEELING UP AND BACK FROM

THEM. THE UPPER LIP IS SLASHED IN TWO. THE THROAT IS AN OPEN HOLE. HER INTESTINES ARE

OVER HER SHOULDER. SHE IS, AS MIKE HAMMER USED TO SAY, “VERY DEAD’.

No dialogue

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT. NOW, USING HIS OTHER HAND, GULL PULLS OUT CATHY’S WOMB

SO THAT HE HOLDS HER KIDNEY IN ONE HAND AND HER WOMB (ALONG WITH

THE KNIFE, POSSIBLY) IN THE OTHER. HE BARES HIS TEETH, AND HE IS

PALEOLITHIC, EVEN PRE-HUMAN. NO CIVILIZATION REMAINS.

GULL:

mh?

163

On censorship.

It wasn’t usually the mutilation that got us into trouble. Alan: “I refused

to do a strip about serial murder, where it was okay to show someone dissecting a

woman but not okay to show two people having consenting loving casual sex.

This is the human world, and I’m a grown-up now. I think I should be allowed to

write and draw whatever I want. I don’t have to go to bed at any special time, and

I don’t like being condescended to by people who very often I consider to be my

intellectual inferiors...

The Obscene Publications Act relies upon this word “obscene” which

is a sort of Victorian, Biblical word. What is obscene? Nobody can come up with

a satisfactory definition. The Customs say, “Well, you try importing it, and we’ll

tell you whether it’s obscene.” That’s what they say. “We’re asking you to play

Russian Roulette here. We won’t tell you what you can or can’t import. You try

importing it, and if we don’t like it, we’ll seize it

and burn it. You can appeal against that, but if

you do appeal and lose, you might have to spend

time in prison.” (1996 interview w/Andy Diggle)

By mid-1996, nine of the ten volumes of FROM

HELL had been published. We had a recurring problem

of some volumes being seized by British Customs so

that shops couldn’t stock the series in its entirety. Tony

Bennett’s Knockabout was a key distributor of Kitchen

Sink Press books in the UK. He had the idea to make a

full frontal presentation to HM Customs. He indicated

that he “...would like to start importing this series,” then showed

all the volumes as a pre-emption, pointing out where

164

Part 4: Men and women

the offences were, with the aim of getting something in

writing to present when problems arise. “The panels I have

found are as follows,” Tony wrote, “Chapter1 page 3, Chapter 5

page 1, Chapter 7 page 10, Chapter 9 page 38.” Two of these I

have already looked at here, with a third on this page.

Customs responded: “Thank you for identifying the

pages of the series that you have your doubts over. I notice that some

of the pages you mention contain scenes of mutilation. Such scenes

in cartoon/comic form no longer fall within the import prohibition,

although the sale of violent/horror material is prohibited by

the Children and Young Persons Act 1955, for which the police

have responsibility for enforcement. I have carefully considered

the contents of all the books. Although there are one or two scenes

which display minor scenes of ejaculation and intercourse, I would

consider these portrayals to be borderline, especially when taken

into context with the book itself, and indeed the rest of the series,

which tell of the horrors of the ripper murders in Victorian London.

If this is taken into consideration a court may conclude that the

publications are not obscene. Therefore, in my opinion, none of the

volumes submitted in their present form are indecent or obscene and

they would not breach the prohibition on importation of indecent or

obscene material established by S42 of the Customs Consolidation

Act 1876. With your permission I would like to retain all of the

magazines for future reference. Yours etc.”

Having already put in so much work on it, we

felt it only right that Knockabout become publisher of

the UK edition of the collected FROM HELL in 2000.

The panels on these two pages are from one of the scenes singled

out as problematical, pages 9 and 10 of Chapter 7. Annie

Chapman has a regular weekly job of bathing ‘the pensioner’

(an invalided soldier rather than an ‘old aged’ pensioner in the

modern understanding, a concept first introduced in Germany

in 1885). He spends several panels being concerned about her

welfare, she bathes him, and manually gives him an orgasm.

He sees her out, tying her hat ribbon for her. I can’t recall if the

two children walking past, holding hands, were in the script or

my own addition. I think I saw the pair among my assorted

period reference photos and felt they belonged here.

165

Part 5

Pages 171 to 210.

This part does not have

a cohesive theme. It’s all

comings and goings

and counting

days.

Chapter 9, page 13.

The movie adaptation of FROM HELL

was pitched to us by producer Don Murphy in

February 1994, before the book was complete.

For the benefit of Murphy’s Angry Films, Alan

wrote a 5,000-word synopsis of the work still to

be done. That’s from Chapter 9 (not published

till December ‘94) to the end. Describing this part

of the book, Alan wrote, “This chapter details

the increasingly chaotic period of thirty-nine

days from the double murder of Catherine

Eddowes and Elizabeth Stride to the eve of

Marie Kelly’s murder on November 9th. All

the characters are gradually driven to points

of extremity in their approach to the final

apocalyptic slaughter.” (I’ll refer to this document

as the “1994 synopsis’”). Chapter 9 is the longest

chapter in the book at 58 pages.

The script for this page and the next

stands out, perhaps because so much of it is

beyond illustrating. The concentration of

phrases to be relished is denser here than in any

other two pages of the scripts.

PAGE 13. (987 words) PANEL 1.

THIS IS A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE, WITH THE FIRST

PANEL BEING A BIG WIDE ONE AND THEN THREE

PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS BELOW THAT. IN

THE FIRST BIG PANEL WE HAVE AN INTERIOR SHOT

OF THE EGYPTIAN ROOMS AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM,

FOR WHICH I’M STILL TRYING TO FIND REFERENCE.

I IMAGINE IT AS QUITE BIG AND SPACIOUS AND

ECHOING, ITS TILED FLOORS POLISHED TO A DEEP AND LUSTROUS REFLECTIVE SHEEN. IF

IT SHOULD TURN OUT TO BE AT ALL POSSIBLE WITHOUT STRAYING TOO FAR FROM REALITY,

I’D LIKE SOME BIG AND SIZEABLE EGYPTIAN STATUES ARRANGED IN THE BACKGROUND OF

THIS SCENE FOR REFERENCE. AS I SEE THE IMAGES HERE, WE ARE LOOKING AT ONE OF THE

EXPANSIVE GALLERY WALLS OF THE EGYPTIAN ROOMS, ALONG WHICH THE TENTATIVE GIANT

STATUES ARE ARRANGED, SEATED OR STANDING IN THEIR HIEROGLYPHIC POSES. WALKING ALONG

THE GALLERY FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, QUITE SMALL IN COMPARISON TO THE HUGE STATUARY, WE

SEE WILLIAM GULL, HIS TOP HAT NOW IN ONE HAND AND A BAG OF GRAPES IN THE OTHER, HIS

167

Chapter 9, page 13

REFLECTION SHIMMERING IN THE TILED FLOOR AT HIS FEET. SOMEWHERE OVER TO THE RIGHT WE

CAN PERHAPS SEE SOMEONE WITH THE UNIFORM OF A MUSEUM CUSTODIAN OR ATTENDANT. HE IS

DEALING WITH SOME MENIAL DUTY AND PAYS NO ATTENTION TO GULL’S APPROACH.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

HERE WE HAVE CHANGED ANGLES BY ABOUT NINETY DEGREES SO THAT HERE WE ARE BEHIND GULL

AS HE WALKS ALONG. WE SEE HIM AS HE PAUSES, SOME DISTANCE AWAY FROM US ACROSS THE

TILED AND GLEAMING FLOOR, TO SPEAK WITH THE MUSEUM ATTENDANT MENTIONED LAST PANEL.

THE ATTENDANT INCLINES HIS HEAD TOWARDS SIR WILLIAM, LISTENING INTENTLY AND

RESPECTFULLY TO WHAT GULL IS SAYING. THEY ARE TOO FAR AWAY FROM US TO HEAR AT THIS

JUNCTURE. ALL AROUND THEM, THE EGYPTIAN EXHIBITS LOOM, STRANGE, ANCIENT AND SILENT.

No dialogue.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. GULL IS STILL STANDING IN THE SAME PLACE, BUT THE ATTENDANT IS STARTING

TO HURRY OFF PANEL TO THE RIGHT, PERHAPS LOOKING BACK AT GULL AS HE DEPARTS AND

TIPPING HIS HAT RESPECTFULLY SO THAT WE RECEIVE THE IMPRESSION THAT HE IS HURRYING

OFF TO DO GULL’S BIDDING. GULL JUST STANDS THERE IMPASSIVELY AND WATCHES HIM GO,

COLOSSAL SLEEPING KINGS AND JACKAL-HEADED DEITIES KEEPING THEIR ETERNAL SILENT VIGIL

ALL ABOUT HIM. HALF-HOUR OLD ECHOES STILL WHISPER AND CLATTER FAINTLY. A ZOMBIE

SIBILANCE IN THE FAR CORNERS OF THE ROOM. MAYBE GULL EATS A GRAPE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT. HERE THE ATTENDANT IS GONE FROM THE SHOT, SOMEWHERE OFF THE RIGHT-HAND

SIDE OF THE PANEL, AND GULL IS LEFT ON HIS OWN, STANDING THERE IN THE GIANT MUSEUM

ROOM WITH ITS SOARING PILLARS. HE GAZES ABOUT AT THE VAULTED ARCHITECTURE AS HE

WAITS, WHICH, ON BALANCE, IS PROBABLY MUCH BETTER FOR ONE THAN LISTENING TO A MUZAK

RENDITION OF “UP, UP AND AWAY IN MY BEAUTIFUL BALLOON” FOR FIVE MINUTES.

No dialogue.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT, WITH GULL IN THE SAME PLACE, ONLY HERE HE HAS STOPPED LOOKING AT THE

SURROUNDING ARCHITECTURE AND PLUNDERED ART TREASURES TO GAZE TOWARDS THE RIGHT-

HAND SIDE OF THE PANEL WHERE WE SEE THE ATTENDANT RETURNING, USHERING A SMARTLY

DRESSED, PLUMP AND BESPECTACLED GENTLEMAN IN A SUIT BEFORE HIM, THIS MAN EVIDENTLY

BEING SOME SORT OF MUSEUM OFFICIAL THAT GULL HAS SENT THE ATTENDANT TO FIND FOR HIM.

THE MAN IS BREATHLESS AND HURRYING, PERHAPS WRINGING HIS HANDS SOLICITOUSLY BEFORE

HIM AS HE WALKS. IT IS EVIDENT FROM HIS POSTURE THAT HE CONSIDERS GULL A VERY

IMPORTANT VISITOR AND IS ANXIOUS TO PLEASE HIM IN WHATEVER WAY HE CAN.

FAT OFFICIAL:

Sir William. We are honoured, sir, deeply honoured by your

visit.

FAT OFFICIAL:

I am at your disposal, sir. If there is anything I can

assist

with

...

168

Part 5: Comings and goings

PANEL 6.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW SO THAT IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND, HEAD AND SHOULDERS AND

FACING AWAY FROM US AT A SLIGHT ANGLE TOWARDS THE LEFT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND, WE SEE

THE FAT MUSEUM OFFICIAL, OR AT LEAST A PART OF HIM. OUR MAIN FOCUS, HOWEVER, IS ON

GULL, WHOM THE OFFICIAL IS STARING AT HERE. GULL STANDS IN THE LEFT NEAR BACKGROUND,

FACING THE OFFICIAL ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE AND US, THE OPEN BAG OF GRAPES STILL HELD

IN HIS HAND ALONG WITH THE TOP HAT. HERE, PERHAPS, AS HE SPEAKS TO THE OFFICIAL, HE

PICKS ANOTHER GRAPE FROM THE BUNCH IN THE BAG. HE FIXES HIS UNBLINKING AND UNNERVING

STARE UPON THE CLEARLY DISCOMFITED AND NERVOUS OFFICIAL AND SMILES. THE SMILE MIGHT

BE MISTAKEN FOR A FRIENDLY ONE WERE IT NOT FOR THE COLD, SARDONIC AND UNWAVERING

SUPERIORITY ALWAYS EVIDENT IN GULL’S EYES. TO HIM, EVERYONE ELSE IS A PARTICULARLY

AMUSING STRAIN OF PARAMECIUM.

GULL :

Let us hope so.

GULL :

There is in England a mummy-case from Thebes, currently in

private hands. Does the British Museum intend to purchase it?

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLE TO ALMOST A REVERSE OF OUR LAST SHOT, SO THAT NOW GULL IS FACING

SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US, LESS THAN HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND.

WE CAN ONLY SEE HIM FROM THE BRIDGE OF HIS NOSEDOWN TO HIS CHEST HERE, WITH HIS EYES

OFF PANEL ABOVE. VERY SLOWLY AND DELIBERATELY, HE POPS A GRAPE INTO HIS MOUTH HERE AS

HE LISTENS TO THE REPLY OF THE NERVOUS MUSEUM OFFICIAL, WHOM WE SEE OVER ON THE LEFT

OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE AS HE FACES TOWARDS GULL, HIS HANDS SPREAD

IN NERVOUS AND APOLOGETIC EXPLANATION. ALTHOUGH THE MAN LOOKS OBSCURELY AGITATED AS

HE SPEAKS, WHAT WE CAN SEE OF GULL’S FACE REMAINS IMPASSIVE AND EXPRESSIONLESS AS HE

THOUGHTFULLY MASTICATES THE GRAPE.

OFFICIAL :

Ah yes. Yes, I have

heard of the, ah,

of the item. Excellent

piece.

First

class.

OFFICIAL :

Of course, there IS the

matter of its, ah,

reputation, so to speak...

King Tut. I sometimes think there should be more Egyptian

detail in the art. At the time, however, I judged that it would make

things more prosaic, more “midnight in the museum” than the majesty

of eternity. Just now I started sketching a stone head and felt my

original prognosis was confirmed.

169

Chapter 9, page 14.

Another supreme page of script;

Gull continues his tirade against the museum

official, and Alan takes an opportunity to insert

a cameo of the poet, W.B. Yeats. The business

about Gary Groth and my using xeroxes refers

to his Comics Journal interview with Alan, at

which I took mild objection to the suggestion

that my pages of static images were done

using photocopies. I was just making the point

that the interest lies in the subtle differences

between the figures in a panel and the ones in

the panels before and after it. Anyway, just to

be contrary, I followed Alan’s suggestion and

photocopied Gull through the top tier.

PAGE 14. (1307 words) (panels 1-5) PANEL 1.

NINE PANELS ON THIS PAGE, AND I WANT THE

FIRST THREE TO BE ALL FROM THE SAME SHOT.

WE SEE BOTH GULL AND THE FAT OFFICIAL FULL

FIGURE HERE AS THEY STAND FACING EACH OTHER,

WITH GULL ON THE LEFT. (THE ATTENDANT WE SAW

EARLIER, NO LONGER NEEDED, HAS MELTED INTO

THE BACKGROUND SOMEWHERE OVER THE LAST TWO OR

THREE PANELS AND CONTINUES WITH HIS CHORES.)

GULL, ON THE LEFT, STANDS IN PROFILE FACING

THE OFFICIAL, WHO IS IN PROFILE ON THE RIGHT

AND FACING LEFT, TOWARDS GULL. GULL STANDS IN

A STOCKY AND SOLID-LOOKING MANNER, HIS LOW

CENTRE OF GRAVITY IN PERFECT BALANCE, GIVING

HIS BODY LANGUAGE A SUBTEXT OF IMMOVABILITY THAT HE WILL RETAIN THROUGHOUT THIS

NEXT THREE PANELS (USE A XEROX IF YOU LIKE, JUST TO EXCITE GARY GROTH.) THE

MUSEUM OFFICIAL, ON THE OTHER HAND, DOES CHANGE HIS POSTURE OVER THIS THREE-PANEL

SEQUENCE, EVEN IF HE DOESN’T ACTUALLY MOVE ABOUT VERY MUCH. BY KEEPING GULL’S

BODY POSTURE STATIC, I WANT TO FOCUS ATTENTION ON THE POSTURE OF THE OFFICIAL

THAT HE IS TALKING TO, SO THAT OVER THIS THREE-PANEL SEQUENCE WE CAN WATCH THE

MAN’S WILL SLOWLY CRUMBLING BEFORE GULL’S SUPERIOR RESOLUTION, AS REFLECTED IN HIS

POSTURE. AS I SEE IT, THE OFFICIAL IS PERHAPS STILL STANDING UP FAIRLY STRAIGHT IN

THIS FIRST PANEL, WITH HIS POSTURE GRADUALLY SLUMPING INTO COMPLETE SUBJUGATION

OVER THE NEXT TWO FRAMES. AS THE TWO MEN STAND TALKING TO EACH OTHER, THEIR

170

Part 5: Comings and goings

REFLECTIONS WAVER INDISTINCTLY IN THE POLISHED TILES AT THEIR FEET, THEIR VOICES

RINGING AND ECHOING IN THE STONE EARS OF THE DEAD PHARAOHS.

GULL :

For shame! Do we approach the twentieth century beset yet by

such chimaera, that pagan curses daunt this noble institution?

OFFICIAL :

It-it’s not that, sir, it’s...

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT, WITH GULL STILL IN EXACTLY THE SAME ROCK-LIKE POSTURE ON THE LEFT. THE

OFFICIAL IS STARTING TO SAG HERE, HIS SHOULDERS SLUMPING AS HE STARTS TO GO UNDER

BEFORE THE AVALANCHE FORCE OF GULL’S PERSONALITY. ABOUT THEM, THE DEAD LISTEN WITH

VARIOUS ATTITUDES OF CELESTIAL INDIFFERENCE.

GULL :

Think of it, man! What better place for such an artifact than

here in this museum, next to Hawksmoor’s Bloomsbury church?

GULL :

Shall superstition weigh against good policy?

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT, WITH GULL STILL UNMOVED ON THE LEFT. THE MUSEUM OFFICIAL HANGS HIS HEAD ON

THE RIGHT, COMPLETELY ABJECT AND COWED, TALKING TO THE POLISHED FLOOR RATHER THAN TO

SIR WILLIAM AS HE SPEAKS.

GULL :

Half London’s mad for things Egyptian with the Royal

household held alike in thrall.

GULL :

It is, sir, an unconscionable oversight.

OFFICIAL :

I’ll see to it, sir.

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW AS GULL WALKS TOWARDS US OVER ON THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, MAYBE

HALF FIGURE HERE. HE SMILES IN SATISFACTION, HIS BACK TURNED TO THE DEFEATED OFFICIAL

WHOM WE SEE STANDING TO THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND, FULL FIGURE, TURNED TOWARDS

US AS HE WATCHES SIR WILLIAM WALK AWAY FROM HIM, HIS SHOULDERS STILL SLUMPED AND

DEFEATED. HE LOOKS AS IF HE IS ALMOST TREMBLING WITH NERVOUS EXHAUSTION FOLLOWING HIS

CONVERSATIONAL WORKING-OVER.

GULL :

Excellent. Then I shall not trouble you further. I take it

that your Blake exhibits are still in the same location?

OFFICIAL :

Yes, sir.

OFFICIAL :

Th-thank you, sir.

PANEL 5.

REVERSE ANGLE ON THE LAST SHOT, SO THAT HERE WE HAVE THE OFFICIAL STANDING HALF

FIGURE ON THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND AND FACING AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE LEFT OF

THE BACKGROUND WHERE WE SEE SIR WILLIAM WALKING AWAY, HIS FACE TURNED AWAY FROM US,

HIS DARK REFLECTION SHIMMERING, AN OMINOUS MIRAGE, IN THE TILES AT HIS FEET. IN THE

FOREGROUND, THE OFFICIAL WATCHES SIR WILLIAM WALKING AWAY AND EXHALES MEANINGFULLY,

PULLING A HANDKERCHIEF FROM HIS POCKET TO MOP AWAY THE SWEAT THAT HAS GATHERED ON HIS

BROW, SPRUNG THERE IN THE SUDDEN EGYPTIAN HEAT OF SIR WILLIAM’S INTERROGATION.

No dialogue. (end of script segment)

171

Chapter 9, page 6.

Abberline has just come from the crime

scene at Mitre Square, where he watched a

street pedlar selling mad monk walking canes

and received unsolicited advice from a school-

boy named Aleister Crowley. Now he attends the

inquest of Cathy Eddowes at the Golden Lane

Mortuary.

Of the various comings and goings in

this part of the narrative, we are particularly

interested in the movements of two objects:

Mary Kelly’s doorkey and Cathy Eddowes

kidney. That was supposed to be the latter on

the cover of the Kitchen Sink Press edition of

From Hell volume #5, dated June 1994. My

grasp of internal anatomy is a bit vague, I’ll

be the first to admit, but this was just meant to

be a big horrible piece of innard. I obtained a

cow’s liver, just to get the purple and texture of

the object. It sat all day in the tropical heat here

while I painted it, until my family demanded

that it be removed

PAGE 6. ( words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE NINE PANELS ON THIS PAGE, IN THIS

FIRST ONE WE SIMPLY REPRINT PANEL FOUR FROM

PAGE THIRTY-EIGHT OF CHAPTER EIGHT, SHOWING

GULL AS HE KNEELS ON EDDOWES RIGHT, RIPPING

THE BLADE UP THROUGH HER ABDOMEN.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

BACK IN THE POST MORTEM ROOM, WE ARE MAYBE

LOOKING DOWN UPON THE SLAB FROM ABOVE, AND

AT THE FOUR DOCTORS GATHERED AROUND IT.

CATHY EDDOWES STARES BLANKLY UP AT US WHILE

DR. SAUNDERS INDICATES THE STATE OF THE

INTESTINES. THE ATMOSPHERE IS VERY COOL AND

MEDICAL AND DETACHED, TO CONTRAST WITH THE

SAVAGERY OF THE INTERCUTTING FLASHBACKS.

172

Part 5: Comings and goings

SAUNDERS:

Note that the intestines are largely detached from the

mesentery, with about two feet of colon cut away

PANEL 3.

HERE WE REPRINT PANEL SEVEN FROM PAGE THIRTY-EIGHT OF CHAPTER EIGHT, SHOWING THE

CLOSE-UP OF GULL’S HANDS AS HE CUTS INTO EDDOWES INNARDS.

No dialogue

PANEL 4.

NOW PERHAPS A SHOT WITH ABBERLINE SITTING FACING MOSTLY AWAY FROM US IN THE

FOREGROUND, JUST TO REMIND US THAT HE’S STILL SITTING THERE. PERHAPS HE HAS A

NOTEPAD ON HIS KNEE NOW, NEXT TO THE BOWLER, AND IS JOTTING DOWN NOTES IN PENCIL

AS HE LISTENS TO THE DOCTORS. LOOKING BEYOND HIM, WE SEE THEM IN THE BACKGROUND

AS SAUNDERS NOW POINTS TO THE WOUNDS ON CATHY EDDOWES’ FACE. THEY CONTINUE TO

IGNORE ABBERLINE.

SAUNDERS:

The eyelids are both cut through, and there is a triangular

flap cut into either cheek.

SAUNDERS:

Also, the tip of the nose has been detached by an oblique cut.

PANEL 5.

HERE WE REPRINT PANEL NINE FROM PAGE THIRTY-EIGHT, SHOWING GULL’S HANDS AND KNIFE

AS HE GOES TO WORK ON EDDOWES’ FACE.

PANEL 6.

BACK IN THE POST MORTEM ROOM WE MAYBE HAVE A HEAD AND SHOPULDERS CLOSE-UP OF DR.

SAUNDERS IN THE FOREGROUND. HIS EYES ARE CAST DOWN, LOOKING DOWN AT SOEMTHING

WE CANNOT SEE OFF THE BOTTOM PANEL BORDER, THIS BEING THE BODY OF KATE EDDOWES.

BEHIND HIM TO ONE SIDE WE PERHAPS SEE DR. SEQUEIRA, WITH PERHAPS A LONG SHOT OF

ABBERLINE SEATED BY THE WALL TAKING NOTES IN THE FAR BACKGROUND.

SAUNDERS:

The peritoneal lining is cut on the left side and the left

kidney

carefully

removed.

SAUNDERS:

The lining over the uterus is also cut, and the womb partly

absent.

PANEL 7.

HERE WE REPRINT PANEL SIX FROM PAGE THIRTY-NONE OF CHAPTER EIGHT, BUT WE OMIT

GULL’S GUTTERAL WORD BALLOONS, SO THAT THE FLASHBACK IS SILENT.

No dialogue

PANEL 8.

BACK IN THE POST MORTEM ROOM WE HAVE A FULL FIGURE SHOT OF THE DOCTORTS GATHERED

AROUND THE BODY. DR. BROWN IS POIINTING TO THE AREA OF CATHY’S INNARDS FROM

WHICH THE KIDNEY HAS BEEN REMOVED. DR. SEQUIERA IS SHAKING HIS HEAD AND LOOKING

DISMISSIVE. DR. PHILLIPS NODS IN AGREEMENT.

DR BROWN:

Surely the fact that he even found the kidney indicates

some

surgical

skill...

173

Chapter 9, page 6

DR SEQUIERA:

Not necessarily. more likely it was pure blind luck.

DR PHILLIPS:

I agree.

PANEL 9.

NOW WE CUT ACROSS TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM SO THAT IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN

SEE ABBERLINE’S KNEES AT LEAST AS HE SITS FACING THE DOCTORS, WHO WE SEE STILL

ARGUING AROUND THE CORPSE IN THE FAR BACKGROUND HERE. ABBERLINE’S NOTEBOOK RESTS

OPEN ON HIS KNEE, AND WE CAN SEE IT CLEARLY ENOUGH TO BE AWARE THAT HE HAS WRITTEN

THE WORD “DOCTOR?” IN A QUERYING NOTE UPON THE MOSTLY OTHERWISE BLANK SHEET.

DR BROWN:

Look, the kidney is completely hidden by a membrane.

To remove it in minutes under lightless conditions must

indicate

surgical

skill.

DR BROWN:

CONSIDERABLE surgical skill.

Abberline leaves them to argue among themselves...

PAGE 7. (639 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS ON THIS PAGE WITH THREE ON EACH OF THE TOP TWO TIERS WITH ONE

BIG PANEL TAKING UP THE BOTTOM TIER.IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE CAN PERHAPS SEE A LITTLE

OF THE QUAARTET OF DOCTORS IN THE FORGROUND, JUST HEAD AND SHOULDERS WITH THEIR EYES

DOWNCAST AS THEY GATHER AROUND THE BODY. BEHIND THEM, WE SEE THE REAR OF ABBERLINE

FULL FIGURE AS HE LEAVES THE ROOM BY THE DOOR WHICH IS VISIBLE IN THE BACKGROUND.

DR SAUNDERS:

Well, frankly I’m not convinced either way...

And if the experts are at a loss, can you really expect much from Campbell?

anatomy lesson

My

academic

education

didn’t encompass biology or

dissections of frogs. Internal

body parts and their sources are

no more readable to me than the

steak on my dinner plate. My

three or four art assistants over

the years have invariably had a

better grasp of the matter, as

in the panel at right showing

April Post, from The Dance

of Lifey Death, Aug.1992,

(in Alec ) with the relevant

FROM HELL panel from

Chapter 7.

174

The Rotton Kidney

There’s one person who was witness to more

of the FROM HELL pages’ creation than any other, and

that’s wee Hayley Campbell. I was working at home

in the sole company of my three year old daughter,

when the gig came in, as depicted in this panel from

The Dance of the Gull Catchers (right, top) . The caption

is Alan’s. A few years later, in 1993, we see her setting

up her own desk, an upended cardboard box, next to

mine. The words spoken in the second panel at right

were the subject’s signing-off phrase before retiring to

bed every night; indeed she tells me that she used it in

London recently, resulting in the immediate bafflement

of those present.

It’s always been my habit to cut up books and

rearrange their pages, keeping some, losing others.

During this time wee Hayley Campbell was making

her own compilations from the Taboo leftovers. For

example, she was very fond of ‘The Eyes of the Cat,”

drawn by Moebius. I must have known about that one,

because I stapled it together for her and drew a cover

on it. But surely I was unaware of the full extent of her

interest in horror.

Let me acquaint you now with a document

titled ‘The Ripper File’ in imitation of Melvin Harris’

book, mentioned here on page 68. The pages of this

artifact were drawn by wee Hayley Campbell shortly

after her seventh birthday, a date retrospectively

deduced from external evidence, the excuse for their

fashioning being a birthday gift box of colour markers.

Furthermore, one of the pages imitates the cover of

the Kitchen Sink Press edition of From Hell volume

#5, dated June 1994, which contained Chapter 8 (see

page 100), and also Cathy Eddowes’ kidney. Hayley,

in a very rudimentary drawing shows us: “Rotton

Kidney on a Hang kachef.” (lower right). I can’t recall

if she sat beside me while I was working on my own

version, but she has caught the flies that I missed.

175

Part 5: Comings and goings

Hayley’s book consists of 35 A4 size

loose pages in a binder. In it she catalogued,

with one or two digressions, all the ways

of dying that she could think of. The first

page cited above is followed by “Witches

cooking babies”, “Being Shot,” “Being

buried Alive,” “Being bitten on the neck by

a vampire,” “Being hit by Lightening,”

and “Being Basht to death,” (right, top) in

which I suddenly realized that the victim of

these horrors looks a lot like their author.

You can see how it has gone completely

beyond the parameters of FROM HELL,

and who it was that put these notions in her

little wee head is anybody’s guess. I hope you

don’t think it was I. Nor do we use matches

on the soles of people’s feet in our house.

“When your cut up while your

sleeping” came from the movie Gorillas in

the Mist, which she was probably encouraged

to watch on account of it being a nature

film. It is certainly one of he best pages

in the series, for the clarity of its design,

and the vibrancy of its execution, the kind

of qualities we should try to steal from a

seven year old. The “T-Rexs head”, one

of the thematic digressions I mentioned, is

cartooning on a higher level altogether.

As to the long term effects of all this

upon her mental health, note that she has

lately taken up taxidermy as a hobby.

Previous page, from top, FROM HELL, Appendix

2, page 16; Alec: The Years Have Pants, page

571; other images here and opposite are from

The Ripper File , loose leaf, not paginated.

176

Part 5: Comings and goings

177

Another pictorial interlude

The first thing I did when I signed up for FROM HELL was go out and buy a very old hat. It was made for

a child or a very small person, or a large person with a very small cranium. Every time I needed to reference it

on an actual head I had to call in one of the kids. In fact, that was Erin wearing it on the back cover of the first

printing of my own 1999 complete edition. This was it on the front cover, being an oil-painted darker variation

of the hat and grapes theme of the first Tundra volume (page 105). The colour has never reproduced true,

because I tampered with it in Photoshop to make it darker. Let’s see if it does better this time.

179

Cover of Bacchus no. 54, August 2000. Portrait of Alan Moore, I think in Acrylic.

180

Cover of Bacchus #53, June 2000, a self-portrait in gouache. Following three pages are all new watercolours.

181

A few favourite presentations of the complete edition. 1. Spain, hardcover, using photo of real

W. Gull (2000 and current). 2. My own limited edition of 19 copies, bound in kangaroo leather (2002).

3. I made a new cover for Top Shelf when they took over From Hell in 2003, but they were concerned about the bookstores being uncomfortable with all that blood on the front and only used it as a

monochrome endpaper until their 2006 printing. 4. Japan, second of two volumes (2009).

185

Photos

1999-2009

1999

2001

(in Hollywood)

2009

(with Melinda

and Anne)

186

About pen nibs. The degree of flexibility is the primary consideration. A fine little nib

that suited my purposes was the Hunt 103 (first photo, left), used on the two portraits of Gull. That

little florette-shaped cut hole enables the tines to spread wide for great flexibility. The more rigid

Gillott 209 is next to it. I used that for back-up, when I needed to get in closer and manoeuvre in

a tight space. The one on the far right is the quite different crowquill style. This has a cylinder in

emulation of the bird feather from which it derives, as opposed to the flat reed in which the more

flexible nibs originated. This style offered me a tighter control of the linework, but with less thick-and-

thin dynamics (see lower two panels.) On occasion I would come across a box of rare nibs. The large

Brandauers came as a present one Christmas many years ago. I mentioned them on my blog and was

contacted by somebody making a short film about the Brandauer company. He wanted me to make

an appearance until I told him I live on the other side of the planet.

187

Thumbnails for Chapter 8, pages 41-46: the aftermath of Cathy Eddowes murder.

188

Chapter 9, pages 49-54: various comings and goings.

189

Chapter 9, pages 15-18. Alan uses a syncopation in which the long panels on the bottom

tiers alternately conclude a scene or begin the next. This rhythm knits the chapter together.

Chapter 9, page 17.

The images are leap-frogging each other

from page to page (see facing). Hogarth’s The

Reward of Cruelty (see here also pages 255/6),

reflecting Marie’s posture, appeared on the

bottom tier of the page before this. The praying

child was on the page that followed. I had no

trouble finding a period piece.

PAGE 17 (811 words) PANEL 1.(3 edited out)

ANOTHER SEVEN-PANEL PAGE, THIS TIME WITH THE

BIG WIDE PANEL UP AT THE TOP, TAKING UP THE TOP

TIER WITH THREE SMALLER PANELS ON THE TWO TIERS

BENEATH. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE CUT TO MARIE

KELLY’S ROOM AT MILLER’S COURT FOR A SHOT OF

MARIE SPRAWLED FACE UP ON THE BED. NAKED EXCEPT

FOR A FILMY, DIRTY CHEMISE AND BLIND DRUNK. HER

POSTURE IS EXACTLY THE SAME AS HER DEATH

POSTURE, AS REVEALED IN THE TERRIBLE CRIME SCENE PHOTOGRAPH: THE EDGE OF THE BEDSIDE

TABLE IS VISIBLE IN THE RIGHT BOTTOM CORNER. MARIE SPRAWLS ON THE GRUBBY BED WITH HER

HEAD POINTING RIGHT AND HER HAIR DOWN. HER FACE IS TURNED TOWARDS US, HER EYES VAGUE

AND BARELY FOCUSED. HER LEGS SPRAWL APART, REVEALING HER SEX, AND HER LEFT ARM IS

DRAPED LIMPLY ACROSS HER BELLY. HER OTHER ARM IS PROBABLY INVISIBLE ON THE FAR SIDE OF

HER BODY, BUT FOR FUTURE REFERENCE SHE IS CLUTCHING A HALF-EMPTY BOTTLE OF CHEAP BOOZE IN

HER RIGHT HAND, WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT BE VISIBLE HERE. IT IS STILL LATE AFTERNOON. LOLLING

IN THE EXACT POSTURE OF HER FUTURE DEATH, MARIE STARES OUT OF THE PANEL AT US, DULLY.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW. WE ARE NOW DOWN ON THE BED WITH MARIE, ON HER RIGHT-HAND SIDE AND

LOOKING ACROSS HER INTO THE ROOM. IN THE BOTTOM FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE A LITTLE OF

HER MIDDLE BODY, WITH THE HEAD OFF PANEL ON THE LEFT AND THE LEGS OFF PANEL ON THE

RIGHT. WE SEE HER RIGHT HAND, LAZING BY HER SIDE AND CLUTCHING THE BOTTLE OF BOOZE.

LOOKING ACROSS HER INTO THE ROOM WE CAN SEE JOE BARNETT SITTING IN THE ROOM’S OTHER

CHAIR, FACING SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US AS HE SITS READING THE PAPER, HIS BACK TURNED TO

MARY. UP ON THE MURKY WALLS WE CAN SEE A LITTLE FRAMED PICTURE OF A CHILD KNEELING

IN PRAYER WITH A LIGHT SHINING DOWN ON IT FROM ABOVE... JUST ONE OF THOSE HORRIBLE

LITTLE SENTIMENTAL VICTORIAN CHEAP PRINTS. IF YOU CAN FIND A REAL ONE, SO MUCH THE

BETTER. IF NOT, JUST FAKE ONE AND MAKE IT LOOK AS SENTIMENTAL AND KITSCH AS POSSIBLE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, BUT HERE MARIE’S HAND FALLS BACK DOWN TO HER SIDE, STILL

191

Chapter 9, page 17

CLUTCHING THE BOTTLE WHICH IS NOW EVEN MORE SORELY DEPLETED. LOOKING BEYOND HER WE SEE

JOE BARNETT AS HE CONTINUES TO SIT WITH HIS BACK TO US READING THE PAPER BENEATH THE

CHERUBIC GAZE OF THE LITTLE SAVED INFANT HUNG HIGH ON THE WALL.

MARIE (OFF, LEFT):

Joe?

PANEL 5.

REVERSE ANGLE HERE SO THAT WE HAVE JOE BARNETT SITTING FACING US IN THE FOREGROUND

ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS. HE DOESN’T LOOK HAPPY, AND IS TRYING TO CONCENTRATE ON THE

PAPER AS IF TO BLOT OUT THE ROOM AND POSSIBLY THE REST OF HIS REDUCED LIFE AS WELL. HE

LOOKS IRRITABLE. LOOKING BEYOND HIM AND MORE TO THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND WE CAN

SEE THE HALF-NAKED MARIE LOUNGING ON THE DIRTY BED WITH HER BOTTLE, LOOKING WITH GLAZED

EYES TOWARDS JOE AS SHE SPEAKS. BY CONTRAST, JOE DOESN’T LOOK DRUNK,OR AT LEAST NOT

ANYWHERE NEAR AS DRUNK AS MARIE. IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE JOE PRACTICALLY GRITTING

HIS TEETH AT THE SOUND OF MARIE’S SLURRED VOICE. IT’S CLEAR THAT THEY’RE NOT GETTING ALONG

TREMENDOUSLY AT THE MOMENT, EVEN IF MARIE IS TOO PISSED TO BE AWARE OF THE FACT.

MARIE:

Joe, is th’r any more in the paper? About the murders, now?

MARIE:

Joe, d’ye hear me? I said...

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, WITH JOE STILL LOOKING IRRITABLE IN THE FOREGROUND AND GLARING DOGGEDLY

AT HIS PAPER AS HE REPLIES TO THE INEBRIATED MARIE, WHO WE SEE SITTING UP NOW ON THE EDGE OF THE

BED, BLEARILY. PERHAPS SHE SETS THE BOTTLE DOWN ON THE FLOOR AS SHE DOES SO.

JOE:

I heard what ye said, and no there isn’t, not since the

last time ye asked. Dunno what yer so struck with ‘em for.

MARIE:

Why shouldn’ I be?

PANEL 7.

First page of Eddy/Stephen scene, next.

SAME SHOT, WITH JOE LOOKING EVEN MORE IRRITABLE NOW

AS HE TRIES TO READ HIS PAPER, EVEN THOUGH IN TRUTH

HE’S BEEN SO ANGRY FOR THE LAST HALF-HOUR THAT HE’S

JUST READ THE SAME LINE OVER AND OVER AGAIN WITHOUT

UNDERSTANDING IT. TO THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND

BEHIND HIM, MARIE TEETERS UNSTEADILY ACROSS THE ROOM

IN WHAT IS PROBABLY, IN HER MIND, AN ELEGANT AND

SEDUCTIVE GLIDE. THERE ARE MAYBE OTHER BOTTLES

VISIBLE, EMPTY ON THE FLOOR. MARIE HAS REALLY

BEEN TYING ONE ON SINCE LAST ISSUE.

JOE:

Because there’s other things

want doin’! You should pull

yourself together and get

dressed...

MARIE:

I thought ye liked me this

way best, I thought ye like

me

undressed.

192

Chapter 9, page 20.

I have always suspected that here on

page 20 Alan was having a dig at my tendency to

skimp on the details. For once he was determined

to sit me down and make me draw something

insignificant in riveting close-up.

Remember also, in comparing how close

Alan’s thumbnail is to the finished arrangement,

that I never got to see those sketches. Gary

Millidge wrote: “It’s only once the pages

are thumbnailed out that Moore takes

his notebook to his surprisingly up-to-

date computer (which he still calls ‘the

typewriter’) in order to write up his scripts,

using his ‘virtually unintelligible scrawls’

as the basis for his excessively detailed

panel descriptions. The artist is never privy

to Moore’s original notebook thumbnails.”

(Alan Moore , Storyteller)

PAGE 20. (1006 words) PANEL 1.

SEVEN PANELS AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME WITH THE BIG

WIDE ONE AS THE BOTTOM PANEL AND THREE SMALLER

PANELS ON EACH OF THE TWO TIERS ABOVE. IN THIS

FIRST PANEL, THE SHOT IS PRETTY MUCH THE SAME

AS IN PANEL FOUR ON THE PREVIOUS PAGE: WE SEE

EDDY AND STEPHEN FULL FIGURE, BOTH FACING US

SIDE BY SIDE WITH STEPHEN SEATED ON THE RIGHT

WITH THE TABLE JUST VISIBLE ON HIS LEFT (OUR

RIGHT), AND PRINCE EDDY STANDING ON THE LEFT OF

THE PANEL. EDDY’S HANDS ARE SPREAD HERE IN AN

EXPLANATORY GESTURE AS HE TRIES TO CONVEY TO STEPHEN THE MISERY THAT HE IS FEELING.

HE DOESN’T LOOK AT STEPHEN BUT GAZES HOPELESSLY INTO SPACE AS HE SPEAKS, HIS GIRLISH

EYES TORMENTED. STEPHEN, WEARING A CALM EXPRESSION OF NO-NONSENSE RESOLUTION, TURNS

BRIEFLY AWAY FROM EDDY AND PLACES THE BOOK OF POETRY FACE DOWN ON THE TABLE.

EDDY:

I’d hoped I could shake off this beastly fit by visiting

you, but I can’t.

EDDY:

I-I return to London in a month. Perhaps I can do something then...

193

Chapter 9, page 20

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL. EDDY IS STILL STANDING, IN THE FLOW OF DISCOURSE, BUT HE STOPS

AND LOOKS DOWN AT JEM STEPHEN HERE WITH A LOOK OF SURPRISE. STEPHEN, HIS BOOK PUT ASIDE,

IS STILL SEATED. HE TURNS BACK TOWARDS EDDY HERE AND TILTS HIS HEAD BACK TO LOOK UP AT

THE PRINCE WITH A LEVEL-EYED AND OPEN EXPRESSION. AS HE DOES SO, HE REACHES OUT WITH HIS

LEFT HAND AND GENTLY PLACES THE PALM FLAT AGAINST EDDY’S CROTCH, THUS OCCASIONING THE

PRINCE’S EXPRESSION OF DULL SURPRISE HERE.

EDDY: ...although what can I do? Nobody tells me anything;

they won’t let me have a say, and...

EDDY:

Jem?

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. STEPHEN NOW CLIMBS DOWN FROM HIS ARMCHAIR AND ONTO HIS KNEES IN FRONT

OF EDDY, STILL WITH THE SAME CALM AND SERENE EXPRESSION AS IF NOTHING OUT OF THE

ORDINARY WERE HAPPENING. KNEELING, HE BEGINS TO UNDO THE FRONT OF THE PRINCE’S

TROUSERS. EDDY LOOKS SHAKEN, UNCERTAIN ABOUT WHETHER TO OR HOW TO PROTEST.

MAYBE HE CLUTCHES THE BACK OF THE CHAIR FOR SUPPORT, STILL GAZING DOWN AT STEPHEN

INCREDULOUSLY, TREMBLING SLIGHTLY FROM THE SUDDEN EROTIC STRESS OF THE MOMENT

EDDY:

J-Jem? Jem, what are you...?

STEPHEN:

Shhh. I want to gamahuche you, Eddy. Do say I might.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE START TO CLOSE IN SO THAT WE ONLY SEE EDDY ABOUT THREE-QUARTER FIGURE HERE, WITH

STEPHEN ABOUT HALF FIGURE KNEELING THERE AT HIS FEET. THE TOP OF EDDY’S TROUSERS IS OPEN,

AND STEPHEN HAS RELEASED THE PRINCE’S COCK, HALF AWAKE HERE; HALF ERECT. HOLDING THE SHAFT

IN ONE HAND WHILE CUPPING EDDY’S BALLS WITH THE OTHER, HE CLOSES HIS EYES, DREAMILY. AND

STARTS TO SUCK ON THE TIP. EDDY REELS, HOLDING ON TO THE BACK OF THE CHAIR FOR SUPPORT.

HE STARES INTO SPACE WITH A HAUNTED, ALMOST FRIGHTENED LOOK AS WE SEE THE WILL POWER AND

RESISTANCE SLOWLY LEAKING FROM HIM WITH EACH NEW WAVE OF PHYSICAL PLEASURE. PERHAPS HE

PLACES HIS OTHER HAND GENTLY UPON STEPHEN’S HEAD AS IF TO PUSH IT AWAY. BUT THERE IS NO

FORCE OR INTENTION BEHIND THE GESTURE. EDDY IS LOST.

EDDY:

Jem, I... I don’t think we should. It’s not...

EDDY:

I mean, I ... oh, God.

Abberline’s comings and goings . Chapter 9, pages 22-24. Cemetery, pub, passing Christ Church

194

Part 5: Comings and goings

PANEL 5.

CONTINUE TO CLOSE IN SO THAT WE SEE EDDY ABOUT HALF FIGURE HERE, FACING US. ALL WE CAN SEE

OF STEPHEN IS THE TOP OF HIS HEAD. EDDY’S HAND RESTS LOVINGLY IN HIS HAIR AS THE PRINCE

GIVES UP ALL PRETENCE OF RESISTENCE AND GOES ALONG WITH THE ACT. HIS EYES ARE HALF-CLOSED

AS HE GAZES OUT OF THE PANEL AT US HERE. AS THE STRESS MELTS FROM HIS FACE HE LOOKS LIKE A

DRUGGED CHILD, EYES HEAVY-LIDDED AND MOUTH HANGING SLIGHTLY OPEN.

EDDY:

Oh, god, Jem.

EDDY:

Jem, I’m so weak. I-I’m not bad...

PANEL 6

A HEAD AND SHOULDERS SHOT OF EDDY NOW, WITH STEPHEN NO LONGER VISIBLE, OFF PANEL BELOW.

EDDY TIPS HIS HEAD BACK SLIGHTLY AND CLOSES HIS EYES AS HE COMES, UTTERLY LOST IN A WARM

AND INFANTILE PLEASURE THAT HE KNOWS WILL ALWAYS LEAD HIM, HOWEVER GRAVE THE CONSEQUENCES.

EDDY:

Just weak.

PANEL 7.

CUT TO THE GOLDEN LANE MORTUARY WHERE THE INQUEST ON CATHERINE EDDOWES IS OPENING. I

DUNNO HOW THIS WILL SOUND TO YOU, BUT WHAT IF WE CUT TO A TIGHT CLOSE-UP OF THE GOLDEN

LANE STREET SIGN, BOLTED TO THE WALL, SO THAT THE WORDS ARE NOT COMPLETELY VISIBLE. PART

OF THE G IN GOLDEN IS MISSING FOR EXAMPLE, AND THE L AND THE LOWER PART OF ‘ANE’ ARE

MISSING IN THE SECOND WORD... WITH THIS EXTREME CLOSE-UP OF THE STREET SIGN FILLING THE

WHOLE OF THIS COMPARATIVELY LARGE PANEL? I THOUGHT WE COULD MAYBE TAKE THE OPPORTUNITY

TO SHOW SOMETHING ORDINARY AND MUNDANE IN SUPER-REAL AND HYPER CLOSE-UP DETAIL, SO THAT WE

SEE THE CRUMBLING MORTAR IN BETWEEN THE BRICKS THAT MAKE THE WALL ON WHICH THE SIGN IS

BOLTED, AND THE SKIDMARK SMEAR OF RUST THAT’S CREEPING DOWN THE METAL SIGN FROM WHERE

THAT BOLT THAT HOLDS IT TO THE WALL HAS OXIDIZED. PERHAPS A SMALL BUT PERFECT WALLFLOWER

ISSUES TENTATIVELY FROM THE CRUMBLING MORTAR IN BETWEEN THE BRICKS, A FRAGILE THING

AGAINST THE SOOT-STREAKED WALL. I FIGURED IF WE ESTABLISH SOMETHING IN INTENSE DETAIL,

JUST ONCE, THEN IN A WAY IT IMPLIES TO THE READER THAT THE WHOLE OF THE WORLD THAT WE’RE

SHOWING IS THAT COMPLEX AND DETAILED, EVEN IF WE DON’T SHOW THE DETAILS ALL THE TIME.

DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL, OR HAVE THE MAGIC MUSHROOMS STARTED WORKING? ANYWAY, IF

YOU DON’T LIKE IT AND HAVE SOME OTHER IDEA THAT WILL CONVEY THE CHANGE OF SCENE AS WELL,

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO STICK IT IN (AS J.K.STEPHEN SAID TO THE DUKE OF CLARENCE AND AVONDALE).

No dialogue

pages 28-30. Abberline again: office, inquest. Above, a second sketch of the Golden Lane panel.

195

Chapter 9, pages 32, 33.

This page explains the writing of the

FROM HELL letter, sent to the police along with

Cathy Eddowes’ kidney, last seen in wee Hayley

Campbell’s Ripper File, and seen after this, if

you have the book to hand, in a specimen jar on

Abberline’s desk.

PAGE 32, (864 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE NINE PANELS ON THIS PAGE. IN THIS

FIRST ONE, WE ARE AGAIN ON THE EYE LEVEL OF THE

SEATED NETLEY AS HE SITS FACING US FROM THE NEAR

BACKGROUND, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE. IN THE RIGHT OF

THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE THE MIDDLE SECTION OF

GULL, SO THAT WE CAN SEE HIS GESTURING ARMS EVEN

THOUGH HIS HEAD AND SHOULDERS ARE OFF PANEL. ON

THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, HE IS FACING RIGHT,

ACROSS NETLEY. FROM THE FOREGROUND, NETLEY

SLOWLY RAISES HIS FEARFUL FACE AND GAZES UP AT

WHERE GULL’S OFF-PANEL FACE MUST BE. NETLEY

LOOKS BEWILDERED, UNABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE

RELEVANCE OF WHAT HIS MASTER IS SAYING. GULL’S

HANDS GESTURE DISMISSIVELY AS HE MAKES HIS POINT

ABOUT THE PRESS COVERAGE OF THE MURDER.

GULL (OFF): Why, even I’m regarded by the press

and public as a sexual murderer!

GULL (OFF): Had I killed artists and not whores,

should I be an ARTISTIC murderer? Pah!

PANEL 2.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT WE’RE DOWN ON THE TABLETOP

AMONGST THE PORNO AGAIN WITH A LITTLE OF NETLEY’S SIDE AND SHOULDER VISIBLE OVER ON

THE RIGHT. LOOKING PAST THIS WE CAN SEE GULL AS HE TURNS AWAY FROM US AND NETLEY,

PACING BACK TOWARDS THE WINDOW WITH FACE UNSEEN HERE, HANDS GESTICULATING ANGRILY.

GULL:

It ANGERS me. And now, the wrong girl slain; the rightful

victim still at large...

GULL:

Ahh, this is Hell, make no mistake.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE CLOSE IN ON GULL FOR A HEAD-AND-SHOULDERS CLOSE UP AS HE STANDS IN PROFILE

GAZING OUT OF THE WINDOW. HE STROKES HIS CHIN THOUGHTFULLY AND FROWNS A LITTLE, AS

IF AT SOME UNPLEASANT THOUGHT THAT LATELY CROSSED HIS MIND. HIS OWN FACE CREASES,

196

Part 5: Comings and goings

SILVERED IN THE MOONLIGHT.

GULL:

It is the hell of Faustus in a work I late admired but

recently have put aside.

GULL:

It is the volume’s end; of late, it troubles me.

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN. GULL FACES US IN THE FOREGROUND NOW, BUT WE CAN ONLY SEE HIM FROM

THE UPPER CHEST DOWN TO THE BELLY HERE, HIS HEAD AND SHOULDERS OFF PANEL ABOVE SINCE

WE ARE ON THE EYE LEVEL OF THE SEATED NETLEY WHO WE SEE SITTING FACING US IN THE

BACKGROUND, LOOKING AT SIR WILLIAM’S TURNED BACK IN BLANK AND DISMAYED BEWILDERMENT.

GULL, WHOSE BALLOON ISSUES FROM OFF PANEL ABOVE, IS FUMBLING INSIDE THE INNER BREAST

POCKET OF HIS COAT AS IF TO RETRIEVE SOMETHING WHILE HE SPEAKS HERE.

GULL:

’tis Dante I prefer. In his inferno he suggests the

one true path from Hell lies at it’s very heart...

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT, WITH NETLEY STILL LOOKING ON FROM THE BACKGROUND. HERE, NETLEY’S JAW DROPS IN

SICK DISMAY AS HIS EYES FIX ON THE OBJECT THAT GULL HAS AT LAST RETRIEVED FROM HIS INNER

POCKET. WRAPPED LOOSELY IN A BLOOD-STAINED LINEN HANDKERCHIEF IT IS THE KIDNEY PLUCKED

FROM CATHY EDDOWES, RESTING THERE IN GULL’S RAISED PALM UP IN THE FOREGROUND.

GULL:

...and that in order to escape, we must instead go further in.

PANEL 6.

CLOSER IN ON NETLEY NOW WE STILL SEE GULL ONLY FROM THE SHOULDERS DOWN AS HE CALMLY

PLACES THE KIDNEY DOWN ON THE TABLE BESIDE NETLEY. (HE PLACES IT CARELESSLY ATOP THE

OPEN PORNOGRAPHIC LITERATURE, BUT WE NEEDN’T SEE THAT TOO CLEARLY HERE. NETLEY, SEATED

BY THE TABLE, JUST STARES DOWN AT THE EXCISED ORGAN IN MUTE INCOMPREHENSION, WIDE-EYED.

GULL (OFF):

With purpose thus renewed let us confront our persecutors.

GULL (OFF):

Newsmen mock us with their “Jack the Ripper” jibes; Let

us mock newsmen in return!

PANEL 7.

IN THE FOREGROUND NOW, WE HAVE A VIEW AT TABLE-LEVEL. THOUGH WE CANNOT SEE THE PORNO,

WE CAN SEE THE KIDNEY LOOMING BLACK AND STICKY UP INTO THE BOTTOM OF THE PANEL.

LOOKING UPWARDS PAST IT TO THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND WE SEE NETLEY GAZING DOWN

IN HORROR AT THE ORGAN. IN THE FURTHER BACKGROUND WE SEE WILLIAM GULL AS HE PACES

RESTLESSLY AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE WINDOW.

GULL:

Let us reclaim from them the myth they sought to shape for profit.

GULL:

Let us give them truer legends, grand enough to slake their

morbid

thirsts.

PANEL 8.

WE CLOSE IN ON GULL AS HE STANDS FACING MOSTLY AWAY FROM US OUT OF THE WINDOW. HE

DOES NOT TURN AS HE SPEAKS, BUT WE CAN SEE A SLIVER OF HIS GRIM PROFILE OVER HIS

SHOULDER AS WE SEE HIM HEAD AND SHOULDERS HERE. HIS FACE IS AN EXPRESSIONLESS AND

UNFORGIVING MASK, COLD AND DISPASSIONATE.

GULL:

Let us acquaint these fabricators with reality.

197

Chapter 9, pages 22, 23

GULL:

Tell me now, Netley; Can you write?

PANEL 9.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT WE CAN JUST SEE A LITTLE OF GULL’S SHOULDER IN THE BOTTOM LEFT

FOREGROUND AS HE STANDS FACING US JUST OFF PANEL ON THE LEFT. LOOKING OVER HIS

SHOULDER AND INTO THE ROOM WE SEE THE SEATED NETLEY AS HE LOOKS UP AT HIS MASTER’S

TURNED BACK WITH A TREMULOUS EXPRESSION, UNCERTAIN OF WHAT IS EXPECTED OF HIM.

NETLEY:

W-well, it’s the same as me readin’, sir.

NETLEY:

It’s not much good, like.

Following

the above,

page 33,

thunbnail

and finished

page.

PAGE 33 (577 words), PANEL 3. (3, 6 and 7 only)

...WE SEE THE TRAPPED AND FIGHTENED NETLLEY LOOKING UP AT GULL’S OFF-PANEL FACE FOR

CLUES AS TO WHAT HE IS REQUIRED TO DO.

NETLEY:

Uh, well, I suppose I’d put “Dear Mr. Lusk, sir.”

GULL:

Oh, come now! Are you not aware that one begins a letter with

one’s

own

address?

PANEL 6.

NOW WE HAVE A TIGHT CLOSE UP OF GULL’S FACE, FILLING THE ENTIRE PANEL FROM BORDER TO

BORDER. HIS EYES ARE MAD AND FAR AWAY, BUT THERE IS ALMOST SOMETHING CHILDLIKE AT THE

CORNERS OF HIS FAINT AND WONDERING SMILE.

GULL:

“From Hell”, Netley. Write that down. “From Hell.”

PANEL 7

NOW, IN THIS BIG PANEL, WE HAVE A CLOSE UP SHOT LOOKING DOWN AT THE BLOODY KIDNEY

LYING THERE UPON THE OPEN PORNOGRAPHY, STAINING THE PRINTED ORGIASTS WITH ITS RUST-

COLOURED SEEPAGES. THE PRINTED WOMEN POSE AND KNEEL. THE RENAL ARTERY PROTRUDES,

SEVERED TWO AND THREE QUARTER INCHES FROM ITS END.

No dialogue

198

Chapter 9, page 37.

Returning to “the graphics of theory

and guesswork,” specifically in relation to the

Marie Kelly problem, now we meet a new

character whose primary attribute will be that

she is confusable with Marie Kelly. Thus, so

far we have Marie Kelly, who may have been

the subject of Sickert’s Blackmail or Mrs. Barrett,

secondly “Emma,” who may have been Marie

Kelly. Thirdly there is Julia, who kind of looks

a bit like Marie Kelly, and needs to do so if an

important plot twist is going to work. We’ll

come back to her.

In the meantime, all the humour has

gone out of the sex in FROM HELL. Now it’s

“a reckless last bout of unbridled hedonism,”

with something sad about it.

PAGE 37. (1080 words) PANEL 1

THERE ARE NINE PANELS ON THIS PAGE. IN THIS FIRST ONE WE ARE IN MILLER’S COURT,

WITH THE DOORWAY TO NUMBER 13 VISIBLE FACING US OVER TO THE LEFT IN THE NEAR

FOREGROUND. BEYOND THAT AND MORE TO THE RIGHT WE ARE LOOKING DOWN THE LENGTH OF THE

ALLEY THAT LEADS OUT INTO DORSET STREET. IT IS NIGHT TIME. COMING DOWN THE ALLEY

FROM THE FAR END TOWARD US ARE TWO DRUNKEN WOMEN WHO ARE LEANING ON EACH OTHER FOR

SUPPORT. ONE OF THEM IS A VERY PISSED MARIE KELLY. THE OTHER IS ANOTHER PROSTITUTE,

ONE THAT WE HAVE NOT ENCOUNTERED BEFORE. HER NAME IS JULIA, AND SHE IS VERY SIMILAR

IN BUILD AND COLOURING TO MARIE HERSELF, ALTHOUGH HER FACIAL CHARACTERISTICS ARE VERY

DIFFERENT. SHE IS NEVERTHELESS A PRETTY GIRL, EVEN THOUGH WE CAN’T REALLY SEE MUCH

OF EITHER HER OR MARIE HERE AS THEY COME DOWN THE ALLEY TOWARDS US IN THE DARK.

JULIA:

Woops. Hahaha...

MARIE:

Shhhh.

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT, ONLY NOW THE TWO WOMEN HAVE REACHED THE FOREGROUND AND ARE STANDING JUST

OUTSIDE THE CLOSED DOOR OF NUMBER THIRTEEN, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE TO US HERE. JULIA

IS MORE TO THE LEFT HERE, TURNING HER INEBRIATED FEATURES TOWARDS MARIE WITH A

LOOK OF VAGUE AND BEFUDDLED WORRY. MARIE IS FROWNING IN CONCENTRATION AS SHE TRIES

TO FIT HER KEY INTO THE LOCK OF THE DOOR. SHE LOOKS DETERMINED AND VERY PISSED.

JULIA:

God, I’m pissed. We’re real Lushingtons. Are you sure your

Joe

won’t

mind?

MARIE:

‘Course he won’t. He’ll ... huc ...

199

Chapter 9, page 37

MARIE:

He’ll love it, you see.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE ARE INSIDE THE SINGLE DOWNSTAIRS ROOM THAT IS NUMBER 13 MILLER’S COURT.

SEATED, AND VISIBLE HER ONLY IN HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL WE HAVE

JOE BARNETT, MORE OR LESS IN PROFILE. HE LOOKS UP IN SURPRISE TOWARDS THE DOOR THAT

WE SEE IN THE LEFT OF THE BACKGROUND AS MARIE AND JULIA STUMBLE THROUGH IT. MARIE IS

SMILING BLISSFULLY AT JULIA, WHILE JULIA SMILES AT JOE A LITTLE MORE NERVOUSLY AND

TENTATIVELY. JOE JUST LOOKS BEWILDERED.

MARIE:

Hello, Joe, me love. I’m back.

MARIE:

There, now. Isn’t he a lovely man?

JOE:

Marie? I didn’t know you’d be bringin’ company...

PANEL 4.

HALF FIGURE TO HEAD AND SHOULDERS NOW WE HAVE THE TWO WOMEN FACING MOSTLY AWAY FROM

US TO EITHER SIDE OF THE FOREGROUND WITH MARIE ON THE LEFT AND JULIA ON THE RIGHT.

LOOKING BETWEEN THEM WE SEE JOE, STILL SEATED AND LOOKING UP AT THE TWO WOMEN IN

ASTONISHMENT. MARIE, ON THE LEFT, PUTS HER HAND ON JULIA’S ARM AS SHE INTRODUCES THE

WOMAN TO JOE. BOTH WOMEN ARE SMILING DRUNKENLY.

MARIE:

Oh. Oh, yes. This is Julia. Isn’t she a pretty girl, now?

JULIE:

Hello, Joe. Marie’s told me ever such a lot about you...

PANEL 5.

REVERSE ANGLES SO THAT NOW JOE IS IN THE FOREGROUND AND LOOKING SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM

US TOWARDS THE TWO WOMEN AS HE SITS MAYBE HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND. THE WOMEN, IN THE BACKGROUND, ARE TAKING OFF THEIR COATS. MARIE IS ALSO

TAKING OFF HER JACKET. WE CAN SEE THE UNMADE BED IN THE BACKGROUND. JOE, IN THE

FOREGROUND, STILL LOOKS PRETTY DUMBFOUNDED. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, MARIE DOESN’T

LOOK AT JOE AS SHE LIES to HIM. SHE IS TRYING TO LOOK MATTER OF FACT.

JOE:

Aye, well. Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.

MARIE:

There. I said he’d be pleased.

MARIE:

Y’see, Julia’s got nowhere to stop. I knew ye wouldn’t mind.

PANEL 6.

NOW WE ARE LOOKING AT JOE FROM THE FRONT. HIS EYES WIDEN AND HE LOOKS EVEN MORE

SURPRISED, PERHAPS STARTING TO RISE FROM HIS CHAIR. MARIE HAS CROSSED OVER TO HIM

AND SITS DOWN ON THE ARM OF THE CHAIR, STARTING TO STROKE HIS HEAD, SMILING PLACATINGLY

ALL THE TIME. HE IS LOOKING TOWARDS US AND THE OFF-PANEL JULIA HERE. WHEREAS THE

BOGGLE-EYED JOE JUST GAPES UP INCREDULOUSLY AT MARIE AS SHE TOYS WITH HIS HAIR.

JOE:

Stop? Ay, look, you know we’ve only got the one bed...

MARIE:

Oh Joe, that doesn’t matter, me love.

MARIE:

Does it, Julia?

PANEL 7.

PULL BACK SO THAT NOW JULIA IS FACING US IN THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, HER BACK

TURNED TOWARDS MARIE AND JOE WHO WE SEE IN THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND.

200

Part 5: Comings and goings

LOOKING UNCONCERNED, JULIA IS UNDRESSING FOR BED. SHE IS UNBUTTONING HER CHEMISE

HERE, REVEALING SMALL BUT NICELY SHAPED BREASTS. HER FACE IS PRETTY BLANK AND

DEVOID OF EXPRESSION. FROM THE BACKGROUND, JOE SITS IN HIS CHAIR AND JUST STARES

AT THE HALF-NAKED GIRL, EYES WIDE AND GLAZED WITH SHOCK. MARIE, SITTING ON THE

ARM OF HIS CHAIR, LEANS OVER AND KISSES HIS CHEEK IN A DRUNKEN, PATRONIZING WAY.

JOE, TRANSFIXED BY JULIA, DOESN’T APPEAR TO NOTICE.

JULIA:

Oh no, not at all. That’s how I like it, all cosy.

MARIE:

There. Y’see, Joe? Julia doesn’t mind.

MARIE:

Mwuh.

PANEL 8.

NOW WE CHANGE ANGLES AGAIN SO THAT WE SEE JOE, HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE LEFT OF THE

FOREGROUND, FACING MOSTLY AWAY FROM US. HE LOOKS PALE AND SHAKEN. IN THE BACKGROUND

WE SEE JULIA, NOW NAKED, AS SHE CLIMBS INTO THE UNMADE BED, FACING MOSTLY AWAY FROM

US AS SHE DOES SO. MARIE, STANDING SOMEWHAT CLOSER AND MORE TO THE RIGHT, SMILES

CHIDINGLY AT JOE AS SHE STARTS TO TAKE OFF HER OWN CHEMISE AND SKIRTS.

JOE:

But ... Marie, look, I don’t know about this...

MARIE:

Oh, Joe, c’mon. Don’t be a spoilsport. We could... huc...

MARIE:

We could all be dead tomorrow.

PANEL 9.

CHANGE ANGLE. IN THE BOTTOM FOREGROUND IS THE BED. SITTING UP IN IT NAKED, ON THE

RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND, WE CAN SEE SOME OF JULIA IN PROFILE. THE DIRTY BLANKET

IS PULLED UP TO HER WAIST. BEYOND HER AND MORE TO THE LEFT WE SEE MARIE. PERHAPS

DECAPITATED BY THE UPPER PANEL BORDER. SHE IS NAKED NOW APART FROM HER KNICKERS,

WHICH SHE IS JUST GUIDING DOWN AROUND HER KNEES HERE AS SHE PREPARES TO GET INTO BED

WITH JULIA. SHE HAS, AS JOE REMARKED LAST EPISODE, A LOVELY ARSE. JOE, TO THE RIGHT

OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND, SITS IN HIS CHAIR AS IF SUDDENLY TURNED TO STONE AND JUST

STARES SLACK-JAWED AT THE BED. HIS EYES ARE WIDE AND STARING. HE IS LOST.

JOE:

Aye,

b-but...

JOE:

Oh

God.

Marie’s bed-pals

It wasn’t something we discussed,

but I always figured the narrative

purpose of Marie’s other bed-

pal Maria Harvey (far right, from

page 47 of Chapter 9) was to look

quite unlike Marie Kelly, serving to

emphasize the relative likeness of

Marie and Julia (near right, page

41, see next) and show it to be not

just an accident. I was pleased with

my drawing of the seated figure.

201

Chapter 9, page 41.

I had already given the problem of the

sunlight some consideration back in Chapter 8,

Page 1, but I still couldn’t figure out how it could

get all the way across the room in these little hovels

that were packed together so tightly. I asked Pete to

work it out and tried not to look. At the end of this

page a new problem arises, and that’s the problem

of the door key. Julia asks how she’ll get in and on

page 42, Marie leaves the key on the sill near the

broken window. Keep an eye on it.

PAGE 41. (800 words) PANEL 1.

NINE PANELS. IN THIS FIRST ONE WE ARE INSIDE

MARIE’S ROOM AND LOOKING AT THE BROKEN GLASS

PANE OF THE WINDOW, (INCIDENTALLY, I THINK THE

WINDOW BROKEN WAS A SMALL ONE RIGHT NEXT TO THE

DOOR, SO THAT THE DOOR IS ON OUR LEFT OF IT

HERE YOU MIGHT NEED TO FIX SOME OF THE EARLIER

PICTURES. SEE WHAT YOU THINK. OUTSIDE THE

BROKEN WINDOW THERE IS ONLY DARKNESS, AND THE

INTERIOR OF THE ROOM IS SIMILARLY MURKY.

No dialogue. (for seven panels)

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT, STILL LOOKING AT THE WINDOW WITH THE

DOOR PARTLY VISIBLE TO OUR LEFT OF IT. AS WE

SEE IT HERE, THE FIRST RAYS OF THE SUN ARE JUST

STARTING TO RISE BEYOND THE BROKEN GLASS,

WITH A SOLITARY SHAFT OF SUNLIGHT FALLING IN HERE

THROUGH THE HOLE IN THE DUSTY, SMASHED WINDOW.

PANEL 3.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW. WE SEE THE OTHER END OF THE SUNBEAM AS IT FALLS UPON THE FLOOR

OF MARIE’S ROOM, WHERE WE SEE EMPTY BOTTLES AND SCATTERED CLOTHING STREWN

HAPHAZARDLY ABOUT. TOWARDS THE BACKGROUND WE CAN SEE THE BED WITH THE TWO SHADOWY

AND INDISTINCT SHAPES OF MARIE AND JULIE AS THEY LIE THERE ASLEEP. THE SUNRAY IS

BRIGHT ALMOST REDEMPTIVE, AS IT FALLS INTO THE DISMAL ROOM.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE MOVE CLOSER TO THE BED, AS IF WE WERE STANDING BESIDE IT AND LOOKING DOWN AT

MARIE AND JULIA AS THEY LIE THERE ASLEEP IN EACH OTHERS ARMS. JULIA’S MOUTH HANGS

OPEN, AS IF SHE MIGHT BE SNORING. THE PATCH OF LIGHT CAST BY THE SUNBEAM IS

202

Part 5: Comings and goings

CREEPING UP THE BED TOWARDS MARIE’S FACE, ALTHOUGH AS YET SHE IS STILL FAST ASLEEP.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, BUT NOW THE SUNLIGHT IS FALLING DIRECTLY ON MARIE’S FACE,

AND WE SEE HER START TO SIT UP SLIGHTLY, SQUINTING AS SHE WAKES, MAYBE LIFTING ONE

ARM TO SHIELD HERSELF FROM THE PAINFUL BRIGHTNESS. BESIDE HER JULIA SLEEPS ON.

PANEL 6.

CHANGE ANGLE FOR A LONG SHOT OF THE BED FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM. MARIE IS NOW

SITTING NAKED ON THE EDGE OF THE BED, HER ELBOWS RESTING ON HER KNEES AND HER FACE SUNK

IN HER HANDS. IT LOOKS AS IF SHE IS REMEMBERING THE NIGHT BEFORE WITH SOME REGRET. ALL

OVER THE FLOOR THERE ARE SPILLED BOTTLES, ITEMS OF CLOTHING, BROKEN GLASS. IT’S A MESS.

BEHIND THE SITTING MARIE, JULIA MAYBE STIRS SLIGHTLY, RUBBING A KNUCKLE INTO ONE EYE AS

SHE STARES BLEARILY AND UNCERTAINLY AT MARIE WITH THE OTHER.

PANEL 7.

NOW WE CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN. IN THE FOREGROUND, MARIE IS STANDING AND FACING ROUGHLY

TOWARDS US THREE-QUARTER FIGURE. SHE IS GETTING DRESSED HERE, HER BACK TURNED ON

THE BED. IN THE BED, JULIA SORT OF HALF SITS UP AND GAZES UNCERTAINLY AT MARIE’S BACK, AS

IF WONDERING HOW THINGS STAND BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM AFTER LAST NIGHT. MARIE’S FACE

IS UNREADABLE AS SHE BUTTONS HER DRESS; EXPRESSIONLESS AND MASK-LIKE, CONCEALING WHATEVER

FEELINGS SHE MIGHT BE HAVING. THE MAIN VISUAL FOCUS OF THE PANEL IS THE QUESTIONING,

UNCERTAIN LOOK THAT JULIA HAS ON HER FACE AS SHE GAZES TOWARDS MARIE’S TURNED BACK.

PANEL 8.

NOW WE CLOSE IN SLIGHTLY, SO THAT MARIE IS STILL VISIBLE OVER ON THE EXTREME LEFT OF THE

FOREGROUND, STILL FACING US, BUT NOW SHE IS ONLY VISIBLE FROM THE TIP OF HER NOSE DOWN

TO HER WAIST OR THEREABOUTS, WITH HER EYES NOT VISIBLE HERE, BEING OFF THE UPPER PANEL

BORDER. SHE IS STILL FASTENING BUTTONS AND STRAIGHTENING HER CLOTHES, AND HER LIPS ARE

STILL COMPOSED INTO AN UNREADABLE AND EXPRESSIONLESS LINE. LOOKING PAST HER AND MORE TO

THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL WE CAN SEE JULIA SITTING UP NOW IN THE BED AND STILL LOOKING VERY

WOEBEGONE, GUILTY AND UNCERTAIN AS SHE GAZES AT MARIE’S BACK, SPEAKING HESITANTLY AS SHE

DOES SO. MAYBE SHE HAS THE SHEET PULLED UP DEFENSIVELY TO COVER HER BREASTS HERE.

JULIA:

M-Marie? I-I’m sorry about what happened with you and Joe

last

night.

JULIA:

I keep feelin’ it’s my fault, coming’ ’ere. I’ll go if you like.

PANEL 9.

REVERSE ANGLES SO THAT IN THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE A LITTLE OF

JULIA AS SHE SITS UP IN BED, FACING AWAY FROM US TOWARDS MARIE, WHO HAS TURNED

TO FACE US FROM THE LEFT OF THE BACKGROUND, WHERE WE SEE HER STANDING ROUGHLY THREE-

QUARTER FIGURE. SHE GAZES AT JULIA KINDLY AND SYMPATHETICALLY. BEYOND MARIE WE CAN

SEE THE BROKEN WINDOW NEAR TO THE DOOR THAT LEADS OUT INTO MILLER’S COURT.

MARIE:

Oh, don’t be daft. Nothin’s your fault, and ye’re welcome to

doss here whenever you want.

JULIA:

Oh, that’s lovely. But how’ll I get in, if you’re not here?

203

Talking buildings.

It was good to have Pete Mullins on hand

for the architectural studies like Buckingham

Palace in our top tier of page 43, (facing page

and thumbnail right). It’s an example of what is

known in the trade as “the talking building.”

One of the saddening tendencies of

comic books of late is the habit of getting literal.

There are some obvious outward signs of this.

One such example is the decline of the thought

balloon. We hear the speech of others, as seen

in their speech balloons, but we are not privy

to their thoughts and so, the theory goes, these

should not be made visible. Thus in the more

literal-minded comics of our days, thought

balloons have been expunged and replaced by

the cinematic technique of the voice-over. And

as you know, I’m antagonistic to anything unthinkingly imported from cinema as though

that were a more authentic medium. Another comics trick that has largely gone south is

the talking building. This was a staple of the newspaper photorealist strips, used as a way

of setting a scene while simultaneously jumping into the dialogue. It could also be a way

of breaking up a static conversation, by inserting an exterior view. But buildings don’t

actually talk, so this too has been replaced by the caption. However, since we have done

away with captions for the duration of FROM HELL, we get to do the talking building.

There’s another on page 31 of this chapter. (see below). I may have drawn that one myself,

but it’s one of those instances where I can’t tell for sure.

Chapter 9, page 43.

The central panel of Eddy talking to his

trousers is one of those images that works as well in

both the thumbnail (facing) and the finished page.

PAGE 43. (732 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SEVEN PANELS HERE, WITH ONE BIG ONE

ON THE TOP TIER AND THEN THREE SMALLER ONES ON

EACH OF THE TIERS BELOW THAT. IN THIS FIRST ONE

WE JUST HAVE A WIDE-ANGLE ESTABLISHING SHOT OF

BUCKINGHAM PALACE BENEATH A GREY AND OVERCAST

LONDON SKY. WILLIAM GULL’S SPEECH BALLOONS

ISSUE FROM SOMEWHERE IN ONE OF THE EXTENSIVE

WINGS OF THE PALACE.

GULL (FROM PALACE):

I’m sorry I could not

attend your Highness when you arrived

from York yesterday. Sandringham next,

isn’t it?

GULL (FROM PALACE):

Ah well, I’m relieved

to say that everything is in order...

PANEL 2.

NOW WE CUT TO AN INTERIOR PRIVATE CHAMBER OF THE PALACE, WHERE DR. GULL HAS JUST

BEEN GIVING PRINCE EDDY A MEDICAL CHECKUP. GULL, HALF FIGURE TO THE LEFT OF THE

FOREGROUND, STANDS IN PROFILE FACING LEFT AS HE PACKS AWAY HIS MEDICAL EQUIPMENT,

NOT LOOKING ROUND TOWARDS PRINCE EDDY EVEN AS HE SPEAKS TO HIM. THE PRINCE IS

STANDING THREE-QUARTER TO FULL FIGURE IN THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND. HE HAS NO

TROUSERS ON, AND IS JUST RE-BUTTONING HIS SHIRT HERE, LOOKING RATHER MOURNFULLY AT

GULL AS HE LISTENS TO WHAT THE ROYAL PHYSICIAN IS SAYING TO HIM.

GULL:

I thought I had detected a sarcocele but it was merely a

blemish.

GULL:

Still, I would respectfully suggest your Highness be

discriminate in such liaisons.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE CLOSE IN SO THAT WE CAN JUST SEE PRINCE EDDY, DOWNCAST AND GAZING TOWARDS HIS

FEET AS HE MOURNFULLY TAKES UP HIS NEATLY HUNG TROUSERS FROM THE BACK OF A CHAIR,

GAZING AT THEM WITH A LOOK OF MISERY BEFORE HE PUTS THEM ON, SPEAKING MORE TO THE

TROUSERS THAN THE OFF-PANEL SIR WILLIAM.

EDDY:

Yes. Yes, I suppose I should. My affairs do rather tend to

get people into trouble, don’t they?

EDDY:

Do you remember Annie Crook, Sir William?

205

Chapter 9, page 43

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE. GULL FACES US IN THE FOREGROUND ON THE RIGHT. WE ARE SO CLOSE TO HIM

THAT WE CAN ONLY SEE HIS FACE DOWN FROM THE BRIDGE OF HIS NOSE, WITH HIS EYES OFF

PANEL ABOVE. HIS FACE, FROM WHAT WE CAN SEE OF IT, IS EXPRESSIONLESS AND DEVOID OF

EMOTION AS HE SPEAKS ABOUT ANNIE. AS HE FACES US, HE IS STILL PACKING EVERYTHING

AWAY TIDILY INTO HIS MEDICAL BAG, WHICH WE SEE IN THE BOTTOM FOREGROUND. LOOKING

INTO THE LEFT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND WE SEE EDDY AS HE STARTS TO STEP INTO HIS

TROUSERS, GAZING MOURNFULLY AT SIR WILLIAM’S TURNED BACK AS HE DOES SO.

GULL:

Hm? Ahh, yes. The Crook woman. What a hornet’s nest she

stirred

up.

GULL:

But no matter. That will all be concluded shortly.

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN. EDDIE IS NOW HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND,

FACING AWAY FROM US TOWARDS GULL, WHO STANDS TO THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND,

STILL PACKING HIS MEDICAL BAG, NOT LOOKING ROUND AT THE PRINCE AS HE SPEAKS TO HIM.

IN FACT, WE NEEDN’T SEE GULL’S FACE HERE. EDDIE LOOKS SICK AND ANXIOUS AS HE GAZES

TOWARDS GULL’S TURNED BACK, STARTLED BY THIS SUDDEN OMINOUS NEWS.

EDDY:

C-concluded? You mean, those women? The blackmail attempt...?

GULL:

Please, your Highness, a little softer. There are footmen.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, ONLY MAYBE WE ZOOM IN JUST A LITTLE SO THAT WE NOW HAVE JUST A SLIVER OF

THE FRONT OF EDDY’S FACE VISIBLE IN THE EXTREME LEFT FOREGROUND, GAZING AWAY FROM

US IN MUTE HORROR TOWARDS GULL, WHO IS NOW TURNING ROUND FROM HIS BAG TO FACE US.

HE SMILES AT EDDY REASSURINGLY.

GULL:

But to answer your question: yes. I have recently located

the remaining woman in Dorset Street, Whitechapel.

GULL:

So have no fear, your Highness...

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLE. EDDY IS STARING AT US HALF TO THREE-QUARTER FIGURE FROM THE LEFT

BACKGROUND, HIS EYES HAUNTED AS HE GAZES SILENTLY AT DR. GULL. WE SEE GULL IN

THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, SO CLOSE THAT ONCE AGAIN WE CANNOT SEE HIS EYES, WHICH ARE

INVISIBLE OFF THE UPPER PANEL BORDER AS HE STANDS THERE IN PROFILE, STILL WITH THE

FAINT REASSURING SMILE UPON HIS LIPS AS HE SPEAKS TO THE MUTE AND HORRIFIED EDDY.

GULL:

There are seven days remaining until the Lord Mayor’s

Parade. By then, this grave embarrassment shall be no more.

GULL:

You have my oath.

Facing page: Alan’s thumbnails for pages 41-47; (41 and 43 already discussed) 42 Netley steals key;

44 Abberline arrives at Ten Bells; Script for 45 is discussed next; 46 is Guy Fawkes night, when Julia reaches

through the window to let herself in; 47 has another sex scene, sensitively drawn in the centre panel. “We see

Marie Kelly trying to lose herself in drink and promiscuous sex in the wake of learn-

ing that something much more terrible than a protection gang has been eliminating

her friends on its way towards her.” (1994 synopsis) For 49-54, see page 188 here.

206

Part 5: Comings and goings

Chapter 9, pages 41-47. Commentary on facing page.

Chapter 9, page 45.

Alan described Abberline’s part in

this chapter: “He plods through the dismal

workings of the case, attending post-mortem

and inquiry with equal cheerlessness.

meanwhile he pursues his chaste yet guilty

relationship with the street-girl Emma”

(1994 synopsis). Here Fred lends “Emma” five quid. I

wracked my brain at the time to figure out if that

was a huge amount or just a lot. He tentatively

suggests getting a room and looks away. He is

supposed to be looking at Emma in panel 6. I’m

wondering why that came out otherwise. He has

a guilty look about him, mixed with a thought

that he might have stuck his neck out too far.

Sometimes one draws a thing and redraws, and

it ends up different from the original intention.

Speaking of which, Alan planned nine panels at the top and then realized he’d miscounted

and changed it to eight (as in the thumbnail overleaf). I can’t remember if I made it nine

because I’d already started in on a pre-lined page, or if I had an actual idea about it.

PAGE 45. (666 words) PANEL 1.

NINE PANELS. ABBERLINE STANDS AT THE BAR IN THE NEAR RIGHT BACKGROUND WHILE EMMA

SEATS HERSELF AT THE TABLE IN THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND. HER FACE ARTFULLY

CONCEALED OR TURNED AWAY. FRED IS NOT LOOKING AT HER, BUT AT THE BARMAN WHO HAS

APPROACHED HIM FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BAR.

EMMA:

I’ll have a half o’ bitter. No. Y’know what I mean; I don’t

like takin’ yer money.

FRED:

You’re not. It’s just a loan. Pint’n ’alf o’ bitter, please.

PANEL 2.

SIMILAR SHOT, WITH EMMA SITTING IN THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND WITH HER UPPER FACE

INVISIBLE OFF THE TOP OF THE PANEL AND ONLY HER MOUTH VISIBLE HERE. SHE LOOKS

RESOLVED. APPROACHING THE TABLE FROM THE NEAR BACKGROUND WE SEE FRED, CARRYING A

PINT GLASS AND A HALF-PINT GLASS, WHICH HE HOLDS OUT FOR EMMA TO TAKE.

EMMA:

Well, that’s ALL it is. A loan. I’ll pay you back next week, I promise.

FRED:

I know you will. Let’s ‘ear no more of it. ’Ere, take this...

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, WITH EMMA SEATED ON THE LEFT WITH HER EYES OFF PANEL ABOVE,

WHILE FRED SEATS HIMSELF MORE TOWARDS THE RIGHT AND SLIGHTLY FURTHER AWAY FROM US,

208

Part 5: Comings and goings

GAZING TOWARDS US AND EMMA AS HE DOES SO, EMMA TAKES THE DRINK FROM FRED. AS HE SITS,

HE IS MAYBE FISHING IN AN INSIDE POCKET FOR THE FIVE-POUND NOTE HE INTENDS TO LEND HER.

EMMA:

Thank ye very much. No, I’m serious, Fred. We’ll meet here on

the ninth, an’ I’ll pay it back.

FRED:

Fair enough. Here y’are...

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT, WITH EMMA VISIBLE FROM THE NOSE DOWN ON THE NEAR LEFT AND FRED LOOKING

FROM THE RIGHT OF THE NEAR BACKGROUND AS HE SITS FACING HER. EMMA TAKES THE FIVE-

POUND NOTE FROM HIM, LOOKING DOWN AT IT IN GRATEFUL AWE AS SHE DOES SO. SIPPING FROM

HIS BEER, FRED GLANCES AT HER A LITTLE NERVOUSLY AND ANXIOUSLY. HE’S TRYING TO PLUCK

UP COURAGE TO SAY SOMETHING. EMMA IS OBLIVIOUS TO THIS.

EMMA:

God, Fred, ye don’t know what this means...

FRED:

Aye, well, put it away or you won’t ’ave it long.

FRED:

Tell you what: on the ninth we’ll celebrate, eh?

PAGE 5.

SAME SHOT. OBEDIENTLY TUCKING THE FOLDED FIVE-POUND NOTE AWAY IN SOME INNER POCKET

OR RECESS OF HER DRESS, EMMA LOOKS UP AND GAZES AT FRED, SEEMING SLIGHTLY SURPRISED

OR PUZZLED BY HIS SUGGESTION. FRED LOOKS DOWN INTO HIS DRINK AS HE REPLIES, TOO

EMBARRASSED TO MEET HER EYES.

EMMA:

Celebrate? How?

Fred:

I dunno. I thought we could p’raps, y’know, find a room.

Somewhere

nice.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT. EMMA JUST GAZES AT FRED ACROSS THE TABLE AND DOESN’T SAY ANYTHING.

ABBERLINE GLANCES AT HER OFF-PANEL EYES. THERE IS A TENSE SILENCE. No dialogue

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT. IN THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, EMMA LIFTS HER GLASS OF BEER TO HER LIPS

AND SMILES, EVIDENTLY PLEASED BY THE IDEA. FRED JUST LOOKS AT HER FROM HIS SIDE OF

THE TABLE, UNABLE TO BELIEVE HOW BEAUTIFUL SHE IS. AROUND THEM, THE BUSTLE OF THE

BAR CONTINUES UNABATED, BUT THEY SIT THERE IN THEIR LITTLE POCKET OF CHARGED HUSH.

EMMA:

Aye. Aye, perhaps we could. Cheers.

PANEL 8.

WHOOPS... I SAID THIS WAS A NINE-PANEL PAGE AT THE TOP, DIDN’T I? WELL, I’M SORRY,

BUT I’D MISREAD MY OWN LAYOUTS AND IT’S ONLY AN EIGHT-PANEL PAGE AFTER ALL. THIS

LAST PANEL IS A DOUBLE-SIZED PANEL COMPLETING THE BOTTOM TIER, AND WHAT WE SEE IS A

VIEW OF SPITALFIELDS GARDENS, WITH THE STRANGE PYRAMID THAT WE SAW EARLIER PROMINENT

IN THE FOREGROUND. LOOKING BEYOND IT AND INTO THE BACKGROUND WE CAN PERHAPS GLIMPSE

THE TEN BELLS ACROSS THE STREET, IF THAT WORKS. IF NOT, LEAVE THE PUB OUT. THE

MAIN FOCUS IS THE SINISTER AND SILENT PYRAMID OF WHITE PORTLAND STONE, REARING

ENIGMATICALLY THERE IN THE SCRUFFY, TRAMP-HAUNTED GARDENS.

No dialogue

209

Chapter 9: a question.

The scenes at the flat here had me going

back over and over the second half of chapter 9 for

months after it was first published in December 1994,

trying to figure out all the moves to be sure they made

sense and to see if I’d done something wrong.

Following the key to the flat is a shell game.

On page 42, Marie puts the key on the window ledge

under the broken window, so that Julia can use it to Page 55, panels 5 and 6:

get back in. On the same page, after they leave, Netley

Marie enters flat in 6. I gave the

comes and reaches in and takes the key. On page 46, light a raggedness in these scenes

Julia lets herself in by reaching through the window to conceal the sleight of hand.

all the way over to the door handle, and as she enters

she makes a remark about the key still being missing,

indicating that these characters have talked about it

since we last saw them. I didn’t set up the flat so that

you can reach from the door to the window, and I’m

hoping nobody makes an issue of the stretch. Marie is

in bed with another woman (Maria Harvey), so Julia

sleeps on the floor. Marie and her pal awake on page

47 and note that Julia is gone. Marie says Julia will be

Page 56, panels 5 and 6:

Marie enters the flat in 6.

back tomorrow night (important). Another night passes.

Gull is shown to now be in possession of the key.

Meanwhile, there is a parade of people being

brought into the flat: Lizzie Albright, Barnett, a pick-

up, then another pick-up. Note that Marie entered the

flat in the same panel, the sixth, of pages 55 and 56,

both times in company, so that we have established a

presumption that the third time, page 57, is also Marie.

Here is the relevant portion of the script:

Page 57, panels 5 and 6:

PAGE 57 (363 words) PANEL 5.

Marie(?) enters the flat in 6.

SAME SHOT. A SOLITARY WOMAN IS COMING DOWN THE ALLEYWAY TOWARDS US AND THE CLOSED DOOR.

IT LOOKS LIKE MARIE KELLY, AND IN THE CONTEXT OF THE PREVIOUS COMINGS AND GOINGS, ONE

WOULD PROBABLY ASSUME THAT’S WHO IT WAS. IT IS IN FACT JULIA, BUT IT IS IMPORTANT THAT

NOBODY REALIZE THIS AT THIS STAGE, HENCE THE ABYSMAL LIGHT IN THE COURT. THE WOMAN HERE

IS JUST COMING DOWN THE ALLEYWAY TOWARDS US AND HAS NOT YET REACHED THE FRONT DOOR.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT. WE SEE THE WOMAN AS SHE OPENS THE DOOR AND GOES INTO THE SOFTLY LIT

ROOM. IT STILL LOOKS PRETTY MUCH LIKE MARIE KELLY. No dialogue.

210

Part 5: Comings and goings

Alan works out

the final comings

and goings at 13

Miller’s Court.

Chapter 9, pages

55-58.

Note the drunken

song at bottom

of 55, shifted

to top of 56 to

make room for

the advancing

sequence of the

coach arriving

in the long lower-

tier panels (see my

note on 190)

(41-47 is on page

207

49-54 is on page

189.)

Since Marie no longer has a key, I presumed

Page 58,

that she was just leaving the door lightly pulled closed

panel 3,

Gull uses

(she says there’s nothing in here worth stealing), and

the key

once inside would bolt it. Note that Godley says in

Chapter 11, page 5, that it is “spring-locked.” Recall

also that, when Marie was already inside, Julia had to

reach through to the door handle the last time to let

herself in, but doesn’t do that here. The only person

holding a key, Gull, turns up on 58 and lets himself in.

Here’s a little trick that you may have missed:

everybody else went through the door in panel 6 of a

page. Gull enters in 5, creating a frisson of alarm in

the reading by being one panel ahead of schedule.

However, the question is: have we tripped

ourselves up? On leaving the final time, which we now

know to be 56, did Marie know she wouldn’t be back,

Page 58- panels 5 and 6:

and knowing that, did she still leave it unclosed?

Gull enter flat in 5 (not 6),

one panel ahead of “schedule.”

211

Part 6

Pages 213 to 227.

The theme is

butchery.

How does one

show it with

honesty?

Chapter 10, pages 1, 2.

Alan’s script for the first page of

Chapter 10 is pretty much just stage direction,

but I’ve shown a row of panels from it. A year

before we started on this chapter, Alan wrote:

“While gathering data to aid in From Hell ’s

reconstruction of the final murder, I was in

receipt of a generous offer made by Martin

Fido, noted Ripperologist and true-crime

writer. Referring to details unearthed in

his then still-to-be released Compendium

and A-Z he suggested I might like to see

newly published post-mortem details that

related to Jack’s final victim, the hideously

mutilated Marie Jeanette Kelly, including

some previously undisclosed facial wounds.

“Now, I suppose that if you haven’t

been somebody who’s spent the last four

years engrossed in coroner’s reports and

mortuary photographs, the obvious appeal

;

of such enticing information might be

conceivably lost on you. ‘Does it matter,’ you

ask, ‘if the first cut was made in the face? He made hamburger out of the poor

woman, for God’s sake! Who wants to know the precise order he did it all in?’

“I do. I know it’s a sickness, but I do. You see, that first facial incision can

be matched exactly with cuts in the bed-sheet, which means that when she

saw the man with the knife crossing over the dark, twelve-foot-square room to

her bed, she pulled up the bed-covers instinctively, just like a small child

afraid that the monsters will get her, to cover her face. It’s so poignant, the

image: how can I resist it?

“The surge of excitement I felt on receiving the offer of yet more details of

the hideous things that were done to this woman was frankly as close as I’ve

come to pure horror throughout this whole exercise. Not a revulsion at what

had become of Marie Jeanette Kelly, her purely physical disfiguring, but a

nausea predicated on myself, on all the Ripperati, fumbling elbow deep in

pools of ancient blood, hoping to find some previously undiscovered talisman

amongst the viscous, clotted bedsands: half a railway ticket, or a broken comb; a

grape stem or ginny kidney.” (Oct 1993, introduction to the “Compleat Scripts.”)

213

Chapter 10, page 2

PAGE 1. (847 words) (edited- only panels 2 and 5 complete) PANEL 1.

HELLO, EDDIE. WELL, THIS IS THE BIG NASTY ONE. NOT SO MUCH FROM HELL AS TO HELL IN

A HANDCART (OR “TO HELL IN A HANDBAG” AS MELINDA MALAPROPOSITIONED RECENTLY). THIS

FIRST PAGE HAS EIGHT PANELS INCLUDING THE OPENING TITLE FRAME...etc

PANEL 2.

DOUBLE-WIDTH PANEL, FINISHING OFF THIS OPENING TIER. WE ARE INSIDE NO.13 MILLER’S

COURT, FACING THE HOVEL’S DOOR, WHICH IS JUST OPENING TOWARDS US. FRAMED IN IT IS

WILLIAM GULL, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE AS HE ENTERS THE DARK ROOM AND VERY WIDE AND

IMPRESSIVE. THE WEAK LIGHTING OF MILLER’S COURT GLIMMERS FAINTLY BEHIND HIM, ENOUGH

TO THROW HIS FEATURES INTO COMPLETE SMOTHERING SHADOW AS HE FACES US HERE,

A FEATURELESS AND NAMELESS CHTHONIC FORCE BLOWING INTO THE SMALL ROOM LIKE A WIND.

PANEL 5

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT NOW WE ARE JUST BEHIND GULL AND CAN JUST SEE A LITTLE OF HIM...

PERHAPS HIS HAND HOLDING THE KNIFE OR MAYBE JUST THE EDGE OF HIS DARK FORM ENTERING

THE PANEL FROM THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND. LOOKING BEYOND THIS WE CAN SEE THE WOMAN

SITTING UP IN BED FACING US AND THE APPROACHING GULL. SHE HAS PULLED THE SHEET UP TO

THE BRIDGE OF HER NOSE IN TERROR, ONLY HER FRIGHTENED EYES STARING AT US FROM OVER

THE TOP OF THIS FUTILE, INFANTILE ATTEMPT AT CONCEALMENT AND PROTECTION. HER EYES ARE

AWFUL. SHE IS JUST THIS INSTANT UNDERSTANDING THAT SHE IS GOING TO DIE UNPLEASANTLY.

WOMAN:

Oh no.

WOMAN:

MURDER! HELP!

PAGE 2. (785 words) (edited to condense) PANEL 1.

NINE PANELS ON THIS SECOND PAGE, WITH THIS FIRST PANEL BEING MORE OR LESS THE SAME SHOT

AS THE LAST PANEL ON PAGE ONE, WITH GULL VISIBLE HALF FIGURE IN PROFILE, FACING TOWARDS

THE LEFT OF THE PANEL AND THE WOMAN OFF PANEL BENEATH HIM. IN THIS PANEL HE HAS SLASHED

THE KNIFE ACROSS IN A LONG AND WHISTLING ARC SO THAT HERE HIS RIGHT ARM IS CROSSED OVER

HIS BODY WITH THE KNIFE POINT LUNGING UP CLOSE TOWARDS US IN THE FOREGROUND, TRAILING A

TRAJECTORY LINE OF BLOOD. THE ARC OF THE KNIFE HAS SLICED THROUGH THE WOMAN’S OFF-PANEL

THROAT, AND THERE IS A SPRAY OF BLOOD UPWARDS INTO THE PANEL FROM BENEATH. GULL’S FACE

IS STILL EXPRESSIONLESS AS HE DELIVERS THE COUP DE GRACE.

No dialogue. (ditto all panels on this page)

PANEL 3.

NOW A HEAD-AND-SHOULDERS SHOT OF GULL FACING US, ANGLED SO THAT WE ARE PERHAPS

LOOKING UP AT HIM SLIGHTLY. HE WIPES A THIN FILM OF SWEAT FROM HIS BROW WITH THE BACK OF

ONE HAND, MAYBE WIPING SOME BLOOD ONTO HIS BROW IN THE PROCESS, UNLESS THAT LOOKS TOO

OVERDONE. HIS EXPRESSION IS EMOTIONLESS AND MASK-LIKE, STATUE-LIKE IN THE SHADOWY ROOM.

HE IS LOOKING DOWN AT HIS OFF-PANEL WORK WITHOUT A FLICKER OF REACTION.

PANEL 4.

WE ARE NOW CROUCHING JUST A FOOT ABOVE FLOOR LEVEL, UP AT THE HEAD OF THE BED,

SQUEEZED BETWEEN THE BEDSIDE TABLE ON THE LEFT AND THE BED ON THE RIGHT. THE EDGE

214

Part 6: Butchery

OF THE TABLE JUTS INTO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND HERE, AND WE CAN SEE THE HANDLE

OF GULL’S LISTON KNIFE, RESTING WHERE HE LEFT IT. FROM THE RIGHT, WHERE WE SEE THE

EDGE OF THE BED, WE CAN SEE ONE OF THE WOMAN’S LIMP HANDS DANGLING DOWN OVER THE

SIDE OF THE BED, LIFELESS AND INERT. LOOKING JUST BEYOND THE EDGE OF THE BEDSIDE

TABLE IN THE LEFT FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE SOME OF GULL, ROUGHLY FROM HIS CALVES TO HIS

MID-TORSO. HIS HANDS ARE REACHING DOWN INTO VIEW HERE AND WE CAN SEE THAT HE IS IN

FACT BENDING HIS KNEES TO STOOP SLIGHTLY. AS HE REACHES DOWN AND GRASPS THE CREASES

OF HIS TROUSERS AT THE KNEE, ONE CREASE IN EACH HAND. THIS IS A VERY SLIGHT BIT OF

BUSINESS TO LAST THE NEXT THREE PANELS, BUT IT FEELS RIGHT, SO BEAR WITH ME.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT EXACTLY, THE ONLY MOVEMENT IS THAT GULL HAS HOISTED HIS TROUSER CREASES UP

ABOUT THREE INCHES, TO ABOVE THE KNEE. NOTHING ELSE HAPPENS. THE HAND STILL DANGLES

OFF THE EDGE OF THE BED OVER ON THE RIGHT.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT. HAVING HIKED UP HIS CREASES GULL NOW SQUATS DOWN ON HIS HAUNCHES, SO THAT

WE CAN AT LEAST SEE HIS HEAD AND SHOULDERS AS HE CROUCHES BY THE BED. THESE LAST

THREE PANELS ARE SOLELY CONCERNED WITH THE ACTION OF GULL HIKING HIS CREASES UP.

I JUST THOUGHT IT A TELLING DETAIL IN THE WAKE OF SUCH A SAVAGE MURDER.

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT. GULL NOW REACHES OUT AND TAKES THE WOMAN’S LIMP HAND. HOLDING IT BY THE

WRIST. WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE FISHES INSIDE HIS WAISTCOAT POCKET TO RETRIEVE HIS FOB

WATCH, WHICH WE PROBABLY CAN’T SEE YET.

PANEL 8.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, ONLY HERE GULL HAS TAKEN OUT THE FOB WATCH AND IS GAZING AT IT

EXPRESSIONLESSLY AS HE HOLDS THE WOMAN’S LIMP WRIST IN THE FINGERS OF HIS OTHER HAND.

PANEL 9.

SAME SHOT EXACTLY. GULL CONTINUES TO GAZE AT THE WATCH WHILE HOLDING THE WOMAN’S WRIST.

HE DOES NOT MOVE, NEITHER DOES HIS MASK-LIKE FACE SHOW ANY FLICKER OF EXPRESSION.

No dialogue.

Alternative scene: In the 1994 synopsis, Alan had the murder being committed

on the last page of chapter 9, with a detail that doesn’t appear in the book, but is only referred to.

When she hears him enter and sees him walk toward the bed with the

Liston knife in his hand she pulls the covers up over her face in a reflexive,

child-like impulse and cries out “Murder.” Calmly, Gull stabs her twice

in the face through the raised bed sheet. In the lodging room upstairs from

number 13, a small cat wakes Marie’s sleeping neighbour by walking over

the back of her neck (and imagine that, if you will). The neighbour hears

a woman cry “Murder”, but as this is a fairly common East End cry,

she turns over and goes back to sleep. End of Chapter IX.

The detail of the cat (“Diddles”) got moved to the dialogue of the investigation in Chapter 11.

215

Chapter 10, pages 5, 8.

And so Alan set about reconstructing

“The precise order he did it all in.”

He wrote, “Many serial murderers prefer

to mutilate their victims’ faces first, so

as to, in effect, dehumanize their kill

and rob it of identity, thus making it

psychologically easier for them to carry

out their further mutilations.” (FROM HELL

appendix 1, page 33). This raises the problem that

I have been leading up to here. Alan wanted

to leave it as a possibility that the person killed

here was not Marie but Julia. This, you may be

surprised to hear, remained uncertain right up

until he finished writing the final chapter.

The problem for me was what to show

here before the face is destroyed. It wouldn’t do

to only half-show it, or have it happen off-panel,

as that would be construed as squeamishness.

Since I was already juggling with “the graphics

of theory and guesswork,” I was ready for it. It

occurred to me that we had never seen either

woman at close quarters, or at least not in the

way that we had seen Gull and Abberline. Thus I could draw a face and the identity

could remain deniable. Like one of those eyewitness situations: ‘can you tell us exactly

what you saw?’ Or to put it another way, the reader must be as UNcertain that the

person being murdered is Marie and not Julia, with a face visible, as they are elsewhere

CERtain that “Emma” is Marie, with NO face visible. (excerpt from page 4, first tier

at left)

Then there is the breast. He puts it on the bedside table. We are finished with

neither the face or the breast.

PAGE 5. (384 words) PANEL 7 ONLY. (excerpt from page 5, second tier above))

BIG WIDE PANEL SHOWING A PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE WHOLE CANDLELIT ROOM. GULL STANDS

FULL FIGURE BY THE BEDSIDE TABLE. THE WOMAN IS VISIBLE LYING FULL LENGTH ON THE

BED. HER FACE LOOKS LIKE ONE OF THOSE MOSAIC AZTEC DEATH MASKS. HER BODY, UN-

TOUCHED AS YET, IS BEAUTIFUL BENEATH THE THIN CHEMISE. SHE LOOKS LIKE SOME KIND OF

ODD MYTHICAL CREATURE OR CHIMERA; THE BODY OF A BEAUTIFUL LIVE WOMAN, THE HEAD OF

216

Part 6: Butchery

A FLAYED CORPSE. THE SILENT, WITNESSING ROOM STRETCHES AROUND GULL AND THE BODY. WE

CAN MAYBE USE THIS PANEL TO FIRMLY ESTABLISH ITS LAYOUT, SHOWING THE READER WHERE THE

FIREPLACE IS AND EVERYTHING IN RELATION TO THE BED AND THE DOOR. EXPRESSIONLESS, GULL

SETS THE KNIFE DOWN ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE. FACELESS, THE MOTIONLESS GIRL SEEMS TO GAZE

IDLY TOWARDS HIM, LOLLING THERE LIKE A SATISFIED LOVER WATCHING HER PARTNER DRESS.

PAGE 8. (426 words) (7 of 9 panels) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER NINE-PANEL PAGE. WE CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES,

MORE OR LESS, AS HE LOOKS DOWN AT THE HEAD, SHOULDERS AND UPPER BODY OF THE MURDERED

WOMAN. WITH ONE HAND HE REACHES OUT AND TAKES HOLD OF THE DEAD WOMAN’S HAIR. IN HIS

OTHER HAND, VISIBLE IN THE BOTTOM FOREGROUND, HE HOLDS THE SEVERED BREAST. HER

MUTILATED FACE STARES AT US DUMBLY.

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT. PULLING THE DEAD WOMAN’S HEAD UP FROM THE PILLOW BY THE HAIR, GULL

SLIDES HER BREAST UNDER HEAD LIKE AN EXTRA PILLOW.

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE. WE ARE NOW TOWARDS THE BOTTOM OF THE BED, LOOKING UP ITS LENGTH WITH

GULL ON THE RIGHT OF THE BED AND THE WOMAN’S LEGS AND FEET POINTING TOWARDS US IN

THE FOREGROUND. LOOKING DOWN WITHOUT EXPRESSION, GULL REACHES OUT AND TAKES THE

WOMAN’S REMAINING BREAST IN HIS LEFT HAND. WITH HIS RIGHT HAND HE PICKS UP THE KNIFE.

GULL:

Huh.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. DISPASSIONATELY, GULL STARTS TO SAW OFF THE WOMAN’S OTHER BREAST,

WORKING THE KNIFE AROUND THE EDGE OF ITS UNDERSIDE HERE.

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLE. WE ARE NOW BEHIND GULL, WITH PART OF HIS BACK VISIBLE ON THE LEFT

OF THE PANEL HERE. ON THE RIGHT WE SEE THE BEDSIDE TABLE, LOOMING IN THE

FOREGROUND. AS WE SEE GULL HERE, BOTH HIS HANDS ARE VISIBLE. HIS RIGHT HAND HOLDS

THE KNIFE. IN HIS LEFT HAND HE HOLDS THE NOW COMPLETELY SEVERED RIGHT BREAST OF THE

DEAD WOMAN. HIS HEAD AND SHOULDERS ARE PROBABLY OFF PANEL HERE, ALTHOUGH WE CAN

PROBABLY STILL SEE THE DEAD WOMAN’S MUTILATED FACE STARING AT US.

No dialogue.

PANEL 8.

SAME SHOT. TURNING SLIGHTLY, GULL SETS THE BREAST DOWN CAREFULLY ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 9.

SAME SHOT. GULL IS STANDING BY THE BEDSIDE TABLE WITH HIS HEAD AND SHOULDERS

INVISIBLE OFF THE TOP PANEL BORDER, STANDING SO THAT HE IS ROUGHLY FACING TOWARDS US.

HE SETS THE KNIFE DOWN ON THE TABLE BESIDE THE BREAST THAT IT HAS JUST REMOVED FROM

THE WOMAN’S BODY.

No dialogue

217

Chapter 10, pages 12, 13.

In FROM HELL’s appendix notes,

Alan reflected upon “the view of life that

doctors have, that they alone have been

elected to that priesthood that may look

upon the mysteries inside us... I hoped to

create within the reader’s mind... a brief

glimpse through the alien eyes of something

that’s emotional response to mutilation

might be very different from our own.” (From

Hell appendix 1, page 35.)

As to the art, I would have selected

and pasted on xeroxes of photos from a book

on the human heart and then, since there

were no characters to keep consistent, either

regular or hypothetical, Pete Mullins would

have done the inking over it all to bring it

into FROM HELL stylistic territory. Taken out

of its context the page looks almost abstract.

One comics formalist critic called it “savagely

avant-garde.” The page that followed it, of

which a part is shown at left, continues in the

same manner. Note, by the way, that Alan refers

to the victim as Marie Kelly in Page13, panel 1.

PAGE 12.(432 words) (slight edit) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER SEVEN-PANEL PAGE, THIS TIME WITH THE

BIG PANEL AT THE BOTTOM TIER AND THREE PANELS

ON EACH OF THE TIERS ABOVE THAT. IN THIS

FIRST PANEL WE HAVE CLOSED IN STILL FURTHER,

ONTO THE VERY TIP OF THE BLADE AS IT ENTERS THE TISSUE. THE BLADE IS A GIANT WALL

OF METAL DESCENDING INTO THE PICTURE FROM OFF, THE BODY CAVITY AROUND IT BECOMING

A LANDSCAPE OF FLESH AS WE DESCEND FURTHER AND FURTHER.

No dialogue (all panels)

PANEL 2.

CLOSE IN SO THAT WE ARE RIGHT DOWN AT THE POINT WHERE THE GIANT EDGE OF THE METAL

IS CUTTING THROUGH HUMAN MEAT. WE SEE THE LIPS OF THE WOUND PEEL BACK AWAY FROM THE

SHARP BLADE AS IT SLICES THROUGH THE TISSUE. THE INSIDE OF THE CUT FLESH IS

HONEYCOMBED WITH TINY CAPILLARY VEINS, HARDLY VISIBLE EVEN AT THIS MAGNIFICATION.

218

Part 6: Butchery

PANEL 3.

CLOSE IN FURTHER ONTO THE CUT SURFACE OF THE FLESH. THE PATTERNING OF SEVERED VEINS IS

NOW MUCH MORE PROMINENT. THEY LOOK LIKE A SYSTEM OF TUNNELS SEEN FROM A DISTANCE.

PANEL 4.

CLOSE IN FURTHER, SO THAT WE ARE ZOOMING IN ON THE MOUTH OF ONE OF THE CAPILLARY VEIN

TUNNELS. IT GAPES BEFORE US, HUGE AND DARK. A TRICKLE OF BLOOD RUNS SLUGGISHLY ALONG

THE BOTTOM OF THIS HUGE WATER-PIPE.

PANEL 5.

WE ARE NOW MOVING DOWN THE TUNNEL OF THE VEIN, ITS RIBBED WALLS RISING AROUND US AND

THE SPLASHING TRICKLE OF BLOOD SLAPPING AROUND BENEATH US IN THE BOTTOM OF THE VEIN.

PANEL 6.

WE CONTINUE ALONG THE VEIN AS IF WE WERE WHITEWATER RAFTING... OR RED PLASMA RAFTING

IN THIS INSTANCE. WE CAN SEE THE PLATELETS AND THE WHITE CORPUSCLES IN THE SANGUINARY

SOUP ALL AROUND US. UP AHEAD, DOWN THE TILTING BORE OF THE TUNNEL WE CAN SEE A COMPLEX

JUNCTION APPROACHING, WHERE THE TUNNEL SEEMS TO WIDEN OUT INTO AN AS-YET UNGLIMPSED

CHAMBER. WE SURGE FORWARD, THE WORLD ABOUT US GETTING BIGGER ALL THE TIME.

PANEL 7.

NOW THE BIG WIDE PANEL. ON A STREAM OF BLOOD WE POUR INTO THE GIANT CATHEDRAL-LIKE

CHAMBERS OF THE DEAD HEART. THE INNER STRUCTURE OF THE HEART RISES UP ALL AROUND US,

A BIZARRE AND GIGER-ESQUE LANDSCAPE, AWESOME AND WEIRD AND ODDLY BEAUTIFUL. WE SWIRL

THROUGH IT ON THE BLOOD CURRENT, RAFTING THROUGH INCREDIBLE SUBTERRANEAN CAVERNS

OF TRANSLUCENT FLESH AND TISSUE. THIS PANEL SHOULD LOOK REALLY STUNNING, ALMOST

APOCALYPTIC IN ITS DEPICTION OF THE LANDSCAPES OF THE INNER BODY.

PAGE 13.(428 words) (edited- panels 1,2 and 4 only) PANEL 1.

... WE ARE MOVING THROUGH MARIE KELLY’S BLOODSTREAM, RAFTING ALONG THE BORE OF A VEIN

WITH A BRANCHING OF TUNNELS AHEAD OF US. THE BLOOD TRICKLES LOW IN THE BED OF THE

VEIN, SLOPPING VISCOUSLY AGAINST THE WALLS. BEADS OF BLOOD FLY UP FROM EACH SLASH,

HANGING IN THE AIR LIKE BLACK PEARLS. THE LANDSCAPE IS STRANGE AND ALIEN AND BEAUTIFUL.

PANEL 2.

WE CLOSE IN UPON ONE OF THE SPLASHES OF BLOOD THAT WE SAW LAST PANEL, AS IF IT WERE A

STILL AND FROZEN IMAGE. WE SEE THE ROUND AND PERFECTLY GLOBULAR BEAD OF BLOOD HANGING

THERE IN FREEFALL AS IT SEPARATES FROM THE ARC OF BLOOD THAT WE SEE RISING UP FROM OFF

PANEL BENEATH IT. IN THE BEAD OF BLOOD, A SINGLE HIGHLIGHT.

PANEL 4.

WE PULL BACK AGAIN. THE ROUND BLACK GLOBULE WITH THE SWIMMING WHITE HIGHLIGHT IS NOW

PERCEIVED AS THE PUPIL OF AN EYE. WE CAN PERHAPS SEE A LITTLE OF THE IRIS WITH ITS

STRIATED LINES FLOWERING AROUND THE BLACK PUPIL HERE. IT’S A BIT LIKE 2001: A SPACE

ODYSSEY FOR SERIAL KILLERS REALLY.

No dialogue

219

Chapter 10, page 18.

Alan now found a problem with all

these body parts he was trying to keep track of.

Upon reexamining the forensic accounts of the

situation he realized that the breast Gull put on

the bedside table ten pages back was in the wrong

place. At this stage of the project, the chapters

were not being sent all in one package; there’s a

break after 12, and another after 28 (it would get

even more fragmented before the end). So I had

already drawn the page containing the problem

and it would be difficult to try to go back and

insert a new page when it was really only a panel

that was wanting. His solution was to have Gull

look at the breast, have a think, and then move it.

Incidentally, in addition to the one

police photo of the corpse, a second one turned

up in 1989 after we had started FROM HELL.

I didn’t see it till many years after we finished. It’s

from the same angle as our last three panels.

PAGE 18. (501 words) PANEL 1. (short edit)

A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE HERE, WITH THE BIG WIDE

PANEL IN THE MIDDLE AND THREE SMALL ONES ON

THE TOP AND BOTTOM TIERS. IN THIS FIRST PANEL

WE HAVE CLOSED IN ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE. WE

SEE GULL’S HAND ENTER FROM THE LEFT AND PICK

UP THE SEVERED BREAST.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT, BUT NOW GULL HAS COME CLOSER. LEANING OVER TOWARDS US HE CAREFULLY PLACES

THE SEVERED BREAST JUST TO THE RIGHT OF THE WOMAN’S RIGHT FOOT. HIS EXPRESSION IS

VERY SERIOUS AND HIS ATTENTION TOTALLY CONCENTRATES ON WHAT HE IS DOING.

PANEL 4.

...THE MURDERED WOMAN’S HEAD POINTING TOWARDS THE RIGHT. SHE LIES THERE WITH HER

LIVER BETWEEN HER FEET, ONE BREAST TO THE RIGHT OF HER RIGHT FOOT AND THE JUMBLE OF

GLANDS AND ORGANS BENEATH HER HEAD. GULL’S BLADE LIES ON THE BED BY HER SIDE. WE SEE

GULL HIMSELF FROM ABOVE AS HE STARES DOWN AT THE BODY. HE CUPS HIS CHIN AND REGARDS

IT PENSIVELY. HE HAS THE EXACT AIR OF AN ARTIST STEPPING BACK FROM HIS CANVAS FOR A

MOMENT TO JUDGE AS TO WHAT FURTHER STROKES ARE NECESSARY. HE REGARDS THE ARRANGEMENT

OF THE BODY AND ITS ORGANS CRITICALLY: WHAT ELSE DOES THE COMPOSITION NEED?

220

Chapter 10, pages 21, 22.

This scene has an Alan Moore line that is

much quoted: “It would seem we are to suffer an

apocalypse of cockatoos.” It goes on: “…Morose,

barbaric children playing joylessly with your

unfathomable toys. With all your shimmering

numbers…” Regarding these numbers, on the cover

of the original edition of this chapter I depicted a

candle almost burned out beside a cell phone.

Kitchen Sink Press were so perplexed by the image

of a cell phone in a nineteenth century context that

they nearly didn’t notice it was their own number

being called on the LCD. They printed it anyway.

(vol 7, April 1995. see page 100 here).

We might find ourselves agreeing with

Gull’s profound soliloquy and then abruptly pull

ourselves up and remember, as he in fact tells us,

more or less, that it’s a Grand Guignol theatre of

horrors we’re attending. Imagine what the movie

might have made of it all if it had got past the

whodunit cliché. This could have knocked the spots

off Hannibal Lecter for grandiose villainy.

PAGE 21. (722 words) PANEL 1.

A SEVEN PANEL PAGE HERE, WITH THREE PANELS ON

EACH OF THE UPPER TWO TIERS AND THEN ONE PANEL ON

THE BOTTOM TIER. IN THIS FIRST PANEL, UP IN THE

FOREGROUND, WE CAN SEE PART OF SOMEONE WORKING A

PHOTOCOPY MACHINE, WITH MULTIPLE COPIES OF SOME

IMAGE OR OTHER WHIRRING OUT OF THE SLOT. ALL

AROUND THERE ARE TECHNOLOGIES, STYLES AND FASHIONS

UNIMAGINABLE EVEN TO AN ENLIGHTENED AND FORWARD-

THINKING VICTORIAN. SOMEWHERE IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, GULL STANDS AMONGST THE ROWS OF

DESKS, NEXT TO THE MURDERED WOMAN ON HER BED AND LOOKS ROUND AT THE OFFICE WONDERINGLY

AS HE COMMENCES HIS SOLILOQUY.

GULL:

Dear God, what is this Aethyr I am come upon?

GULL:

What spirits are these, labouring in what heavenly light?

PANEL 2.

IN THE FOREGROUND A YOUNG POST-PUNK TEMP WORKER PASSES BY, WITH SEVERAL RINGS IN HER

EAR AND A STUD IN HER NOSE, HER HAIR RAISED UP INTO A STILL PEAK, THICK WITH GEL. WE

221

Chapter 10, page 21, 22.

SEE HER ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO HALF FIGURE AS SHE PASSES. SHE IS WORKING OUT

A SUM ON A HAND-HELD ELECTRONIC CALCULATOR. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, GULL WATCHES HER

PASS, GAZING AT HER WITH AN AWED AND INCREDULOUS EXPRESSION. THE BUTCHERED CORPSE LIES

ON THE STAINED BED IMMEDIATELY BEHIND HIM. ALL AROUND IN THE BACKGROUND BEHIND HIM WE

CAN SEE OFFICE LIFE GOING ON AS NORMAL.

GULL:

No...No, this is dazzle, but not yet divinity. Nor are these

heathen wraiths about me spirits, lacking even that vitality.

PANEL 3.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT THE MUTILATED FACE OF THE CORPSE IN RESTING ON THE BLOODY PILLOW

DOWN IN THE BOTTOM FOREGROUND. LOOKING UP PAST THIS WE SEE GULL AS HE STANDS WITH HIS

BACK TOWARDS US GAZING OUT OVER THE OFFICE FULL OF WORKERS AND GESTURING WITH HIS HANDS

(ONE OF WHICH STILL HOLDS THE BLOODY KNIFE) AS HE SPEAKS.

GULL:

What, then? Am I, like Saint John the Divine, vouchsafed a

glimpse of those last times?

GULL:

Are these the days my death shall spare me?

PANEL 4.

SOMEWHERE IN THE FOREGROUND, A YOUNG MAN WITH A DIGITAL WATCH IS TYPING AT A COMPUTER

KEYBOARD. HE DOES NOT BLINK OR PAY ANY ATTENTION AS THE PORTLY FORM OF GULL STARTS TO

CLAMBER LABORIOUSLY UP PAST HIM AND ONTO AN OPEN SPACE ON THE DESK TOP, DECLAIMING

WHILE HE DOES SO. ALL AROUND, OFFICE LIFE GOES ON AS NORMAL.

GULL:

It would seem we are to suffer an apocalypse of cockatoos...

GULL:

Morose, barbaric children playing joylessly with their

unfathomable

toys.

PANEL 5.

MAYBE WE CHANGE ANGLE SLIGHTLY. THE MAN IS STILL TYPING, UNCONCERNED AND UNAWARE, AS

GULL RISES UNSTEADILY TO HIS FEET ATOP THE SHINY DESKTOP, STILL DECLAIMING EARNESTLY

TO THE UNHEEDING OFFICE.

GULL:

Where comes this dullness in your eyes? How has your

century numbed you so?

GULL:

Shall man be given marvels only when he is beyond all wonder?

PANEL 6.

NOW, SUDDENLY, WE ARE BACK IN MARY KELLY’S ROOM AT MILLER’S COURT. THE DEAD WOMAN’S

BODY LIES IN THE FOREGROUND OF THE PICTURE, STILL SPRAWLED UPON THE BED. LOOKING PAST

THIS, WE ARE LOOKING INTO THE CRAMPED CONFINES OF THE TINY SLUM ROOM. GULL, IN THE

MIDDLE OF THE ROOM, IS STANDING PERCHED UPON THE CHAIR ON WHICH HE HUNG HIS JACKET

EARLIER. HANDS SPREAD, HE SPEAKS WITH GREAT PASSION TO THE EMPTY ROOM.

GULL:

Your days were born in blood and fires, whereof in you I may

not see the meanest spark!

GULL:

Your past is pain and iron! Know yourselves!

PANEL 7.

IN THIS LAST WIDE PANEL, WE ARE BACK IN THE OFFICE. WE ARE LOOKING UP FROM A LOW ANGLE

AT GULL AS HE STANDS THERE UPON THE DESKTOP, HANDS SPREAD AS HE ADDRESSES THE HORDE

OF NINETIES OFFICE WORKERS WHO ALL CONTINUE WITH THEIR LABOURS, NOT PAYING HIM ANY

222

Part 6: Butchery

ATTENTION, HIS EYES ARE FILLED WITH ZEALOT FIRE AS HE SPEAKS.

GULL:

With all your shimmering numbers and your

lights, think not to be inured to history. Its

black root succours you. It is INSIDE you!

GULL:

Are you asleep to it, that cannot feel its

breath upon your neck, nor see what

soaks

its

cuffs?

GULL:

See me! Wake and look upon me! I am

come amongst you. I am with you always!

PAGE 22. (647 words) (edited, 4 panels out of 7) PANEL 3.

CLOSER IN ON GULL NOW AS HE STARTS TO CROUCH DOWN ON THE DESK TOP, PREPARING TO CLIMB

BACK DOWN TO THE OFFICE FLOOR. HE LOOKS SUBDUED AND UPSET. THE TWENTIETH CENTURY BOYS

AND GIRLS ABOUT HIM PAY HIM ABSOLUTELY NO ATTENTION WHATSOEVER. THE GUY SITTING AT THE

DESK THAT GULL IS ON CONTINUES TO TYPE, EYES FIXED ON HIS MONITOR SCREEN.

GULL:

How would I seem to you? Some antique fiend

or penny dreadful horror, yet you frighten me!

GULL:

You have not souls. With you I am alone.

PANEL 4

ON THE FOREGROUND NOW WE SEE A GLIMPSE OF THE BUTCHERED WOMAN LYING ON THE BED,

IGNORED BY THE OFFICE STAFF. LOOKING BEYOND THIS WE SEE GULL AS HE CLIMBS BACK

DOWN TO THE FLOOR. IN PASSING HE LOOKS AT THE SCREEN OF THE COMPUTER THAT THE YOUNG

SEATED MAN BESIDE HIM IS TYPING AT.

GULL:

Alone in an Olympus. Though accomplished in the sciences,

your slightest mechanisms are beyond my grasp.

GULL:

They HUMBLE me, yet they touch you not at all.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. GULL IS NOW WALKING SLOWLY AND SADLY BACK ACROSS THE OFFICE TOWARDS THE

BED AND THE MURDERED WOMAN IN THE FOREGROUND. HE GAZES AT THEM MELANCHOLICALLY AS HE

APPROACHES, KNIFE IN HAND. THE OFFICE BUSTLES ALL ABOUT HIM, UNAWARE OF HIS PRESENCE.

GULL:

This disaffection. THIS is Armageddon.

GULL:

Ah, Mary, how time’s levelled us. We are made equal, both

mere curios of our vanished epoch in this lustless world.

PANEL 7.

IN THIS LAST WIDE PANEL, GULL CLOSES HIS EYES AND GATHERS THE UPPER PART OF THE

DEAD WOMAN’S BODY UP IN HIS ARMS; HUGGING HER RAW CHEST TO HIM IN A TIGHT, INTENSE

EMBRACE THAT IS ALMOST TEARFUL. HER ARMS DANGLE LIMPLY BY HER SIDES AS GULL HUGS

HER, AND WE NOTE THAT THEY ARE COVERED WITH NUMEROUS CUTS AND SLASHES THAT SHE’S

PRESUMABLY PICKED UP ALONG THE WAY. PROBABLY WE COULD SEE THEM EARLIER AS WELL. GULL

CRUSHES HER TO HIS BOSOM AND BURIES HIS FACE IN HER BLOODY SHOULDER. BIG AND INTENSE

IN THE FOREGROUND IT IS A MOMENT OF PURE AND AWFUL LOVE. IN THE BACKGROUND THE

MODERN OFFICE SCENE CONTINUES UNABATED.

No dialogue

223

Part 6: Butchery

Chapter 10, pages 24-34. Working out the remainder of the chapter.

224

Chapter 10, page 32.

While I’ve underplayed Gull’s “grave

joy,” I submit as evidence in my defence the heady

uplift of the aerial perspective in the middle

tier, and Gull’s raised hand like a statuary

personification of victory, a David with the head

of Goliath, a player who has scored a goal.

PAGE 32 (589 words) (4 panels only) PANEL 1.

IN THIS FIRST CINEMASCOPE PANEL WE HAVE A SHOT

OF GULL, PROBABLY HALF FIGURE. HOLDING HIS HAT

CLASPED TO HIS BREAST WITH ONE HAND, WITH THE

OTHER HE FLINGS THE ASHES OF THE DEAD WOMAN TO

THE NIGHT, THE WIND AND THE STARS. HIS ARM IS

OUTFLUNG AND FOR A MOMENT A KIND OF GRAVE JOY

CROSSES HIS FACE; A KIND OF RAPTURE. THE ASHES

WHIRL UP INTO THE NIGHT, INTO THE SCINTILLATING

COGS OF THE ETERNAL STARRY DYNAMO. I WANT THIS

PANEL TO LOOK AFFECTING AND LYRICAL AS YOU CAN

MAKE IT.

PANEL 2.

WE ARE SLIGHTLY ABOVE GULL, LOOKING DOWN AT

HIM, LOOKING UP AT US, HIS HAND STILL OUTFLUNG

TOWARDS US. THE ASHES WHIRLING UP INTO THE

FOREGROUND. TO GULL’S RIGHT (OUR LEFT) AS WE

LOOK DOWN, WE CAN SEE A LITTLE OF THE ALLEY

ENTRANCE THAT LEADS FROM MILLER’S COURT TO

DORSET STREET. THE ASHES DANCE AND FLUTTER AS

THEY RISE TOWARDS US.

PANEL 3.

MOVING STILL HIGHER...LOOKING DOWN AT ALL THIS FROM OUR SHEER PERSPECTIVE. THE ASHES

OF THE DEAD WOMAN’S HEART SHIFT AND WHIRL IN A RIBBON OF TOOTHBRUSH FLECKS THROUGH

THE FOREGROUND, DISPERSING, DISSOLVING INTO THE NIGHT.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT, BUT WE HAVE PULLED UP STILL, HIGHER ABOVE THE YARD. DOWN BELOW US WE SEE

GULL HAS PICKED UP THE GLADSTONE BAG AND IS STARTING TO DISAPPEAR INTO THE ALLEY

MOUTH THAT WILL LEAD HIM BACK TO DORSET STREET. ALL AROUND US THERE IS NIGHT AND

DARKNESS AS THE TINY FIGURE BELOW PREPARES TO LEAVE THE SILENT COURTYARD. IN THE

FOREGROUND, THE ASHES ARE DISPERSED AND GONE.

225

Chapter 10: an alternative ending

The 1994 synopsis (see page 171) contains passages which are quite different

from the way they would turn out in the finished book. The summary of Chapter 10

demands to be shown here in full. One of its interesting features is the use of Ripperologist

Colin Wilson’s theory that the murderer worked naked. Alan tries it on here before

rejecting it. A gain often involves a sacrifice. The soliloquy in the office, not in this early

version, would have looked foolish if spoken by a man with his shirt off.

CHAPTER X: THE BEST OF ALL TAILORS

In contrast with our last chapter, this one is fairly simple to describe. It all

takes place in the room at Miller’s Court on the night of November 9th. Over thirty or

forty pages, in excruciating real time, we watch Gull dissect Marie Kelly. This is the

heart of his madness and his magic. This is the culmination of his blood alchemy. As

he works upon the dismantling of the human body, we see through his eyes, zooming in

along the coagulating tunnels of the arteries and orbiting around the cardiac cathedral

chambers of the cooling heart. We see the heraldry of the rib cage laid bare, and we hear

Gull describe the beautiful iridescent colours of the intestines as if they were a Cezanne

painting. Every so often we are allowed to pull back briefly from our rapture to see the

stark reality of the butchered woman on the bed beneath us, but then the hallucinatory

glow enfolds us and we start once more to cut and to excise, muttering to ourself as we

do so. The breasts are removed and placed upon the table. Reminded of the dome of St.

Paul’s cathedral, we laugh. After a while, we forget where we are and imagine that we’re

back in Guy’s hospital, delivering an anatomical lecture to a bunch of eager students.

The students sit behind us in their rows as we orate, all taking notes, their eyes bright

and fixated. Amongst them there are recognizable faces: Peter Sutcliffe, the Yorkshire

Ripper; Charles Manson; the Son of Man; and David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam. Gull’s

lecture drones on and the students’ hands move

across their notebook pages.

After a moment this delusion passes and

we are back in the room, looking at the butchered

body, which is now much worse than when we

last saw it. Realizing that the heart will need to be

burned to fulfill the ritual, Gull stokes up the fire

in the room by burning some old clothing that he

has found in one corner. The heat quickly becomes

fierce, partially melting the kettle that stands in

the hearth. Stripping to the waist, his pale and

pendulous teats bearded with fine white hair,

Gull picks up his knife and once more returns

to his work. The hours crawl by, marked in gore

and hallucination. He removes the woman’s

226

Part 6: Butchery

heart and burns it in the raging fire, the sweat and blood trickling down across his naked

belly. Angels are singing somewhere high above him. He licks his lips and tastes the holy

blood of saints, which by now he is covered with. The heart, being muscle, does not burn

easily, but eventually it is ash. Gull takes the pulverized remains of it to the front door

and scatters them upon the night wind in accordance with the ritual. This is the perfect,

sublime moment, frozen in the amber of Eternity.

The moment is followed by a sudden slump, a crash. The manic energy that has

been firing Gull for so many chapters finally drains from him and an uneasy depression

starts to slowly settle in. Returning to the room, he stares long and hard at the destroyed

body of the woman, and knows it for what it is. Donning his clothing untidily he stumbles

out into the dark pre-dawn streets and makes for where Netley and the coach have been

waiting all this time, by the obelisk in Hanbury Street. As he passes in front of Christ

Church Spitalfields he sees a figure in Seventeenth century dress and wearing a white

periwig. The figure waves solemnly to him from between the giant Doric columns of the

church, and then is gone. Sweating and trembling, Gull hurries on to where Netley waits.

Explaining that he wishes to walk for a while in order to clear his head, Gull dismisses the

coachman and walks through the dark streets of Whitechapel where he used to walk with

Hinton in the old days, wandering further north towards the sordid slums of Hackney

where Saxons once worshipped the murderer of the Moon in London Fields.

As he walks, Gull is seized by the horrifying conviction that his work is over

now. His pinnacle has been reached and now is past. He feels that it would have been

better if he had died there in that room, united with Mary Kelly in her death, their

glorious moment together, sustained for all time. Depressed and lost, he wanders down

Vallance Road. Passing a room of houses with cellar-rooms he hears a voice in the night,

a rough male voice that calls out “Come back, Jack, and die like a man!” He looks round,

startled. A bright and unearthly light is issuing from one of the basement rooms in the

row (unearthly by Victorian standards, that is. Just plain electric lighting by ours). Gull

sees a man struggling, trying to get out of the window, another man, the man whose

voice Gull heard, hauls him roughly back in and glares out into the night. It is the 1960s

gangster, Ronnie Kray. Gull turns away and covers his eyes, trembling. When he opens

them again, the vision is gone. Shuddering against the November cold, Gull trudges off,

a frightened old man, alone in the ancient London night. End of Chapter X

227

Part 7

Pages 229 to 247.

There were scenes of

the plotters at work, but

for some reason I’ve

picked pages where our

players are completely

in the dark.

Let that be our

stated theme.

Chapter 11, page 1.

A surreal cricket match. The surreal

part about it is that it is taking place in winter. I

did mention this to Alan at the time, but here we

are anyway. Nobody else has ever said anything.

Alan had worked out the entire chapter and

cricket played a symbolic role in it (page 33,

and page 46 with the lone batsman walking off

the pitch), to the extent that it could not now be

replaced by rugby football, the winter sport of

English schools, or soccer, or tiddlywinks, or even

hookey, which was my own sport of choice. You

might recall however, that Druitt’s chapter was

originally set much earlier in the “program,” just

after Annie Chapman’s murder on September

8 (see my notes on page 14 here) and cricket in

Britain conventionally runs to mid-September.

But why am I complaining? To be able to draw several pages of cricket in an

American-published comic book! Who’d have ever thought that could happen? Who else’s

Jack the Ripper has cricket in it?

PAGE 1. (670 words) PANEL 1.

THERE ARE SIX PANELS ON THIS FIRST PAGE WITH THIS FIRST PANEL BEING THE TITLE PANEL

AND THEN A DOUBLE-WIDTH PANEL COMPLETING THE TOP TIER. THERE ARE THREE PANELS ON

THE MIDDLE TIER AND THEN ONE BIG PANEL ON THE BOTTOM TIER. IN THIS FIRST PANEL,

WE JUST HAVE THE TITLES.

TITLE:

Chapter

Eleven.

The

Unfortunate

Mr.Druitt.

PANEL 2.

WE ARE ON THE COMMON AT BLACKHEATH, AND IT IS EARLY TO MID-MORNING, FRIDAY

NOVEMBER 9TH, 1988. THE BOYS FROM BLACKHEATH SCHOOL ARE PLAYING CRICKET ON THE

COMMON, DRESSED IN THEIR OLD-FASHIONED WHITES. IN THE LEFT OF THE EXTREME

FOREGROUND HERE WE CAN SEE THE WICKET, JUST AS IF WE WERE CROUCHED BEHIND IT WITH

THE WICKET KEEPER. JUTTING INTO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE THE HANDS

OF THE BOY WHO IS UP TO BAT, HOLDING HIS CRICKET BAT WITH THE BLADE ENTERING THE

LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND HERE. LOOKING PAST THIS WE ARE LOOKING ALONG THE LENGTH OF

THE CRICKET PITCH TOWARDS THE FAR END, WHERE WE SEE THE BOWLER AS HE COMPLETES HIS

RUN-UP AND LETS FLY WITH THE BALL. IT HURTLES TOWARDS US, SEEMING TO HANG FROZEN

IN MIDAIR HERE. ALL AROUND THE FIELDERS ARE FANNED OUT, HOPPING NERVOUSLY BACK AND

229

Chapter 11, page 1

FORTH LIKE GREAT ALBINO WATERFOWL BENEATH THE GREY AND OVERCAST SOUTH LONDON SKY.

No dialogue.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE CHANGE ANGLE, SWINGING AROUND TO THE SIDE OR FRONT OF THE WICKET FOR

A HALF-FIGURE CLOSE-UP OF THE YOUNG BATSMAN AS HE HITS THE BALL. LIKE ALL

OF THE BOYS PLAYING CRICKET ON THE COMMON HE IS ABOUT FIFTEEN OR SIXTEEN. HE

IS A SLIGHTLY BUILT BLOND BOY WITH GIRLISH GOOD LOOKS. HIS FEATURES SET IN

CONCENTRATION HERE AS HE SMACKS HIS BAT INTO THE HARD BALL WITH A CRACK THAT

SHOULD BE ALMOST AUDIBLE DESPITE THE LACK OF SOUND EFFECTS.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

PULL BACK FROM THE WICKET A LITTLE ALONG THE LENGTH OF THE PITCH. THE YOUNG

BATSMAN HAS STARTED TO RUN, AND ALL WE CAN SEE OF HIM HERE IS PERHAPS ONE OF HIS

PADDED LEGS AND ONE TRAILING HAND STILL CLUTCHING THE BAT, BOTH PROTRUDING

INTO THE PANEL FROM THE LEFT-HAND BORDER AS HE RUNS OFF PANEL IN THE FOREGROUND.

LOOKING BEYOND HIS WE CAN SEE THE WICKET HE HAS VACATED WITH THE YOUNG WICKET

KEEPER CROUCHED BEHIND IT. LOOKING FURTHER BACK STILL WE CAN SEE THE FIGURE OF

MONTAGUE DRUITT, THE SCHOOLTEACHER WHO HAPPENS TO BE SUPERVISING THE MATCH, AS HE

STANDS THERE AT THE EDGE OF THE PITCH CHEERING THE BOYS ON. HE IS DRESSED IN AN

OVERCOAT AND SCARF, HIS HANDS DEEP IN HIS POCKET. HE IS PROBABLY TOO FAR AWAY TO

SEE MUCH OF HERE, BUT HIS GENERAL BEARING SUGGESTS A KEEN SPORTING EXCITEMENT.

DRUITT:

Oh, bravo, Glover! Well played!

PANEL 5.

CLOSE IN UPON DRUITT FOR A HALF-FIGURE SHOT HERE. HE STILL HAS ONE HAND IN

HIS COAT POCKET BUT HE HAS RAISED THE OTHER ONE TO HIS MOUTH AS IF IT WERE A

MEGAPHONE, TO AMPLIFY HIS VOICE AS HE CALLS OUT TO THE OFF-PANEL BOYS. HE LOOKS

HAPPY AND FLUSHED WITH THE EXCITEMENT OF THE GAME, THE NOVEMBER WIND RUFFLING HIS

NEAT HAIR. HIS DEEP, DARK EYES SPARKLE WITH ENTHUSIASM AND CONTENTMENT.

DRUITT:

Come ON, you can get three OFF THAT!

DRUITT:

Run for it, lad! RUN for it!

PANEL 6.

NOW WE HAVE THE BIG PANEL TAKING UP THE BOTTOM TIER, WE SEE THE PITCH FROM SIDE

ON, WITH THE TWO BATSMEN JUST CROSSING OVER IN THE MIDDLE AS THEY RUN FRANTICALLY

TOWARDS THEIR OPPOSING ENDS ALONG A PITCH STREWN WITH DEAD LEAVES UNDER A SKY

FULL OF RAGGED GREY CLOUDS. FROM THE BACKGROUND A FIELDER THROWS THE BALL BACK

TOWARDS THE BOWLER. THE OTHER FIELDERS SHUFFLE ANXIOUSLY. IN THE DISTANCE, FAR

BEHIND THEM, THE ASH-COLOURED CITY SMOKES AND SMOULDERS INDUSTRIOUSLY BENEATH THE

LEADEN SKY. AGAINST THE MIASMA, THE WHITE OF THE BOYS IS ALMOST LUMINOUS.

No dialogue.

230

Chapter 11, page 3.

In which Mr. Druitt is shown to have

homosexual tendencies, the “difference” that

will make him an ideal scapegoat. I notice that I

haven’t shown him placing his hand on the boy’s

shoulder. I can’t remember if that was a decision

or just an omission. Sometimes another panel

lends its information to the ones around it, even

if the relevant character is not in it. In this case,

the panel at the bottom had it covered.

PAGE 3. (516 words) (highlights only) PANEL 1.

... IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE ON BLACKHEATH

COMMON. WE SEE THE HANDS OF ONE OF THE YOUNG

FIELDERS ENTERING THE PANEL FROM OFF BELOW AND

CATCHING THE CRICKET BALL THAT HAS DROPPED FROM

ABOVE, OUT OF A SKY THE COLOUR OF TOOTHACHE...

PANEL 2.

NOW WE CAN SEE DRUITT IN THE F/G... HE IS WATCHING THE BLOND YOUNG BATSMAN, GLOVER,

AS HE RETIRES FROM THE CREASE, WALKING DEJECTEDLY TOWARDS US AND DRUITT WITH HIS

CRICKET BAT TRAILING IN ONE HAND WHILE THE GAME GOES ON BEHIND HIM. DRUITT GAZES AT

THE BOY WITH CALF-LIKE EYES FULL OF SYMPATHY AND COMPASSION. HE LOOKS LOVESICK.

PANEL 3.

DRUITT STANDS ON THE LEFT, FACING RIGHT AS HE GAZES FONDLY DOWN AT GLOVER, THE BOY.

HE REACHES OUT AND PLACES A CONSOLING HAND UPON THE BOY’S SHOULDER. GLOVER STARES

UP AT HIM LEVELLY, HIS EYES FULL OF TRUST AND RESPECT.

DRUITT:

Jolly bad luck that, Glover. Bit of trouble with the spin on

that last ball, eh?

DRUITT:

Still, well done! How many did you notch up all told?

PANEL 6

DRUITT STANDS PARTLY VISIBLE, FACING MOSTLY AWAY FROM US IN THE FOREGROUND HEAD AND

SHOULDERS, GAZING LONGINGLY AFTER THE DEPARTING FORM OF GLOVER, WHO WE SEE FROM THE

REAR AS HE WALKS AWAY FROM US INTO THE BACKGROUND, BACK ACROSS THE COMMON TOWARDS

THE ROAD AND THE SCHOOL BEYOND. NICE BUM.

PANEL 7

A WIDE-ANGLE SHOT OF THE SCHOOL CHANGING ROOMS, WITH ANTIQUATED SHOWERS PARTLY VIS-

IBLE. VICTORIAN SCHOOLBOYS ARE SHOWERING, GETTING CHANGED, TORMENTING EACH OTHER

PHYSICALLY AND VERBALLY. A FUG OF SWEAT AND STEAM AND TESTOSTERONE.

No dialogue

231

Chapter 11, page 5.

I changed a point-of-view here on

account of my own personal pictorial logic.

While it’s commonplace technique in movies

and comics to move the “camera” to any

position where it will best show the situation,

it’s not commonplace with me. I would tend not

to put it in a location where there is no living

person to have such a “point-of-view,” which is

the case here with the murder room. It’s the

lens of cruel Fate anyway that has

Abberline shifting in and out of view in that

central tier of panels. In the movie, when

he found the strand of hair in that room

that was not golden-red, Johnny Depp/Fred

understood the thing that he could never tell

anybody and would take to his early opium-

scrambled grave. Our Fred on the other hand, will be declining into disgruntled old

age never knowing, which strikes me as more like real life. In fact this chapter is mainly

alternating scenes between the detective and the scapegoat, neither of whom has a clue

as to what’s really going on.

PAGE 5. (882 words) PANEL 1.

A NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE IN THE YARD OF MILLER’S COURT

AND IT IS MAYBE AN HOUR LATER. WE ARE LOOKING FROM OUTSIDE NUMBER THIRTEEN DOWN THE

LENGTH OF THE ALLEY LEADING TO THE STREET. GATHERED IN THE YARD, NOT ALL OF THEM

VISIBLE HERE, ARE A COUPLE OF UNIFORMED POLICEMEN AND A COUPLE OF PLAINCLOTHESMEN

INCLUDING DETECTIVE SERGEANT GODLEY. BOWYER AND McCARTHY ARE ALSO SOMEWHERE AROUND,

ALTHOUGH LIKE I SAY, IT ISN’T NECESSARY TO SEE MORE THAN A GLIMPSE OF ANY OF THESE

IN THE FIRST PANEL. OUR MAIN FOCUS OF ATTENTION IS ON INSPECTOR ABBERLINE AS HE

COMES WALKING DOWN THE ALLEYWAY TOWARDS US FROM DORSET STREET, LOOKING SOMBRE.

HE IS DRESSED CONSPICUOUSLY DIFFERENTLY TO WHEN WE LAST SAW HIM; TONIGHT IS THE

NIGHT THAT FRED HAS HIS DATE WITH ‘EMMA’ AND HE’S PUT ON HIS BEST CLOTHES FOR THE

OCCASION AND PONCED HIMSELF UP A BIT. THE ATTEMPT AT SARTORIAL ELEGANCE LOOKS SADLY

GAUCHE AND OUT OF PLACE IN THE SLAUGHTER-YARD ATMOSPHERE OF MILLER’S COURT.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

STILL IN THE YARD. GODLEY STANDS FACING AWAY FROM US IN THE RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND, HEAD AND SHOULDERS WITH ONLY A LITTLE OF HIS PROFILE VISIBLE AS

232

Part 7: In the dark

HE FACES TOWARDS THE RECENTLY ARRIVED ABBERLINE WHO WE SEE FACING GODLEY AND

US FROM THE NEAR LEFT BACKGROUND, HALF FIGURE TO HEAD AND SHOULDERS. GODLEY

LOOKS A BIT PALE AND DRAINED OF COLOUR. WHILE ABBERLINE JUST LOOKS GRUFF AND

BUSINESSLIKE AS EVER.

ABBERLINE:

Alright, Godley? What’s everybody doin’ standin’ about in

the

yard?

GODLEY:

Superintendent Arnold, Sir. He thought we should wait until

Sir Charles could bring ‘is bloodhounds before we went in.

PANEL 3.

MAYBE A FULL-FIGURE SHOT OF BOTH MEN NOW AS THEY STAND THERE IN THE YARD, STILL

WITH ABBERLINE TOWARDS THE LEFT AND GODLEY TOWARDS THE RIGHT. HERE, BOTH MEN

ARE STANDING SO THAT THEY’RE ANGLED SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US, STANDING GAZING

TOWARDS THE SIDE OF NUMBER THIRTEEN WITH THE BROKEN WINDOW, WHICH GODLEY IS

POINTING TO HERE. ABBERLINE FOLLOWS HIS GAZE, ALSO LOOKING IN THE WINDOW, ITS

BROKEN PANE AND ITS VEIL OF RAG.

ABBERLINE:

Not them fuckin’ dogs! How long ’ave you been waitin’ ’ere,

then?

GODLEY:

The rentman called us about eleven. He’d seen her through

the

window

there.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE ARE INSIDE NUMBER THIRTEEN, JUST INSIDE THE BROKEN WINDOW AND LOOKING

OUT. IN THIS FIRST PANEL ON THE TIER WE SEE ABBERLINE’S HAND REACHING THROUGH

THE WINDOW AND PULLING BACK THE DIRTY CURTAIN. BEYOND THAT WE CAN SEE HIS FACE

AS HE PEERS THROUGH INTO THE ROOM. HIS EXPRESSION IS SOBER AND NEUTRAL HERE.

No dialogue

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL. STILL WITH ABBERLINE PEERING IN AT US THROUGH THE

BROKEN WINDOW AS HE HOLDS BACK THE CURTAIN. HERE, HIS FACE REGISTERS WHAT HE

IS SEEING INSIDE THE ROOM; NOT BUG-EYED, JAW-DROPPING SURPRISE OR HORROR, BUT

SOMETHING SUBTLER. HE JUST ABOUT STARES, LEVELLY AND WITHOUT MUCH EXPRESSION,

BUT THERE’S SOMETHING AROUND HIS EYES. HE’S SEEING ONE OF THE ANTEROOMS OF HELL

AND HE’S NOT FLINCHING.

No dialogue

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, BUT HERE ABBERLINE HAS LET THE RAG FALL BACK ACROSS THE INSIDE OF

THE BROKEN WINDOW AS HE PULLS BACK HIS HANDS. HE DOESN’T WANT TO LOOK ANY MORE,

AND WE CAN NO LONGER SEE HIM. WE ARE LEFT STARING AT THE INSIDE OF THE BROKEN

WINDOW WITH ITS FILTHY CURTAIN HANGING LIMPLY.

No dialogue

PAGE 7.

WE ARE OUTSIDE IN THE YARD AGAIN. ABBERLINE, IN THE FOREGROUND HERE AND ROUGHLY

233

Chapter 11, page 5

HEAD AND SHOULDERS IS TURNING AWAY FROM US (AND, PRESUMABLY, THE OFF-PANEL WINDOW)

TO LOOK TOWARDS GODLEY WHO WE SEE LOUNGING MISERABLY IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND.

ABBERLINE:

Hmm. What ’appens now, then?

GODLEY:

Dunno. The door’s spring-locked. I expect we wait for Tom

Arnold to get back, then smash it in.

PAGE 8.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT WE’RE LOOKING TOWARDS THE WALL WITH THE BROKEN WINDOW,

WHERE ABBERLINE STANDS WITH HIS BACK TO THE WINDOW, FULL FIGURE AND FACING US.

A LITTLE OF GODLEY... HIS HANDS OR CHEST OR SOMETHING... IS JUST VISIBLE IN

THE LEFT FOREGROUND AS HE SPEAKS TO ABBERLINE FROM OFF PANEL. FROM THE NEAR

BACKGROUND, THE SMARTLY DRESSED ABBERLINE STANDS WITH HIS HANDS IN HIS COAT

POCKETS, FACING US. HE GLOWERS AT GODLEY AND SAYS NOTHING.

GODLEY (OFF):

By the way, sir, you’re lookin’ very smart.

GODLEY (OFF):

Meetin’ somebody?

PANEL 9.

NOW WE HAVE AN AERIAL SHOT, LOOKING DOWN FROM JUST ABOVE THE SPIRE OF CHRIST

CHURCH SPITALFIELDS WITH THE FRIDAY BUSTLE OF WHITECHAPEL SPREAD BENEATH US. BY

THE CLOCK ON CHTRIST CHURCH, THE TIME IS A COUPLE OF MINUTES BEFORE 1.00 PM.

Old pictures

A second Miller’s Court crime scene photo, in addition

to the well known one, turned up in 1989 while

FROM HELL was already underway (see page

220 herein). I was recently checking it at the Jack

the Ripper Casebook (www.casebook.org). While

there, under “Marie Kelly photo archive,” I found

one of my own drawings. There was no note as to

its provenance. It was there among the old pictures,

as though it were an actual period piece. April Post

assisted me for a time circa 1991/92, and she inked

this except for the face and hair. She also worked with

me on some of the painted covers you can see in the

colour section of this book and pops up again briefly

as late as Chapter 8. At that time April would come

in on Fridays, and I’d get her to put in textures and

other details on pages that Pete and I had already

worked on, such as the carpet and blanket on Chapter 8,

page 1. The room was required to look “ SQUALID AND

YET FAINTLY COSY...WITH SMALL AND POIGNANT

FEMININE TOUCHES .” (see pages 135-137 here).

234

Chapter 11, page 12.

After the murder of Mary Kelly,

Abberline approaches a woman he thinks is

“Emma” from behind, but it turns out to be a

stranger. Remember that we have never actually

seen “Emma” face to face anyway, so this is a

strangely disorienting scene. She turns around

and neither he nor we have ever seen this woman

before. To make sure there was no confusion

caused by the sort of “family likeness” that you

find in the characters drawn by a single artist, I

asked Pete to draw the face (compare Marie on

facing page).

PAGE 11. (540 words) PANEL 1.

ANOTHER SEVEN-PANEL PAGE, AGAIN WITH ONE

BIG WIDE PANEL ON THE UPPERMOST TIER AND

THEN THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS BENEATH THAT.

IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE BEHIND ABBERLINE AS HE

WALKS AWAY FROM US PAST THE FRONT OF CHRIST CHURCH,

SPITALFIELDS, THE DORIC COLUMNS OF WHICH WE CAN SEE

IN THE RIGHT MIDDLEGROUND. LOOKING BEYOND THIS WE CAN

SEE THE CORNER OF THE STREET WHERE THE TEN BELLS IS

SITUATED. THE PUB LOOKS RELATIVELY WELL LIT AND CHEERY

AS ABBERLINE WALKS TOWARDS IT, HIS FACE TURNED AWAY

FROM US HERE. MAYBE THERE ARE A COUPLE OF DRUNKEN

COUPLES SPILLING OUT OF THE FRONT DOOR AS HE

APPROACHES THE PUB, CLING TO EACH OTHER IN AMOROUS

INEBRIATION. THERE’S ROMANCE IN THE AIR TONIGHT.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE INSIDE THE TEN BELLS, LOOKING ACROSS THE CROWDED BARROOM TOWARDS THE

FRONT DOOR AS ABBERLINE ENTERS IN THE BACKGROUND. LOOKING VERY OUT OF PLACE IN HIS

BEST CLOTHES. HE IS ALREADY SCANNING THE PUB FOR SIGNS OF HIS DATE AS HE ENTERS.

NOBODY PAYS HIM ANY ATTENTION.

No dialogue

PANEL 3.

NOW ABBERLINE IS IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, LOOKING AWAY FROM US INTO THE CROWD

AS HE JOSTLES HIS WAY THROUGH THE BARROOM TOWARDS THE BAR, VISIBLE THERE IN THE

235

Chapter 11, page 12

BACKGROUND. WE SEE HIM HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND HERE, LOOKING

AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE LEFT MIDDLE GROUND. HIS EYES ARE FIXED UPON THE BACK OF A

WOMAN WHO STANDS FACING DIRECTLY AWAY FROM BOTH US AND FRED. SHE IS ALMOST CERTAINLY

EMMA. ABBERLINE SMILES IN RECOGNITION AS HIS EYES FALL UPON HER.

No dialogue

PANEL 4.

ROUGHLY THE SAME SHOT, BUT NOW WE AND FRED HAVE MOVED CLOSER TO THE WOMAN, WHO STILL

STANDS WITH HER FACE AWAY FROM US. STILL SMILING, FRED REACHES OUT AND CLASPS THE

WOMAN BY ONE SHOULDER AS HE SPEAKS TO HER.

ABBERLINE:

Emma? I see you got here early too, then.

ABBERLINE:

Will you ’ave a drink, or...

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT. THE WOMAN TURNS HER HEAD AROUND TO GLARE AT ABBERLINE. IT CLEARLY ISN’T

EMMA. ABBERLINE LOOKS STARTLED, MAYBE HOLDING UP ONE HAND IN MUTE APOLOGY AS HE

BEGINS TO BACK OFF IN CONFUSED EMBARRASSMENT, TOWARDS THE RIGHT OF FOREGROUND HERE.

WOMAN:

‘Ere, woss yor game? Bloomin’ liberty!

ABBERLINE:

Oh, Christ. Sorry, love. I’m sorry. Thought you were

somebody

else.

ABBERLINE:

Sorry.

PANEL 6.

NOW WE ARE BEHIND THE BAR, WHICH WE CAN SEE A BIT OF THE TOP OF, PUDDLED AND

GLISTENING, IN THE BOTTOM FOREGROUND. LOOKING ACROSS THIS WE SEE ABBERLINE AS HE

STANDS THREE-QUARTER FIGURE IN THE MIDDLE GROUND, LOOKING EMBARRASSED AS HE TURNS

HIS FACE SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US TO WATCH THE OFFENDED EMMA LOOKALIKE WALK AWAY

FROM HIM INTO THE BACKGROUND OF THE PUB. HE RUNS HIS FINGER ROUND HIS COLLAR

NERVOUSLY AND UNCOMFORTABLY AS HE WATCHES HER GO.

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, ONLY NOW FRED HAS TURNED ONCE MORE TOWARDS US AND STEPPED

UP TO THE BAR, STILL LOOKING A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE AFTER HIS FAUX PAS. HE LOOKS

STRAIGHT TOWARDS US AND PUTS SOME COPPER COINS ON THE BAR AS HE ORDERS HIS DRINK.

ABBERLINE:

Pint and a half o’ bitter, please.

Abberline. From the 1994 synopsis: Abberline has agreed to meet his street-

girl friend Emma so that she can pay him back the money that she owes him.

He is maybe even contemplating going to bed with her this one time. At the pub

where they have arranged to meet, the bar-man gives him a note left by Emma.

She has taken the money to pay her fare to very far away, and won’t be coming

back. She says how sorry she is and asks Abberline to forgive her and believe she

never meant to hurt him, and that she wouldn’t have done it unless she had to.

Love Emma. Abberline is crushed, starting to develop the hatred of prostitutes

demonstrated in the prologue.

236

Chapter 11, page 22.

It’s the end of the party that had cameos

of several interesting Victorians (“too many

art-wallahs” in the dialogue below) including

Wilde, Whistler and even Sickert, otherwise

forgotten since Chapter 4 in the forward tilt

of our narrative. I’m picking this one because it’s

the opposite of a “typical” page of Alan

Moore script. There is very little detail, only

531 words. In fact, by the end of it, when he

makes the crack about the bridge, we get the

impression that Alan might have been feeling

a bit irritable that day. If it was time for tax

accounting I could usually detect a rumble of

aggravation in the scripts. (For the record, I

used the Old Putney Bridge loosely referenced,

appropriately, from an 1879 etching by

Whistler.)

PAGE 22. (531 words) PANEL 1.

NOW A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE, WITH THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE UPPER TIERS AND ONE BIG

WIDE ONE ON THE BOTTOM. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE SEE DRUITT DRIFT AIMLESSLY PAST US

IN THE FOREGROUND, EYES DARTING ABOUT HIM FOR A GLIMPSE OF SOMEONE HE KNOWS. HE

LOOKS TERRIBLY OUT OF PLACE. BEHIND DRUITT AND UNOBSERVED BY HIM HERE WE SEE A

MAN LEANING AGAINST THE WALL IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND AND SIPPING A DRINK. HE

IS GAZING SPECULATIVELY AT THE UNAWARE DRUITT, AND WE CAN SEE THAT IT IS MELVILLE

MACNAGHTEN, WHO WE MET EARLIER AT THE SUMMIT CONFERENCE WITH ANDERSON AND MONRO.

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT, BUT HERE MACNAGHTEN SPEAKS TO DRUITT, CAUSING THE YOUNG BARRISTER/

TEACHER TO TURN AND LOOK AT THE SMART-LOOKING EX-MILITARY MAN. MACNAGHTEN

SMILES ENGAGINGLY AS HE SPEAKS, MAYBE EXTENDING HIS HAND FOR DRUITT TO SHAKE.

MACNAGHTEN:

Hello, there. You look as if you feel the way I always do at

these affairs: Fish out of water, eh?

MACNAGHTEN:

Name’s MacNaghten. Live across the street at number nine.

PANEL 3.

LONG SHOT OF THE TWO AS THEY BOTH SHAKE HANDS. DRUITT STILL A LITTLE UNCERTAIN.

DRUITT:

My name’s Druitt. Do you like it? Chelsea, I mean.

DRUITT:

Not my name.

MACNAGHTEN:

Chelsea? It’s alright, I suppose. Too many art-wallahs for my

liking. What do YOU do?

237

Chapter 11, page 22

PANEL 4.

CLOSE IN ON THE TWO OF THEM NOW, PERHAPS IN A SIMILAR SHOT TO PANELS ONE AND TWO.

DRUITT IS STILL GLANCING ABOUT HIM NERVOUSLY EVEN AS HE SPEAKS TO MACNAGHTEN.

MACNAGHTEN REGARDS DRUITT COOLLY AND SHREWDLY, WEIGHING THE MAN UP.

DRUITT:

I’m uh, I’m a teacher. And a barrister.

DRUITT:

I don’t really socialize a lot, as a rule. O-Other than

through cricket, I don’t suppose I have that many friends.

MACNAGHTEN:

Lone wolf, eh?

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT, STILL LOOKING UNCOMFORTABLE, DRUITT MAKES HIS APOLOGIES WHILE

MACNAGHTEN DOES HIS BEST TO LOOK UNDERSTANDING.

DRUITT:

I suppose I am. I’m afraid I don’t really feel at ease here.

Perhaps I should be going.

DRUITT:

Please don’t think me rude. I’m very glad I met you.

MACNAGHTEN:

Mutual, dear chap, I assure you.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, BUT NOW DRUITT HAS GONE, LEAVING MACNAGHTEN STANDING THERE BY THE WALL.

MACNAGHTEN TUGS HIS MOUSTACHE AND GAZES WITH A FROWN OF INTEREST AND CONSIDERATION IN

THE DIRECTION THAT DRUITT HAS DEPARTED IN. HE LOOKS PENSIVE AS HE CONSIDERS WHETHER

DRUITT ISN’T JUST THE MAN HE AND HIS COLLEAGUES ARE LOOKING FOR.

PANEL 7.

NOW, IN THIS FINAL WIDE PANEL, WE HAVE A SHOT OF DRUITT WALKING HOME, SOUTH ACROSS

ONE OF THE BRIDGES. I’M NOT GOING TO SPECIFY WHICH ONE IN CASE YOU GET ALL SMART

ON ME AGAIN AND DIG UP REFERENCE TO PROVE THAT IT WAS BEING PAINTED AND VARNISHED

THAT PARTICULAR NIGHT OR SOMETHING. IT CAN BE ANY BLOODY BRIDGE YOU WANT. WE ARE

DOWN AROUND THE LEVEL OF WATER, LOOKING UP TOWARDS THE BRIDGE AS DRUITT’S LONELY

FIGURE WALKS ACROSS IT, ALL ALONE. HE GAZES DOWN MOURNFULLY INTO THE WATER,

LITTLE DREAMING HE’LL BE BENEATH IT BEFORE THE YEAR IS OUT.

Druitt. From the 1994 synopsis: Montague Druitt is not a happy man. A

gentle homosexual, devoted to the noble game of cricket and to rights for

women, Druitt is a sort of prototypical “New Man.” He has just been fired

from his job at the school after a disastrous relationship with one of the

boys, and his family considers him a gross embarrassment and a perverted

sexual monster to boot. He knows that his father has always hated

him since he refused to follow the old man into the Freemasons like his

brothers had. Often he thinks that the old man would rather he were dead. Druitt is a

close neighbour of Oscar Wilde, and we see him mingling shyly with Whistler and Shaw at

one of Wilde’s parties, invited for his pretty good looks. Also invited, though for different

reasons, is Sir Melville MacNaghten, who later became a high ranking police chief and

principal commentator upon the Ripper case. He lived just across the street from Druitt.

The reader starts to get the impression that Druitt is being singled out for something

without his knowledge.

238

Chapter 11, page 23

Sometimes favourite pages are ones

where everything is just in its right place and

the lettering is all legible and the quiet little

actions are all just nicely timed. I also wanted

to drop this one in here because of the desk

diary. Alan started putting it at the beginning

of Abberline’s scenes in chapter 6. I gave the

reader a reason to pay attention to it by making

it one of those quote-of-the-day diaries. Then I’d

save antique quotations to use on it, little things

that might have a resonance if dropped into the

FROM HELL environment. The one for 13th

Nov said: “It is too late to be ambitious; the

mutations of the world are already acted.”

Sir Thomas Browne.

PAGE 23, (646 words) PANEL 1.

NINE PANEL PAGE HERE. HERE IN THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL WE ARE LOOKING AT THE

DWINDLING CALENDAR ON ABBERLINE’S DESK AS HIS HAND ENTERS THE FRAME FROM OFF

AND TEARS ANOTHER SHEET OFF TO REVEAL TODAY’S DATE, BEING TUESDAY THE 13th OF

NOVEMBER. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO STICK IN ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE GREAT QUOTATIONS

THAT YOU DIG UP, IF YOU HAVE ROOM. I QUITE LOOK FORWARD TO THEM.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

WE ARE IN ABBERLINE’S WHITECHAPEL OFFICE, LOOKING IN FROM THE DOORWAY AS GODLEY

ENTERS, LOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER AND INTO THE ROOM AS HE FACES ROUGHLY AWAY FROM

US ON THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND. ABBERLINE SITS IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND AT HIS

DESK, BARELY LOOKING UP AS GODLEY ENTERS. HE IS HALF-READING FROM A NEWSPAPER HE

HAS IN HIS HAND AS HE SPEAKS TO GODLEY.

GODLEY:

Oh, you’re in early. Good morning.

ABBERLINE:

What’s good about it? And what’s all this rubbish in the

papers about a “White Eyed man?”

PANEL 3.

REVERSE ANGLE SO THAT ABBERLINE, SEATED, IS LOOKING SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US IN

THE RIGHT FOREGROUND TOWARDS GODLEY, COMING INTO THE ROOM IN THE NEAR LEFT

BACKGROUND. WE CAN SEE NOW THAT GODLEY IS CARRYING AN OPENED LETTER IN HIS HAND.

GODLEY:

Oh, that. It was that barmy Dr. Holt who was trying to

catch the murderer by hanging round Whitechapel in disguise.

GODLEY:

His face was blacked up and he was wearing glasses.

239

Chapter 11, page 23

PANEL 4,

CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN SO THAT GODLEY, THE OPENED LETTER DANGLING CASUALLY FROM HIS

HAND, IS TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND. IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, ABBERLINE GESTURES

TOWARDS THE LETTER IN GODLEY’S HAND WITH IRRITATED CURIOSITY.

GODLEY:

Sunday, it happened. The papers just reported his glasses as

white-ringed eyes, that’s all.

GODLEY:

A mob nearly lynched him before we arrested him.

ABBERLINE:

Hmph. What’s that in yer ‘and?

PANEL 5,

FULL-FIGURE LONG SHOT OF BOTH MEN NOW, WITH GODLEY STANDING AND PASSING THE OPENED

LETTER TO ABBERLINE AS HE SPEAKS TO HIM. ABBERLINE TAKES THE LETTER FROM GODLEY,

LOOKING AT IT WITH A BAD-TEMPERED AND DISMISSIVE EXPRESSION.

GODLEY:

Oh, it’s just another helpful theory we’ve had. Some chap

reckons we should cover the murder scene with dust.

GODLEY:

Says we’d find prints of the murderer’s fingers.

ABBERLINE:

Bloody amateur detectives.

PANEL 6.

CLOSE-UP OF ABBERLINE’S HAND ENTERING THE PANEL FROM OFF AS HE DISMISSIVELY DROPS

THE NOW-CRUMPLED LETTER INTO A WICKER WASTE-PAPER BIN BESIDE HIS DESK. MAYBE

GODLEY LOOKS ON AT THIS FROM THE NEAR BACKGROUND.

ABBERLINE:

We’ve ‘ad PSYCHICS, we’ve ‘ad Mr. Conan DOYLE’s friend, now

somebody wants us makin’ more of a mess at the murder scene

than there is already.

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLE AGAIN SO THAT ABBERLINE IS NOW SEATED LOOKING TOWARDS US FROM LEFT BACKGROUND

WITH GODLEY PART VISIBLE IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, TALKING TO HIS SEATED SUPERIOR.

ABBERLINE:

Dust! I ASK you.

ABBERLINE:

Ah, well. Any REAL detective work to be done today, Godley?

GODLEY:

Well, there’s that woman you wanted to interview again. The

wife of the lodging house deputy.

PANEL 8.

NOW ABBERLINE IS SITTING IN THE FOREGROUND AT HIS DESK, SORTING THROUGH SOME PAPERS

AND NOT LOOKING UP AT GODLEY AS HE SPEAKS. GODLEY, IN THE BACKGROUND, STARTS TO

OPEN THE OFFICE DOOR AND IS ABOUT TO STEP OUTSIDE AT HIS SUPERIOR’S REQUEST.

ABBERLINE:

Oh, that’s right. The Maxwell woman. I suppose I’d better

see ‘er, if she’s ‘ere. Send ‘er in, lad, would you?

GODLEY:

Right you are.

PANEL 9.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, BUT NOW GODLEY HAS GONE IN THE BACKGROUND, LEAVING THE

DOOR SLIGHTLY AJAR BEHIND HIM. ABBERLINE, AT HIS DESK IN THE FOREGROUND,

CONTINUES TO SORT THROUGH HIS PAPERS AS HE WAITS FOR GODLY TO BRING IN MRS.

MAXWELL. HE LOOKS SURLY, AND NOT AS IF HE’S IN A VERY GOOD MOOD.

No dialogue

240

Chapter 11, page 35.

Somebody’s always telling somebody

else that it’ll be alright when really it’s all gone

to fuck. Two very human little domestic scenes,

one after the other. So they seem, and yet with

so much going on in them both. First, Druitt

arrives home by Hackney cab and is comforted

by Bedford, his housemate. In fact, this is his

Judas.

PAGE 35. (678 words) PANEL 1.

NINE-PANEL PAGE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL, WE’VE

ARRIVED AT KING’S BENCH WALK. IN THE FOREGROUND

WE CAN SEE THE COACHMAN’S HANDS AS HE DRIVES

OFF, CLENCHED FAST UPON THE REINS. BEYOND THIS,

WE SEE DRUITT AS HE WALKS DEJECTEDLY AWAY FROM

US DOWN KING’S BENCH WALK.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE INSIDE NUMBER 9, KING’S BENCH WALK; IN THE HALLWAY WHICH WE LOOK

ALONG TOWARDS THE FRONT DOOR. IN THE FOREGROUND WE CAN MAYBE SEE A LITTLE OF

THE BANNISTER TO ADVERTISE THAT THERE ARE STAIRS THAT LEAD OFF FROM THE HALL.

LOOKING BEYOND THIS TO THE BACKGROUND WE CAN SEE THE FRONT DOOR OF THE HOUSE

IS OPEN, WITH MONTAGUE DRUITT STANDING FRAMED IN IT. HE GLANCES UP DEJECTEDLY

TOWARDS THE STAIRS AS HE COMES IN.

No dialogue.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE ARE AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, ON THE FIRST FLOOR. IN THE FOREGROUND WE HAVE

THE DOOR TO DRUITT’S ROOM WHILE LOOKING PAST THIS WE CAN SEE THE TOP OF THE STAIRS,

WHERE THEY REACH THE LANDING. DRUITT IS WEARILY MOUNTING THE LAST STEP, GLANCING

TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND AND HIS FRONT DOOR AS HE DOES SO, BRIEFCASE HEAVY IN HIS

HAND.

No dialogue.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE ARE INSIDE DRUITT’S ROOM, WHICH IS SMALL, COMFORTABLE AND STUDENTISH, WITH

PILES OF LAW BOOKS EVERYWHERE. A DESK PILED HIGH WITH BOOKS STANDS IN THE FORE-

GROUND, AND WE LOOK UP PAST THIS AT THE DOOR AS DRUITT ENTERS, GLANCING MISERABLY

TOWARDS THE DESK AS HE DOES SO.

No dialogue.

241

Chapter 11, page 35

PANEL 5.

FULL-FIGURE SHOT OF DRUITT NOW. HE PUTS HIS BRIEFCASE DOWN BESIDE THE ROOM’S

ARMCHAIR, SITS DOWN IN IT WITH HEAD SUNK IN HIS HANDS AND STARTS TO WEEP. THE

SHADOWS LENGTHEN. DRUITT LOOKS ENTIRELY ABJECT AND ALONE.

No dialogue.

PANEL 6.

NOW IT IS SOME FEW MOMENTS LATER. WE ARE LOOKING AT THE SEATED DRUITT FROM THE

DOORWAY OF THE ROOM AS HE SITS WEEPING WITH HIS FACE SUNK IN HIS HANDS. STOOD IN

THE DOORWAY, ALSO LOOKING IN AT DRUITT, WE CAN SEE A LITTLE OF EDWARD HENSLOW

BEDFORD AS HE LOOKS IN ON DRUITT TO SEE IF HE’S ALRIGHT. MAYBE WE JUST SEE BEDFORD

FROM THE SHOULDERS DOWN TO THE WAIST, WITH THE REST CUT OFF BY THE PANEL BORDERS.

LOOKING PAST HIM WE SEE THE ABJECT, MISERABLE DRUITT.

BEDFORD: Monty?

PANEL 7.

NOW CHANGE ANGLES SO THAT WE HAVE DRUITT, HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE LEFT OF

FOREGROUND AS HE SITS IN PROFILE TO US, FACING RIGHT. HE HAS ONE HAND UP TO HIS

EYES TO WIPE HIS EYES, EMBARRASSED TO BE CAUGHT IN SUCH A STATE AS THIS. HIS

CHEEKS, BENEATH HIS HAND, ARE HOT AND WET WITH TEARS. WE LOOK UP PAST HIM NOW

AT EDWARD BEDFORD WHO STANDS LOOKING DOWN AT DRUITT WITH A GRAVE EXPRESSION OF

CONCERN ON HIS CHUBBY FACE.

BEDFORD:

Alright, old chap? I heard you come in, then I heard you...

well, you seemed upset, that’s all. Is something wrong?

DRUITT:

Oh, Bedford, I’m in such a jam.

PANEL 8.

NOW, AS BEDFORD STANDS BY DRUITT’S CHAIR, DRUITT TURNS ROUND AND THROWS HIS ARMS

ROUND BEDFORD’S WAIST, BURYING HIS WEEPING FACE IN BEDFORD’S PLUSH WAIST-COATED

PAUNCH. BEDFORD LOOKS DOWN AT DRUITT’S HEAD, UNSURE OF WHETHER TO PAT IT

REASSURINGLY OR NOT. HIS HAND HOVERS AND HE LOOKS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE

SITUATION.

DRUITT:

I don’t know what’s HAPPENING. I don’t know what’s (LETTERING

TAILS OFF HERE INTO UNREADABLE LITTLE SQUIGGLES THAT SUGGEST DRUITT’S INCREASINGLY

EMOTION-CHOKED VOICE AS IT BECOMES INAUDIBLE, LOST IN THE FOLDS OF BEDFORD’S

WAISTCOAT).

PANEL 9.

WE CLOSE ON BEDFORD HERE, HEAD AND SHOULDERS TO HALF FIGURE, SO THAT WE MAYBE

SEE A LITTLE OF THE TOP OF DRUITT’S HEAD DOWN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PANEL AS HE

CLUTCHES ROUND HIS COMRADE’S MIDRIFF, BUT NO MORE THAN THAT. OUR MAIN ATTENTION

IS ON BEDFORD’S FACE AS HE STARES UNEASILY DOWN AT THE TOP OF DRUITT’S QUIVERING

HEAD. IT IS SUFFUSED WITH BADLY MASKED GUILT.

BEDFORD:

There, there, old fellow. There, there. It’s alright.

BEDFORD:

Everything’s alright.

242

Chapter 11, pages 36, 37.

Like Druitt, Abberline arrives home

by cab to some domestic comforting. This is

the real thing: the kind of subtleties I always

wanted to see in comics. So much to get across

in the pictures. “He does not notice her

concern, or else he is affecting not to notice

it.” Abberline’s wife, also named Emma: “She

maybe understands more than Fred thinks

she does.”

PAGE 36. (694 words) PANEL 1.

A SEVEN PANEL PAGE WITH ONE BIG PANEL AT

THE TOP AND THREE SMALL PANELS ON EACH TIER

BELOW THAT. IN THIS FIRST WIDE SHOT, IT

IS THE SAME NIGHT, ELSEWHERE IN THE CITY.

WE SEE ABBERLINE, JUST ARRIVED HOME FROM

WORK, AS HE COMES THROUGH THE FRONT GATE

OF HIS HOUSE, WHICH WE SEE OVER ON THE

LEFT OF PANEL HERE. HE GENTLY SHUTS THE

GATE AND LATCHES IT BEHIND HIM, GLANCING

TO THE RIGHT OF THE PANEL WHERE WE SEE HIS

WIFE, THE FORMER EMMA BEAUMONT, STANDING

SWEETLY ON THE DOORSTEP WAITING FOR HIM,

OVER ON THE RIGHT OF THIS WIDE PANEL HERE,

IN PROFILE FACING LEFT WHILE ABBERLINE IS

FACING RIGHT.

No dialogue.

PANEL 2.

NOW IT IS LATER IN THE EVENING AND WE’RE

AT HOME WITH THE ABBERLINES. TOWARDS THE

LEFT OF FOREGROUND WE SEE EMMA, HEAD AND

SHOULDERS, AS SHE GLANCES MISERABLY TOWARDS

THE BACKGROUND WHERE WE SEE FRED SITTING

IN AN ARMCHAIR, SCOWLING FAINTLY IN MILD

CONCENTRATION AS HE SCANS THE FILES OF

DOCUMENTS THAT HE’S BROUGHT HOME TO WORK UPON. EMMA LOOKS WORRIED AS SHE GAZES AT

HIM. ABBERLINE IS EITHER SO ENGROSSED HE DOES NOT NOTICE HER CONCERN, OR ELSE HE

IS AFFECTING NOT TO NOTICE IT.

No dialogue.

243

Chapter 11; page 36, 37

PANEL 3.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW SO THAT WE HAVE ABBERLINE IN PROFILE HEAD AND SHOULDERS IN THE

RIGHT OF FOREGROUND, FACING LEFT. BEYOND HIM WE SEE EMMA AS SHE SITS THERE IN THE

BACKGROUND WITH HER KNITTING OR EMBROIDERY UPON HER LAP, LOOKING TOWARDS US WITH

COMPASSION AND GREAT WORRY FOR HER HUSBAND AND HIS HAPPINESS.

EMMA:

Frederick? I-is everything alright? I-I wouldn’t ask, but

it’s just that you seem preoccupied of late...

FRED:

Um? Oh, no. No, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.

PANEL 4.

NOW EMMA RISES TO HER FEET IN THE FOREGROUND SO THAT WE ONLY SEE HER FROM HER

TORSO DOWN TO HER KNEES AS SHE STANDS TO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND, LOOKING

TOWARDS FRED WHO SITS IN THE BACKGROUND WITH THE OPEN FILES SPREAD OUT ON HIS

LAP. HE GESTURES TO THEM WITH A MILD EXPRESSION OF EXASPERATION.

FRED:

It’s just working on this case, that’s all. There’s nothing

but

loose

ends.

FRED:

You take this business about “Julia”, for instance...

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW SO THAT FRED ABBERLINE IS SEATED IN THE RIGHT OF FOREGROUND,

FACING LEFT. WE SEE HIM JUST ABOUT FULL FIGURE HERE AS HE SITS WITH THE FILES

UPON HIS LAP, GESTICULATING AS HE SPEAKS. EMMA IS STOOD BEHIND HIM, FACING US,

SLOWLY APPROACHING HIM TO LAY HER HAND UPON HIS SHOULDER. HE DOES NOT LOOK AT

HER AS HE SPEAKS, AND WE PERHAPS HAVE A SUGGESTION THAT THERE’S SOMETHING

THAT’S ALMOST EVASIVE IN THE WAY HE BLANDLY RATTLES OFF A LOT OF TRIVIAL CASE

DETAILS IN ORDER NOT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT’S REALLY ON HIS MIND. EMMA LOOKS DOWN

ON HIM, WITH HER EXPRESSION CALM, WISE AND COMPASSIONATE. SHE MAYBE UNDERSTANDS

MORE THAN FRED THINKS SHE DOES.

FRED:

Now, Kelly had a woman lodge with her around the time that

she was murdered, name of “Julia”.

FRED:

We’ve been assuming that was JULIA VENTURNEY...

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, BUT WE MOVE CLOSER IN UPON THE ABBERLINES, SO THAT WE SEE FRED

AROUND HALF FIGURE AS HE SITS THERE NOW WITH FILES ON LAP, EXPLAINING DETAILS

OF THE CASE TO EMMA, WHO STANDS QUIETLY THERE BEYOND HIM WITH HER HAND UPON HIS

SHOULDER.

FRED:

Now she’s a laundress with a room in Miller’s Court.

Why would she NEED to stay with Kelly?

EMMA:

I don’t know, dear...

PANEL 7.

CONTINUE TO CLOSE IN SO THAT IN THIS PANEL WE HAVE A HEAD AND SHOULDERS SHOT OF

ABBERLINE, WITH EMMA ONLY PARTLY VISIBLE BEHIND HIM, WITH HER DELICATE PALE HAND AT

244

Part 7: In the dark

REST UPON HIS SHOULDER. AS SHE SPEAKS, FRED SUDDENLY LOOKS TRAPPED AND FRIGHTENED.

HAS HE BEEN FOUND OUT? HE STARES AHEAD OF HIM WITH HAUNTED EYES WHILE EMMA SPEAKS,

EMMA (OFF, ABOVE):

I only know you haven’t been yourself since that last murder.

EMMA (OFF, ABOVE):

That’s the morning that you went out all dressed up.

PAGE 37. (605 words) (edited) PANEL 1.

NOW ANOTHER SEVEN PANEL PAGE, THIS TIME WITH THE BIG WIDE PANEL ON THE BOTTOM TIER

AND THEN THREE SMALLER PANELS ON EACH OF THE TWO TIERS ABOVE THAT. IN THIS FIRST

PANEL WE CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT NOW WE’RE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF FRED’S CHAIR AND HAVE

EMMA MORE TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND WITH FRED SAT IMMEDIATELY BEYOND HER, BOTH OF THEM

IN LONG SHOT AND FULL FIGURE HERE, SURROUNDED BY THE COSY DOMESTICITY OF THEIR WARM,

FIRELIT LIVING ROOM. EMMA STILL HAS HER HANDS UPON FRED’S SHOULDER. HE STILL GAZES

STRAIGHT AHEAD WITH TRAPPED AND HAUNTED EYES.

FRED:

It... it’s just WHITECHAPEL. You don’t know what it’s LIKE.

FRED:

I never WANTED to go back there.

PANEL 5.

PULL BACK A LITTLE NOW SO THAT WE SEE BOTH FRED AND EMMA. LOOKING OLD AND WEARY,

FRED CLOSES HIS EYES. HE TAKES THE HAND OF EMMA’S THAT WAS PREVIOUSLY UPON HIS

SHOULDER AND HE HOLDS IT TO HIS CHEEK, SOOTHED BY THE COOLNESS OF HER FINGERS.

EMMA GAZES DOWN AT HIM, AND MAYBE STROKES HIS BRYLCREEMED HAIR.

FRED:

You feel as if you’re drowning in it, and you want to ‘ang

ON;

just

’ang on to someone.

FRED:

I’m not strong. I thought I was once, but I’m not.

PANEL 6.

CLOSE IN NOW ON THE LOWER HALF OF FRED’S FACE, PRESSED AGAINST THE BACK OF EMMA’S

HAND, WHICH HE HOLDS FAST BETWEEN HIS OWN. WE MAYBE CANNOT SEE HIS EYES, BUT JUST

HIS MOUTH NOW AS HE SPEAKS, TENDERLY HOLDING EMMA’S HAND IN HIS, CRUSHED TO HIS

FACE AS IF IT WERE A FLOWER.

FRED:

Just don’t let go, that’s all.

FRED:

Just don’t let go of me.

PANEL 7.

NOW A BIG WIDE PANEL TO FINISH. WE CUT TO KING’S BENCH WALK.

IT IS THE LATE AFTERNOON OF THE FIRST OF DECEMBER, 1888.

WALKING ACROSS THE PANEL FROM LEFT TO RIGHT WE SEE AT LEAST

PART OF THE DARK AND SINISTER FORMS OF TWO POLICEMEN (MAYBE

WE SEE THEM FROM THEIR SHOULDERS TO THEIR KNEES, SO THAT

THEIR HEADS ARE BOTH OFF PANEL, IF THAT WORKS). UP ON THE

WALL BEHIND THEM THAT THEY’RE WALKING PAST WE SEE THE SIGN

THAT BEARS THE LEGEND “KING’S BENCH WALK”. THE TWO OF THEM

WALK DOWN THE ROW, PRESUMABLY ON THEIR WAY TO NUMBER NINE.

No dialogue.

245

Chapter 11, pages 45, 46.

Alan wraps up the final two pages of

chapter 11 in just over 600 words between them,

with hardly any of it dialogue. As one would

expect, there’s a natural tendency for the word

rate to start large in the exposition and then

diminish toward the resolution. Characters have

been described and their motives analysed. All

that remains is to put them through their physical

paces. Druitt finishes in the dark, pretty much

where he was all along.

PAGE 45. (201 words) (only 1 panel out of 7

transcribed) PANEL 1.

SEVEN PANELS, WITH THE BIG ONE ON THE BOTTOM

TIER. IN THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL WE SEE THE TWO

POLICEMEN STANDING BY THE WHARF’S EDGE, HOLDING

DRUITT LIKE A HAMMOCK SLUNG BETWEEN THEM, WITH

THE SERGEANT HOLDING DRUITT’S WRISTS WHILE THE

CONSTABLE’S IN CHARGE OF DRUITT’S ANKLES.

PAGE 46. (419 words) PANEL 1. (edited)

NINE-PANEL PAGE. IN THIS FIRST SHOT WE SEE THE

SURFACE OF THE THAMES AS DRUITT HITS WATER,

WITH A GREAT SPLASH RISING UP INTO THE NIGHT.

PANEL 2.

A SUDDEN CUT NOW TO A LONELY CRICKET PITCH

BENEATH AN OVERCAST AFTERNOON SKY (OR WOULD A

NIGHT SKY BE MORE EERIE? YOU DECIDE). IN THE LEFT

FOREGROUND WE SEE WICKETS WITH THE BAILS KNOCKED

OFF, ONE WICKET AT AN ANGLE TO THE OTHERS.

IMMEDIATELY BEYOND THE WICKET WE SEE DRUITT IN

HIS CRICKET WHITES. HE IS TURNED TO FACE AWAY

FROM US, DECLARED OUT AND RETIRING FROM THE

CREASE. OFF IN THE BACKGROUND FAR ACROSS THE

EMPTY CRICKET PITCH, WE SEE A DISTANT, LONE PAVILION. IT IS TOWARDS THIS THAT HE IS HEADED,

BAT TRAILING BESIDE HIM. HE’S STILL CLOSE HERE, AND ABOUT HALF TO THREE-QUARTER FIGURE.

PANEL 3.

BACK TO THE RIVER. WE ARE UNDERWATER, WATCHING DRUITT AS HE TUMBLES DOWN UNCONSCIOUS

THROUGH THE MURKY DEPTHS, THE BUBBLES RISING UP ABOUT HIM AS HE SINKS; THE BRICKS IN

HIS POCKETS PULLING HIM INEXORABLY DOWN.

246

Part 7: In the dark

PANEL 4.

BACK ON THE CRICKET PITCH. THE WHITE-CLAD FORM OF DRUITT IS NOW FURTHER OFF FROM US

AS HE WALKS SLOWLY OFF TOWARDS THE FARAWAY PAVILION, WITH HIS BAT DRAGGED BY HIS

SIDE. THROUGHOUT ALL THIS HE LOOKS AWAY FROM US. WE CANNOT SEE HIS FACE.

PANEL 5.

BACK TO THE RIVER. VIEWED FROM UNDERWATER, WE SEE DRUITT’S FACE IN CLOSE-UP AS HE SINKS.

THE BUBBLES ARE ESCAPING FROM HIS OPEN MOUTH. HIS WHITE EYES ARE JUST BARELY OPEN.

PANEL 6.

BACK ON THE CRICKET PITCH, THE STUMPS STILL STANDING SKEW-WIFF IN THE FOREGROUND, WE

SEE DRUITT AS A TINY, DISTANT FIGURE NOW, THREE QUARTERS OF THE WAY BETWEEN OURSELVES

AND THE PAVILION IN THE DISTANCE. HE DOES NOT LOOK BACK.

PANEL 7.

BACK IN THE RIVER. VIEWED FROM UNDERWATER, WE SEE DRUITT’S BODY IN FULL FIGURE LONG

SHOT AS IT HITS THE RIVER BED AND SENDS UP CLOUDS OF LIQUID MUD. MAYBE UP IN THE

FOREGROUND WE CAN SEE A RUSTED BED-STEAD JUTTING FROM THE BED-SANDS

PANEL 8.

THE STUMPS ARE IN THE FOREGROUND. THE PAVILION IS OFF IN THE BACKGROUND. DRUITT’S

NOWHERE TO BE SEEN.

PANEL 9.

THIS FINAL PANEL IS AN UNRELIEVED AND ASPHYXIATED BLACK

alternative chapter ending

From Alan’s synopsis for the movie company, a year before this chapter’s release in July 1995.

There are a couple of unexpected twists, and we don’t yet have the cricket analogy.

Depressed about his circumstances, Druitt spills his troubles to another

barrister at the rooms where he works in the Minories. As luck would have it, this

barrister’s brother is married to a doctor’s daughter, one of the most eminent doctors in

the Victorian world. Perhaps he could help cure Druitt’s depression. So it is that Druitt

is introduced to Dr. Gull. Gull listens sympathetically to Druitt’s sad confessions, and

then drugs him into unconsciousness with laudanum-painted grapes. At a prearranged

signal, a brace of uniformed and presumably Masonic police officers enter. Escorting

the drugged Druitt to the Thames they weigh his pockets with bricks according to

Masonic custom and throw him in. The body tumbles down through the filthy green

water. Sir Melville MacNaghten starts to prepare the first draft of his memoirs,

mentioning an unnamed barrister found drowned in the Thames as the culprit behind

the Ripper crimes. Druitt’s body is tumbling amongst drowned bedsprings and the

bones of minnows. Abberline has sex with his wife, thinking hot and loveless thoughts

of the prostitute who used and betrayed him. Riverbed sands crawl slowly into Druitt’s

mouth and nostrils. Ears deaf with estuary mud, life bubbles out of him and he gives

up his historical existence to fuse inextricably with the black lore of Whitechapel, the

over-raked bone-fields of the Ripperologists. End of Chapter XI.

247

Part 8

Pages 248 to 286.

Lesser exploitations of

the Whitechapel

murders usually climax

and end with Kelly’s, but

we have quite a way

to go yet.

Putting it all in

perspective

is the final theme.

248

Chapter 12, page 1.

Alan hints at our previous lack of

agreement about The Queen. But she is much more

human in this scene, and I quite enjoyed drawing

her. On the other hand, I’ve often looked back and

felt that I haven’t completely realized Mr. Lees as a

character, or at least not as convincingly, let’s say, as

the just departed Mr. Druitt. I guess it’s because I

have no model for him in my personal experience,

and I have shied from using someone else’s. Donald

Sutherland made him suitably foppish in Murder by

Decree. If I had to sit through a Ripper movie it might

be that one, but don’t make me stay to the end.

Of Lees, Alan wrote: “Lees is an

unfortunate class of psychic who, in his heart

of hearts, believes himself to be a phoney. He

thinks that he’s inventing his ‘psychic flashes’

as a means of vengeance upon someone who has offended him. He doesn’t for a

moment believe that Gull is actually Jack the Ripper. As he stated ruefully in the

prologue, ‘ I made it all up, and it all came true anyway.’” (1994 synopsis)

PAGE 1. (893 words) PANEL 1.

AN EIGHT-PANEL PAGE HERE. AFTER THE TITLES PANEL THERE IS ONE DOUBLE SIZED PANEL

COMPLETING THE TIER, AND THEN THREE PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS BENEATH THAT.

TITLES:

Chapter Twelve: The Apprehensions of Mr. Lees.

PANEL 2.

IN THIS DOUBLE WIDTH PANEL, I’M AFRAID THAT WE’RE BACK IN THE DARK ROOM FOR AN AUDIENCE

WITH QUEEN VICTORIA, EVEN THOUGH I PROMISED YOU FAITHFULLY THAT HER APPEARANCE IN

CHAPTER NINE WOULD BE THE LAST TIME THAT WE SAW HER. WE SEE BOTH THE SEATED VICTORIA,

OVER TO THE LEFT, AND THE STANDING FIGURE OF THE YOUNG ROBERT LEES OVER TOWARDS THE

RIGHT, BOTH FULL FIGURE. ABOVE VICTORIA’S SEATED FORM, UP IN THE DARKNESS OF THE VAULTED

CHAMBER’S UPPER REACHES, WE CAN SEE WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE HOVERING FIGURE OF THE LATE

PRINCE ALBERT. THE DECEASED ROYAL CONSORT HANGS THERE IN THE AIR ABOVE VICTORIA AT AN

ODDLY HORIZONTAL SLANT. HE LOOKS MUCH LIKE A CUT OUT PICTURE OF A STANDING PRINCE ALBERT

THAT HAS BEEN PASTED ON AT THE WRONG ANGLE. VICTORIA DOESN’T LOOK UP AT THE HOVERING

FORM ABOVE HER, BUT STARES WITH INSCRUTABLE HEAVY-LIDDED EYES AT THE STANDING FIGURE OF

THE YOUNG PSYCHIC BEFORE HER. LEES STANDS WITH HIS ARMS SPREAD SLIGHTLY AT HIS SIDES.

HIS HEAD IS TILTED BACK AS IF TO LOOK TOWARDS THE FIGURE HOVERING ABOVE THE SEATED QUEEN,

BUT HIS EYES ARE CLOSED. A PEACEFUL SMILE OF BLISSFUL RAPTURE IS UPON THE PSYCHIC’S FACE.

CAPTION:

Buckingham Palace. November 29th, 1888.

249

chapter 12, page 1

PANEL 3.

NOW WE HAVE A SHOT LOOKING AT VICTORIA, SO THAT SHE SITS FACING US, AROUND HALF

FIGURE. SHE LOOKS UP AT US, AND THERE IS SOMETHING VAGUELY HUMAN IN HER EYES: A LOOK OF

APPREHENSION OR OF HOPE THAT SEEMS QUITE OUT OF PLACE IN THE EMOTIONLESS AND STATUE-LIKE

DEMEANOUR OF THE QUEEN AS WE’VE PORTRAYED HER.

VICTORIA:

Can you see him, Mr. Lees? Is he present?

PANEL 4.

NOW A SHOT LOOKING AT LEES FROM VICTORIA’S POINT OF VIEW, SO THAT WE DON’T SEE VICTORIA

BUT ARE LOOKING SLIGHTLY UP AT LEES AS HE STANDS BEFORE US, HALF FIGURE AND FACING US WITH

HIS HANDS SPREAD SLIGHTLY LIKE ANGEL WINGS AT HIS SIDE AND HIS FACE TIPPED BACK AS IF TO

BASK IN OTHERWORLDLY RADIANCE THAT HE ALONE CAN SEE BEHIND HIS CLOSED EYES. I SHOULD PERHAPS

MENTION THAT AFTER PANEL TWO WE DON’T GET ANOTHER GLIMPSE OF THE SPECTRE OF PRINCE ALBERT.

HE WAS JUST MEANT TO REPRESENT THE IMAGE OF EVENTS THAT LEES IS ATTEMPTING TO CONVEY.

LEES:

Oh yes. Yes, the Prince Consort is most definitely here.

LEES:

I see him hovering above you now, Your Majesty. He seems so

peaceful.

So

contented.

PANEL 5.

NOW A FULL-FIGURE SHOT SHOWING THE TWO OF THEM IN PROFILE AS THEY FACE EACH OTHER. LEES RAISES

HIS HANDS ABOVE HIS HEAD, PALM OUTWARDS, AS IF TRYING TO ENCOMPASS THE MYSTICAL VISION THAT HE

ALLEGEDLY “SEES” ABOVE WHERE VICTORIA IS SEATED. THE QUEEN PERHAPS TILTS HER HEAD BACK SLIGHTLY

AND PEERS MYOPICALLY UP INTO THE EMPTY DARKNESS ABOVE HER THRONE WITH A SLIGHTLY QUIZZICAL

EXPRESSION, AS IF TRYING TO SEE WHAT LEES PROFESSES TO SEE. THE DARKNESS ABOVE HER IS EMPTY,

AND THE GHOST OF PRINCE ALBERT IS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN.

LEES:

He says that he is very happy on the other side. He says...

What? What’s that, Your Highness? Yes. Yes, I understand...

PANEL 6.

NOW ANOTHER SHOT OF VICTORIA HALF FIGURE FROM THE FRONT, MUCH LIKE PANEL THREE, EXCEPT THAT

HERE SHE HAS HER HEAD TIPPED SLIGHTLY BACK TO PEER INTO THE EMPTY DARK ABOVE HER WITH A

SOMEHOW WISTFUL LOOK. LEES’ BALLOON ISSUES FROM OFF PANEL IN THE FOREGROUND,

LEES (OFF):

His Royal Highness says that one day he’ll be reunited with your

Majesty. He says that Paradise is incomplete till you are there.

PANEL 7.

SAME SHOT, BUT HERE VICTORIA SAGS FORWARDS A LITTLE AND RAISES ONE HAND TO COVER HER EYES,

LETTING HER HAND SUPPORT THE WEIGHT OF HER HEAD. SHE LOOKS MOMENTARILY LIKE WHAT SHE IS: A

FRAIL AND LONELY WOMAN WHO HAS LIVED LONG PAST THE TIME WHEN SHE WAS TRULY HAPPY AND HAD

ALL THE ONES SHE LOVED ABOUT HER.

VICTORIA:

How I like him. Dear, dear Albert...

PANEL 8.

NOW WE SEE A LITTLE BIT OF THE SEATED QUEEN IN THE LEFT OF FOREGROUND AS SHE SITS FACING

AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE RIGHT, WHERE WE SEE LEES STANDING FACING US, FULL FIGURE. PERHAPS

WE JUST SEE ONE OF VICTORIA’S HANDS RESTING UPON THE ARM OF HER CHAIR, AND PERHAPS HER

SLIPPERY VELVET KNEES. LEES IS LOOKING TOWARDS HER WITH AN EXPRESSION OF HUMBLE CONCERN.

LEES:

Y-Your Majesty? Are you unwell? I hope the messages that I relay

have not distressed you. Should I have the Royal Doctor summoned?

250

Chapter 12, page 8.

Having said what I said about Lees,

I’m pleased with this one. Lees, the fictional

one anyway, was a psychic who made it all

up, but it came true anyway. In my depiction,

he’s not quite supported by the conviction of

experience, but it kind of works anyway. This

loony going down the street waving his arms

about, like a signaller guiding a plane in, has

presence enough for story purposes. Again,

it’s all in the body language, which has saved

me when all else fails. Anyway, that’s what

I’m thinking, looking at it here. It was an

example of successfully putting on the page

what Alan had asked for. “Lees holds up one

of his hands… as if introducing the main

act of a variety show. ”

PAGE 8. (595 words) PANEL 1.

A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE HERE, WITH ONE PANEL ON THE BOTTOM TIER. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE

ARE LOOKING DOWN THE STREET PAST CLARIDGE’S, WHICH IS OVER TO THE RIGHT OF

FOREGROUND. LOOKING DOWN BEYOND THAT WE SEE ABBERLINE AND LEES AS THEY APPROACH US,

WALKING UP THE STREET TOWARDS US, WITH ABBERLINE ON OUR LEFT AND LEES UPON OUR RIGHT.

ABBERLINE:

Very unpleasant, I’m sure, sir. Are you CERTAIN it’s up

this way? I mean, that’s CLARIDGE’S over there...

LEES:

I’m positive, Inspector. The voices never lie.

PANEL 2.

NOW WE SEE THE TWO MEN AS THEY PASS BENEATH THE SIGN MOUNTED UP ON THE WALL THAT

READS “BROOK STREET”. LEES PAUSES AND GESTURES UP AT THIS AS IF IN AMAZEMENT.

ABBERLINE HIMSELF LOOKS AT IT BLANKLY, SEEMING TO BE A LITTLE SURPRISED.

LEES:

Oh my God.

LEES:

There, Inspector. Do you SEE?

PANEL 3.

CLOSE IN UPON THE PAIR OF THEM FOR MAYBE A HALF-FIGURE TO HEAD-AND-SHOULDERS

SHOT AS THEY CONTINUE UP BROOK STREET. ABBERLINE ISN’T LOOKING QUITE SO SURE OF

HIS SKEPTICISM AS HE DID EARLIER. HE SEEMS A LITTLE PUZZLED. LEES, WHO STILL

HAS HIS EYES CLOSED AS IF GUIDED BY INNER LIGHTS, FORGES AHEAD OF THE INSPECTOR

WITH AN AIR OF IMPATIENCE.

ABBERLINE:

Er, well... I mean, it’s a coincidence, I’ll grant you that ...

251

Chapter 12, page 8

LEES:

COINCIDENCE? Inspector, can’t you HEAR it? Can’t you smell

the BLOOD? We’re so CLOSE.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE ARE LOOKING DOWN BROOK STREET WITH THE DOORWAY OF NUMBER 74 VISIBLE AT

A SLANT, UP CLOSE IN THE LEFT OF FOREGROUND. LOOKING BEYOND THIS, WAY DOWN THE

STREET WE SEE ABBERLINE AND LEES AS THE PSYCHIC CONTINUES TO ACT LIKE HE’S

BLINDFOLDED, LEADING THE INSPECTOR UP THE STREET TOWARDS US WITH HIS PSYCHIC

ANTENNAE TWITCHING LIKE MAD. ABBERLINE TROTS ALONG BEHIND THE YOUNGER MAN,

STARTING TO LOOK A LITTLE BIT LOST.

ABBERLINE:

But... I mean, the class of people who live in ‘ouses like this...

LEES:

EVIL pays no need to RANK, Inspector. He is NEAR. I can FEEL him.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT, BUT ABBERLINE AND LEES ARE NOW CLOSER TO US. LEES SEEMS TO PAUSE IN

FRONT OF ONE OF THE DOORS A FEW DOORS AWAY FROM US, AS IF PSYCHICALLY TESTING IT.

ABBERLINE LOOKS ON, BEWILDERED.

LEES:

But which HOUSE? Is it THIS one perhaps?

LEES:

No. No, he isn’t behind this door, or I would sense him.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, BUT NOW ABBERLINE AND LEES ARE ALMOST UP TO THE FOREGROUND WITH LEES’

EYES ALREADY FIXED UPON THE DOORWAY OF NUMBER SEVENTY-FOUR, OVER ON THE LEFT.

ABBERLINE FOLLOWS BEHIND THE YOUNG PSYCHIC, PROTESTING AND LOOKING A TRIFLE

ALARMED.

ABBERLINE:

Ay, look, Mr. Lees, really, I think this ’as gone far enough...

LEES:

NO! My GOD, man, we’re almost on TOP of him! We’re almost...

PANEL 7.

THIS FINAL FULL-TIER-WIDTH PANEL WE ARE STANDING FACING THE DOORWAY OF SEVENTY-

FOUR BROOK STREET, SO THAT IT IS SOMEWHERE TOWARDS THE CENTRE OF THE IMMEDIATE

BACKGROUND, WITH ITS BY-NOW-FAMILIAR FAÇADE BOLD AND PROMINENT. LEES AND ABBERLINE

HAVE PAUSED OUTSIDE THE DOOR AND ARE FACING AWAY FROM US TOWARDS IT, WITH LEES ON

THE LEFT. LEES HOLDS UP ONE OF HIS HANDS DRAMATICALLY, INDICATING THE DOORWAY AS

IF INTRODUCING THE MAIN ACT OF A VARIETY SHOW. ABBERLINE TURNS AND LOOKS AT THE

DOORWAY, WEARING A SLIGHTLY SLACK-JAWED AND VAGUELY STUPEFIED EXPRESSION. MAYBE HE

TAKES A STEP BACK, CONFRONTED BY THE ENORMITY OF THE CLOSED BLACK FRONT DOOR.

LEES:

There.

Door knobs : Gull’s door was given

such weighty import in this scene that I made it

the subject of the front cover of the volume that

this chapter appeared in (Volume 9, April ‘96).

In a book about collecting doorknobs, I had found

this one that was the spitting image of the good

doctor, well the fictional one at least.

Chapter 12, page 11.

In the course of drawing FROM HELL

I became rather fond of the real William Withey

Gull and have no problem in separating him

from our fictional character. The real Gull was

the doctor who in 1873 established the medical

term, anorexia nervosa. I like this summary of

his career: “Gull died a very wealthy man,

being especially able at handling neurotics.

To one hypochondriac he said ‘You are a

healthy man out of health.’ This satisfied

the patient so much he wanted to know why

the other doctors had not told him. Gull

advocated the modern view that the object

of the medical attention is the patient, not

the disease housed in the patient.” (Wikipedia

entry for Gull)

Meanwhile, the script has the fictional Gull in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat.

I wonder why the art doesn’t. Perhaps I was thinking of Maggie and Jiggs in Bringing

Up Father and how she would have a fainting spell if he came into the parlor, when guests

were present, without having first put on his coat. Admittedly Jiggs was usually in his

singlet, but it has always stuck with me that things were done differently then.

PAGE 11. (715 words) PANEL 1.

A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE, WITH THE BIG PANEL AT THE BOTTOM. PULL BACK SO THAT WE CAN SEE ALL

THREE OF THEM. ABBERLINE, ON THE LEFT, SUDDENLY LOOKS A BIT SICK AND PALE. STARING AT

LADY GULL WITH A STUNNED LOOK WHILE SHE GLARES BACK AT HIM ANGRILY. IN THE BACKGROUND,

LEES TRIES VERY HARD TO CONCEAL A SMIRK. HE IS ENJOYING HIMSELF IMMENSELY.

ABBERLINE:

S-Sir William GULL?

LADY GULL:

Of COURSE Sir William Gull! Who did you THINK you were harassing?

LADY GULL:

And over such SORDID little crimes! It’s utterly OUTRAGEOUS!

PANEL 2.

CHANGE ANGLE. TO THE LEFT OF FOREGROUND WE SEE ROBERT LEES, HEAD AND SHOULDERS AS

HE FACES SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US TOWARDS ABBERLINE AND LADY GULL, WHO ARE IN THE

RIGHT MIDDLE GROUND WITH THE OPEN DOOR OF THE DRAWING ROOM GAPING BEYOND THEM. LEES,

IN THE FOREGROUND, HAS ONE HAND RAISED TO HIS MOUTH TO CONCEAL HIS SMIRK. NEITHER

ABBERLINE NOR LADY GULL PAY HIM ANY ATTENTION AS THEY CONTINUE TO TALK TO EACH OTHER

IN THE MIDDLE GROUND. ABBERLINE SPREADS HIS HANDS APOLOGETICALLY, DESPERATELY TRYING

TO SMOOTH THINGS OVER, WEARING A VERY WORRIED LOOK ON HIS FACE. LADY GULL IS STILL IN

253

Chapter 12, page 11

HIGH DUDGEON, TURNING A GORGON STARE UPON THE HAPLESS INSPECTOR.

ABBERLINE:

Lady Gull, please, we simply wanted to...

LADY GULL:

To know where my husband was on the night of the MURDERS?

To implicate the finest surgeon in England with BUTCHERY?

PANEL 3.

CLOSE IN SO THAT WE JUST SEE ABBERLINE AND LADY GULL AS THEY FACE EACH OTHER. ABBERLINE STILL

LOOKS MISERABLE AND APOLOGETIC WHILE LADY GULL LOOKS FURIOUS. THE OPEN DRAWING ROOM DOOR,

LOOKING OUT ONTO THE HALLWAY, IS PROMINENT AS IT GAPES IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND BEYOND THEM.

ABBERLINE:

Your Ladyship, please...

LADY GULL:

What if he WASN’T home? My husband is a DOCTOR, Inspector.

He’s OFTEN called out in the evenings! Really, this is TOO bad!

PANEL 4.

CHANGE ANGLE. WE ARE NOW OUT IN THE HALLWAY, SOME DISTANCE FROM THE OPEN DRAWING ROOM DOOR

WHICH WE CAN SEE IN THE BACKGROUND. THROUGH THE OPEN DOOR WE CAN SEE LADY GULL AS SHE SPEAKS

CROSSLY TO ABBERLINE, AND MAYBE JUST A LITTLE OF THE ROOM THEY ARE IN, ALTHOUGH ALL THIS IS

VERY SMALL AND FAR AWAY DOWN THE OTHER END OF THE HALL AS WE SEE IT HERE. LADY GULL’S ANGER

IS SLOWLY FAILING HER TO BE GRADUALLY REPLACED BY A KIND OF ANXIOUS DISTRESS.

LADY GULL:

A-as for his behaviour...

LADY GULL:

Inspector, my husband isn’t well. You must understand, he had

a terrible heart-seizure almost a year ago. It affected him

DREADFULLY.

PANEL 5.

SAME SHOT, BUT NOW WE START TO CLOSE IN ON THE DOOR IN THE BACKGROUND, AS IF WE WERE

SOMEBODY WALKING DOWN THE HALLWAY TOWARDS THE DOOR, THROUGH WHICH WE CAN SEE ABBERLINE,

LADY GULL, AND A LITTLE MORE OF THE BACKGROUND OF THE ROOM. NONE OF THEM ARE LOOKING

TOWARDS US. ABBERLINE LOOKS AT LADY GULL WITH A KIND OF SYMPATHETIC BEWILDERMENT AS THE

ARISTOCRATIC WOMAN RAISES HER HANDS TO HER FACE AND LOOKS UPSET.

ABBERLINE:

Your Ladyship, there’s no need...

LADY GULL:

I mean, of COURSE I’ve been worried about him. Sometimes he

seems so REMOTE. I-It’s as if I hardly KNOW him...

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT, BUT NOW WE ARE RIGHT UP CLOSE TO THE DOOR, LOOKING INTO THE ROOM. WE SEE

ABBERLINE AND LADY GULL, MAYBE HALF FIGURE IN THE FOREGROUND, JUST INSIDE THE ROOM, BOTH

OF THEM LOOKING STARTLED AS THEY HEAR THE SPEECH BALLOON ISSUING FROM THE FOREGROUND AND

TURN TO FACE US. IN THE BACKGROUND WE SEE LEES, WHO LOOKS SURPRISED, ALSO FACING US.

WILLIAM GULL (OFF, FOREGROUND): Poor Susan, do not fret. All shall be well.

WILLIAM GULL (OFF, FOREGROUND): My GREETINGS, gentlemen...

PANEL 7.

NOW A WIDE PANEL FILLING THE BOTTOM TIER. DRESSED IN HIS WAISTCOAT AND SHIRT-SLEEVES,

WILLIAM GULL STANDS IN THE OPEN DOORWAY, ROUGHLY HALF FIGURE, STARING AT US. HIS EYES

ARE VERY FAR AWAY, AND THERE IS A VERY SPOOKY AND SPACED OUT QUALITY ABOUT HIM AS HE

STANDS THERE CALMLY IN THE DOORWAY, RADIATING PRESENCE.

WILLIAM GULL:

I am Sir William Withey Gull. How may I HELP YOU?

254

Chapter 12, page 17.

I’ll lift another passage from Alan’s

synopsis as it succinctly bridges the gap between

the previous selection and this one. “At this

point Sir William comes downstairs. With

an obviously feigned impersonation of

bewilderment he confesses that why, yes, he

has woken up with blood all over his shirt

on the mornings after the murders with no

memory of where he’s been. In Gull’s mind,

he has reached an invulnerable place where

it no longer matters if anyone knows what he

did or not. It is more amusing to watch how

the establishment will panic and attempt to

cover his guilt than to remain silent. Why

not confess? He is a god now. Nothing can

hurt him... This leaves the establishment

with the problem of what to do with Gull, who is clearly barking mad.” (1994

synopsis)

And so we segue a few pages ahead to the scene where the men come for the

doctor. The last line in this one appears very casual, but refers to a key object in the

whole theory of Masonic involvement in the murders, the William Hogarth print, The

Reward of Cruelty (the title of which is legible in panel 9). Hogarth’s series, The Four Stages

of Cruelty, is worth checking out for its own sake. Of all his work, it’s the most easily

readable to modern eyes. He portrayed the subject with little subtlety, intending it to be

understood by “men of the lowest rank.” In the first stage, his character, Tom Nero, is

a child torturing a dog; in the second he is a man beating a horse; in the third he has

seduced and murdered a woman; and in the fourth, the punchline, he has been executed

and his body is being mutilated by surgeons in an anatomy lesson (see detail at end of this

selection).

PAGE 17. (533 words) PANEL 1. (edited)

NINE PANELS. WE CUT TO BROOK STREET, AN UNSPECIFIED AMOUNT OF TIME LATER. IT IS

DAYTIME. TO THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND WE HAVE THE DOOR OF NUMBER 74, VERY

PROMINENT. WE ARE LOOKING PAST THIS UP BROOK STREET. A VERY SERENE AND IMPORTANT-

LOOKING BLACK COACH DRAWN BY TWO BLACK HORSES IS APPROACHING FROM THE FAR

BACKGROUND, WAY OFF DOWN THE STREET HERE.

No dialogue

255

Chapter 12, page 17

PANEL 5.

NOW WE ARE BEHIND THE TWO MEN AS THEY STAND FACING THE DOOR, SO THAT WE CAN SEE A

LITTLE OF THE BACKS OF THEIR SHOULDERS, ENTERING FROM THE LEFT AND RIGHT OF THE

FOREGROUND. LOOKING PAST THEM WE SEE GULL’S MAID, CHARLOTTE, AS SHE OPENS THE

DOOR, LOOKING OUT TOWARDS US WITH A SPECULATIVE EXPRESSION.

MAID:

Yes?

PANEL 6.

REVERSE ANGLE NOW SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING THROUGH THE MAID’S EYES AT THE

TWO MEN AS THEY STAND THERE ON THE DOORSTEP FACING US, THEIR FACES COLD AND

EXPRESSIONLESS, MAYBE BOTH OF THEM ABOUT HALF FIGURE HERE.

1ST. MAN:

We have come for Brother Gull.

PANEL 7.

NOW WE PULL BACK INTO THE HALL, SO THAT WE SEE THE MAID FROM BEHIND AND SLIGHTLY TO ONE

SIDE AS SHE STANDS IN THE DOORWAY TALKING TO THE TWO MEN WHO LOOM JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE

OF IT. GULL’S BALLOON ISSUES INTO VIEW FROM OFF PANEL TO THE RIGHT, BEHIND THE MAID.

MAID:

H-Her Ladyship said that her and the master weren’t to be

disturbed.

GULL (OFF, RIGHT):

It’s alright, Charlotte...

PANEL 8.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT ONCE MORE WE ARE OUTSIDE THE FRONT DOOR, LOOKING IN OVER THE

SHOULDERS OF THE TWO MEN, WHICH ARE VISIBLE ENTERING TO EITHER SIDE OF THE FOREGROUND

HERE. BEYOND THEM WE SEE THE MAID, DRAWING BACK TO ONE SIDE AND TURNING TO LOOK ROUND

AWAY FROM US AT WILLIAM GULL, DRESSED IN SHIRT AND WAISTCOAT AS HE STANDS THERE CALMLY

IN THE BACKGROUND, HIS FACE EXPRESSIONLESS AS HE SPEAKS. HE DOESN’T LOOK AT THE MAID

AS HE SPEAKS, BUT STARES DIRECTLY AT US AND THE TWO LARGELY OFF-PANEL MEN.

GULL:

I’ve been expecting them.

GULL:

Allow me, gentlemen, a moment to put on my coat. I shall be

with

you

presently.

PANEL 9.

NOW IT IS A FEW INSTANTS LATER. WE SEE GULL STANDING BY HIS HAT-AND-COAT STAND,

GRAVELY PUTTING ON HIS COAT. ON THE HALLWAY WALL BEHIND HIM HANGS THE HOGARTH

ILLUSTRATION, THE REWARD OF CRUELTY. PERHAPS HE GLANCES AT IT EXPRESSIONLESSLY AS HE

SHUCKS THE COAT ON OVER HIS BROAD SHOULDERS.

No dialogue.

Hogarth

detail.

Chapter 12, page 19.

I found this page to be a lot of fun as it

reminded me of spy shows in which HQ is always

secreted behind an innocent shopfront. In The

Man From U.N.C.L.E. , it was a tailor shop; in Nick

Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. , it was a barbershop.

The agent would sit in the big barber’s chair and

it would disappear down a hole in the floor to a

high-tech basement underneath. When I was a

kid, no shop was ever just a boring shop. I always

wondered what kind of skulduggery was going

on in the backroom.

I omitted the statue of Eros only because

evidence pointed to the probability that it wasn’t

there at the time. We have different ways of

checking these things now, but I won’t in case I

get a different result.

PAGE 19. (759 words) PANEL 1.

NOW ANOTHER NINE PANEL PAGE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE INSIDE THE COACH AS IT MOVES

THROUGH LONDON, WITH GULL HEAD AND SHOULDERS UP IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, IN PROFILE

WITH THE OPEN CARRIAGE WINDOW BEYOND HIM. HE IS TURNING HIS HEAD SLIGHTLY TO LOOK

OUT OF THE WINDOW, WHERE WE SEE THE STATUE OF EROS GOING PAST. GULL SITS WITH ONE OF

THE SILENT DARK-SUITED HEAVIES ON HIS LEFT AND THE OTHER ONE SITTING OPPOSITE HIM,

NEITHER OF WHICH NEED TO BE ESPECIALLY VISIBLE HERE.

No dialogue

PANEL 2.

NOW WE ARE OUTSIDE THE COACH, IN A SIDE STREET THAT RUNS DIRECTLY OFF PICCADILLY

CIRCUS, WITH THE CIRCUS AND THE STATUE VISIBLE AS WE LOOK DOWN IT TO THE FAR END IN THE

BACKGROUND HERE. THE COACH HAS PULLED UP TO THE KERB ON THE RIGHT HERE, COMING TOWARDS

US. IT IS STOPPING OUTSIDE A COMMERCIAL COFFEE HOUSE.

No dialogue

PANEL 3.

MORE OR LESS THE SAME SHOT. THE COACH IS NOW STILL, AND WE SEE THE TWO MEN AS THEY’RE

SILENTLY SHEPHERDING GULL OUT OF THE CARRIAGE AND IN THROUGH THE DOOR OF THE COFFEE HOUSE.

No dialogue

PANEL 4.

NOW WE ARE INSIDE THE COFFEE HOUSE. A PLUMP, WORRIED-LOOKING MAN WHO IS

OBVIOUSLY THE PROPRIETOR STANDS TO THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND, WIPING HIS HANDS

257

Chapter 12, page 19

ON A DISHCLOTH AS HE TURNS TO GAZE SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE DOOR OF HIS SHOP, WHERE WE

SEE GULL BEING SHOWN IN, BETWEEN THE TWO GRIM AND SILENT MASONIC HEAVIES THAT FLANK HIM. THEY

GAZE AT THE NERVOUS PROPRIETOR IN THE FOREGROUND WITHOUT BLINKING AS THEY ENTER.

No dialogue

PANEL 5.

NOW WE SEE GULL BEING LED PAST IN THE FOREGROUND. ALTHOUGH MAYBE WE ONLY SEE A LITTLE OF

THE BACK OF HIS HEAD IN PROFILE HERE. THE MASONIC HEAVY STANDING BEHIND HIM IS MOSTLY

OFF PANEL, BUT PERHAPS HAS ONE HAND RESTING LIGHTLY ON GULL’S SHOULDER, STEERING HIM

FORWARDS AND TOWARDS OUR RIGHT. WE CAN SEE THE WORRIED-LOOKING PROPRIETOR FACE ON, ABOUT

HALF FIGURE. LOOKING AT US, GULL AND THE MEN, HE NERVOUSLY GESTURES EXPANSIVELY WITH ONE

HAND, DIRECTING HIS VISITORS TOWARDS THE BACK OF THE SHOP, OFF PANEL LEFT. BEHIND THE

NERVOUS MAN WITH HIS DISHCLOTH CLUTCHED IN ONE HAND WE SEE THE CUSTOMERS OF THE COFFEE

SHOP SEATED AT TABLES, CALMLY SIPPING THEIR BEVERAGES AND TAKING NO NOTICE AS GULL IS

LED THROUGH THE SHOP TOWARDS THE BACK. THE PROPRIETOR LOOKS VERY TENSE.

No dialogue

PANEL 6.

NOW WE ARE OUT THE BACK OF THE SHOP, LOOKING BACK ALONG A PASSAGEWAY OVER ON THE LEFT OF

THE PANEL THAT LEADS BACK TOWARDS THE SHOP’S FRONT DOOR IN THE FAR BACKGROUND. AROUND

THE CORNER FROM THIS PASSAGE AT OUR END WE CAN SEE A CELLAR DOOR THAT IS OPEN HERE, WITH

STEPS LEADING DOWN INTO DARKNESS BEYOND. ONE OF THE MEN HAS ALREADY REACHED THIS DOOR

AND IS OPENING IT AND HIS COMRADE STEERS AN EXPRESSIONLESS AND COMPLIANT WILLIAM GULL

ALONG THE PASSAGEWAY TOWARDS US. IT’S ALL GETTING A BIT MYSTERIOUS AND SHADOWY.

PANEL 7.

NOW WE ARE ON THE CELLAR STAIRS IN THE DARK, WITH GULL AND THE TWO MEN THAT FLANK HIM

COMING DOWN TOWARDS US IN THE DARK WITH THE LIGHTED RECTANGLE OF THE OPEN CELLAR DOOR

HIGH IN THE BACKGROUND BEHIND THEM.

PANEL 8.

NOW WE ARE SLIGHTLY BEHIND GULL AND ONE OF THE MEN AS THEY WALK THROUGH THE SURPRISINGLY

LARGE CELLARS OF THE COFFEE HOUSE TOWARDS A DOOR OF SOME KIND AT THE FAR END THAT ONE

OF THE HEAVIES HAS ALREADY REACHED AND IS STARTING TO OPEN WHILE HIS PARTNER AND GULL

FOLLOW HIM TOWARDS IT, HEADING AWAY FROM US IN THE FOREGROUND. GULL GAZES AROUND AT THE

VARIOUS CRATES AND BOXES OF COFFEE BEANS AND SUCHLIKE THAT STOCK THE CELLAR. IT’S AN

ALIEN AND SUBTERRANEAN WORLD OF ITS OWN.

PANEL 9.

WE ARE IN A DARK PASSAGEWAY WITH A LONG CARPET ON THE STONE FLOOR AND OIL LAMPS OR

MAYBE CANDELABRA MOUNTED ON THE WALLS TO EITHER SIDE. THESE ONLY SERVE TO REINFORCE THE

DARKNESS RATHER THAN TO DISPEL IT. WE ARE LOOKING DOWN THE CARPETED CORRIDOR TOWARDS

THE ENTRANCE AT ITS FAR END IN THE NEAR BACKGROUND, WHERE THE TWO MASONIC HEAVIES ARE

STEERING WILLIAM GULL TOWARDS US, INTO AND DOWN THE CORRIDOR WITH ITS FLICKERING AND

EERIE SHADOWS. GULL’S EYES ARE DARK AND INTELLIGENT, DARTING ABOUT HIM TO DRINK IN THE

DETAILS OF HIS LOCATION. HIS TWO GUARDS STARE GRIMLY DEAD AHEAD THROUGHOUT.

No dialogue

258

Chapter 12, page 21.

The Masonic angle hasn’t played much

of a role in my selections for this book and is

getting a token inclusion here at the end. Alan’s

scripts tended to be more vivid in describing Marie

Kelly’s world than that of Warren, Anderson, et al.

Furthermore, I became, over the years of working

on the book, highly suspicious of anything that too

thoroughly “makes sense.” Humankind lives in

terror of the unfathomable, and so we invent gods

and conspiracies. We would rather believe that that

evil people are in charge of things than entertain

the possibility that nobody is. In a way, this is why

Gull comes across so chillingly in this page. He has

us believing that he KNOWS something. Then,

thankfully, on the page after this one, he starts to

lose the plot.

PAGE 21. (628 WORDS) PANEL 1.

NINE-PANEL PAGE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE ARE JUST BEHIND ANDERSON. LOOKING OVER HIS

RIGHT SHOULDER AS HE SITS TO THE LEFT OF THE PANEL FACING MORE OR LESS AWAY FROM

US TOWARDS GULL, WHO STANDS IN THE NEAR RIGHT BACKGROUND, FACING ANDERSON AND US

THREE-QUARTER FIGURE, STILL AND MOTIONLESS AND GRAVE, HIS FACE EXPRESSIONLESS, UN-

BLINKING AND UNREADABLE.

ANDERSON:

Knight of the East, you stand accused of mayhems that have

placed our brotherhood in jeopardy, before your peers,

Masons and doctors both.

PANEL 2.

CLOSE IN UPON GULL FOR A HALF-FIGURE SHOT AS HE STANDS FACING US. HIS FACE RETAINS

ITS UTTER LACK OF ANY EXPRESSION AND HIS EYES STARE AT US WITH UNBLINKING DISIN-

TEREST. HE IS SOMEWHERE FAR ABOVE THE PETTY AFFAIRS OF THIS COURT, IN A COLD HIGH

PLACE WHERE ONLY HE HAS ACCESS.

GULL:

I have no peers here present.

PANEL 3.

NOW WE ARE BEHIND GULL, LOOKING OVER HIS RIGHT SHOULDER SO THAT WE HAVE A GLIMPSE

OF THE SIDE OF HIS HEAD FACING AWAY FROM US OVER ON THE LEFT. LOOKING BEYOND THIS

TO THE NEAR RIGHT BACKGROUND WE SEE ANDERSON AS HE SITS THERE IN JUDGEMENT. HE

LIFTS UP HIS HEAD AND GAZES SHARPLY AT US, MAYBE LIFTING HIS SPECTACLES TO ADJUST

THE FOCUS AS HE RAISES HIS HEAD TO GAZE AT GULL. HE LOOKS ANGRY AND INCREDULOUS.

ANDERSON:

What?

259

Chapter 12, page 21

PANEL 4.

SIDE-ON LONG SHOT OF THE COURT NOW WITH GULL OVER UPON THE LEFT FACING UP TOWARDS

ANDERSON AND THE JURY AS THEY SIT IN JUDGEMENT OVER ON THE RIGHT. HE GAZES UP AT THEM

GRAVELY AS HE SPEAKS.

GULL:

I fancy that you understand me, sir.

GULL;

There is no man amongst you fit to judge the mighty art that

I

have

wrought.

PANEL 5.

NOW PERHAPS WE ARE BEHIND GULL, WITH HIS HEAD FACING AWAY FROM US IN THE FOREGROUND.

LOOKING PAST THIS WE SEE ANDERSON AND JURY SITTING IN THE IMMEDIATE BACKGROUND, FACING

US AND GULL AND LOOKING ON. ANDERSON GLOWERS AND GULL SPEAKS. THE OTHER JURY MEMBERS

LOOK UNEASY AND SILENT.

GULL:

Our rituals are empty oaths you neither understand nor live by.

GULL:

You cite the Great Architect, yet would befoul yourselves

should he ADDRESS you.

PANEL 6.

CLOSE IN UPON A COUPLE OF THE ROW OF JURY MEMBERS. THESE INCLUDE DR. WOODFORD WESTCOTT

IF I CAN FIND REFERENCE, AND DR. BENJAMIN HOWARD, A 52-YEAR-OLD DOCTOR OF WHOM NO

PHOTOGRAPHS EXIST. FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH, IT’S BELIEVED THAT DR. HOWARD LIKED THE

OCCASIONAL DRINK. GULL’S BALLOONS ISSUE FROM OFF.

GULL (OFF):

But he does NOT address you. Not Westcott there, nor

Woodford by his side, for all their mummery.

GULL (OFF):

Not Dr. Howard, ever in his cups.

PANEL 7.

NOW WE ARE BACK BEHIND ANDERSON, LOOKING THIS TIME OVER HIS LEFT SHOULDER AS HE SITS

HEAD AND SHOULDERS FACING ROUGHLY AWAY FROM US TO THE RIGHT OF THE FOREGROUND. IN THE

LEFT OF THE BACKGROUND WE SEE GULL, STANDING THERE MOTIONLESS AND GAZING AT ANDERSON

DISPASSIONATELY.

GULL:

And yet he speaks to ME. He is the balance where my deeds

are weighed and judged.

GULL:

Not you.

ANDERSON:

Sir William, this is insufferable.

PANEL 8.

NOW A CLOSE-UP OF ANDERSON’S FACE FROM THE FRONT. HE GLARES AT US, CLEARLY OFFENDED AND ANGRY.

ANDERSON:

You do not seem to understand the seriousness of this charge.

ANDERSON:

I fear that you are suffering from delusions.

PANEL 9.

NOW WE HAVE A VERY TIGHT CLOSE-UP OF GULL’S FACE, FILLING THE ENTIRE FRAME. HIS DARK

EYES FIX US, LEVEL AND UNBLINKING. HIS FACE IS EXPRESSIONLESS. THERE IS SOMETHING

POWERFUL AND TERRIFYING IN HIS ABSOLUTE CONVICTION.

GULL:

Indeed?

GULL:

Fear rather that I’m NOT.

260

Chapter 13, page 2.

This is one of those scenes in FROM

HELL that show the world of 1888 to be

really not much different from now. We have

a Police stakeout. Nowadays, there might be

electronic listening apparatus, but otherwise

it’s much the same. A bunch of guys looking

bored to tears. On the subject of police

methodology, Alan said: “Fortean Times kept

sending me Jack the Ripper books after I’d

begged them to stop... one was someone

writing a book about what would have

happened to Jack the Ripper if we’d have

had modern policing methods in the 1880s.

It’s a bit puzzling, because they’d got things

like Fred Abberline picking up the phone

to ask if the DNA report had come through

yet and you think, ‘Well, why bother to go through all that trouble, why not

just say that they caught him on the security camera after the first murder and

that was it?’” (interview at Blather.net (‘talking shite since 1997’) from October 2000.)

PAGE 2. (724 words) PANEL 1.

SEVEN PANEL PAGE WITH THE BIG PANEL AT THE TOP AND THREE SMALL PANELS ON THE TWO

TIERS BENEATH THAT. IN THIS FIRST BIG PANEL WE ARE IN A LARGE AND BARE ROOM THAT

LOOKS RATHER LIKE AN UNLET FLAT, SOMEWHERE ON THE FIRST FLOOR OF A HOUSE IN CLEVELAND

STREET ROUGHLY OPPOSITE NUMBER NINETEEN. THE ROOM IS FAIRLY DARK, WITH A WINDOW ON

THE RIGHT LETTING IN THE LIGHT FROM OUTSIDE. SITTING AT A CHAIR BY THE WINDOW IS AN

UNNAMED DETECTIVE SERGEANT WITH A PAIR OF BINOCULARS, THROUGH WHICH HE IS GAZING

AVIDLY INTO THE STREET OUTSIDE. STANDING NEARBY IS FRED ABBERLINE, WEARING HIS

SUMMER COAT HERE BUT NO BOWLER HAT. THE BOWLER HAT IS RESTING ON A CHAIR OVER IN THE

BACKGROUND WHICH NEEDN’T BE VISIBLE HERE, ALONG WITH ABBERLINE’S FANCY WALKING STICK

WHICH IS RESTING BESIDE THE CHAIR. THE OFFICER LOOKING THROUGH THE BINOCULARS SEEMS

KEEN ENOUGH, BUT ABBERLINE LOOKS GLOOMY AND PESSIMISTIC. THERE IS ALSO A UNIFORMED

CONSTABLE IN THE ROOM, PERHAPS TAKING NOTES. THIS IS P.C.SLADDEN. WE ARE LOOKING AT

AN OBVIOUS POLICE STAKEOUT OF THE BROTHEL AT NUMBER NINETEEN CLEVELAND STREET.

DETECTIVE WITH BINOCULARS: They’re inside. Somebody’s closing the upstairs curtains.

I tell yer, Fred, they’ll ’ave t’do summat about these filthy

buggers, famous names or not. We’ve been watchin’‘em for weeks now.

ABBERLINE:

Yes, and my bet is we’ll be watchin’’em a few weeks more. There’s

Royalty involved in this, lad. Everybody’s treadin’ careful.

261

Chapter 13, page 2

PANEL 2.

CHANGE ANGLE. IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND NOW WE SEE A WOODEN STRAIGHT-BACK CHAIR, WITH

ABBERLINE’S BOWLER RESTING ON IT. LEANING AGAINST THE CHAIR IS ONE OF THE MITRE SQUARE “MAD

MONK” WALKING STICKS, THE METAL FACE GAZING AT US IMPASSIVELY. LOOKING BEYOND THIS TOWARDS

THE WINDOW WE CAN SEE THE THREE POLICEMEN. THE DETECTIVE WITH THE BINOCULARS HAS LOWERED

THEM, AND IS LOOKING UP AT ABBERLINE AS ABBERLINE SPEAKS. P.C.SLADDEN LOOKS ON DUTIFULLY.

DETECTIVE:

What, you reckon they’ll spirit “P.A.V.” away before arrestin’ Hammond?

ABBERLINE:

I doubt they WILL arrest Hammond, even if he DOES own the brothel.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. ABBERLINE, ALTHOUGH STILL SPEAKING TO THE OTHER POLICEMEN, HAS TURNED AND IS

LOOKING TOWARDS THE CHAIR IN THE FOREGROUND, WHERE HIS HAT AND CANE ARE RESTING. HE

MAYBE STARTS TO MOVE SLOWLY TOWARDS THEM WHILE KEEPING UP HIS CONVERSATION WITH THE

OTHER DETECTIVE AND THE POLICEMAN, WHO INTERJECTS HELPFULLY.

ABBERLINE:

‘E knows too much. ‘E could name Prince Albert Victor, Lord

Somerset or any of the other pansies.

P.C.SLADDEN:

There was furniture bein’ moved out the other day, sir.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT. NOW ABBERLINE HAS REACHED THE CHAIR IN THE FOREGROUND AND IS PICKING UP THE

BOWLER HAT, HIS BACK TURNED TO THE DETECTIVE AND THE CONSTABLE AS HE SPEAKS. THE SILVER-

TOPPED CANE GAZES OUT AT US FROM THE RIGHT FOREGROUND, ITS FACE UNREADABLE.

ABBERLINE:

Frankly, Sladden, I’m not at all surprised. They’ll probably

let him leave the country, and we’ll keep quiet about it.

ABBERLINE:

That’s how it is with cases like this.

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT NOW WE HAVE THE DETECTIVE AND THE CONSTABLE UP IN THE FOREGROUND,

FACING SLIGHTLY AWAY FROM US TO EITHER SIDE OF THE PANEL AS THEY GAZE TOWARDS ABBERLINE,

SETTLING HIS HAT ON HIS HEAD WITH ONE HAND AND STARTING TO REACH FOR HIS CANE.

DETECTIVE:

Yeah, well, perhaps you’re right.

DETECTIVE:

You off out somewhere, then?

ABBERLINE:

Thought I’d visit that sweetshop next door, see what they know.

I shan’t be long.

PANEL 6.

MORE OR LESS THE SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL. IN THE BACKGROUND, ABBERLINE PICKS UP THE

METAL-TOPPED WALKING CANE. LOOKING AT IT BLANKLY AS THE DETECTIVE ASKS HIM ABOUT IT.

DETECTIVE:

Fair enough.

DETECTIVE:

Nice walkin’ stick, by the way. Where’s it from?

ABBERLINE:

This? Godley and the lads got it for me after the Whitechapel case.

PANEL 7.

NOW WITH HAT ON AND CANE IN HAND, FRED MAKES HIS WAY OUT THROUGH A DOOR IN THE

BACKGROUND. P.C.SLADDEN AND THE DETECTIVE WATCH HIM GO.

ABBERLINE:

Only got me one wi’ the Mad Monk o’ Mitre Square on the ‘andle

didn’t they? Piss-takin’ bunch o’cunts. I’ll see you later, chaps.

262

Chapter 13, pages 9, 10.

Abberline, while on the stakeout in

Cleveland Street, inadvertently discovers the secret

of the sweetshop. There follows his confrontation

with Anderson, in which the coverup is laid bare

and the inspector is offered a nice pension to keep

his mouth shut. It runs over five pages and ends

with Fred throwing up in the toilet. With a handful

of silent panels to work with, I overrode the panel

descriptions and composed a vertiginous sequence

using oblique angles.

PAGE 9. ( 649 words) (excerpt) PANEL 1.

NOW A NINE-PANEL PAGE. IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE SEE A

LITTLE OF ANDERSON’S SIDE AS HE STANDS IN THE RIGHT

FOREGROUND, MAYBE WITH ONE HAND HANGING DOWN AS HE

STANDS MOSTLY OFF PANEL FACING ABBERLINE. ABBERLINE

FACES US AND ANDERSON FROM THE NEAR LEFT BACKGROUND,

HALF TO THREE-QUARTER FIGURE. HE LOOKS FURIOUS AS HE

SHOUTS AT ANDERSON.

ABBERLINE:

Oh dear? Oh DEAR? You told me Gull

was MAD. That ‘e’d just murdered

those women on a WHIM.

ABBERLINE:

You never told me ’e ’ad REASONS

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT. ABBERLINE GETS MORE HEATED IN THE LEFT

BACKGROUND, MAYBE WAGGING ONE FINGER AT THE LARGELY

OFF-PANEL ANDERSON, WHO REMAINS STILL AND MOTIONLESS

IN THE FOREGROUND. MAYBE WE CAN SEE THE MASONIC RING

ON THE HAND THAT’S HANGING DOWN INTO VIEW.

ABBERLINE:

I mean, what was it? Threaten to talk, did she?

ABBERLINE:

You KNEW. From the first murder you knew and you let us carry on

INVESTIGATIN’!

PANEL 3.

NOW ABBERLINE TURNS HIS BACK ON US AND ANDERSON, STARTING TO PACE DISTRACTEDLY. HE SPREADS

HIS HANDS AS IF IMPLORING AN ANSWER AND LOOKS UP AWAY FROM ANDERSON TOWARDS THE CEILING.

THE LITTLE WE CAN SEE OF ANDERSON REMAINS MOTIONLESS IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND.

ABBERLINE:

I suppose that’s why I got this CLEVELAND STREET job. You thought

if I’d been cunt enough to keep me trap shut once, I’d do it AGAIN.

ANDERSON (OFF):

Abberline...

263

Chapter 13, page 9,10

PANEL 5.

WE START TO CLOSE IN PAST ABBERLINE, SO THAT WE ONLY SEE A LITTLE OF HIM OVER ON THE

LEFT SIDE OF THE PANEL. AND EVEN THEN NOT HIS FACE OR HEAD. WE ARE LOOKING AT THE

GRIM-FACED ANDERSON AS HE STARES COLDLY AND MENACINGLY AT US.

ANDERSON:

Gull WAS insane. We’re considering locking him away. NOBODY

expected him to do what he did. All the same, we have to live with it.

PANEL 6.

NOW WE CLOSE IN FOR A HEAD-AND-SHOULDERS SHOT OF ANDERSON FROM THE FRONT. HE GLARES OUT OF

THE PANEL AT US AND THE OFF PANEL ABBERLINE, HIS EYES LIKE ICICLES; COLD AND PENETRATING.

ANDERSON:

We live with it, and we say nothing. Not you. Not your silly

little clairvoyant friend Mr. Lees.

ANDERSON:

If asked, we make somethin’ up.

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLES SO THAT WE HAVE A LITTLE OF ABBERLINE’S SIDE VISIBLE AS HE STANDS FACING

AWAY FROM US IN THE LEFT BACKGROUND. BEYOND THAT WE ARE LOOKING AT ANDERSON AS HE STANDS

NEAR HIS DESK WITH THE WINDOW BEHIND HIM. HE IS STILL LOOKING AT US AND THE LARGELY

OFF-PANEL ABBERLINE HERE, BUT HE IS STARTING TO TURN AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE WINDOW.

ANDERSON:

A barrister called Druitt was pulled out of the Thames around New

Year. Perhaps HE was yer Ripper, now?

ANDERSON:

Tell ’em any name ye want, save Gull’s.

PAGE 10. (370 words) (excerpt) PANEL 5.

NOW WE ARE OUTSIDE THE OFFICE ON THE BROAD LANDING, WITH ANDERSON’S DOOR OVER ON OUR LEFT

NOW AS ABBERLINE STEPS OUT INTO THE CORRIDOR AND PULLS IT SHUT BEHIND HIM. HE STILL LOOKS

STUNNED. WE SEE HIM FULL FIGURE HERE.

No dialogue

PANEL 6.

SAME. ABBERLINE WALKS AWAY FROM US ALONG THE LANDING, LEAVING THE CLOSED DOOR BEHIND HIM.

PANEL 7.

CHANGE ANGLE. ABBERLINE IS NOW WALKING TOWARDS US. SET INTO THE WALL IN THE RIGHT

FOREGROUND WE SEE A DOOR WITH THE LEGEND ‘W.C. OFFICERS ONLY’ ON THE DOOR. ABBERLINE

IS WALKING TOWARDS THIS SOMEWHAT HURRIEDLY FROM THE NEAR BACKGROUND, FULL FIGURE AS HE

APPROACHES US AND THE DOOR OF THE EXECUTIVE TOILET. HE LOOKS PALE AND SHAKEN. No dialogue

PANEL 8.

WE ARE NOW INSIDE THE TOILET FOR A LOW ANGLE SHOT FROM BESIDE THE BOWL. LOOKING UP PAST

IT IN THE RIGHT FOREGROUND AT ABBERLINE AS HE LURCHES THROUGH THE TOILET DOOR IN THE NEAR

BACKGROUND, STARING DESPERATELY AT THE TOILET, PERHAPS WITH ONE HAND RISEN TO HIS MOUTH.

PANEL 9.

FULL TO THREE-QUARTER-FIGURE SHOT OF ABBERLINE FROM THE SIDE. WITH ONE HAND HE LEANS

AGAINST THE WALL BEHIND THE TOILET AND LOWERS HIS HEAD. THE VOMIT FALLS FROM HIS

MOUTH TOWARDS THE WAITING TOILET BOWL.

ABBERLINE: hhuch

264

Chapter 14, page 5.

In his 1994 synopsis for this one, which

wasn’t published until August 1996, Alan wrote,

“This is the climactic chapter of From Hell

and yet also the most difficult to describe.

The episode will be reasonably lengthy, and

yet will detail a single event, this being the

lonely and ignominious death of William

Gull as he lies there dying of a heart attack

on the straw and vomit-strewn floor of his

madhouse cell while uncaring attendants

watch him die. They know him only as

Thomas Mason, or, in their more light

hearted moments, ‘Old Tommy.’ We cut

between brief glimpses of the external reality

of the cell with Gull twitching and convulsing

on the floor and much longer sections in

which we show what is going on inside Gull’s extraordinary mind as he

dies. Basically, what we witness is Gull’s apotheosis. He becomes a god. At the

point of death and liberation from mortal laws and perceptions, Gull becomes

a kind of black ripple pulsing out through the time stream, both backwards and

forwards in time. The episode is a collage of Gull’s impressions of the past and

future assembled into a frighteningly suggestive pattern.” (1994 synopsis)

Alan invites me to get “strange and experimental.” In not going all out I must have

been clinging to my classical sense of form. In a given work, the parameters are laid out at

the onset and that essentially is what you have to work with. Formal logic dictates that new

material must not be introduced at the denouement. Thus, this page is a replay of a page

in Chapter 2, except instead of a flock of ducks rising up as we exit the tunnel, it’s gulls and

we’re high over the Aegean Sea.

PAGE 5. (715 words) PANEL 1. (edited)

A NINE PANEL PAGE HERE. JUST TO WARN YOU AHEAD OF TIME, FROM THIS POINT ON THE

IMAGES AND THE STORYTELLING GET INCREASINGLY STRANGE AND ABSTRACT. THIS IS DR.GULL

EXPERIENCING SOMETHING THAT IS LIKE A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE, ONLY CONSIDERABLY

CLOSER THAN NEAR THIS IS A DEATH EXPERIENCE FULL STOP. AS THE IMAGERY GETS WILDER

LATER ON, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO USE WHATEVER MEDIA YOU FEEL ARE APPROPRIATE. YOU

CAN AFFORD TO BE STRANGE AND EXPERIMENTAL HERE, AND AREN’T EVEN NECESSARILY BOUND

BY TECHNIQUES THAT SEEM APPROPRIATE TO THE VICTORIAN TIME PERIOD: GULL IS TO ALL

INTENTS AND PURPOSES OUTSIDE TIME HERE, IN A PLACE WHERE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE

CO-EXIST. ANYWAY, JUST FOLLOW WHAT COURSE FEELS RIGHT FOR YOU, BUT REMEMBER THAT YOU

265

Chapter 14, page 5

HAVE FULL PERMISSION TO GET AS ABSTRACT AND PECULIAR AS YOU CARE TO. I SUPPOSE IN SOME

SENSES, THIS FINAL EPISODE IS LIKE A DARK NIGHTMARE VERSION OF THE “STARGATE” SEQUENCE

FROM KUBRICK’S 2001, CALLING AT SOME ODD STOPS ALONG THE WAY. THIS FIRST PANEL IS

SOLID BLACK AGAIN, AS AT THE END OF THE PAGE FOUR. THIS PANEL IS IN FACT AN EXACT

REPRODUCITON OF PANEL ONE ON PAGE TWO OF CHAPTER TWO, ONLY HERE THE BALLOON BELONGING

TO WILLIAM’S FATHER JOHN GULL IS TAILLESS, AND JUST HANGING IN THE EMPTY DARKNESS.

TAILLESS BALLOON:

William?

TAILLESS BALLOON:

Did you speak, lad? I thought I heard your voice...

TAILLESS BALLOON:

Uwp.

PANEL 2.

NOW ANOTHER BLACK PANEL, EXCEPT THAT HERE WE HAVE A TINY POINT OF LIGHT BECOME VISIBLE

IN THE CENTRE OF THE BLACKNESS. THE CAPTION BOXES HERE ARE FREE-FLOATING, TREATED

LIKE TAILLESS BALLOONS, AND CONTAINING GULL’S THOUGHTS; HIS VOICE, IF YOU LIKE. THE

POINT OF LIGHT IS MORE OR LESS THE SAME AS IN PANEL THREE ON PAGE TWO OF EPISODE TWO,

ALTHOUGH THE DIALOGUE IS DIFFERENT HERE, HANGING IN BOXES IN THE BLACKNESS.

CAPTION:

No. I just made a little sound. I was listening to the echoes in...in the...

CAPTION:

H-Has this happened before? Father?

CAPTION:

Father, where am I?

PANEL 6.

THIS PANEL IS A REPRODUCTION OF PANEL ONE ON PAGE THREE OF CHAPTER TWO. WE CAN SEE

THE LEFT HAND SIDE OF YOUNG WILLIAM GULL’S TURNED BACK ENTERING INTO THE RADIANCE OF

THE TUNNEL MOUTH OVER ON THE RIGHT. THE ONLY DIFFERENCE IS THAT THE DIALOGUE BALLOONS

ARE BLACKED OUT HERE AND REPLACED BY THE FREE-FLOATING CAPTION BOXES.

CAPTION:

That was true, wasn’t it? I was dying.

CAPTION:

In a madhouse, I remember. “Mason, Thomas, 124?” “Here, sir!”

CAPTION:

Yes. Yes, I remember now...

PANEL 7.

A REPRODUCTION OF PANEL THREE ON PAGE THREE OF CHAPTER TWO, BUT WITH BALLOONS

BLACKED OUT AND CAPTIONS SUBSTITUTED.

CAPTION:

My name is William Withey Gull and I’m dying.

CAPTION:

I am Catch-Me-If-You-Can, and I am Leather Apron.

CAPTION:

I am Jack the Ripper, on my way to Heaven.

PANEL 8.

NOW A REPRODUCTION OF PANEL FIVE ON PAGE THREE OF CHAPTER TWO, AGAIN WITH CAPTIONS

SUBSTITUTED FOR THE BLACKED-OUT BALLOONS.

CAPTION:

There’s a tunnel.

CAPTION:

There’s a movement, out of dark and into brilliance...

PANEL 9.

NOW A REPRODUCTION OF PANEL SEVEN FROM PAGE THREE OF CHAPTER TWO, AGAIN WITH THE

BALLOONS GONE AND SINGLE CAPTION IN THEIR PLACE.

CAPTION: Father?

266

Chapter 14, page 6.

On articulating pictorial space: An

artist plots his way through pictorial space by

putting one thing partially behind another.

However, what if there’s no ’nother thing to

put a thing behind? Or any receding straight

lines with which to lead the eye through a

readable perspective? The script for this page

caused a murmur between me and Pete when

we first read it. It required a 3-dimensional

hole in the middle of the air some distance

away, in the sky high over the sea, with blood

issuing from it both toward and away from “us.”

I had the help of the upper and lower panels in

establishing an exaggerated dramatic depth of

field as well as locating “up” and “down.” To an

extent you can depend on the white sky at the top

of the second tier being read as a continuation of

the white sky in the first, even though firstly we have now apparently moved some distance

higher than where seagulls might be seen, and secondly the three horizons in the second

tier are more or less continuous even though the altitude introduces curvature. Pictorial

space on a multi-paneled page embraces simultaneous contradictions.

Were I to do this over, the fishermen would look more Greek. And like fishermen.

PAGE 6. (673 words) PANEL 1.

NOW A FIVE PANEL PAGE. THERE IS ONE BIG PANEL ON THE TOP TIER, THREE SMALLER

PANELS ON THE MIDDLE TIER AND THEN ONE BIG PANEL ON THE BOTTOM TIER. IN THIS FIRST

PANEL WE ARE LOOKING UPWARDS INTO THE BLINDING LIGHT OF THE BRIGHT MEDITERRANEAN

SUN THAT HANGS ABOVE US IN A CLEAR SKY, WITH NO MORE THAN A FEW RAGGED AND RAPIDLY

EVAPORATING WISPS OF CLOUD AROUND THE EDGES. THE LIGHT IS BLINDING. FLAPPING IN

THE FOREGROUND AND BEYOND WE SEE A NUMBER OF SEAGULLS, REMINISCENT OF THE DUCKS WE

SAW ERUPTING IN A FLAPPING CLOUD IN THE LAST PANEL OF PAGE THREE IN CHAPTER TWO.

HERE, HOWEVER, WE CAN NO LONGER SEE ANY SIGN OF THE BARGE, OR OF THE YOUNG WILLIAM

GULL. WE ARE HIGH IN THE HOT SKY ABOVE THE AEGEAN SEA. IT IS 1888. THE GULLS FLAP

AND WHEEL AGAINST THE BLINDING DISC OF THE SUN, UP ABOVE US.

CAPTION:

Light. Ecstasy. The sun.

CAPTION:

Where am I now?

PANEL 2.

IN THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL ON THE SECOND TIER IT IS AS IF WE HAVE SHIFTED OUR GAZE

267

Chapter 14, page 6

AWAY FROM THE SUN TO LOOK DOWN BENEATH US. FAR BELOW, WE CAN SEE THE GLITTERING

AEGEAN, WITH ONLY GULLS AND A FEW WISPS OF CLOUD BETWEEN US AND THE SHINING WATERS

FAR BELOW. UP TO ONE CORNER WE CAN MAYBE SEE PART OF THE COASTLINE OF ONE OF THE

ISLANDS ENTERING THE PANEL, WITH A LINE OF SURF BOILING AND RIPPLING AROUND IT. FAR

BELOW US, WE CAN SEE A COUPLE OF SMALL GREEK FISHING BOATS MAKING THEIR WAY ACROSS

THE STILL AND SHIMMERING WATERS, LEAVING V-SHAPED WAKES BEHIND.

CAPTION:

A knowledge comes to me that I am high above the glittering

Aegean, and it is no longer 1896.

CAPTION:

It is instead the year of my achievement. It is 1888.

PANEL 3

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, LOOKING DOWN ON THE AEGEAN WITH THE FISHING BOATS MOVED ON

ONLY A LITTLE SINCE OUR LAST IMAGE, AND THE GULLS LIKEWISE WHIRLING INTO NEW

POSITIONS. UP IN THE FOREGROUND, HANGING IN EMPTY SPACE IN FRONT OF US, SOMETHING

QUITE SMALL IS STARTING TO ERUPT OUT OF EMPTY AIR, AS IF FROM A POINT. IT’S SORT OF

LIKE A SMALL AND SYMMETRICAL SQUIRTING OR SPLATTERING OF A DARK AND VISCOUS LIQUID,

JUST ERUPTING FROM A POINT OUT OF NOWHERE, THE THICK LIQUID GOBBETS ALMOST LIKE THE

RADIATING PETALS OF A TERRIBLE FLOWER.

CAPTION:

I hover on the brink of form, inchoate and ethereal, filled

with a fierce, exultant joy I must make manifest.

CAPTION:

I concentrate my being to a single, bloody point.

PANEL 4.

SAME SHOT, WITH THE BOATS BELOW AND THE GULLS MOVED ON ONLY A LITTLE. UP IN THE

FOREGROUND, THE SPLATTERING POINT OF BLOOD HAS NOW GROWN MUCH BIGGER, BLOSSOMING INTO

A HUGE AND EXTRAORDINARILY LIQUID ALIEN FLOWER OF MOVING, FLOWING BLOOD. WEIRDLY

BEAUTIFUL AND SYMMETRICAL, LIKE A THREE-DIMENSIONAL RORSCHACH BLOT, IT HANGS

SUSPENDED IN THE SKY ABOVE THE AEGEAN, A VISIONARY MIRACLE HANGING THERE IN DEFIANCE

OF GRAVITY AND PHYSICS. ITS SHAPE, THOUGH SYMMETRICAL, IS MONSTROUS AND IRREGULAR,

GOBBETS AND BEADS OF THE THICK AND GLEAMING PLASMA HANG SUSPENDED IN THIN AIR ABOUT

THE EDGES OF THE CENTRAL BLOSSOMING FORM, WHICH IS BOTH GORGEOUS AND APPALLING.

CAPTION:

In rapture I explode, a scarlet cloudburst.

CAPTION:

Fluids from Buck’s row and Mitre square and Miller’s Court,

rich and sublime they flower against the blue Aegean sky.

PANEL 5.

NOW, IN THIS FINAL WIDE PANEL, WE ARE DOWN ON THE DECK OF ONE OF THE NINETEENTH-

CENTURY GREEK FISHING BOATS BELOW. IT’S RAINING BLOOD. THE SAILORS GAPE UP AT IT IN

FEAR AND ALARM, IN STARK BEWILDERMENT. THE HEAVY CRIMSON DOWNPOUR SPATTERS OFF THE

DECK AND TRICKLES DOWN THE ARMS AND FACES OF THE HORROR-STRICKEN SAILORS. IT STAINS

THEIR SHIRTS AND RUNS INTO THEIR FRIGHTENED STARING EYES. IT PUDDLES THERE IN THE

UNEVEN TIMBERS OF THE DECK.

CAPTION:

A pelting thunderhead of murder, here I sign my year of

panics with appalling miracle.

268

Chapter 14, page 8.

Regarding what Alan refers to here

as “ley lines,” the pattern of connections that

made up the London pentacle in Chapter 4, he

said: “All the points in the past, whether

they’re so-called history or so-called myths,

are points of information like the stars are

points of information. We cannot reach out

and touch them but we can see them, per-

ceive them. We look at the stars and we

say, ‘Oh, well that group of stars looks like

a hunter.’ Now, they only look like that

from here. In fact, the three stars that are

so neatly lined up in Orion’s belt are light

years away from each other. From here they

seem to be in a neat little line. Just as we

might say that the pentacle does not exist

apart from ‘here,’ from Alan Moore, and from bits of Iain Sinclair that I’ve

borrowed, so these constellations aren’t real. We’ve created them with imposed

patterns, but we can use those patterns to navigate, and it is that which has

changed the entire history of humanity.” (interviewed by Roger Sabin for The Edge (#5 1997)

quoted in Sabin’s own Below Critical Radar (2001)

PAGE 8, (923 words) PANEL 1.

A SEVEN-PANEL PAGE HERE WITH A BIG WIDE PANEL ON THIS FIRST TIER AND THEN THREE

SMALL PANELS ON EACH OF THE TIERS BENEATH IT. IN THIS FIRST PANEL, WE ARE STILL

LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES BUT IT IS AS IF HE HAS LOWERED HIS GAZE AND IS

LOOKING OUT AT THE BROAD NIGHT STREET OF THE EMBANKMENT, PAST THE CROUCHING

SPHINXES WITH THE OBELISK NOW SOMEWHERE OFF PANEL BEHIND US. MOVING BACK AND

FORTH THROUGH THE STREETS IN FRONT OF US WE SEE A PECULIAR AND GHOSTLY

PROCESSION. IT IS AS IF WE CAN SEE THREE OR FOUR DIFFERENT PERIODS ALL

COEXISTING AT ONCE, AS FLIMSY OVERLAYS STACKED ONE ON TOP OF EACH OTHER.

TRANSLUCENT IMAGES OF VICTORIAN HORSE DRAWN CARRIAGES INTERSECT AND OVERLAP

WITH CARS OF THE TWENTIES OR MODERN VEHICLES FROM THE 1990s. STROLLING, GHOSTLY

PEOPLE FROM THE EIGHTEEN HUNDREDS WALK OBLIVIOUSLY THROUGH YUPPIES, PUNKS AND

AIR RAID WARDENS. NONE OF THEM SEEM TO NOTICE EACH OTHER AS THEY WALK THROUGH

THEIR SEPARATE AND DIFFERENT NIGHTS, DISTANT FROM EACH OTHER BY DECADES. IT’S

VERY EERIE. ONLY THE BASE OF THE MONUMENT AND THE ATTENDANT SPHINXES SEEM SHARP

AND DEFINED, HAVING EXISTED THERE UNCHANGED THROUGHOUT THE PASSING YEARS.

269

Chapter 14, page 8

HALF-FORMED PEOPLE WALK PAST, LIKE THE GHOSTS OF MOVEMENT THAT YOU GET ON LONG-

EXPOSURE PHOTOGRAPHS.

CAPTION:

The obelisk itself is solid, fixed and permanent in time.

CAPTION:

About the stone pudenda of its base parade the oblivious

phantoms that I know to be the living, although not of

any single night, or century.

PANEL 2.

NOW IT IS AS IF GULL HAS TURNED TO LOOK OUT ONCE MORE OVER THE EMBANKMENT WALL,

SOME YARDS AWAY, AT THE DARK AND MOONLIT THAMES BEYOND. ONCE MORE HE RAISES AT

LEAST ONE OF HIS NAKED AND UNNATURALLY WHITE AND LUMINESCENT HANDS INTO VIEW IN

THE FOREGROUND. BETWEEN US AND THE RIVER WE CAN SEE A COUPLE OF THE STROLLING,

ANACHRONISTIC SPECTRES, INCLUDING A MAN AND WOMAN IN THIRTIES OR FORTIES DRESS,

GHOSTLY AND SEMI-TRANSPARENT. THEY CHAT WITH EACH OTHER AS THEY STROLL AND DO

NOT SEEM TO NOTICE US OR GULL.

CAPTION:

Come from the Dionysiac heavens over Crete to these Egyptian

shadows, I am following a current of transmission in Masonic

mysteries.

CAPTION:

I laugh amongst the apparitions; for delight.

PANEL 3.

SAME POINT OF VIEW, STILL LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES, BUT NOW IT IS AS IF HE

WERE RUSHING FORWARD TOWARDS THE EMBANKMENT WALL, NOW NOT SO FAR IN FRONT OF US,

AND THE GLINTING WATERS BEYOND. WE SEE HIS THICK, SQUARE HANDS, RAISED INTO THE

FOREGROUND, NAKED AND WHITE, AS HE RUNS TOWARDS THE WATER’S EDGE. TO THE LEFT OF

THE FOREGROUND WE SEE THE GHOSTLY FORTIES MAN AND WOMAN PAUSING IN THEIR TRACKS

AND BOTH STARTING TO GAPE AT US IN SURPRISE AND ALARM, AS IF THEY’VE SUDDENLY

SEEN US, OR ALMOST SEEN US.

CAPTION:

Naked, triumphant, I run laughing for the edge of the

embankment and the ancient tide it binds.

CAPTION:

Some of the idling spectres start, and seem almost to see me.

PANEL 4.

NOW WE ARE STILL LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES, BUT IT IS AS IF HE HAS JUST LEAPED

OVER THE EMBANKMENT AND IS DROPPING DOWN TOWARDS THE DARK, DIRTY WATERS BELOW.

AGAIN WE SEE HIS NAKED HANDS, AND MAYBE A GLIMPSE OF HIS WHITE AND NAKED LOWER

REACHES IF HE IS LOOKING DOWN THE LENGTH OF HIS BODY TOWARDS THE WATER BELOW AS

HE PLUMMETS FEET FIRST.

CAPTION:

“It is a haunt for suicides and ghosts; a naked man is seen,

who leaps into the Thames.”

PANEL 5.

STILL LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES, AND STILL MAYBE LOOKING DOWN THE LENGTH OF

HIS BODY WITH SOME OF HIS NAKED ARMS AND LOWER BODY VISIBLE. INSTEAD OF FALLING

INTO THE THAMES, HE NOW SEEMS TO BE FLOATING UPWARDS ABOVE IT. BENEATH US WE CAN

270

Part 8: Putting it all in perspective

SEE THE RIVER, PART OF THE EMBANKMENT AND PART OF CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE AS GULL’S

SPIRIT IS PULLED UPWARDS BY AN IRRESISTIBLE FORCE.

CAPTION:

“No splash is ever heard.”

CAPTION:

The filthy river falls away beneath me. I begin to rise.

PANEL 6.

WE CONTINUE TO FLOAT UPWARDS, STILL LOOKING THROUGH GULL’S EYES, WITH PARTS OF

HIS LOWER SPIRIT-BODY VISIBLE, WHITE AND LUMINOUS AND NAKED. WE ARE NOW SOME

DISTANCE ABOVE CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE AND CAN SEE THE WHOLE OF THE MONUMENT ALONG

WITH PART OF THE CURVE OF THE THAMES THAT IT STANDS BESIDE. BENEATH US, THE

MONUMENT SEEMS TO GLOW IN THE DARK WITH A STRONG WHITE AURA. MAYBE THIS SHOT

LOOKS LIKE A PHOTO NEGATIVE OR SOMETHING. UP TO YOU.

CAPTION:

Something is pulling me. Below, the needle’s black stone

glows

unearthly

white.

CAPTION;

About its ageless beacon is the vaporous swirl of human life

and

time

continued.

PANEL 7.

WE ARE NOW HIGH ABOVE THE TIMELESS NIGHT CITY, WITH THE RIVER A SILVER RIBBON

FAR BENEATH US, ALMOST AS IF WE WERE LOOKING DOWN ON A MAP OF LONDON. WE CAN

STILL SEE THE LUMINOUS AND PHOSPHORESCENT BEACON THAT IS CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE FAR

BELOW US, AND IT SEEMS A THIN LINE OF FLICKERING WHITE FIRE PASSING THROUGH IT,

A WHITE AND GLITTERING LINE DRAWN ON THIS NIGHTTIME MAP. THIS IS THE “LEY LINE”

THAT RUNS FROM BATTLE BRIDGE TO HERNE HILL, THROUGH HERCULES ROAD AND CLEOPATRA’S

OBELISK, VISIBLE TO GULL’S SPIRIT-VISION AS A LINE RULED IN WHITE FIRE.

CAPTION:

High into the night, and higher still. Viewed from this

elevated station, lines and traceries are visible.

CAPTION:

Luminous filaments connect the City’s stones into a circuit.

271

Chapter 14, page 18.

I’ve sat in too many English 1970s

living rooms just like that one in the last panel.

And I always felt ill at ease. Now I know it

was because of the big fat naked bastard on

the sofa. Alan said: “Ten years wading through

the material, the literature, not just Jack

the Ripper but all of these fuckers. All these

miserable little apologies for human beings.

They’re not supermen. They’re not supermen

at all. They’re not Hannibal Lecter. You know,

they’re Peter Sutcliffe, they’re a bloke with

a dodgy perm. And some horrible screw-up

in his relationship with his mother. They’re

little blokes. ” (interview at Blather.net Oct 2000)

PAGE 18 (719 words) (edited-2 panels) PANEL 1.

...WE HAVE MOVED AROUND NINETY DEGREES SO THAT

WE NOW SEE THE SCENE FROM THE SIDE AND CAN NOW SEE THE SOURCE OF THE LIGHT. TO THE

SIDE OF THE PANEL HERE, WE SEE THE DISEMBODIED HEAD OF WILLIAM GULL. IT IS SUSPENDED

AT AROUND NORMAL HEAD-HEIGHT ABOVE THE COBBLES OF THE DARK AND DESERTED STREET, AND

IT IS GLOWING WITH WHAT BRADY DESCRIBED AS AN EERIE GREEN RADIANCE, SO JUST DO YOUR

BEST. THE HEAD IS SMILING ALMOST PATERNALLY AT THE YOUNG BOY, WHO IS MORE OVER TO

THE RIGHT. THE BICYCLE HAS NOW FALLEN OVER INTO THE GUTTER, SPILLING THE BOY ONTO

THE PAVEMENT. HE MAYBE CRAWLS UP TOWARDS THE WALL OF A CLOSED SWEETSHOP OR SOME SUCH

ESTABLISHMENT, CLUTCHING AT THE PEELING WOODEN LEDGE BENEATH ITS PICTURE WINDOW

AS HE DRAGS HIMSELF FRANTIC AND WHIMPERING AWAY FROM THIS TERRIBLE APPARITION THAT

SIMPLY HANGS THERE IN THE DARK AND DESERTED SLUM STREET, SMILING DOWN AT THE BOY.

I FIGURE THIS IMAGE SHOULD HAVE ALMOST A TAROT-CARD-LIKE POWER TO IT; AN ALMOST

ARCHETYPAL SCENE OF PARALYZING SUPERNATURAL DREAD. No dialogue

PANEL 6.

WE CUT TO THE FRONT ROOM OF A WELL-KEPT WORKING CLASS HOME IN BRADFORD IN THE LATE

1970s. WE SEE A SOFA, AND ARMCHAIR AND TELEVISION, WHICH IS ON AND PERHAPS SHOWING

SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL. IN FRONT OF THE SOFA IS A LAMINATED COFFEE TABLE, ON WHICH

RESTS A LARGE AND ATTRACTIVE CUT-CRYSTAL ASHTRAY, ALONG WITH OTHER ODDS AND ENDS

INCLUDING A COPY OF THE RADIO TIMES OR WOMEN’S WEEKLY. A MAN IN HIS MID-THIRTIES SITS

WATCHING THE TELEVISION INTENTLY ON ONE END OF THE SOFA, THE FURTHEST END FROM US. WE

SEE THE MAN’S WIFE SITTING ON THE ARMCHAIR; AN UNPREPOSSESSING WOMAN OF A SIMILAR AGE.

SHE IS PROBABLY KNITTING OR DOING THE WOMAN’S WEEKLY CROSSWORD OR SOMETHING. ON THE END

OF THE SOFA NEAREST TO US, WILLIAM GULL IS SITTING, LOOKING ROUND THE ROOM WITH MILD

PUZZLEMENT. IT IS CLEAR THAT NEITHER OF THE OTHER TWO PEOPLE IN THE ROOM CAN SEE HIM.

No dialogue

272

Chapter 14, page 20.

During the time we had been working

on FROM HELL, new information on the case had

been coming to light. “The 1980s saw a tide of

books published to cash in on the centennial

of the Murders in Whitechapel, and lost

evidence was returned anonymously to the

police.” (Casebook.org)

In our long appendix, footnote to

Chapter 1, page 2, Alan said that he wasn’t

even sure that John Netley was an actual person.

By the time we got to this page we now had a

photograph of him to take into account and it

would take some accounting to make him to

look like both the photo and the way I’d been

drawing him previously. Another one to file

under “the graphics of theory and guesswork.”

It turned out that at different times he drove

hackney cabs and goods wagons; he was employed by Messrs. Thompson, McKay & co.,

who described him as “very steady.” But then, employers have said the same about me.

PAGE 20, (589 words) PANEL 1.

NINE PANELS. IN THIS FIRST ONE, TO THE LEFT WE SEE THE RAILED GATE OF REGENT’S

PARK WITH A SIGN SAYING “CLARENCE GATE” SOMEWHERE UP TO THE LEFT OF THE FOREGROUND.

LOOKING ALONG PARK ROAD, WHICH RUNS BESIDE THE PARK DOWN INTO MARYLEBONE, AND INTO

THE BACKGROUND, WE SEE A COACH APPROACHING FROM FAR OFF WITH THE DRIVER SAT ON TOP

OF IT, ALTHOUGH HE IS TINY AND UNRECOGNIZABLE AT THIS DISTANCE.

CAPTION:

I am at Regent’s park, by Clarence Gate.

CAPTION:

The sound of leaves, and birds. The smell of horse’s shit.

The

perfect

world.

PANEL 2.

SAME SHOT, ONLY NOW THE COACH DRAWS CLOSER. THE DRIVER SITTING ON TOP OF IT HAS

A BEARD. THIS IS JOHN NETLEY, AGED FORTY-THREE YEARS OLD. HE DOES NOT LOOK UP

TOWARDS US AS THE COACH TRUNDLES CLOSER, BOTH HE AND HIS HORSE WITH THEIR EYES

DOWNCAST, LOOKING TOWARDS THE ROAD THEY DRIVE ALONG.

CAPTION:

He’s older, with a beard, yet I would know that hunched and

feral

posture

anywhere.

PANEL 3.

SAME SHOT. THE COACH AND HORSE ARE RIGHT UP IN THE FOREGROUND NOW. BOTH THE

HORSE AND THE DRIVER LOOK UP TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND SIMULTANEOUSLY, WITH ALMOST

IDENTICAL EXPRESSIONS OF SHOCK. THE EYES OF THE HORSE ARE WHITE AND FRIGHTENED.

CAPTION:

Hello, Netley.

273

chapter 14, page 20

PANEL 4.

CUT TO A SHOT FROM UP ON TOP OF THE COACH BEHIND NETLEY, SO THAT HE SITS FACING AWAY

FROM US IN THE FOREGROUND, WITH HIS HORSE FACING AWAY FROM US BEYOND HIM. HANGING IN

THE AIR ABOVE THE STREET IN FRONT OF THE HORSE AND SHINING WITH A BRIGHT LIGHT IS THE

SMILING AND MALEVOLENT FLOATING HEAD OF SIR WILLIAM GULL. THE HORSE IS STARTING TO SHY

FROM THE APPARITION.

No dialogue

PANEL 5.

NOW A TIGHT CLOSE-UP OF NETLEY’S FACE, STARING OUT OF THE PANEL AT US IN ABSOLUTE

HOLY DREAD AND TERROR, HIS EYES WIDE AND BULGING.

NETLEY:

No, you’re dead.

NETLEY:

You’re

dead.

PANEL 6.

REVERSE ANGLES. THE HEAD FLOATS, FACING AWAY FROM US, IN THE FOREGROUND. IMMEDIATELY

BEYOND IT WE ARE LOOKING UP AT NETLEY’S HORSE AS IT REARS UP IN BLIND FOAMING PANIC.

NETLEY TILTS ON HIS SEAT AND LOOKS TERRIFIED AS HE GRABS AT THE REINS TO STOP FROM FALLING.

NETLEY:

You’re...

NETLEY:

AAAH!

PANEL 7.

NOW WE PULL BACK FOR A LONG SHOT OF THE HORSE AS IT BOLTS, DRAGGING THE COACH BEHIND

IT. FALLING INTO THE PANEL FROM THE PICTURE IN THE FOREGROUND IS THE SHADOW OF AN

OFF-PANEL OBELISK. IT POINTS INTO THE PANEL TOWARDS THE CAREENING HORSE AS NETLEY

VAINLY TRIES TO REGAIN CONTROL OF HIS RUNAWAY CARRIAGE, HIS FACE A MASK OF STUNNED

AND UNCOMPREHENDING HORROR. GULL’S HEAD NEEDN’T BE VISIBLE HERE. THE HORSE IS

STARTING TO DRAG NETLEY TOWARDS THE FOREGROUND HERE.

NETLEY:

Oh god. Whoaah.

NETLEY:

WHOAAH!

PANEL 8.

SAME SHOT, BUT NOW THE HORSE HAS DRAGGED THE COACH MUCH CLOSER TO THE FOREGROUND, SO

THAT THE SHADOW OF THE OFF-PANEL OBELISK FALLS ACROSS IT NOW. TOO LATE, NETLEY LOOKS UP

FROM THE REINS, HIS HORRIFIED EYES GAZING DUMBSTRUCK AT WHATEVER HE CAN SEE OFF PANEL.

NETLEY:

Come on, girl, don’t...

NETLEY:

Oh, my god.

PANEL 9.

CHANGE ANGLE. WE ARE ATOP THE COACH BEHIND NETLEY AS HE THROWS UP HIS HANDS IN

USELESS TERROR. REARING UP ABOVE THE COACH WE SEE THE GRANITE OBELISK THAT NETLEY

AND HIS COACH ARE ABOUT TO CRASH INTO. DIRECTLY BEHIND AND ABOVE THE OBELISK WE SEE

THE CRUEL AND BLINDING DISC OF THE SEPTEMBER SUN.

No dialogue

274

Chapter 14, page 23.

Alan at last makes a decision about

Marie Kelly, and I didn’t know which way it would

go. At the end here we see a much older woman,

unnamed, who must be recognizable as Marie,

hypothetically living in Ireland twenty years later.

In the appendix notes Alan says “work it out

for yourself.” I had no influence in the matter. I

thought bleakness and hopelessness might have

done the job. Alan said in an interview: “I just

wanted to give the poor woman a happy

ending, I wanted to somehow — without

actually going against what was possible,

to give her a way out, just — and actually

that, that final scene, with the ghost of

Gull, descending to the hilltop in Ireland

where there’s this woman that he’s never

seen before and there are four little girls, that’s one of

the most powerful scenes in the book to me. There’s

something spine-tingling in the bit where she tells him

to get back to Hell where he comes from. There’s just

something in that which I — I find really moving.”

(blather.net, Oct 2000) They used a residue of this scene in the

movie, with Kelly still alive in Ireland. Most of the people I

spoke to at the premiere thought it was an invention of the

screenwriter.

PAGE 23. (964 words) PANEL 1.

NINE-PANEL PAGE HERE. WE ARE NOW STANDING ON THE HILL,

SOME SHORT WAY DOWN FROM ITS CREST, WHERE THE COTTAGE

STANDS. THE FRONT DOOR IS OPEN AND A WOMAN STANDS ON THE

STEP, EMERGING THROUGH IT TOWARDS US. SHE TURNS AND LOOKS TOWARDS THE RIGHT FORE-

GROUND, WHERE A CHUBBY LITTLE GIRL OF MAYBE TEN OR TWELVE IS RUNNING INTO VIEW

FROM OFF PANEL RIGHT, RUNNING UP HILL AWAY FROM US TOWARDS THE COTTAGE WHERE HER

MOTHER STANDS. THE WOMAN IS A PRETTY IRISH WOMAN OF NEAR FORTY, NOT THAT TALL AND

WITH HER DARK BUT GREY-FLECKED HAIR TIED BACK. HER FACE IS STRONG AND STERN, BUT

NOT UNKIND. IT’S MORE “NOT TO BE MESSED WITH” THAN UNFRIENDLY OR UNLOVING. THIS IS

A NICE, TOUGH, STILL ATTRACTIVE WOMAN, WORN BY LIFE AND CHILDBIRTH BUT STILL FAIR

AND PROUD.

275

chapter 14, page 23

WOMAN:

Anne? Come in, now, child.

CHILD:

I’m comin’, Mammy.

CAPTION:

Ireland. Ireland somewhere, in 1904? 1905?

PANEL 2.

MOVE IN CLOSER ON THE WOMAN NOW AS HER PLUMP DAUGHTER RUNS UP TO HER. SHE BENDS IN

ABOVE THE GRAVE-FACED, DARK-HAIRED CHILD AND GIVES INSTRUCTIONS WITH A SIMILARLY

GRAVE YET KINDLY FACE. THERE’S SOMETHING VAGUELY FAMILIAR ABOUT THIS MOTHERLY WOMAN,

BUT WE CANNOT PLACE IT YET.

WOMAN:

Fetch your sisters in now, will ye? There’s a cold wind

getting’ up tonight. I wan yez by me.

CHILD:

Alright, then. I’ll call ’em.

PANEL 3.

CHANGE ANGLE NOW FOR A SHOT FROM SOME DISTANCE BEHIND AND TO ONE SIDE OF THE WOMAN,

SO THAT SHE STANDS OUTSIDE HER COTTAGE LOOKING AWAY FROM US AT A SLIGHT ANGLE, AWAY

DOWN THE GENTLE HILL WHERE WE SEE THE CHUBBY GIRL STANDING CALLING OUT DOWN THE

HILL, WHERE THREE YOUNGER GIRLS PAUSE IN THEIR PLAY TO LOOK UPHILL TOWARDS HER, SHE

CUPS HER MOUTH AS SHE SHOUTS TO THEM. THEIR MOTHER STANDS, ARMS FOLDED UNDERNEATH

HER BOSOM, LOOKING ON. THERE’S SOMETHING STILL FAMILIAR, EVEN IN THE QUARTER PROFILE

WE SEE HERE. ABOVE THEM ALL, DARKENING CLOUDS MOVE ACROSS THE OVERCAST IRISH SKY,

HANGING LIKE A WILD AND RAGGED-EDGED DEPRESSION OVER THE GREY FIELDS BELOW.

CHILD:

Katey? Lizzie? Pol?

CHILD:

Mam says as ye’ve got to come in now.

CAPTION:

Why am I being shown this?

PANEL 4.

CLOSE IN NOW ON THE WOMAN, SO THAT WE’RE ALMOST JUST BEHIND HER SHOULDER AS SHE

STANDS THERE ROUGHLY HEAD AND SHOULDERS ON THE LEFT OF PANEL. BEYOND HER, WE SEE

THE THREE OTHER LITTLE GIRLS RUNNING UP THE HILL TO JOIN THEIR SISTER. THE YOUNGEST

IS ABOUT FIVE AND THE OTHER TWO ARE AROUND SEVEN AND NINE. IN THE FOREGROUND,

THE WOMAN TURNS HER HEAD TOWARDS US SLIGHTLY AS IF SENSING A PRESENCE BEHIND

HER SHOULDER AS SHE STANDS THERE WITH HER ARMS FOLDED. SHE FROWNS, ONE GREYING

STRAND ESCAPING FROM HER TIED-BACK HAIR TO FLUTTER IN THE RISING WIND. IT’S

MARY KELLY, ON THE BRINK OF FORTY YEARS OLD BUT STILL RECOGNIZABLE.

CAPTION:

I don’t know these people. I have never seen this woman

in

my

life,

and

yet...

CAPTION:

And yet within her yes, that terrible ferocity.

I am afraid of her.

PANEL 5.

CHANGE ANGLE SO THAT WE ARE LOOKING AT THE WOMAN FULL FIGURE FROM THE FRONT AT

EYE-LEVEL AS HER FOUR DAUGHTERS GATHER ROUND HER, CLINGING TO HER SKIRTS AS SHE

SMILES DOWN AT THEM AND EMBRACES THEM ALL IN A GENERALIZED HUG AS THEY GAZE UP

AT HER. SHE LOOKS DOWN AT THE CHILDREN HERE, HER EYELIDS LOWERED, RATHER THAN AT

276

Part 8: Putting it all in perspective

US. ONE OF THE GIRLS IS RATHER TALL AND THIN, ABOUT NINE OR TEN YEARS OF AGE.

SHE LOOKS UP AT HER MOTHER EARNESTLY.

TALL THIN GIRL:

We’re here, mammy. Polly caught a frog, then let it go.

WOMAN:

That’s good. Ye ought t’let ‘em go. That’s good.

PANEL 6.

SAME SHOT AS LAST PANEL, ONLY HERE, WITH ELECTRIFYING EFFECT, THE WOMAN RAISES HER

EYES AND STARES DIRECTLY AT US. HER EYES ARE FULL OF ANGER AND A FIERCE

DEFIANCE. CLINGING TO HER SKIRTS, THE CHILDREN ALSO GLANCE TOWARDS US, WITH SULKY

EXPRESSIONS AND THEIR FACES ALL BUT HIDDEN IN THEIR MOTHERS APRON FOLDS AS THEY

STAND GATHERED THERE ABOUT HER. THEY LOOK REPROACHFUL AS THEY STARE TOWARDS US,

WHILE THEIR MOTHER JUST LOOKS COLDLY ANGRY AS SHE STARES STRAIGHT AT US, EYES

FILLED WITH A FRIGHTENING MATERNAL STRENGTH AND WILL.

WOMAN:

And as for you, ye auld divil...

WOMAN:

I know that ye’re there, and ye’re not havin’ these.

Clear off now wit’ ye.

PANEL 7.

WE NOW START TO RISE AND DRAW BACKWARDS, AS IF WE ARE BEING BLOWN BACKWARDS AND

INTO THE SKY BY A STRONG WIND. THE WOMAN RAISES ONE HAND AND POINTS STRAIGHT

AT US, HER EYES FIERCE AND UNBLINKING, THE CHILDREN STILL CLINGING AROUND HER

SKIRTS AS THEY ALL START TO FALL AWAY BELOW US.

WOMAN:

Clear off back to Hell and leave us BE!

PANEL 8.

WE CONTINUE TO RISE, WITH THE COTTAGE FALLING AWAY BENEATH US AND THE WHITE

CLOUDS STARTING TO CLOSE IN AROUND US AS WE RISE UP THROUGH THEM. WE CAN STILL

SEE THE LITTLE FAMILY STOOD OUTSIDE THEIR COTTAGE BELOW, THOUGH THEY ARE

VERY TINY, AND WE CAN PERHAPS MAKE OUT THAT THE WOMAN STILL STANDS WITH ONE

ARM RAISED TOWARDS US, AND HER BANISHING FINGER POINTING COMMANDINGLY. THE

OBLITERATING WHITENESS ROLLS IN AT THE EDGES OF OUR VISION AS WE RISE.

CAPTION:

And this perplexing vision.

CAPTION:

is the last thing

PANEL 9.

HIGHER AND HIGHER INTO THE OBSCURING

WHITENESS. THIS PANEL IS ALMOST TOTALLY

WHITE SAVE FOR A LITTLE GREY BIT IN THE

MIDDLE WHERE THE CLOUDS ARE CLOSING OVER THE

LAST OF THE TINY LANDSCAPE NOW FAR BELOW US. WE ARE VERY HIGH UP NOW.

CAPTION:

that I

Image from the film From Hell © 20th Century Fox.

CAPTION:

see as I

CAPTION: become

277

Chapter 14, page 24.

It’s not a completely blank page, as it’s

got four words on it. But the blank page, in this

age of self-consciousness, is to be seen as an

offering to Lawrence Sterne, historical breaker

of moulds. Over two hundred years back he put

a blank page in his novel and invited the reader

to draw his own portrait of the Widow Wadman

“... as unlike your wife as your conscience

will let you.” In the January 2004 issue of

Playboy, Jonathan Safran Foer wrote about his

collection of blank pages: “I started collecting

empty paper soon after I finished my

first novel, about two years ago. A family

friend had been helping to archive Isaac

Bashevis Singer’s belongings for the

university where his papers and artifacts

were to be kept. Among the many items to be disposed of was a stack of

Singer’s unused typewriter paper...” He kept the topmost of these blank pages,

and it became a spiritual talisman, launching an obsessive quest that led Foer to many

blank pages, and ultimately to Freud and Anne Frank.

We who get paid by the page (as I did in the original serialisation of the

present subject) don’t mind being asked to leave one blank; it’s like being told to take

the day off. Part of the “graphic novel” phenomenon is that we started getting chances

to do comics for traditional “book” publishers, and one of the aspects of the comics

world they have trouble getting a handle on is the idea of “page rate.” In the book world

you negotiate an advance and then write your book. When it’s finished it gets edited and

made to fit into a format. Nobody talks about pages. Maybe a “novel of 70,000 words”

approximately, but they don’t then go and count them unless the manuscript is obviously

a gyp. And another thing they do that amuses me is they refer to a big pile of comics

artwork as “the manuscript.” But then I’m one of those pedants who still chooses

to differentiate between a typescript and a manuscript.

PAGE 24. (35 words) PANEL 1.

THERE IS ONE PANEL ON THIS PAGE. IT HAS NO BORDER AND NO IMAGE. WE TURN OVER TO A

PERFECT BLANK WHITE PAGE, WITH ONLY THE TWO LITTLE CAPTION BOXES SUSPENDED IN ITS

TERRIFYING EMPTINESS.

CAPTION: God.

CAPTION:

and then I

278

Appendix II,

Dance of the

Gull-Catchers,

page 1.

In one of the notebooks,

Alan makes several attempts at a start

on the Gull-Catchers appendix. It was

1998, two years since we had wrapped

up the tenth volume of the work. This

addition was to be an account and

debunking of all the various Ripper

theories including our own. It was

tricky because it involved taking in

the whole picture of Ripperology, so

that we must appear in it ourselves.

That is, we are simply the

next in a long line of fools who have

claimed to have solved the century-

old mystery. And we weren’t the last

either; there have been a number of

new attempts in the fifteen years since

we downed tools, a couple of which

I’ve referred to in these pages.

The problem to be solved was

how to avoid overt self-consciousness,

as seen in the swiftly rejected first

effort which starts with Alan, on-

panel typing a letter, and follows with

Campbell receiving it. He switches in

the second excerpt to showing us having

a fictional meeting in a pub. For a few

rounds of the track the Sickert dinner

scene is in the lead position. This will

eventually be top of page 2. Finally he

fastens on the metaphor of the men

with the butterfly nets, trying in vain to

catch their “gull” (old slang for a fool,

or a hoax, to cheat or mislead).

Dance of the Gull Catchers, page 1

In the two-year interim since the last segment of script, Alan had acquired a new “typewriter”... as evidenced

by effects such as bold and oblique lettering, which I’ve mildly hinted at below.

PAGE 1. (579 words) PANEL 1.

AN EIGHT-PANEL PAGE HERE, INCLUDING THE OPENING TITLE PANEL, WITH A DOUBLE PANEL

COMPLETING THE OPENING TIER AND THEN THREE PANELS EACH ON THE TWO TIERS BELOW THAT.

IN THIS FIRST PANEL WE JUST HAVE THE TITLES.

TITLES:

APPENDIX II

Dance of the Gull-Catchers

Panel 2.

DOUBLE-WIDTH PANEL IN WHICH WE SHOW A NUMBER OF MEN IN VARYING STYLES OF DRESS

RANGING FROM THE TURN OF THE CENTURY TO THE PRESENT DAY. EACH OF THEM IS EQUIPPED

WITH A LARGE BUTTERFLY NET. THEY ARE RUNNING AROUND IN FUTILE CIRCLES ON A PATCH

OF GRASS IN A FIELD SOMEWHERE, HOPEFULLY WAVING THEIR NETS OVER THEIR HEADS, ALL

TAKING WILD SWINGS AT A BIRD THAT IS FLYING IN CIRCLES IMMEDIATELY ABOVE THEM,

JUST OUT OF REACH.

CAPTION:

This is harder than it looks.

PANEL 3.

IN THIS FIRST SMALL PANEL ON THE SECOND TIER WE HAVE CLOSED IN ON THE GROUP’S EMPTY

NETS, WAVING, SWINGING AND SWIPING USELESSLY AT THE BIRD ABOVE THEIR HEADS, WITH

THE ACTUAL RUNNING MEN OFF PANEL BELOW HERE.

CAPTION:

They all take a swing at it.

CAPTION:

Some even think they’ve bagged it, but the net, upon

examination, turns out empty.

280

Part 8: Putting it all in perspective

PANEL 4.

NOW A SHOT OF THE FEET OF THE MEN AS THEY RUN AROUND ON THE TURF IN CIRCLES. THEY

TRIP AND STUMBLE, ONE OF THE MEN, HIS FACE OFF PANEL ABOVE AS WITH ALL THE MEN, IS

HOLDING HIS BUTTERFLY NET LOW, ABOUT TO TRIP UP ONE OF THE OTHER MEN WITH IT.

CAPTION:

They all get in each other’s way; sometimes deliberately

trip each other up.

CAPTION:

This sport should probably be outlawed, like bare-knuckles

fighting. People are hurt, reputations slaughtered.

PANEL 5.

NOW PERHAPS A SHOT OF A SINGLE DISLODGED FEATHER OR TWO THAT HAS FALLEN FROM THE

BIRD FLYING OUT OF SHOT OFF PANEL ABOVE. IF THAT IS TOO MINIMAL ON ITS OWN THEN HAVE

A COUPLE OF THE NETS OR PERHAPS A REACHING HAND EXTENDING INTO THE PANEL FROM BELOW,

TRYING TO CATCH THE FEATHER AS IT FALLS.

CAPTION:

The quarry, meanwhile, is elusive. Unidentified and

unidentifiable, a suspect archaeopteryx. A fraud.

CAPTION:

Perhaps there’s no such bird.

PANEL 6.

NOW WE HAVE A SHOT FROM OVERHEAD, LOOKING DOWN ON THE MEN AS THEY RUN ROUND IN

CIRCLES BENEATH US, SWIPING UP AT US WITH THEIR NETS. THE PATCH OF GRASS THAT

THEY’RE RUNNING IN CIRCLES ON IS ALMOST OBLITERATED, TURNED TO A QUAGMIRE BY THEIR

CIRCLING FOOTSTEPS.

CAPTION:

Its call, the colour of its plumage, these things

are unknown. Its tracks are never found.

CAPTION:

The tracks of its pursuers, to the contrary,

are

everywhere.

PANEL 7.

CLOSE IN EVEN FURTHER, LOOKING DOWN UPON THE CIRCLING FEET

AND THE MUDDY TURF THEY ARE RUNNING AROUND ON, CHEWED UP AS A

FOOTBALL PITCH.

CAPTION:

In studded football boots they

endlessly

cross-track

and

over-print the field of their enquiry.

They reduce its turf to mud.

CAPTION:

Only their choreography remains

readable.

PANEL 8.

NOW WE CLOSE ON ONE OF THE MEN WITH NETS FOR MAYBE A HALF

FIGURE CLOSE UP OF HIM, SO THAT WE SEE HIM CLEARLY. IT IS

WALTER SICKERT, DRESSED IN THE CHECQUERED CLOTHING THAT HE

WORE IN THE EARLY EPISODES OF FROM HELL. HE WAVES HIS NET OFF

PANEL ABOVE HIS HEAD, HIS EYES CAST UPWARDS WITH CHILDISH

HOPEFULNESS AS HE TAKES ANOTHER FUTILE SWING AT

THE OFF PANEL BIRD UP ABOVE.

CAPTION:

The dance begins with Walter Sickert.

281

On finishing: a final thought.

Back in the day, Kitchen Sink Press asked the question, innocently, as

to whether the appendices, which had appeared in the serialisation, were to be

included in the collected edition when they came to do it (which didn’t happen).

Alan was adamant that they weren’t just optional attachments, but an integral part

of the structure of the work. The radical notion of a comic with 45 pages of footnotes,

plus an illustrated appendix, appealed to his sense of novelty. It was another literary

affectation to be adopted to expand the scope of the “graphic novel!” Which is not to

say that these appendices were some vacuous pose. They were in fact the perfect means

to achieve the desired artistic ends. Having executed the grand corpus of the work

under severe formal restraints, a so-called “appendix” could blithely dispense with all

austerities for the sake of a grander overview. It could adopt a completely different

authorial voice.

In retrospect I wish I’d left the spot illustrations

out of the first, the annotations appendix. A big

43,000-word wedge of text so goes against the verbal-

visual balance beloved of comics theorists, and they’re

always worth upsetting. The Dance of the Gull Catchers

is a different matter, being a riot of captions, timelines

only slightly less complicated than the telephone

exchange, autobiography, cartoon metaphors, willful

caricature, diagrammed chaos theory (a frustrated

theme that sank with Big Numbers) and general high-

minded sarcasm. Pete Mullins was no longer working

with me at the time, but I thought it only right that he

Autobiography: Alan Moore gets out should be in on the finale as it was right up his alley.

of a taxi in Whitechapel.

He came back for a month and we had a lot of fun

with this one.

Sarcasm: The

Druitt theory

is “floated.”

Chaos Theory: Koch’s Snowflake.

282

Part 8: Putting it all in perspective

Spiegelman in MetaMaus quotes a writer,

whose name he can no longer remember, who said

that the last chapter must be equal in weight to all

the chapters that went before it. And the second

paragraph in the last chapter must be twice the

weight of the first, and so on until the last paragraph,

when each sentence must double the weight of its

predecessor. I have my own theory, not dissimilar,

about finishing, which concerns an increase in the

rate at which information is conveyed. This is not to

be confused with a quickening of the action, which

is the way a James Bond movie would always end.

Caricature: Mad versions of people

In the early stages, it’s all mystery, more mystery,

I’ve been drawing seriously for ten

cross, double-cross, this country, that country, and

years.

somebody turns out to be who they’re not supposed

to be. The information constantly multiplies. Then

we get into the finale and it’s just people running

around killing each other inside the villain’s lair.

There is no weight to any of it, least of all to human

life. In fact, that’s a value that tends to decline in

the modern film/novel. An upset at a murder may

set the action in motion, but in no time we’re in

a video game shooting gallery. Meanwhile back in

the lair, the villain is putting the torpedo in its bay,

Bond is knocking it out, now it’s rolling around on

the floor, now he’s being hit on the head with it.

Pete gets to draw and ink more fore-

The information is stuck in a loop.

ground stuff, such as this loony pair.

The attentive reader will now say, but wait,

on page 265 you say that narrative formal logic

demands that no new material be introduced at the

dénouement. That still applies; the challenge of

storytelling is to form new compounds out of the

elements already in play. Alan’s FROM HELL sets

out with a full tank, enough fuel for the long haul.

That’s the raw narrative material, the parameters

of which are drawn in the prologue and opening

chapters. Then in its last mile it is fast and refreshed,

as though it has distilled a new kind of fuel out of

the stuff that was on board at the start.

A Gull catcher.

283

T h e m o v i e

F R O M H E L L

was negotiated in 1994, before the book

was complete. Alan’s synopsis of the

remainder, (discussed pages 171, 226)

included the Marie Kelly twist of our

Chapter 14, page 23. In 1994, you’ll

remember, Alan said he was undecided

about Marie’s fate.

An early version of the movie script, by

Terry Hayes, was related to the book

only by rumour. The Rafael Iglesias

rewrite came closer, somewhat.

The movie option was renewed a couple

of times, and I started to think it was

a grand way to make a living, by not

making movies. However, the film went

into production in 1998 and was

released, following a very low-key

launch, in 2001, the month after 9-11.

That was by no means the best time

to be putting out a movie full of gory

horror and conspiracy theory. Johnny

Depp got to be in it. People who

didn’t include Sean Connery, Anthony

Hopkins and Pete Mullins.

Top was a magazine commission, bottom left and centre are from Alec, bottom right from a Christmas card.

284

Part 8: Putting it all in perspective

Where does it leave us?

Art Spiegelman lately laments that with comics’ conversion into a serious

literature, and their embrace by academia, they risk losing, or have lost, their raffish

nature. His comics world begins with Kurtzman’s Mad that primed a generation to

laugh at holy cows and question everything and, by extension he argued, protest

against war. Now we’re taken seriously. A medium that used to be kids stuff is

analysed in universities and we receive honorariums to speak at symposiums.

We arrived at that by a complicated route. Art spent many years working for

Woody Gelman at Topps bubblegum novelties. Gelman made a sideline for himself

publishing, under his Nostalgia Press imprint, the great classics of comics such as Little

Nemo in Slumberland, in beautiful hardcover volumes. Many of us looked at those and

asked ourselves if we might ever create a comic worthy to be dressed so handsomely, so

respectably even. Gelman’s imprint appears, deleted but not removed, in the indicia of

Speigelman’s first big take-me-seriously comics-as-art book, Breakdowns. Gelman may have

been going to fund it or something. But my point here is that I have for a long time felt that

this was the real origin of the idea of the “graphic novel.” It left some of us with a longing

to get out from among the toys and other embarrassing baloney of the comics market. Or

as Alan put it when Watchmen was hailed as a serious novel, “We were caught on the Main

Street of culture wearing our underpants on the outside.”

FROM HELL was complete and in December 1999 appeared as one big book,

published by myself, printed in Canada and distributed through U.S. comics channels.

To my horror, I soon found it banned from importation to Australia. We had once again

been censored! Australian Customs had sent a copy of Volume 7, nabbed from a shipment

from Diamond Distribution to Quality Comics of Perth, Aus., to the Office of Film

and Literature Classification, who advised that that it should not be imported. Customs

expanded the ruling to include my big collected edition. Two weeks

in, I talked them into submitting the big book to the OFLC on the

principle that context made it very different from the slim part-

volume. The OFLC made a positive decision in two days. Question:

How many of the 12-person committee read the 576-page book in

that time?

However, before that point, and with

the movie release impending, I reasoned that

the solution to the problem was to get an edition

published locally. I got on the phone to book

publisher Random House Australia and sold

them on the idea. And so at last there we were,

for a season, standing proudly on the “main

street of culture,” arm-in-arm with The Natural

Guide to Better Breast Feeding and The Dog Owner’s

Manual.

from the publisher’s catalogue 2001

285

Epilogue, page 2, or The Invisible Fred Abberline.

The action of the prologue continued

straight into the epilogue, but there were eight whole

years between the former and the latter. “There’s no

hurry,” Abberline says in one panel (coincidentally

reproduced here on page 102).

I no longer have the script for the epilogue.

By the end of the project, it was arriving one page at a

time by fax, which you may remember used to be

printed on light-sensitive paper that caused it to fade to

nothing within weeks and be lost if you didn’t xerox it

immediately. Script or not, I want to conclude with this

page. What happened is that Anne, my wife, used to

help out by erasing the pencil work off the pages after

they were inked, and when I missed inking Abberline’s small head in one panel, it was

cleaned up and erased. The omission went unnoticed, and it was originally published that

way. Thus the famous Invisible Fred Abberline. Dave Sim and Alan Moore seized upon

it, mocking it mercilessly in a fax-to-fax chat Dave set up, to celebrate the conclusion of

FROM HELL. This interview was serialized in the back of Sim’s monthly comic book,

Cerebus (A Correspondence From Hell, extract from part 1 in #217, April 1997). Dave, who had visited

me and taken note of how I do things, tried to get Alan’s goat by telling him that I don’t

actually read his scripts, but have an assistant who does that for me and goes through

underlining the minimum number of phrases that I need to know to make each picture.

Alan responded:

On the matter of what has been viewed in some quarters as an

untoward wordiness in my panel descriptions, might I draw your

attention to the final volume of From Hell , specifically to page 2, panel 5

of our epilogue. In the script description for this panel I unfortunately

allowed myself a moment of laxity and omitted the words

INSPECTOR ABBERLINE’S HEAD IS STILL ON HIS SHOULDERS DURING THIS PANEL. IT HAS

NOT RETREATED TORTOISE-LIKE INTO HIS NECK, NOR HAS IT IN SOME FASHION MANAGED

TO REFRACT LIGHT AROUND IT LIKE A KLINGON SPACESHIP SO THAT THE INSPECTOR

RESEMBLES SOMETHING OUT OF MAGRITTE WITH HIS BOWLER FLOATING THERE SUSPENDED

ABOVE THE EMPTY COLLAR OF HIS COAT.

Last time I’ll make that mistake, obviously.

The visit of Dave Sim was the one in 1994 during which he taught me how to

publish my own comic books, just as he had already shown Alan and Steve Bissette how

to do it. I had put out fifty issues of Bacchus, more or less monthly, when in 1999, after the

demise of Kitchen Sink Press, FROM HELL was suddenly without a publisher. At first

286

Part 8: Putting it all in perspective

I felt that the scale of the project put it out of my

league (576-page book with a movie tie-in). However,

inspired by the enthusiasm of my U.S. arm, Chris

Staros of Top Shelf Productions, I decided to take

it on. There was some legal messing about to get

the rights clear, which involved writing off $15k in

amounts owing.

The collected edition was a runaway hit.

Then a problem arose. The shape of the business

was changing fast. It was no longer just a matter

of getting comics into comic shops. The comics

distributors had been going bankrupt one by one

until out of the original fifteen or so, only Diamond

was left standing. Now we also had to deal with

the book trade to have any chance of surviving, Inked sketch for the painting for a Bacchus

comic book cover shown on page 179.

and that’s a completely different world. We

found a book trade distributor (LPC) , but in 2002 they filed for bankruptcy (owing us

about $50k at the time). I threw up my arms in despair, and with the sixth printing Top

Shelf became FROM HELL’s fifth U.S. publisher. They’ve been doing a grand job of it

ever since.

Composing this Companion was almost like doing FROM HELL over, but at

high speed, not just the fictional story but the planning and publishing ones too. In coming

to the end, there’s a sense of closing all the files in turn that have been left open, before

switching off. Everything that has gone before is shown to have a formal and narrative

purpose; the architecture of time, Alan Moore’s London, the natural urges of little people,

Cleveland Street, the two old codgers on the beach. It was just a hat that was missing the

first time. I see it as I rush back through the way stations of our colossal construction. All

the people that I worried I could never quite bring to life now sadden me with their last

glimpse. I’d start over but it would break my heart.

E.C.

The epilogue ends as the prologue began, with the two old men

walking away from us down the beach. Breaking the silence, Lees blurts

out that although he’s never had a genuine psychic experience in his life, he

has been having these funny dreams and feelings lately that are something

to do with Whitechapel, something to do with Jews and old churches and

blood. Abberline, puzzled and disturbed, asks him what he means. Lees

frowns and gazes out at the grey sea. “I think we’re going to have another

War.” The dialogue growing fainter and more inaudible, the two men

walk away from us down the beach beneath an overcast sky. On the tideline

in the foreground lies the fragile skeleton of a seagull, half buried in the fine

white sand.

THE END (1994 synopsis)

287

Finding stuff.

FROM HELL is currently published in English by Top Shelf Productions in the USA and

Knockabout in the UK, details in the indicia. It is in most other languages besides.

The single volume of From Hell: The Compleat Scripts, containing all the script material up to

the end of chapter three, was published by Borderlands Press and Spiderbaby Graphics in 1994.

Rich Kreiner’s review of it was in The Comics Journal #173, December 1994.

Clive Bloom’s essay, “Jack the Ripper, a Legacy in Pictures,” appeared in Jack the Ripper and

the East End, edited by Alex Werner, 2008, published by Chatto and Windus.

Jamie Delano’s memento was in a Semana Negra publication to accompany a FROM HELL exhibition

in Gijon, Spain in 1999, later published in English in my own Bacchus # 60, May 20.

Alan Moore: Storyteller by Gary Spencer Millidge was published by Ilex Press, Brighton UK, in 2011.

Casebook.org is a recommended repository of information about the Whitechapel murders.

Other passing quotes and references I identified in their places. The small reproductions of the FROM HELL

pages will help the reader relocate descriptions of characters and places. For returning to anything else in

among my own blather this brief guide will have to suffice:

Alan Moore Interviews, quotes from. 4, 16, 79, 193, 213, 261, 269, 272, 275, 286.

Alan’s 1994 synopsis: 167, 206, 208, 215, 226, 227, 236, 238, 247, 255, 265, 284, 287.

Alan’s notebooks, scans from: 1, 13, 15, 71, 95, 97, 109, 110, 111,

113, 135, 138, 140, 141, 143, 144, 147, 152, 154, 167, 170,

187, 188, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 198, 202, 204,

207, 211, 220, 224, 225, 279.

Art, new or unseen: 13, 37, 38, 46, 55, 62, 68, 72, 75, 81, 93, 169,

178, 182, 183, 184, 192, 223, 226, 227, 238, 245, 287, 288.

Art, other, all out of FROM HELL; Alec: 3, 4, 22, 84, 126,

Bacchus: 179, 180; misc, promo: 16/7, 90, 103, 107, 121,

156, 281, 284.

Anecdotes: 9, 22, 32, 39, 47, 89, 127, 138, 153, 159, 167, 172, 174,

175, 220, 221, 229, 239, 252, 253, 255, 257, 278, 285, 286.

Censorship: 32, 138, 164/5, 285.

Comics, technique: 18, 23, 51, 66, 82, 92/3, 114, 116, 124, 150,

153, 157, 186, 204, 218, 231, 235, 246, 251, 263.

Formal logic: 42, 55, 59, 63, 69, 85, 116, 118, 121, 132, 141,

144, 148, 161, 167, 201, 267, 282/3, 285, 287.

Logistical problems: 27, 87, 90, 112, 135, 155, 199, 202, 210,

211, 216, 229, 273, 275.

Movie: 15, 22, 110, 112, 121, 124, 128, 132, 167, 275, 277, 284.

People who assisted: 23. 73, 76, 92/3, 95, 118, 126, 131, 150,

152, 153, 159, 218, 234, 235, 282/3, 284, 286.

Publishing history: 11, 12, 32, 78, 79, 95, 98-101, 130, 133, 156,

169, 171, 178, 184, 247, 252, 265, 279, 285, 286/7.

Ripperologists: Knight and the Masonic cover-up 17, 32, 35, 50, 62, 68,

256, 259; Stowell 31; Fuller, Cornwell 62; Harris 68; Fido 213;

Wilson 226; MacNaghten 247; Morrison 38; us 279.

288

Table of Contents

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 1: Stages

Part 2

Chapter Four

Part 3

Chapter V: The Nemesis of Neglect

Part 3: The cinematic principle

Part 3: The cinematic principle

Part 3: The cinematic principle

Part 3: The cinematic principle

Part 3: The cinematic principle

Part 3: The cinematic principle

Part 3: The cinematic principle

Part 4: Men and women

Part 4

Part 4: Men and women

Part 4: Men and women

Part 4: Men and women

Part 4: Men and women

Part 4: Men and women

Part 4: Men and women

Part 5

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 5: Comings and goings

Part 6

Part 6: Butchery

Part 6: Butchery

Part 6: Butchery

Chapter 10: an alternative ending

Part 6: Butchery

Part 7

Chapter

Part 7: In the dark

Part 8