* November, 1888.
The Whitechapel monster has once more startled and horrified London, and
again he has left absolutely no clue to his identity. He is the
mystery of mysteries. He comes and goes like a ghost. Murder marks his
appearance, but that is all we know of him. The rest is silence. The
police, the vigilance societies, and the private detectives are all
baffled. They can only stare at each other in blind dismay, as helpless
as the poor victims of the fiend's performances. All sorts of theories
are started, but they are all in the air--the wild conjectures of
irresponsible imaginations. All sorts of stories are afloat, but they
contradict each other. As for descriptions of the monster, it is easy
enough to say that the police have advertised for nine or ten "wanted"
gentlemen, of various heights, dimensions, colors, and costumes, who are
all the very same person.
We have no desire to dabble in murder, nor do we aspire to turn an
honest penny by the minute description of bodily mutilations. But while
the Whitechapel atrocities are engaging the public attention, we are
tempted to contribute our quota of speculation as to the monster's
identity. We thought of doing so before, but we reflected that it was
perfectly useless while such a pig-headed person as Sir Charles Warren
was at the head of the police. Now, however, that he is gone, and there
is a chance of common-sense suggestions being fairly considered, we
venture to propound our theory, in the hope that it will at least be
treated on its merits.
Well now, to the point. Our theory is that the Whitechapel murderer
is------ "Whom?" the reader cries. Wait awhile. Brace up your nerves for
the dread intelligence. The East-end fiend, the Whitechapel devil, the
slaughterer and mutilator of women, is--Jehovah!
"Blasphemous!" is shouted from a million throats. But science is used to
such shriekings. We pause till the noise subsides, and then proceed to
point out that our theory fulfils the grand condition of fitting in with
all the facts.
The Whitechapel murderer is shrouded in mystery. So is Jehovah. The
Whitechapel murderer comes no one knows whence and goes no one knows
whither. So does Jehovah. The Whitechapel murderer appears in different
disguises. So does Jehovah. The Whitechapel murderer's movements baffle
all vigilance. So do Jehovah's. The Whitechapel murderer comes and goes,
appears and disappears, with the celerity and noiselessness of a ghost.
So does Jehovah, who _is_ a ghost. Thus far, then, the similarity is
marvellously close, and a _prima facie_ case of identity is established.
It will very likely be objected that Jehovah is incapable of such
atrocities. But this is the misconception of ignorance or the politeness
of hypocrisy. Jehovah has written his autobiography, and on his own
confession his murderous exploits were very similar to those of the
Whitechapel terror. Appealing to that incontrovertible authority,
we propose to show that he has every disposition to commit these
enormities.
According to his own history of himself, Jehovah is passionately fond
of bloodshed. The sanguine fluid which courses in our veins is the
only thing that appeases him. "Without shedding of blood," he tells us
through the pen of St. Paul, "there is no remission" of any debts owing
to him. He called on Abraham, his friend, to stick a knife into his own
son. He slew the first-born of every family in Egypt in a single night.
He accepted the blood of a young virgin offered him by Jephthah. He
slew 50,070 men at Beth-Shemesh for looking into his private trunk. He
ordered his "chosen" friends, a famous set of banditti, to exterminate,
men, women, children, and even animals, and to "leave alive nothing that
breatheth." He massacred 70,000 citizens of Palestine because their king
took a census, a social experiment to which he has a rooted antipathy.
He had a house especially built for him, and gave orders that it should
daily be drenched with blood. According to one of his candid friends,
Archdeacon Farrar, "the floor must literally have swum with blood, and
under the blaze of Eastern sunlight, the burning of fat and flesh on the
large blazing altar must have been carried on amid heaps of sacrificial
foulness--offal and skins and thick smoke and steaming putrescence." On
one occasion, when in a state of murderous frenzy, he cried out, "I will
make mine arrows drunk with blood, and my sword shall devour flesh."
Jehovah's passion for bloodshed is proved out of his own mouth. Let
us now see his love of mutilation. He generally did this by proxy,
and enjoyed the spectacle without undergoing the trouble. Some of his
friends took a gentleman named Adoni-bezek, and "cut off his thumbs and
his great toes." Wishing to kill a certain Eglon, the king of Moab,
he sent an adventurer called Ehud with "a present from Jehovah." The
present turned out to be an eighteen-inch knife, which Ehud thrust into
Eglon's belly; a part of the body on which the Whitechapel murderer
is fond of experimenting. Jehovah's friend David, a man after his own
heart, mutilated no less than four hundred men, and gave their foreskins
to his wife as a dowry. Incurring Jehovah's displeasure and wishing to
conciliate him, he attacked certain cities, captured their inhabitants,
and cut them in pieces with saws, axes, and harrows.
Jehovah is particularly savage towards females. He cursed a woman for
eating an apple, and instead of killing her on the spot, he determined
to torture her every time she became a mother. A friend of his--and we
judge people by their friends--cut a woman up into twelve pieces, and
sent them to various addresses by parcels' delivery. Another of his
friends, called Menahem, made a raid on a certain territory, and "all
the women therein that were with child he _ripped up_." Jehovah himself,
being angry with the people of Samaria, promised to slay them with the
sword, dash their infants to pieces, and _rip up_ their pregnant women.
No doubt he fulfilled his promise, and he would scarcely have made it
if he had not been accustomed to such atrocities. It appears to us,
therefore, that he is fully entitled to the name of Jehovah the Ripper.
We have not exhausted our evidence. Far more could be adduced, but we
hope this will suffice. It may, of course, be objected that Jehovah has
reformed, that he is too old for midnight adventures, that he has lost
his savage cunning, and that his son keeps a sharp eye on the aged
assassin. But the ruling passion is never really conquered; it is even,
as the proverb says, strong in death. We venture, therefore, to suggest
that the Whitechapel murderer is Jehovah; and although keen eyes may
detect a few superficial flaws in our theory--for what theory is perfect
till it is demonstrated?--we protest that it marvellously covers the
facts of the case, and is infinitely superior to any other theory that
has hitherto been broached.