When Lewis Carroll Was Suspected of Being Jack the Ripper

Oscar Gustav Rejlander/Getty Images
Oscar Gustav Rejlander/Getty Images

Letting venerated children’s author Charles Lutwidge Dodgson rest in peace would appear to be a foregone conclusion. The author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and several ancillary titles, Dodgson—who was better known for his work under the pen name Lewis Carroll—projected a quiet presence, toiling away as a lifelong bachelor and Oxford math teacher until his death in 1898.

Perhaps it was Carroll’s genteel persona that invited some scandalous theories about his life. Beginning in the 1930s, Carroll biographers wondered about the subversive pro-drug messages of Alice. In 1996, author Richard Wallace went a step further: The clinical social worker and part-time Carroll scholar wrote a book in which he offered the theory that something truly sinister lurked in Carroll’s mind, and that he had a second alter ego—that of Jack the Ripper.

An illustration from 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'
Rischgitz/Getty Images

The Ripper murders took place in 1888 in London’s Whitechapel district, although some believe the killer was active as late as 1891. The mystery assailant murdered and mutilated at least five women, pulling out intestines and generally behaving as a vivisectionist who was being timed. A sensational story of its era, the attacks have remained some of the most infamous crimes in history.

With relatively little evidence to pursue, the list of suspects was substantial. William Gull, Queen Victoria’s personal physician, had knowledge of human anatomy; a scrap metal merchant named James Maybrick allegedly left a diary confessing to the murders. Some connections were incredibly tenuous; a man named Charles Cross was suspected in part because the murders took place between his house and workplace. Some reasoned that a casual stroll home could have apparently been livened up with a brutal killing.

Of the names discussed, few would be more surprising than Carroll's. Born in 1832, he was sent to a boarding school at the age of 12 and sometimes wrote home expressing despondence over the nighttime racket. In Wallace’s book, Jack the Ripper: Light-Hearted Friend, he seizes this declaration to be a hint that Carroll was being physically abused by the older boys at the school, suffering a psychotic break that would plague him for the rest of his life.

Wallace’s theory requires a large and ambitious leap to a conclusion: that Carroll, famously fond of wordplay and anagrams, kept sneaking hidden messages into his correspondences and his published works that provided insight into his state of mind. Rearranging letters from a missive to his brother Skeffington, Wallace finds a plea for help:

“My Dear Skeff: Roar not lest thou be abolished.”

Becomes:

“Ask mother about the red lion: safer boys fled.”

The "red lion" was a game played at Carroll's boarding school, one that Wallace suspects was sexual in nature and left Carroll burning with fury toward his mother and father, who had sent him to the school, and toward society at large.

After publishing Alice in 1865, Carroll continued to teach at Oxford—simmering, Wallace believes, with violent intent, and possibly confiding his bloodthirst to his lifelong friend, Thomas Bayne.

At the time of the Ripper murders in 1888, Carroll published The Nursery Alice, a version of the Wonderland story meant for younger children. In it, Wallace says, Carroll confesses to the gruesome murders being perpetuated. Setting about deciphering a suspected anagram from one passage, Wallace pulled the following:

“If I find one street whore, you know what will happen! ‘Twill be off with her head!”

In the same book, Carroll offers what appears to be a throwaway passage about a dog declining a dinner:

So we went to the cook, and we got her to make a saucer-ful of nice oatmeal porridge. And then we called Dash into the house, and we said, “Now, Dash, you’re going to have your birthday treat!” We expected Dash would jump for joy; but it didn’t, one bit!

Blending the letters, Wallace retrieves the following:

Oh, we, Thomas Bayne, Charles Dodgson, coited into the slain, nude body, expected to taste, devour, enjoy a nice meal of a dead whore’s uterus. We made do, found it awful—wan and tough like a worn, dirty, goat hog. We both threw it out. – Jack the Ripper

Wallace, in his mind, had his signed confession—albeit one extracted from a pile of letters. But there was more: Carroll’s mother was said to have a large, protuberant nose, which Carroll must have envisioned when the Ripper mutilated the noses of two of his victims. His personal library contained more than 120 books on medicine, anatomy, and health, providing him with the education one would need to vivisect his victims.

Geographically, Carroll was within public transport’s distance from his home to the murder sites. The fact that the Ripper’s letters to newspapers didn’t appear to be a handwriting match when compared to Carroll’s diary entries didn’t dissuade Wallace—someone, perhaps his close friend Bayne, could have written them on his behalf.

An illustration from 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'
Rischgitz/Getty Images

Perhaps 1996 wasn’t quite the year for far-reaching theories, as Wallace’s failed to gain much traction. When Carroll appears as one of a laundry list of Ripper suspects, authors wanly refer to him as “unlikely.”

There was one notable response. After a brief explanation of Wallace’s research in a 1996 issue of Harper’s magazine, two readers wrote in to respond with a compelling counter-argument. Wallace’s own words in the piece:

This is my story of Jack the Ripper, the man behind Britain’s worst unsolved murders. It is a story that points to the unlikeliest of suspects: a man who wrote children’s stories. That man is Charles Dodgson, better known as Lewis Carroll, author of such beloved books as Alice in Wonderland.

Could be rearranged to read:

The truth is this: I, Richard Wallace, stabbed and killed a muted Nicole Brown in cold blood, severing her throat with my trusty shiv’s strokes. I set up Orenthal James Simpson, who is utterly innocent of this murder. P.S. I also wrote Shakespeare’s sonnets, and a lot of Francis Bacon’s works too.

Wallace never commented on the matter.

Nearly $100,000 in Instant Ramen Was Stolen in Georgia Noodle Heist

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iStock

It's not easy to steal a small fortune when your target is instant ramen, but a team of thieves in Georgia managed to do just that a few weeks back. As The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reports, the criminals made off with a trailer containing nearly $100,000 worth of noodles, and the local police force is still working to track down the perpetrators.

The heist occurred outside a Chevron gas station in Fayetteville, Georgia some time between July 25 and August 1, 2018. The 53-foot trailer parked in the area contained a large shipment of ramen, which the truck's driver estimates was worth about $98,000. Depending on the brand, that means the convenience food bandits stole anywhere between 200,000 and 500,000 noodle packs.

Some outlets have connected the truck-jacking to a recent string of vehicle-related robberies, but the Fayette County Sheriff's Office told the AJC such reports are inaccurate. Any potential suspects in the case have yet to be revealed.

The outlaws join the list of thieves who have stolen food items in bulk. Some of the most ambitious food heists in the past have centered on 11,000 pounds of Nutella, $75,000 worth of soup, and 6000 cheesecakes.

[h/t The Atlanta Journal-Constitution]

You Can Now Visit the Recreated Cottage of a Famous Unsolved Murder Victim

Joe the Quilter's rebuilt cottage at the Beamish Museum
Joe the Quilter's rebuilt cottage at the Beamish Museum
Beamish Museum, YouTube

Joe the Quilter led a quiet life in the English countryside, where he tended his gooseberry garden and earned something of a reputation as a hermit. Born Joseph Hedley, he had earned his moniker by attaining “a greater proficiency in quilting than any ever known in the north of England,” according to a postcard recently spotlighted by Museum Crush. When he wasn’t at home in Warden, Northumberland, he was traveling around the country selling his homemade quilts, some of which were shipped across the pond to America.

Old Joe was well known, and well-liked. It was quite a shock, then, when he was found murdered in his home.

The quilter was last seen alive on the evening of January 3, 1826. A few days later, when they hadn't heard from him, concerned neighbors broke down his door. They found the walls of his cottage—which had been ransacked—stained with blood. A bloody handprint marked a quilt that was stretched out in a frame. Joe's body was found in the outhouse; his head, face, and neck had been slashed 44 times by a sharp object. He was 76 years old at the time of his death.

“The only possible motive for the crime was considered to have been a hope of securing money, as it was foolishly believed that old Joe was rich, although he was receiving parish relief,” according to an 1891 issue of The Monthly Chronicle of North-country Lore and Legend.

Although rewards were offered for information leading to an arrest, no one was ever brought to justice, and the event became another one of the country’s unsolved murders. Now, nearly two centuries later, Joe’s story is once again being told thanks to the Beamish Museum, which has rebuilt a version of Joe’s cottage.

Although Joe’s cottage was torn down in 1872, museum staff and community members unearthed some clues about what his humble abode may have looked like during a recent archaeological dig. The model was built with stones from Joe’s original home, and the interior furnished with items similar to ones he once owned. The aforementioned postcard, as well as historic records of an auction that was held to sell Joe’s belongings after his death, aided museum staff in this process.

The cottage, which is now open to the public, is part of the museum’s $13.9 million “Remaking Beamish” project. The museum focuses on Northeastern England’s history, particularly during the key decades of the 1820s, 1900s, and 1940s. The exhibition of Joe’s cottage not only tells the story of his personal history and demise, but also highlights the history of quilting and England's cottage industry boom in the early 1800s.

Museum director Richard Evans told Museum Crush that the “beautifully-crafted, heather-thatched cottage gives us a rare chance to understand what everyday life was like in the Northeast during the early part of the 19th century.” It also brings visitors just a little closer to one of the area's most terrible historical crimes.

[h/t Museum Crush]

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