While researching an idea for a play, Bruce Robinson, an English actor, playwright, and author, happened upon the topic of the unsolved 1888 “Jack the Ripper” murder. When informed that “Jack’s” identity would forever remain a mystery, he was drawn in and spent the next 12 years researching and writing. In They All Love Jack, Robinson identifies “Jack” and reveals how Freemasonry ran like a thread through all that was rotten about Victorian Britain—including protecting a serial killer’s identity.
Though Robinson attests he had no interest in Freemasonry beyond its part in the murders, he soon discovered Freemasonry’s central role in the narrative. As he told an interviewer, “At the time of Jack the Ripper, there were something like 360 Tory M.P.s, 330 of which I can identify as Masons. The whole of the ruling class was Masonic, from the heir to the throne down. It was part of being in the club.”
At the time of the murders, the ruling class used their power to keep from journalists certain “unfriendly” (to Freemasonry) details. In the 130 years since, Masonic control of the narrative has continued.
Known to the public as the singer and composer, Stephen Adams, Michael Maybrick had reached the top of his profession. He composed the number one selling song (sheet music) of the 19th century, “The Holy City.” This man, Robinson contends, was “Jack the Ripper.” Coincidentally, Maybrick has been largely expunged from history.
Yet Maybrick’s fame is undeniable. And as his popularity and wealth grew, he entered into the ranks of England’s elite—and he rose within Freemasonry. As a 30th degree Freemason, Maybrick “heard” the long dead Rabbi Simeon Bar Yochai speak from a coffin. This bizarre ritual is detailed in Texe Marrs’ current bestseller, Voices From the Dead. Considering the power of both Victorian Britain and Freemasonry during Maybrick’s years, the ritual must’ve been astounding in its grandiose, pseudo religious feel.
Taunting the Masonic elite—what “Jack” called his “funny little game”—he played the Masonic elite to an unprecedented tune. Maybrick, aware the Masonic elites would shift into crisis mode, charted their moves in advance. Again and again, Maybrick made the ruling class look the fool. None looked more foolish than Commissioner of London Metropolitan Police, Sir Charles Warren, a nationally famous Freemason.
The murders, rife with Masonic ritual, made conspirators of members of the justice system and government. Upon learning of “throats cut across,” all metal removed, and other telling details, Freemasons set out to “protect the craft.” Warren in particular put “the Brotherhood” before the public welfare.
No event better illustrates this than his response to the writing found on a wall off Ghoulston Street. After committing his second murder, “Jack” deposited a soiled apron he’d cut from his latest victim under a wall upon which he wrote: “The Juwes are the Men who will not be Blamed for nothing.” Quoting preeminent Freemason historians Albert Pike and Albert Mackey, Robinson elucidates the cryptic message: It refers to the “three ruffians” (Jubelo, Jubela, and Jubelum) who murdered Hiram Abiff for refusing to divulge the secrets of Solomon’s Temple.
Warren, who had—as it happens—led a nationally celebrated expedition into Palestine to locate Solomon’s Temple, ignored police protocol and ordered the message erased immediately. “Jack’s” next taunting letter to Warren arrived “FROM YACK RIPPER.” Robinson, quoting Albert Mackey, explains: “Proper pronunciation of the ‘ruffians’ names requires the ‘J’ be pronounced as a ‘Y.’”
Jack’s sadistic degeneracy reached its sickening low point with the murder of “Little” Johnny Gill. In Bradford on December 27, 1888, St. John the Evangelist’s Day—the most important day on the Masonic calendar to Scottish lodges and 75 years to the day since the “antients” and “moderns” joined to form the Grand United Lodge of England—Maybrick killed the boy according to Masonic ritual called the fifth libation. Robinson contends: “Every aspect of the killing is symbolic. He cut his legs off and put them on the torso to replicate the Knights Templar skull and crossbones.” The ranking Bradford police immediately recognized the scene’s symbolism and, just as in London, concealed the facts.
Bruce Robinson solved the 130 year-old mystery. A “Mason gone rotten” murdered men, women, and children in Masonic ritual and taunted a Masonic elite who, with each murder, was forced further into awkward positions. In an interview, Robinson reflected, “It wasn’t that they were protecting Maybrick. They were protecting themselves.”
Sadly, such a valuable book is sullied by the writer’s outspoken, critical views on Victorian era Christianity. Moreover, his choice of language far surpasses “colorful.” Power of
Prophecy does offer books containing passages we find disagreeable. Yet, in the words of Texe, the value of the book outweighs such differences. Robinson, however, weaves his disdain for Christianity so thoroughly through his writing that, given our mission, we could not in good conscience offer the book.