Highlights from From Hell by Alan Moore Last read on June 24, 2023
Highlights from this book
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Were such a thought adopted, we should have to imagine some stupendeous whole, wherein all that has ever come into being or will come coexists, which, passing slowly on, leaves in this flickering consciousness of ours, limited to a narrow space and a single moment, a tumultuous record of changes and vicssitudes that are but to us.
Can history then be said to have an Architecture, Hinton? The notion is most glorious and most horrible.
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Bargees lives are cold, flat things, doctor. We're not reared to make great displays of sentiment.
We're private sorrows, private mirth and strangers think us cold fish... cold fish with no feelings at all.
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In this place (saith Solcardus) long before, was a temple of Apollo, which being overthrown, King Lucius built therein a church of Christ
— A Survey of London, by John Stowe (1598) -
Despite Masonic denials, Jah-Bul-On is an authentic Masonic deity. How much then, can their denial of Gull's Masonic status be trusted? The problem we face here is that neither Knight nor the assembled ranks of Freemasonry are necessarily telling the truth, at which point an obscuring Victorian fog starts to engulf the facts of our narrative. Given that the tortuous story of the Whitechapel murders is filled with liars, tricksters, and unreliable witnesses, it is a fog we shall encounter often
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While on the subject of Prince Eddy, I should perhaps point out for the benefit of confused American readers that almost every male member of the British Royal family during this period seems to be called Albert. The first was Queen Victoria's beloved consort or husband, Prince Albert. Their son, whom William Gull recieved a knighthood for nursing back to health, was also called Albert, commonly referred to by his subjects as Stuttering Berties. He went on to marry the beautiful Princess Alexandra, and by her produced a son named Albert Victor Christian Edward, referred to by his friends as Prince Eddy. One almost suspects that the bereaved Victoria, spent the later decades of her reign in mourning for her departed consort, would have changed her own name to Albert and the name of the country to Alberta if she had thought for a moment she could get away with it.
— Annotations -
The expression, in this instance, was passed on to me by Mr. Neil Gaiman, who has a dirty mouth in at least seven centuries.
— Annotations -
It would seem that during her four years in Oloffson's employ she became pregnant and was dismissed, althought I should point out that there is no direct evidence to prove that Oloffson was the father of the child, as we have Liz claiming here. This is simply my own surmise, resulting no doubt from a jaundiced view of human nature.
— Annotations -
Annie Chapman's reference to having eaten nothing but broken biscuits all day gives pretty much a full and comprehensive account of the diet of East End woman, this being gin and broken biscuits (Broken biscuits, obviously, may be purchased more cheaply than unbroken ones.
— Annotations -
There are certain wretched women, Netley, who threaten The Crown. This threat must be removed. Do you understand?
I do, Sir. Done away with, like.
NO, sir! NOT "DOne away with", for that is common murder, only fit for common footpads. I spoke of grand work, Netley.
A great work must have many sides, from which we may consider it. Think of the classic legends, with their layers of significance. Diana, for example: is she, but an ancient FAIRYTALE? a SYMBOL meaning dreams and womanhood? A deified PRINCESS from long ago? A myth? A symbol? History?
Or take this CITY, in itself a great work, you'll agree: a thing of many LEVELS, and COMPLEXITIES. HOw WELL do you know London, Netley?
Like the back o' my hand, Sir.
Ha ha! As grubby, certainly. But London's more besides:
It Too is symbol, history and myth. Turn right, up PANCRAS ROAD.
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We must consider our great work in ALL its appects. We'll begin with WOMEN. Tell me, Netley... Do you like them?
Women? Can't get enough, sir.
Not " Do you desire them? ". Netley. Do you LIKE them? As a gender? The way they think? The things they say?
Could you, for instance, tolerate a world where females ruled? With men bound to their whims and governed by their scorn?
Well... no sir, put like that...
No. No, indeed. Then offer up a prayer of thanks to these black tenements, these soot encrusted walls... 'Twas here that Womankind's last hopes and dreams were put to sword.
Women had power once: Back in the caves, life hinged on childbirth's mystery, and we served mother goddesses, not father gods. 'Twas thus, for several million years.
Then men rebelled, perhaps a few at first, a small conspiracy... who by some act of social magic, politics, or force, cast woman down that man might rule.
Time passed, and Kingdoms passed from father unto son. The Matriarchy was forgotten... save by the ICENI, there in Colchester, allowed some independence by the occupying Roman troops. Yet Rome forbade that Boadicea, the Iceni's Queen, should pass her crown to DAUGHTERS and not SONS. When she complained, they raped her and her daughters in contempt.
A grave mistake. She gather the Iceni, howling to her mother goddesses for vengeance, and burned London to the ground, its gutters heaped with steaming heads. She left a stripe of ash, a cold black vein in London's geologic strata, token of one woman's fame. Mark it Netley, Mark it well and fear it.
Rome regrouped; reclaimed the ruined city. Boadicea died upon this spot at Battle Bridge, below Parliament Hill where Druids once made sacrifices to a Father Sun. Come Netley. Back to King's Cross, then down Pentonville.
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. We'll penetrate its metaphors, lay bare its structure and thus come at last upon it's meaning. As befits great work, we'll read it CAREFULLY and with RESPECT.
uh, with respect sir... I can't read.