134 Unlike Henrietta St. (see next note) and Audley Court, “Holland Grove” is a real street, two streets east of the Brixton Road and just south of Kennington Park.
135 There is a Henrietta Street in Cavendish Square and a Henrietta Street in Covent Garden; however, both are north of the Thames and a long way from the Brixton Road. This, then, is a fictitious location.
136 That is, fourpence (8¢) worth of gin, mixed with hot water and lemon.
137 Police officers (as well as burglars) often made use of a “dark lantern,” a modification of an ordinary gas or kerosene hand lantern that could be darkened while lit, by a sliding shield that covered the light without extinguishing the flame. In this way, it was the predecessor of the electric hand torch or flashlight.
138 Robert S. Morgan, eliminating the impossible—that Holmes was disguised as Drebber or the murderer—concludes Holmes did indeed obtain his facts by being “hid,” disguised as the horse. “We know that Holmes was an expert at disguise,” Morgan writes in Spotlight on a Simple Case, or Wiggins, Who Was That Horse I Saw With You Last Night. “If Holmes wanted to disguise himself as a horse he would be a horse.”
139 Edwards takes this title to be a conflation of the American patriotic songs “Hail, Columbia!” and “The Star-Spangled Banner” and suggests that Rance’s recollection reinforces Holmes’s conclusion that the murderer was an American. Karen Murdock argues that the song was the American Civil War song “Pat Murphy of the Irish Brigade,” which has as the last line of its first verse the phrase “America’s bright starry banner,” easily misremembered as “Columbia’s star-spangled banner” or some such phrase.
140 Controversial and bohemian American painter James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834–1903), after a critic referred to his early work The Woman in White (1862) as “un symphonie du blanc,” changed the title of that painting to A Symphony in White No. 1: The White Girl and frequently used titles with musical compositions and colours in them. His best-known works include Nocturne in Green and Gold (ca. 1874) and the famous portrait of his mother, Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1: The Artist’s Mother (1871–1872). Whistler painted another Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1, this one of Thomas Carlyle (1873); his portrait of Miss Cicely Alexander was a Harmony in Grey and Green (ca. 1873). Whistler was constantly in the public eye, and Holmes’s appreciation of contemporary artists is evident when he admires the work of the “modern Belgian masters” (see The Hound of the Baskervilles, note 78, below), and Whistler’s later Arrangement in Black: Portrait of Senor Pablo de Sarasate (1884) was likely well known to Holmes in light of his fondness for the violinist. In formally affixing Holmes’s throwaway line to his first literary effort, Watson was setting the bar rather high; Morley deems the title “consciously highbrow.”
Mr. James Abbott McNeill Whistler—A “Symphony.”
“Spy,” Vanity Fair (1887)
141 Chopin never wrote any pieces for the solo violin, as Paul S. Clarkson and others are quick to report. After searching all reported concert programs and failing to find any record of a Chopin piece played by Norman-Neruda, Clarkson suggests that the date was June 4, 1880, and that Holmes heard Charles Hallé play Chopin’s Nocturne in E (Op. 62, No. 2), as well as the composer’s Barcarolle in F sharp (Op. 60). On that night, Norman-Neruda played one of her particular favourites, Handel’s D major sonata; and Clarkson remarks that numerous passages of this, “the most beautiful of Handel’s six violin sonatas,” may have been mistakenly attributed, either by Holmes or Watson, to Chopin.
Clarkson’s is an ingenious suggestion, but it is only one of many put forward. As Julian Wolff notes, in “Just What Was That Little Thing of Chopin’s?,” “great interest in this question is evidenced by the amount of research that has been done and the number of papers published.” Wolff himself, Patrick Drazen tells us with some scorn, makes the “timid suggestion” that Holmes never actually said “Tra-la-la-lira-lira-lay” at all, but that Watson assigned him dialogue and, in doing so, misquoted Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shalott” (“From the bank and from the river / He flash’d into the crystal mirror, / ‘Tirra lirra,’ by the river / Sang Sir Lancelot”).
Among the attempts to ascertain which work Holmes might have meant:
1)F minor Nocturne (Nocturne for piano, No. 15 in F minor), identified by Guy Warrack, Sherlock Holmes and Music, on what Warrack describes as “prima facie evidence.” Warrack admits that it could hardly be described as a “little thing” but points out that Watson has omitted one “la,” unless Holmes was guilty of faulty phrasing.
2)Etude in E major, Opus 10 (Etude in E major for Piano, Op. 10, No. 3), selected by the beloved Baker Street Irregular tenor James Montgomery, in his “Chopin in Baker Street.” After “most exhaustive study,” Montgomery concludes that this piece is almost the only one of Chopin’s many operas that fits Holmes’s rhythm flawlessly.
3)Valse in E minor, No. 14 (Op. Posth.). Ernest Bloomfield Zeisler, in “Tra-la-la-lira-lira-lay,” heard Bronislaw Hubermann play his own arrangement of this piece in a Vienna recital in 1929 and recognised the tune.
4)Mazurka in E flat minor, Op. 6, No. 4. Eric H. Thiman, Mus. D., asserts in a letter to the Editor of the Sherlock Holmes Journal that Zeisler’s identification is in error. He points out that E minor is a more suitable key for a string player and that the piece he recommends is very short, extremely singable, and fits the rhythm exactly (unlike the Warrack suggestion).
5)Study in A minor, Op. 25, No.11. Winifred M. Christie, in “Some Reflections on That Little Thing of Chopin’s,” examines the previous suggestions of Warrack and Montgomery with care and, using the principle of exclusion, reduces the possibilities to Chopin’s Etudes. Among these, she finds only one possible solution.
6)Fourth Polonaise, in C minor. William Smith, in “That Little Thing of Chopin’s: The Laying of the Ghost,” reviews in detail Christie’s analysis and finds a number of flaws. Most importantly, he asserts that Holmes’s phrase must be equated to the music on the basis of one syllable per note, with no distortion of the melody rhythmically or accentually. He analyses the complete piano works of Chopin using these principles.
7)Polish Songs, “The Maiden’s Wish.” Harold C. Schonberg, the eminent New York Times music critic, in an essay in that paper entitled “Tra-la-la-lira-lira-lay,” considered that the piece should fit Holmes’s happy mood and therefore rejects the minor-keyed pieces. The short piece he identifies was, in his estimation, “one of the most popular short pieces of the century, … makes a wonderful violin encore, and Norman-Neruda’s arrangement … would have had an expert like Holmes in ecstasy.”
This is not an exhaustive list of proposals, and some even assert that the piece was not Chopin at all. The ingenuity of those weighing in is indeed a testament to the “many-sidedness of the human mind.”
CHAPTER
V
OUR ADVERTISEMENT BRINGS A VISITOR
OUR MORNING’S EXERTIONS had been too much for my weak health, and I was tired out in the afternoon. After Holmes’s departure for the concert, I lay down upon the sofa and endeavoured to get a couple of hours’ sleep. It was a useless attempt. My mind had been too much excited by all that had occurred, and the strangest fancies and surmises crowded into it. Every time that I closed my eyes I saw before me the distorted baboon-like countenance of the murdered man. So sinister was the impression which that face had produced upon me that I found it difficult to feel anything but gratitude for him who had removed its owner from the world. If ever human features bespoke vice of the most malignant type, they were certainly those of Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland. Still I recognized that justice must be done, and that the depravity of the victim was no condonement in the eyes of the law.
The more I thought of it the more extraordinary did my companion’s hypothesis, that the man had been poisoned, appear. I remembered how he had sniffed his lips, and had no doubt that he had detected something which had given rise to the idea. Then, again, if not poison, what had caused
this man’s death, since there was neither wound nor marks of strangulation? But, on the other hand, whose blood was that which lay so thickly upon the floor? There were no signs of a struggle, nor had the victim any weapon with which he might have wounded an antagonist. As long as all these questions were unsolved, I felt that sleep would be no easy matter, either for Holmes or myself. His quiet self-confident manner convinced me that he had already formed a theory which explained all the facts, though what it was I could not for an instant conjecture.
Scene from A Study in Scarlet (Great Britain: Samuelson Film Mfg. Co. Ltd., 1914), starring James Bragington as Sherlock Holmes.
He was very late in returning—so late, that I knew that the concert could not have detained him all the time. Dinner was on the table before he appeared.
“It was magnificent,” he said, as he took his seat. “Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at.142 Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood.”
“That’s rather a broad idea,” I remarked.
“One’s ideas must be as broad as Nature if they are to interpret Nature,” he answered. “What’s the matter? You’re not looking quite yourself. This Brixton Road affair has upset you.”
“To tell the truth, it has,” I said. “I ought to be more case-hardened after my Afghan experiences. I saw my own comrades hacked to pieces at Maiwand without losing my nerve.”
“I can understand. There is a mystery about this which stimulates the imagination; where there is no imagination there is no horror. Have you seen the evening paper?”143
“No.”
“It gives a fairly good account of the affair. It does not mention the fact that when the man was raised up, a woman’s wedding ring fell upon the floor.144 It is just as well it does not.”
“Why?”
“Look at this advertisement,” he answered. “I had one sent to every paper this morning immediately after the affair.”
He threw the paper across to me and I glanced at the place indicated. It was the first announcement in the “Found” column.145 “In Brixton Road, this morning,” it ran, “a plain gold wedding ring, found in the roadway between the ‘White Hart’ Tavern and Holland Grove. Apply Dr. Watson, 221B, Baker Street, between eight and nine this evening.”
“Excuse my using your name,” he said. “If I used my own, some of these dunderheads would recognize it, and want to meddle in the affair.”
“That is all right,” I answered. “But supposing anyone applies, I have no ring.”
“Oh yes, you have,” said he, handing me one. “This will do very well. It is almost a facsimile.”
“And who do you expect will answer this advertisement?”
“Why, the man in the brown coat—our florid friend with the square toes. If he does not come himself he will send an accomplice.”
“Would he not consider it as too dangerous?”
“Not at all. If my view of the case is correct, and I have every reason to believe that it is, this man would rather risk anything than lose the ring. According to my notion he dropped it while stooping over Drebber’s body, and did not miss it at the time. After leaving the house he discovered his loss and hurried back, but found the police already in possession, owing to his own folly in leaving the candle burning. He had to pretend to be drunk in order to allay the suspicions which might have been aroused by his appearance at the gate. Now put yourself in that man’s place. On thinking the matter over, it must have occurred to him that it was possible that he had lost the ring in the road after leaving the house. What would he do, then? He would eagerly look out for the evening papers in the hope of seeing it among the articles found. His eye, of course, would light upon this. He would be overjoyed. Why should he fear a trap? There would be no reason in his eyes why the finding of the ring should be connected with the murder. He would come. He will come. You shall see him within an hour.”
“And then?” I asked.
“Oh, you can leave me to deal with him then. Have you any arms?”
“I have my old service revolver146 and a few cartridges.”
“You had better clean it and load it. He will be a desperate man, and though I shall take him unawares, it is as well to be ready for anything.”
I went to my bedroom and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol the table had been cleared, and Holmes was engaged in his favourite occupation of scraping upon his violin.
“When I returned with the pistol.”
Geo. Hutchinson, A Study in Scarlet (London: Ward, Lock Bowden, and Co., 1891)
“The plot thickens,” he said, as I entered; “I have just had an answer to my American telegram. My view of the case is the correct one.”
“And that is—?” I asked eagerly.
“My fiddle would be the better for new strings,” he remarked. “Put your pistol in your pocket. When the fellow comes, speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave the rest to me. Don’t frighten him by looking at him too hard.”
“It is eight o’clock now,” I said, glancing at my watch.
“Yes. He will probably be here in a few minutes. Open the door slightly. That will do. Now put the key on the inside. Thank you! This is a queer old book I picked up at a stall yesterday147—De jure inter Gentes148—published in Latin at Liege in the Lowlands, in 1642. Charles’s head was still firm on his shoulders149 when this little brown-backed volume was struck off.”
“Who is the printer?”
“Philippe de Croy, whoever he may have been.150 On the fly-leaf, in very faded ink, is written Ex libris Guliolmi Whyte. I wonder who William Whyte was. Some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer, I suppose. His writing has a legal twist about it.151 Here comes our man, I think.”
As he spoke there was a sharp ring at the bell. Sherlock Holmes rose softly and moved his chair in the direction of the door. We heard the servant pass along the hall, and the sharp click of the latch as she opened it.152
“Does Dr. Watson live here?” asked a clear but rather harsh voice. We could not hear the servant’s reply, but the door closed, and someone began to ascend the stairs. The footfall was an uncertain and shuffling one. A look of surprise passed over the face of my companion as he listened to it. It came slowly along the passage, and there was a feeble tap at the door.
“Come in,” I cried.
At my summons, instead of the man of violence whom we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment. She appeared to be dazzled by the sudden blaze of light, and after dropping a curtsey, she stood blinking at us with her bleared eyes and fumbling in her pocket with nervous, shaky fingers. I glanced at my companion, and his face had assumed such a disconsolate expression that it was all I could do to keep my countenance.
“A very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment.”
Richard Gutschmidt, Späte Rache (Stuttgart: Robert Lutz Verlag, 1902)
The old crone drew out an evening paper, and pointed at our advertisement. “It’s this as has brought me, good gentlemen,” she said, dropping another curtsey; “a gold wedding ring in the Brixton Road. It belongs to my girl Sally, as was married only this time twelvemonth, which her husband is steward aboard a Union boat,153 and what he’d say if he come ’ome and found her without her ring is more than I can think, he being short enough at the best o’ times, but more especially when he has the drink. If it please you, she went to the circus154 last night along with—”
Astley’s Circus (ca. 1850).
“The old crone drew out an evening paper and pointed at our advertisement.”
Geo. Hutchinson, A Study in Scarlet (London: Ward, Lock Bowden, and Co., 1891)
“Is that her ring?” I asked.
“The Lord be thanked!” cried the old woman; “Sally will be a glad woman this night. That’s the
ring.”155
“And what may your address be?” I inquired, taking up a pencil.
“13, Duncan Street, Houndsditch. A weary way from here.”
“The Brixton Road does not lie between any circus and Houndsditch,” said Sherlock Holmes sharply.
The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him from her little red-rimmed eyes. “The gentleman asked me for my address,” she said. “Sally lives in lodgings at 3, Mayfield Place, Peckham.”156
“And your name is—?”
“My name is Sawyer—hers is Dennis, which Tom Dennis married her—and a smart, clean lad, too, as long as he’s at sea, and no steward in the company more thought of; but when on shore, what with the women and what with liquor shops—”
“Here is your ring, Mrs. Sawyer,” I interrupted, in obedience to a sign from my companion; “it clearly belongs to your daughter, and I am glad to be able to restore it to the rightful owner.”
“The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him.”
Charles Doyle, A Study in Scarlet (London and New York: Ward, Lock & Co., 1888)
With many mumbled blessings and protestations of gratitude the old crone packed it away in her pocket, and shuffled off down the stairs. Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet the moment that she was gone and rushed into his room. He returned in a few seconds enveloped in an ulster and a cravat. “I’ll follow her,” he said, hurriedly; “she must be an accomplice, and will lead me to him. Wait up for me.” The hall door had hardly slammed behind our visitor before Holmes had descended the stair. Looking through the window I could see her walking feebly along the other side, while her pursuer dogged her some little distance behind. “Either his whole theory is incorrect,” I thought to myself, “or else he will be led now to the heart of the mystery.” There was no need for him to ask me to wait up for him, for I felt that sleep was impossible until I heard the result of his adventure.
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