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Title: A doctor enjoys Sherlock Holmes
Author: Edward J. Van Liere
Release date: April 15, 2025 [eBook #75869]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Vantage Press, 1959
Credits: Tim Lindell, Laura Natal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR ENJOYS SHERLOCK HOLMES ***
A
DOCTOR
ENJOYS
SHERLOCK
HOLMES
“Nor must you find fault with me if I often give you what I have
borrowed from my various reading, in the very words of the authors
themselves” (Macrobius--trans. by Boswell).
Boswell: _The Hypochondriack_, No. XXI
A
DOCTOR
ENJOYS
SHERLOCK
HOLMES
Edward J. Van Liere
VANTAGE PRESS NEW YORK WASHINGTON HOLLYWOOD
FIRST EDITION
_All rights reserved, including the right of
reproduction in whole or in part in any form._
Copyright, 1959, by Edward J. Van Liere, M.D.
Published by Vantage Press, Inc.
120 West 31st Street, New York 1, N. Y.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 59-14293
To my grandsons:
Edward Van Liere Batchelder and Terry Lewis Batchelder.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am indebted to several people for helpful criticism in the writing of
these essays. My medical colleagues, Dr. Gordon R. McKinney, and Dr.
David W. Northup, read a number of the essays and made many helpful
suggestions. Professor Armand E. Singer of the Romance Language
Department of West Virginia University critically reviewed all the
manuscripts, and his scholarly erudition is indeed appreciated. The
sympathetic assistance of my wife is also gratefully acknowledged. On
occasion, she took me gently by the hand, and led me away from many a
pitfall. The kind people who aided me must not be taken to task for
errors of commission. I alone am responsible for these.
It is a pleasure to thank my capable and efficient secretaries, Mrs.
Mildred Fisher and Mrs. Ann Beavers, for typing the manuscripts.
Several of these essays have appeared in the following journals:
_The West Virginia Medical Journal_
_Harvard Medical Alumni Journal_
_The Physiologist_
_The Baker Street Journal_
_The Quarterly of the Phi Beta Pi Medical Fraternity_
_The Student Journal of the American Medical Association_
Permission has been kindly granted to reproduce these essays here.
CONTENTS
Doctor Watson and the Weather 11
The Anatomical Sherlock Holmes 19
“Brain Fever” and Sherlock Holmes 25
Curare and Sherlock Holmes 31
Sherlock Holmes and the Portuguese Man-of-War 35
Doctor Watson and Nervous Maladies 41
Dogs and Sherlock Holmes 48
The Botanical Doctor Watson 54
The Surgical Doctor Watson 62
Sherlock Holmes, the Chemist 69
Doctor Watson’s Universal Specific 77
Doctor Watson, Endocrinologist 83
Genetics and Sherlock Holmes 88
The Zoological Doctor Watson 96
Doctor Watson, Cardiologist 102
The Physiologic Doctor Watson 108
Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, Perennial Athletes 117
The Therapeutic Doctor Watson 127
Doctor Watson, General Practitioner 135
To undertake the writing of a large book is like entering on a long and
difficult journey, in the course of which much fatigue and uneasiness
must be undergone, while at the same time one is uncertain of reaching
the end of it: whereas writing a short essay is like taking a pleasant
airing that enlivens and invigorates by the exercise which it yields,
while the design is gratified in its completion.
Boswell: _The Hypochondriack_, No. I
DOCTOR WATSON AND THE WEATHER
“It had been a close and rainy day in October.”
_The Resident Patient_
To me one of the most delightful touches in the tales of Sherlock
Holmes is the frequent mention of the state of the weather. As far as I
know, no one has emphasized the numerous references to the weather by
Dr. Watson. Especially in the opening of the short stories can these
be found, but they are not confined there, for they appear throughout
the longer tales as well. Many instances can be cited to illustrate
Dr. Watson’s allusions to the state of the weather. Let us freshen our
memory by reviewing some of these.
Numerous references to the rains and winds of autumn may be found, such
as, “... the weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with autumnal
winds” (_The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor_). And, in a similar vein,
“Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered
against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come to us
from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet of seaweed in
a gale” (_The Five Orange Pips_). And in _The Problem of Thor Bridge_,
we find that, as Dr. Watson was dressing one morning, he observed how
the leaves were being whisked away from the plane tree (we would call
it a sycamore) which graced their back yard.
The events related in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ took place
in the autumn of the year, and several interesting allusions to this
season may be found: “I walked over to the black window, and I looked
through a blurred pane at the driving clouds and at the tossing
outline of the wind-swept trees. It was a wild night....” Another
reference, “A dull and foggy day with a drizzle of rain. The house
is banked in with rolling clouds....” Also, “All day today the rain
poured down, rustling on the ivy and dripping from the eaves....”
And in another instance, “Rain squalls drifted across ... and the
heavy, slate-coloured clouds hung low over the landscape, trailing in
gray wreaths down the sides of the fantastic hills.” And lastly, an
especially interesting allusion may be cited:
We hurried through the dark shrubbery, amid the dull moaning of the
autumn wind and the rustle of the falling leaves. The night air was
heavy with the smell of damp and decay. Now and again the moon peeped
out for an instant, but clouds were driving over the face of the sky,
and just as we came out on the moor a thin rain began to fall.
The paragraph just quoted pictures a rather wet autumn night, but not
an especially bad one. In _The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez_,
an extremely wild and stormy night toward the end of November is
depicted. Dr. Watson describes vividly how the wind howled down Baker
Street, and how the rain beat vigorously against the windows. Another
reference may be cited which depicts gloomy autumn days: “It had been a
close and rainy day in October....” (_The Resident Patient_).
It would appear, then, that many of Sherlock Holmes’ adventures took
place during the fall of the year. It must be inferred that the dark
and stormy days of autumn depressed the great detective, for we find
him saying to Dr. Watson, “Draw your chair up and hand me my violin,
for the only problem we still have to solve is how to while away these
bleak autumnal evenings” (_The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor_).
From the instances just enumerated, it would seem that Dr. Watson was
fond of picturing a background of wind, rain, and storm for many of his
stories. He also described the well-known fogs of London with telling
effect. In _The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_, Dr. Watson writes,
“A thick fog rolled down the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the
opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy
yellow wreaths.” And again, “It was a September evening and not yet 7
o’clock, but the day had been a dreary one, and a dense drizzly fog
lay low upon the great city” (_The Sign of the Four_). In the same
story, we find Holmes saying, “See how the yellow fog swirls down the
street and drifts across the dun-coloured houses.” _In The Adventure
of the Bruce-Partington Plans_, Dr. Watson tells how, during the month
of November of 1895, such a heavy fog descended on London that it was
impossible to see the houses on the opposite side of Baker Street.
In addition to wind, rain, storm, and fog, Dr. Watson makes reference
as well to sharp winter weather. In _The Adventure of the Blue
Carbuncle_, it will be remembered that Dr. Watson visited Sherlock
Holmes two days following Christmas to give his friend the season’s
greetings. Watson writes, “I seated myself in his arm chair and warmed
my hands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and
the windows were thick with ice crystals.” When he and Holmes set out
to obtain information about the goose which had swallowed the blue
carbuncle, Watson tells us: “It was a bitter night, so we drew on our
ulsters and wrapped cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars
were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, and breath of the passers-by
blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out
crisply and loudly....”
In _The Adventure of the Abbey Grange_, Watson describes an adventure
which took place on a bitterly cold morning during the winter of ’97.
On another occasion, Watson tells how he and Holmes went for a walk on
a cold and frosty winter evening (_The Adventure of Charles Augustus
Milverton_). A description of a beautiful winter day may be found in
_The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet_: “It was a bright, crisp February
morning, and the snow of the day before still lay deep upon the ground,
shimmering brightly in the wintry sun.”
Mention is made too of the weather in the spring. On several occasions,
references are made to the cold and stormy weather of the early part
of this season: “It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we
sat after breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room
at Baker Street” (_The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_). _The
Adventure of the Speckled Band_ took place in the spring of ’83.
Watson writes: “It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside,
and the rain was beating and splashing against the window.” In _The
Adventure of the Wisteria Lodge_, the good doctor writes that it was
a cold, dark, windy March evening, and a fine rain was falling. And in
_His Last Bow_, Watson writes that he had recorded in his notebook
that, in the latter part of March in the year 1892, it was a bleak and
windy day.
Milder spring weather also claimed Dr. Watson’s attention: “It was an
ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy clouds
drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly,
and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge
to a man’s energy” (_The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_). In a
similar vein, “It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy
clouds in the heavens” (_The Adventure of the Speckled Band_). In
_The Adventure of the Three Garridebs_, a lovely spring evening is
mentioned, and Watson writes that the slanting rays of the setting sun
made even a little prosaic street look golden.
For some reason or other, less frequent mention is made of summer
weather. There are, however, several interesting references to this
enjoyable season. In the story of _The Greek Interpreter_, Dr. Watson
writes, “It was after tea on a summer evening....” And similarly, in
_The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone_, our attention is called to the
fact that it was the evening of a lovely summer’s day. It would be
expected that somewhere in the stories an allusion would be made to
the torrid days of August: “It was a blazing hot day in August. Baker
Street was like an oven, and the glare of the sunlight upon the yellow
brickwork of the house across the street was painful to the eye” (_The
Adventure of the Cardboard Box_). An especially poignant reference to a
hot summer night may be found in the story _His Last Bow_. Dr. Watson
gives a vivid description of a hot night on the second of August. He
mentions that there was an awesome hush and a feeling of expectancy in
the sultry and stagnant air. The August to which reference is made was
that of 1914--the beginning of World War I. In that holocaust, Great
Britain lost the flower of her youth. She has not yet recovered from
that mortal blow.
People living in the Victorian era, just like many of us today, were
interested in barometric pressure. In _The Boscombe Valley Mystery_,
an interesting reference to barometric readings may be found. Sherlock
Holmes remarks to Lestrade of Scotland Yard: “How is the glass?
Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the sky.” Somewhat
later in the day, he mentions to Dr. Watson: “The glass still keeps
very high.... It is of importance that it should not rain before we
are able to go over the ground.” Fortunately, in this instance good
weather prevailed, for Watson writes, “There was no rain, as Holmes had
foretold, and the morning broke bright and cloudless.”
One might well ask why Dr. Watson emphasizes the state of the weather
so often? Several reasons come to mind: To make the setting of his
stories more realistic; to take up space in the manuscript; to use the
subject of the weather as an excuse for some fine writing; to reveal
Watson’s little-suspected love of nature; or perhaps still other
reasons. Let us examine some of these.
It is well known that writers often have dirty weather prevailing when
foul deeds are to be committed. Dr. Watson, however, does not abuse
this privilege in his writings, although he does occasionally take
advantage of unusual atmospheric conditions to make the story more
exciting. A good example of this is to be found in the novel _The
Hound of the Baskervilles_.
One recalls that Sherlock Holmes laid a trap to catch the villain,
Stapleton. A part of the plan made it necessary for the hero, Sir
Henry, to walk across the dismal moor alone after dark. Holmes had
calculated that Stapleton would let loose his spectral hound that
particular night. It was carefully arranged, of course, so that
Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, and Lestrade would kill the hound before
any harm befell Sir Henry, and then catch Stapleton redhanded. All went
according to plan until a dense fog started to rise from the adjacent
Grimpen Mire. The low visibility produced by the unexpected fog almost
upset Holmes’ well-laid plans and nearly caused the death of Sir Henry,
because his friends could not see the hound until it was dangerously
close to him.
Can the good doctor be accused of writing about the weather simply to
make the manuscripts longer? I think not. In the first place, there
is no evidence (certainly not in his early career) that the money he
received for his stories bore any relation to their length. Further,
and more important, a man with Watson’s imagination did not have to
rely upon such a mundane topic as the weather to lengthen his stories.
We can dismiss this argument promptly by stating that he was not guilty
of padding his manuscripts in this manner.
Did he use the weather as an occasional excuse for fine writing?
Probably not, although some of the paragraphs in which he describes
the state of the weather, if examples of fine writing, are certainly
examples of vivid writing as well. Several instances could be given,
but one will suffice:
It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had
set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and
the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the
heart of great, handmade London we were forced to raise our minds for
the instant from the routine of life, and to recognize the presence of
those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars
of civilization, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in,
the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a
child in the chimney.
_The Five Orange Pips_
What other reasons could be given for Watson’s frequent allusions
to the weather? There are, of course, the dapper gentleman and the
Scotchman, who are conscious of the state of the weather since they
deplore--for different reasons, to be sure--losing the press in their
trousers by being caught in the rain. To the Londoner, however, who
seems obliviously unaware of the somewhat disheveled state of his
attire, such an explanation could scarcely apply. On the other hand,
one cogent reason does come to mind. It must always be remembered that
Watson was both a physician _and_ an author. Now the state of the
weather is of perpetual interest to a general practitioner of medicine,
and this is what Dr. Watson pretended to be. It is true that the
physician who practices in the city probably is not as weather-minded
as his colleague in the country. Dr. Watson lived in the great city of
London, but often made his professional calls on foot and doubtless
trudged through storm and rain: “When your round is a short one you
walk, and when it is a long one you use a hansom” (_The Crooked
Man_). He mentions that after his marriage he dropped in at 221B
Baker Street from time to time when walking in that vicinity.
In point of fact, the kind of weather is of no little importance to a
person who is called out at any time of day or night, as almost any
physician will testify. This may be one of the important reasons why
Watson makes such frequent mention of the weather in his stories.
All may not agree with me that such descriptions of the state of the
weather add greatly to the interest of Watson’s writings. This is a
matter of opinion; for doubtless there are many men who have little
interest in the weather under any circumstances. Earl Derr Biggers, the
creator of Charlie Chan, had one of his less liked characters remark
that he was not interested in the weather, since he was not a cabbage.
Be that as it may, I have always pitied those individuals who pay
absolutely no attention to the weather; they are missing a great deal
in life.
There are people who see beauty and interest only in a beautiful day.
The poet probably was right when he sang, “What is so rare as a day
in June?” But would anyone deny that there is beauty in a snowstorm
or a sleetstorm, and is not a cloudburst or a thunderstorm an awesome
spectacle, and can not even a duststorm be a striking phenomenon? Now
nature, I grant, can overdo this matter of storms, and too much dust
in the atmosphere or a week of rainy, sullen weather leave much to be
desired.
To those of us who have been thrilled by the saga of Sherlock Holmes
and Dr. Watson, and who have found enjoyment and relaxation in reading
about these famous characters, I would like to make one further
suggestion: Let us think of Dr. Watson not only as a practitioner
of medicine, or only just as an amateur detective and confidant of
Sherlock Holmes, but also as a man interested in many things--a lover
of nature and one who could see charm in all her moods.
THE ANATOMICAL SHERLOCK HOLMES
“I believe he is well up in anatomy....”
_A Study in Scarlet_
A number of references to the anatomy laboratory and to portions of the
cadaver may be found in the tales. Shortly after Watson’s return from
India, he met his old friend Stamford at the Criterion bar in London.
This was a memorable occasion, for it was Stamford who introduced
Watson to Sherlock Holmes. When Stamford was telling Watson something
about Holmes, he said, “I believe he is well up in anatomy....”
Stamford made it clear, however, that Holmes was not a medical student,
but did have pronounced scientific interests. He emphasized the fact
that Holmes had a cold scientific approach to problems which deeply
interested him and that he had been seen “beating the subjects in the
dissecting room with a stick....” When Watson evinced some surprise at
this unbecoming behavior, Stamford explained, “to verify how bruises
may be produced after death” (_A Study in Scarlet_).
At first glance, Holmes’ activity seems to be inexcusable and betokens
a deplorable disrespect for the dead. His researches must not be
regarded in this light, however, for it may be of distinct medicolegal
interest to ascertain whether the bruises on a body were produced
before or after death. This problem has been studied extensively,
and information concerning it may be found in books dealing with
medicolegal matters. Holmes’ early interest and study in this field are
quite understandable, for at that time he was laying the foundation
for his brilliant career as a specialist in the study of crime.
When Watson first started rooming with Holmes he found that the latter
“Sometimes ... spent his day ... in the dissecting rooms....” (_A Study
in Scarlet_). In one instance, reference is made to the preservation
of bodies in the anatomy laboratory: “Bodies in the dissecting rooms
are injected with preservative fluids.” The agents employed in the
embalming fluid are given: “carbolic, or rectified spirits would be the
preservative....” (_The Adventure of the Cardboard Box_).
Osteology must have appealed to Holmes, since bones are frequently
mentioned. Once when Holmes was trying to analyze a difficult case,
he made allusion to Cuvier, the famous anatomist and anthropologist:
“Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation
of a single bone....” (_The Five Orange Pips_). In _A Study in
Scarlet_, a description of the alkali plains of our great West is
given; these pointed but gruesome sentences may be found:
Here and there are scattered white objects which glisten in the sun
and stand out against the dull deposit of alkali. Approach and examine
them. They are bones: some large and coarse, others smaller and more
delicate. The former have belonged to oxen and the latter to men.
In another instance, Holmes was consulted about a “charred fragment
of bone” which had been recovered from a heating furnace in a private
dwelling. He showed it to Watson, who without hesitation stated that it
was the upper condyle of a human femur (_The Adventure of Shoscombe
Old Place_).
One early spring afternoon, Holmes and Watson upon returning from
a walk found that a visitor had left his pipe on the table. Holmes
picked it up and examined it carefully. Watson writes, “He held it up
and tapped on it with his long, thin forefinger, as a professor might
who was lecturing on a bone” (_The Yellow Face_). This is an apt
allusion, for many medical students will remember the occasion when
an instructor in anatomy held a bone in his hand, pointed out areas
where muscles had been attached, and commented on other characteristic
features. One is reminded of the story of the poet-physician Oliver
Wendell Holmes, who was professor of anatomy at Harvard for many years.
Once when lecturing on the sphenoid bone (a bone of the skull having
an exceedingly complicated architecture), he is reputed to have said
something like this: “Gentlemen, I have in my hand the sphenoid bone.
Gentlemen, I say d---- the sphenoid bone!” Any medical student who has
studied this bone will wholeheartedly agree with the remark.
Mention is made also of fossil bones. When Holmes and Watson visited
the house of Nathan Garrideb, they noticed a large cupboard full
of them. Holmes was invited to take a seat, but his host found it
necessary to clear the chair of bones. Obviously, Garrideb was a most
enthusiastic collector (_The Adventure of the Three Garridebs_).
Sherlock Holmes presumably enjoyed anthropology, for several references
to this science may be found in the tales. In _The Hound of the
Baskervilles_, when Dr. Mortimer first met Sherlock Holmes, the
doctor rather facetiously said to him:
“I hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked
supra-orbital development. Would you have any objection to my
running my finger along your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull,
sir, until the original is available, would be an ornament to any
anthropological museum. It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I
confess that I covet your skull.”
Holmes apparently was slightly annoyed at this frank but somewhat
insensate disquisition, and remarked, “You are an enthusiast in your
line of thought, I perceive, sir, as I am in mine.”
On another occasion when Dr. Mortimer was speaking of Sir Henry
Baskerville, he stated: “A glance at our friend here reveals the
rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm
and power of attachment. Poor Charles’ head was of a very rare type,
half-Gaelic, half-Ivernian in its characteristics.”
Dr. Mortimer obviously was a keen observer, a person of scholarly
tastes and “a most learned man in his own line.” When he was telling
Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson of his friendship with Sir Charles
Baskerville, he remarked, “... and many a charming evening we have
spent together discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and
the Hottentot.”
Interest in anthropology is evinced further by mention of prehistoric
man. One day, while Dr. Watson was walking on the moor, he met the
naturalist Stapleton, the villain in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_.
Watson’s attention was attracted to the circular rings of stone on a
hillside. He asked his companion whether they were the ruins of ancient
sheep pens. Stapleton replied, “Prehistoric man lived thickly on the
moor....” When Watson questioned him as to when the moor was inhabited;
the answer was, “Neolithic man--no date.”
Another allusion to ancient man may be cited. In the house of Garrideb,
as mentioned, Holmes and Watson noticed above a cupboard a series of
plaster skulls; the names “Neanderthal,” “Heidelberg,” and “Cromagnon”
were printed underneath them (_The Adventure of the Three Garridebs_).
Not only the anthropologist but the trained biologist as well is, of
course, quite familiar with the names of our early ancestors.
Once Holmes’ knowledge of anthropology helped him solve an important
case. A maiden lady had received in the mail a small cardboard box
containing two human ears--one that of a woman. Holmes was called in,
and during the course of his investigations visited the receiver of
the gruesome package. He noted the resemblance of one of the severed
ears to those of the lady upon whom he was calling. Because of the
striking likeness, he felt certain that the person whose ear had been
dismembered was a close relative of the lady he had come to interview.
Somewhat later, he gave a lecture--a thing he was prone to do--to Dr.
Watson on the surface anatomy of the ear:
... there is no part of the body which varies so much as the human
ear. Each ear is as a rule quite distinctive and differs from all
others.... I ... examined the ears in the box with the eyes of an
expert and had carefully noted their anatomical peculiarities.... I
perceived that her [Miss Cushing’s] ear corresponded exactly with
the female ear I had just inspected. The matter was entirely beyond
coincidence. There was the same shortening of the pinna, the same
broad curve of the upper lobe, the same convolution of the inner
cartilage. In all essentials it was the same ear.
Of course, I at once saw the enormous importance of the observation.
It was evident that the victim was a blood relative, and probably a
very close one.
_The Adventure of the Cardboard Box_
This was an exceedingly astute observation on Holmes’ part. He was
right when he remarked that as a rule each ear is quite distinctive,
and cleverly pointed out the important anatomical features. In any
event, the study he made of Miss Cushing’s ear aided him greatly in
solving the mystery of the cardboard box, and we know that the murderer
was promptly apprehended.
In the story just related, a newspaper of the day was supposed to have
suggested that the preserved ears had been sent by medical students as
a joke. It appears that the maiden lady at one time had had unpleasant
dealings with medical students: “... she let her apartments in her
house to three young medical students, whom she was obliged to get rid
of on account of their noisy and irregular habits.... [The ears were
sent] by those students who owed her a grudge and who hoped to frighten
her by sending her those relics of the dissecting rooms.”
Although this theory was later proved to be false, it was not too
farfetched. Indeed, many, many stories can be told about the behavior
of medical students in the anatomy laboratory. A favorite minor prank,
for example, is to cut off a finger or an ear and slip it into the
pocket of an unsuspecting visitor. This bit of horseplay probably
discourages future visits to the anatomical laboratory. Although
anatomy instructors deplore such practices, they are likely to overlook
them, because laymen are not encouraged to visit dissecting rooms.
In the opening of one of the stories, we find Holmes stooping over
a low-power microscope (_The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place_). He
explained to Watson that there were epithelial cells in the microscopic
field. As far as I am aware, this is the only reference to individual
body cells to be found in the tales. It appears, then, that Holmes
was much more interested in gross structures of the body, especially
osteology, than in microscopic structures.
We have seen that many pertinent allusions to anatomical science may
be found in the tales. In one instance, at least, Holmes’ intimate
knowledge of surface anatomy--that is, the configuration of the
external ear--enabled him to solve handily a perplexing mystery. The
allusions made to anatomical matters are of especial delight to those
of us in the field of biology.
“BRAIN FEVER” AND SHERLOCK HOLMES
“I have only just recovered from nine weeks of brain fever and am
still exceedingly weak.”
_The Naval Treaty_
Several years ago, there appeared in the _Journal of the American
Medical Association_ a provocative article with the arresting
title, “Brain Fever,” written by Louis Cassamajor.[1] The author is
to be commended for his courage in choosing this unusual title, and
the _Journal_ to be congratulated for publishing it. Although
I welcome the term “brain fever,” I did rub my eyes, because I had
not seen it employed for a long time. In my youth the term was used
commonly, but was dismissed from my mind when I commenced the study
of medicine. It was relegated to the same limbo as the old expression
“typhoid malaria.”
In order that I may develop my thesis, a brief review of Cassamajor’s
article is in order. The author points out that, in the early part of
the past century, considerable literature appeared describing a disease
known as “brain fever” (called also “hydrocephalic fever” and sometimes
“encephalitis”). For the main part, it occurred in children. The
illness subsided after a few days to a couple of weeks, and the patient
usually recovered.
The author brings out further that, although the disease was apparently
accompanied by fever, there are no recorded temperatures, for the
modern clinical thermometer was not invented until 1868. It is
emphasized, also, that no neurological signs appeared in the case
reports. It was only after the writings of Erb and of Westphal in 1875
that neurological examination, as we now know it, began to develop.
For some unknown reason, about 1850 mention of the disease disappeared
from medical literature. The author, however, makes the statement:
“Undoubtedly the condition does exist today.”
Following a brief historical introduction, the author gives in some
detail the case histories of four children, the youngest six and
one-half and the oldest eleven years of age, whom he had rather
recently diagnosed as suffering from “brain fever.” It is highly
gratifying that they all made a complete recovery. The disease is
characterized by signs and symptoms indicating a considerable brain
involvement, “including convulsions, comas, paralyses, cerebellar
asynergy and a sort of bulbar palsy.” The onset is irregular, except
when head trauma has been previously sustained, when it may be sudden.
One reason, among others, why this stimulating article especially
interested me was that the term “brain fever” called to my mind the
immortal stories of Sherlock Holmes. In them several individuals are
described as suffering from this condition. It is of nostalgic interest
to examine the circumstances which surrounded these victims when they
were stricken.
We find in one of the stories that a housemaid, with an unstable
Celtic temperament, “had a sharp touch of brain fever.” She had had
a violent love affair with a handsome but perfidious butler, who had
thrown her over for another girl. Following her partial recovery, she
had taken a terrible vengeance and was directly responsible for her
faithless lover’s death. When questioned about him by the master of the
household, she became hysterical and unmanageable: “For two days [she]
had been so ill, sometimes delirious, sometimes hysterical...” (_The
Musgrave Ritual_). She evidently made a rapid recovery, for on the
third night she disappeared and her whereabouts were never discovered.
In another story, a young girl whose mother had died was treated
cruelly by her father, who had remarried. She had an income of her
own which she generously allowed her father to use. When she fell in
love with a young man, her father tried desperately to make her sign
a contract providing that, in the event of marriage, he could still
use her money. This she refused to do. He placed her in solitary
confinement so that she could not see her lover, and treated her
inhumanly in other ways: “... he kept on worrying her until she got
brain fever, and for several weeks was at death’s door” (_The
Adventure of the Copper Beeches_). It is pleasant to relate that she
recovered and succeeded in eloping with her lover and presumably lived
happily ever after.
In still another story, in which Sherlock Holmes attempted to gain an
audience with a middle-aged spinster, he was informed that she was
too ill to be interviewed. Her doctor said: “She has been suffering
since yesterday from brain symptoms of great severity. As her medical
adviser, I cannot possibly take the responsibility of allowing anyone
to see her. I should recommend you to call again in ten days” (_The
Adventure of the Cardboard Box_). This illness, somewhat later in
the story, is referred to specifically as “brain fever.”
The illness had developed when this spinster heard that conscientious
diplomat. Through his own carelessness, how-her younger sister had been
foully murdered by her husband. It was the spinster who, by wicked
machinations, had been largely responsible for her sister’s death. It
is noteworthy that Holmes was advised to come back ten days later. This
indicates that the disease was not of long duration.
One of Dr. Watson’s former schoolfellows, Percy Phelps, wrote him, “I
have only just recovered from nine weeks of brain fever and am still
exceedingly weak.” In his letter, he further informed Dr. Watson that
he wished to consult with Sherlock Holmes, and asked his friend to
bring him, since he was in deep trouble. This able young man was an
earnest and ever, he had lost an important state document. In
narrating his story to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, the patient gave
a vivid description of his distressing illness: “Here I have lain, Mr.
Holmes, for over nine weeks, unconscious, and raving with brain fever
... in my mad fits I was capable of anything. Slowly my reason has
cleared, but it is only during the last three days that my memory has
quite returned” (_The Naval Treaty_).
This poor fellow had an illness of long duration and, according to the
story, his strength came back but slowly. It will be recalled that
Sherlock Holmes solved the mystery and was able to place the important
state document again in the patient’s hands. As far as we know, he
eventually made a complete recovery in spite of the severity of the
attack.
In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, it will be remembered that the
heir, Sir Henry Baskerville, narrowly escaped death on the moor. The
shock of the adventure with the hound, coupled with the fact that
the woman with whom the heir was in love was actually the wife of
the villainous Stapleton, his would-be murderer, was too much for
our hero. Watson writes: “But the shock of the night’s adventure had
shattered his nerves, and before morning he lay delirious in a high
fever under the care of Dr. Mortimer. The two of them were destined to
travel together round the world before Sir Henry had become once more
the hale, hearty man that he had been before he became master of that
ill-omened estate.”
In this last instance, Watson does not specifically state that the
patient was afflicted with “brain fever,” but the implication is
plainly there. It is, moreover, worthy of note that it took the victim
a long time to regain his health.
The individuals whom Dr. Watson described as suffering from “brain
fever” obviously had all passed through a terrific mental storm--in
modern parlance, they had sustained “severe psychic traumata.” Whether
this alone could cause “brain fever” is a moot question. The condition
presumably is caused by a virus. That a severe brain storm could cause
the lurking virus to become active seems unlikely.
Previously it has been mentioned that a head injury apparently is
capable of hastening the onset of brain fever in children. (We will
waive the fact that the cases Dr. Watson described are adults.) A
physical injury presumably produces certain organic changes in the
brain or in its meninges, which perhaps could precipitate an attack
of encephalitis, assuming that the virus was present. There is no
particular evidence that the patients mentioned in the tales had
suffered a head injury.
It is true, of course, that great emotional upsets are often
accompanied by marked vascular disturbances. These may manifest
themselves in the brain as well as in other parts of the body. It is
not conceivable that encephalitis would follow an emotional storm.
Be that as it may, this can be said: It is generally agreed that
anything which lowers the resistance of an individual may make him more
susceptible to disease. In the cases described by Dr. Watson, the virus
may have been present, and the shock produced by the emotional storm,
which all these people experienced, might have precipitated an attack
of encephalitis (brain fever).
If this seems too farfetched, and the reader cannot go along with me,
I can say only that I am sorry. I will have to use the argument that
one should allow a talented and imaginative writer like Dr. Watson a
liberal degree of poetic license.
Dr. Watson may have used the term “brain fever” loosely, and perhaps as
synonymous with extreme nervous exhaustion. He does, however, mention
that some of the sufferers became delirious. This symptom is suggestive
of encephalitis. Also, in one or two instances the victim recovered
rather quickly, which points to an acute condition such as encephalitis
rather than nervous exhaustion. I am cognizant that some may regard
this as a specious argument.
The question could be raised whether the patients described by Dr.
Watson suffered from hysteria. This condition cannot entirely be ruled
out. Hysteria has protean manifestations, and may even be accompanied
by fever. The great mental storms through which these patients passed
are conducive to hysterical attacks. The fact, however, that these
individuals ran a high fever and were dangerously ill would militate
against a diagnosis of hysteria. It seems fairly safe to assume that
the disease from which they suffered probably had an organic basis.
The reader should be reminded that Dr. Watson began the study of
medicine only a short time after the researches of Erb and of Westphal
on the nervous system had been published. Neurology had not yet come
into its own, and it is likely that the medical profession did not
make fine distinctions when dealing with diseases of the brain or its
meninges. It probably is not charitable for me to suggest that the
professors who taught the young Watson about nervous diseases in the
year 1876 or thereabouts had not kept up with the literature in their
field--a fault of which we are all more or less guilty.
Dr. Watson has been taken to task by some critics in the medical
profession for using the term “brain fever,” and the implication has
been made that his employment of a meaningless term was unworthy
of a medically trained man. Now it appears that this criticism is
unjustified. We might quarrel with Dr. Watson as to what brought on
the attacks of “brain fever,” or whether the victims actually had the
disease in the cases he so vividly described, but the term itself is
acceptable.
The Holmesian enthusiast will rejoice that the term “brain fever”
is again in good repute and is accepted by the medical fraternity.
The very fact that the staid _Journal of the American Medical
Association_ has published an article bearing the title “Brain
Fever” has stripped criticism of all weapons. The loyal Holmesian no
longer needs to feel apologetic for the nomenclature Dr. Watson used to
describe a rather unusual and fortunately rare clinical entity.
CURARE AND SHERLOCK HOLMES
“... for the action of the alkaloid is rapid.”
_A Study in Scarlet_
Curare is used as a lethal agent in two of the Sherlock Holmes stories.
In the novel _A Study in Scarlet_, liberties are taken with the
pharmacologic properties of curare, for actions are ascribed to this
agent which it could not possibly have had. But in _The Adventure
of the Sussex Vampire_, curare is employed scientifically and with
telling effect; and indeed, an interesting plot is built around this
agent.
Let us first examine the role curare played in _A Study in Scarlet_.
Holmes, it will be remembered, wished to determine the toxicity of
certain pills and instructed Dr. Watson to fetch a little dog, which
already was _in extremis_: “... that poor little devil of a terrier
which has been bad so long, and which the landlady wanted you to put
out of its pain yesterday.” Watson commented on the state of the
animal: “Its laboured breathing and glazing eye showed that it was not
far from its end. Indeed, its snow-white muzzle proclaimed that it had
already exceeded the usual term of its existence.” Then, according to
Dr. Watson, some of the pills which were thought to contain curare
were dissolved in milk and offered to the sick dog: “The unfortunate
creature’s tongue seemed hardly to have been moistened in it before it
gave a convulsive shiver in every limb and lay as rigid and lifeless as
if it had been struck by lightning.”
Before we comment on the sudden death of the terrier, let us see what
befell Enoch Drebber, who was forced by Jefferson Hope to swallow
a pill containing curare. The wretched Drebber met the same fate as
the aged terrier, for we find Watson writing: “... the action of the
alkaloid is rapid. A spasm of pain contorted his features; he threw his
hands out in front of him, staggered, and then with a hoarse cry, fell
heavily upon the floor. I turned him over with my foot, and placed my
hand upon his heart. There was no movement. He was dead.”
The deaths of Drebber and the terrier were dramatically portrayed, and
Dr. Watson is to be congratulated on the vivid picture he presented.
The trained scientist however, could not entirely accept the events
as he outlined them. The difficulty lies in the fact that curare is
relatively harmless if taken by mouth. If extremely large doses are
administered on an empty stomach, sufficient curare may be absorbed
to cause grave symptoms, but death would not be instantaneous, for
absorption is slow from mucous surfaces. If, on the other hand, there
were an open lesion in the stomach or the upper part of the small
intestine, such as an ulcer, then rapid absorption could take place,
and death would ensue in a relatively short time, although not as
rapidly as portrayed in the story. The action of curare is rapidly
lethal only if injected directly into the blood stream. It would
stretch our credulity too far to assume that both the dog and the man
had either a gastric or a duodenal ulcer.
Let us now consider how curare was employed in the story _The Adventure
of the Sussex Vampire_. It will be recalled that Sherlock Holmes was
asked by Mr. Robert Ferguson to investigate certain irregularities in
his household. Ferguson, a fine gentleman, was very much in love with
his beautiful Peruvian wife; but one day, to his infinite horror, he
had actually seen her sucking blood from a wound on the neck of their
year-old baby. She refused to make any explanation, and the husband
and wife became estranged. There was another child in the family, an
invalid boy of fifteen, Ferguson’s son by a previous marriage.
Dr. Watson accompanied Sherlock Holmes to Ferguson’s country home on a
dreary autumn day. One of the rooms of the old house contained a fine
collection of South American utensils and weapons which presumably had
been brought from Peru by the mistress of the house. As Holmes was
examining this interesting collection, the movements of a dog attracted
his attention. Holmes noted that the dog experienced difficulty in
walking. The astute detective asked Ferguson what ailed the dog. His
host replied that the thing had also puzzled the veterinarian. The
latter had thought it might be spinal meningitis. Holmes asked a few
more questions about the dog, and finally remarked that the picture the
dog presented was very suggestive.
The frantic husband insisted that Holmes tell all he knew or suspected.
Holmes then gently explained to the indulgent father that his
fifteen-year-old invalid boy was so insanely jealous of his healthy
baby half-brother that he had tried to do away with him by wounding
him with an arrow treated with curare. The boy had first tried out the
poison on the dog. Ferguson’s wife, in an heroic effort to save her
baby, had sucked the site of the arrow wound. The mystery was solved,
and Holmes and Watson had the keen satisfaction of clearing up the
grave misunderstanding between Ferguson and his lovely Peruvian wife.
In this story, curare was handled in an expert manner. It is known, of
course, that the South American Indians dipped their arrowheads into a
curare solution before using them to kill birds. The curare was rapidly
absorbed from the wound made by the arrow; the wing muscles became
paralyzed; and the bird plummeted to earth--an airplane without wings.
_The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire_ was written many years ago. What
is the status of curare today? This interesting compound has actually
insinuated itself from the jungle not only into the experimental
laboratory but into the surgical amphitheater as well. This is not
the place to take up in detail the clinical use of curare, but a few
remarks are in order.
Relaxation of the muscles is often highly desirable in surgical
procedures; it is not surprising, therefore, that the anesthetists have
added curare to their armamentarium. Although curare has no anesthetic
action _per se_, it has been found to serve as a useful adjuvant to
certain anesthetic agents. It has been used also for the convulsions
of strychnine poisoning, tetanus, and hydrophobia, as well as certain
spastic contractures. It could furthermore be of help in the management
of dislocations, especially in heavily muscled individuals.
Curare should be employed only by experienced workers, for the muscles
of respiration may become paralyzed, and unless mechanical respiration
is given immediately, the patient will die of asphyxia. Fortunately,
curare is quickly excreted by the body, and the patient will soon start
voluntary breathing movements.
In conclusion, let us turn to the tales. _The Adventure of the Sussex
Vampire_ could have been written only by an individual quite familiar
with the action of curare, and with a good understanding of clinical
medicine. This story is of especial interest to physicians. Not only
is curare used in the plot in an interesting and unusual manner, but
certain psychosomatic problems are presented: The estrangement of the
husband and wife; and a clear portrayal of how the mind of a physically
handicapped youngster may become warped, even though reared in an
excellent environment.
SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE PORTUGUESE MAN-OF-WAR
“I did what I could to relieve his pain.”
_The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_
_The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_ has always appealed to me, although
I am mindful that this story is not universally popular with Holmesian
enthusiasts. The story was written by Sherlock Holmes himself. The
title alone arrests one’s attention. Immediately, one thinks of a
magnificently maned lion at bay, or, as one artist pictures him,
standing in the moonlight on the shore of the ocean, roaring defiantly
at the incoming waves.
As the adventure unfolds, however, we learn that while the story
does deal with the ocean, a lion is not mentioned, but rather a huge
jellyfish, _Cyanea capillata_. It is also called the “Lion’s Mane,” for
as Holmes wrote, the jellyfish resembled a mass of tangled hair which
looked as if it might have been procured from a lion’s mane.
Let us recall that in this story the death of a person, as well as that
of a dog, was produced by the poisonous sting of the Lion’s Mane. The
victim of this catastrophe was Fitzroy McPherson, a young scientist who
had suffered from rheumatic fever, and whose heart had been damaged. In
spite of his cardiac ailment, he was portrayed as a fine athlete and an
expert swimmer. It was his custom to take a daily dip in the ocean in
and out of season.
At the time of which we write, Sherlock Holmes was living in retirement
on the Sussex Downs, not far from the place where McPherson often
swam. One fine morning in July, following a severe storm, Holmes and
his neighbor Stackhurst, who kept a preparatory school, were taking a
bracing walk. To their intense surprise and dismay, they discovered the
figure of McPherson, a science master of Stackhurst’s establishment,
coming up the path staggering as if drunk. As they came nearer, he
uttered a terrible cry and fell upon his face. They rushed to his
side and turned him on his back. He was _in extremis_. Just before he
expired, he indistinctly uttered words that sounded like “lion’s mane.”
The cause of his death was a mystery even to Holmes.
A few days later, Ian Murdoch, a colleague and close friend of the late
McPherson, went swimming in the exact spot where the latter had met his
untimely death. Holmes dramatically describes how Ian Murdoch lurched
in the room, extremely pale, and with his clothes all rumpled. It was
an effort for him to stand; finally, he staggered to the sofa and
collapsed from the excruciating pain. He experienced great difficulty
in getting his breath, his face appeared livid, and beads of cold sweat
stood on his brow. It appeared that he was also _in extremis_.
It is not necessary to relate here the steps which Holmes took in
solving this baffling mystery. Suffice it to say that he came to the
conclusion that both McPherson and Murdoch had come into contact with
a huge jellyfish. He became absolutely convinced of this when he
discovered in the attic of his home a book by J. G. Wood entitled, _Out
of Doors_. Holmes found in this book a description of a patient who
had been in contact with a jellyfish. The victim complained that while
the local pain was severe, it was nothing compared to the pangs which
surged through his chest. It was impossible for him to stand up. The
cardiac beat became quite irregular; the heart would virtually stop,
and then several violent pulsations would occur.
Admittedly, Holmes’ story is a thrilling one. The criticism to be made,
however, is that although _Cyanea capillata_ can produce a nasty sting,
it probably could not produce death, especially in a healthy person.
There is no question but that it would be an unpleasant experience for
a swimmer to come into contact with _Cyanea_. In a standard textbook
of biology, _Cyanea arctica_, another species of the same genus, is
described as a creature which may measure six feet in diameter and bear
tentacles reaching the astonishing length of one hundred and thirty
feet! It can readily be seen that a swimmer could easily be stung by
such a jellyfish before recognizing the danger.
Since it is generally believed that _Cyanea capillata_ cannot cause
the death of an individual, and since the symptoms described in _The
Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_ were so grave, the coelenterate which
Holmes had in mind probably was no other than _Physalia_, commonly
known as the Portuguese man-of-war. Exposure to the tentacles of this
creature is apt to produce a chain of alarming symptoms.
Owing to my warm interest in Holmes’ story I read with profit and
keen enjoyment a case history reported by Klein and Bradshaw.[2] A
twenty-year-old man, while swimming about twenty feet off North Miami
Beach, Florida, came into contact with a Portuguese man-of-war. His
attention was drawn to a purple object floating near him, which he
thought to be a balloon. He swam up and touched it. Immediately, he
became aware of a sharp stinging sensation on his arm and shoulder.
Noting several strands which he could not brush off, he left the
water at once, and a companion removed them with a towel. Underneath
each strand could be seen a “painful fiery red welt.” Soon he found
it difficult to breathe, and shortly suffered from severe abdominal
cramps. A little later, he showed signs of shock and mental confusion.
A swimmer exposed to the tentacles of these large jellyfish may,
according to Klein and Bradshaw, suffer pain, swelling, and redness
in the affected part. In a few minutes to an hour following exposure,
systemic effects may appear, such as anxiety, muscular pains and
cramps, dyspnea, constriction of the throat, cardiac symptoms, and
prostration. The authors stress that the alarming symptoms which often
follow stings from coelenterates suggest the action of a powerful
neurotoxin.
Waite,[3] writing in the same year, stresses the fact that contact with
a Portuguese man-of-war produces symptoms indicative of anaphylactic
shock, such as pallor, sweating, faintness, fall in blood pressure, and
the like. He mentions that although there have been no authenticated
medical reports of death as a result of the sting of a Portuguese
man-of-war, it could happen if complicated by anaphylactic shock.
One wonders, of course, what would have happened if the patient
described by Klein and Bradshaw had been some distance from shore.
If anaphylactic shock had occurred within a few minutes, the patient
no doubt would have drowned if no one had been in the vicinity to
help him. A swimmer who experiences difficulty in breathing, who is
afflicted with severe abdominal cramps, who shows signs of shock, and
who is mentally confused, will certainly drown. Indeed, any one of
these four symptoms could provoke disaster in deep water.
The treatment instituted by Klein and Bradshaw is worthy of our
attention. The patient was hospitalized and given calcium gluconate
and benadryl intravenously. Epinephrine and atropine were administered
intramuscularly, and ammonia applied locally. I might add that a purist
could raise the question whether all this medication was necessary. The
next day, the itching areas were treated with tetracaine. The patient
made an uneventful recovery, although it took about three weeks before
the lesions were healed. Waite emphasizes that, in case of anaphylactic
shock, epinephrine or benadryl should be given immediately. He warns
further that if angioneurotic edema appears, the air passageways
should be cleared, oxygen supplied, and, if necessary, a tracheotomy
performed. The latter constitutes heroic treatment, but may, of course,
save a person’s life.
Let us return to _The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_, in an attempt
to ascertain what medical agents were used fifty years ago to treat the
sting of coelenterates. As previously mentioned, Sherlock Holmes was in
retirement and living alone, so unfortunately he could not call upon
his friend Dr. Watson to prescribe for Ian Murdoch.
Holmes, however, rose to the occasion and made an earnest attempt to
help the patient, for he writes that he soaked cotton in salad oil and
applied it to the wounds. He felt that this greatly alleviated the
pain. The famous detective showed real ingenuity in making use of such
a homely remedy. He also gave the suffering man liberal quantities of
brandy, which doubtless had a narcotizing effect. There is considerable
evidence that brandy was widely used for medicinal purposes at the turn
of the century, when this adventure is supposed to have occurred.
It is of interest to speculate upon what medication Dr. Watson would
have administered to Ian Murdoch had he been in attendance. At that
time, neither benadryl nor calcium gluconate nor, for that matter,
tetracaine was available. On the other hand, epinephrine, atropine,
and ammonia were even then widely used. Dr. Watson presumably would
have given a hypodermic injection of morphine and offered the patient
brandy, as did Sherlock Holmes. He, too, doubtless would have applied
some soothing ointment to the painful lesions, or, like Klein and
Bradshaw, might have used ammonia. It is even possible that he would
have employed epinephrine. The latter certainly was indicated, for
the symptoms described by Holmes were those of anaphylactic shock.
This syndrome (anaphylactic shock) was not well understood fifty years
ago. In point of fact, the word “anaphylaxis” was coined in 1907 by
Richet. This, as mentioned earlier, was the year when the adventure was
supposed to have taken place. Holmes, however, wrote _The Adventure
of the Lion’s Mane_ probably in 1925, since it was first published
in 1926. At that time, the significance of anaphylactic shock in man
was pretty well understood, and it is possible that he was familiar
with this condition.
It is a pity that we have to resort to speculation, and that Dr. Watson
was not in attendance instead of Holmes, a nonmedical man. If such
had been the case, Watson probably would have mentioned the agents
medical men used at that time. This would not only have satisfied our
sympathetic curiosity but, what is more important, these facts would
have been of historical interest. We then could actually have compared
the medical agents which were prescribed fifty years ago with those
currently employed for the grave symptoms of shock produced by the
excruciatingly painful stings of coelenterates.
DOCTOR WATSON AND NERVOUS MALADIES
“... the shock of the night’s adventures had shattered his nerves.”
_The Hound of the Baskervilles_
The harrowing adventures experienced by some of the characters in the
stories of Sherlock Holmes, and the great shocks they sustained, often
induced in them a state of high nervous tension. References to such
individuals are numerous.
Sherlock Holmes himself possessed an iron constitution, and was favored
with an especially well-balanced mind. His biographer, John H. Watson,
M.D., writes, “All emotions ... were abhorrent to his cold, precise but
admirably balanced mind” (_A Scandal in Bohemia_). But even Holmes,
on one occasion at least, was on the verge of a serious nervous
breakdown. In the spring of 1897, Dr. Watson became concerned about
the health of his distinguished friend: “... I found him a prey to the
blackest depression ... [even his realization of his worldly fame] was
insufficient to rouse him from his nervous prostration” (_The Reigate
Puzzle_).
Watson felt that Holmes needed a complete rest in a quiet and soothing
atmosphere, and finally persuaded the great detective to take a holiday
in the country. Arrangements were made to stay at the home of one of
Dr. Watson’s old friends. On the evening of their arrival, their host,
Colonel Hayter, in the course of a conversation following dinner, told
them of an unusual burglary which had occurred a few nights before
in the neighborhood. When Holmes manifested too warm an interest in
this event, Watson became alarmed and cautioned him: “You are here
for a rest, my dear fellow. For Heaven’s sake don’t get started on
a new problem when your nerves are all in shreds” (_The Reigate
Puzzle_). Watson’s admonition proved of no avail. The next morning,
while at breakfast, they were informed that a dastardly murder had
been committed at the home of a nearby neighbor. Inspector Forrester,
knowing that Sherlock Holmes was in the vicinity, asked for his help.
Holmes answered the call, and after a rather painful experience, solved
the mystery brilliantly in the course of a few hours.
The neat solution of this case, together with the concomitant
excitement which it afforded, apparently caused Holmes to recover
quickly from his “blackest depression,” for that afternoon he remarked
to his faithful friend, “Watson, I think our quiet rest in the country
has been a distinct success, and I shall certainly return much
invigorated to Baker Street tomorrow” (_The Reigate Puzzle_). This
episode demonstrates the man’s superb constitution. Most people would
have required several weeks, or even months, to recover their normal
health following a severe nervous breakdown. But not Holmes.
In several instances, the characters described by Dr. Watson showed
clear-cut signs of hysteria. When the well-known banker Alexander
Holden found that the “Beryl Coronet,” which had been intrusted to his
care, had been mutilated and three of its jewels stolen, he became
greatly agitated and called on Sherlock Holmes:
For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and
plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits
of his reason. Then suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head
against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore
him away to the centre of the room.
_The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet_
This highly respected citizen must have been an emotionally unstable
person. One wonders how he could have been a successful banker, with
such a sensitive nervous system. The poor man must have lain awake
many a weary night worrying about his investments. We do not know
his subsequent history, but I suspect that he eventually developed
hypertension or suffered from gastric ulcers.
When Rachel Howells was questioned by the master of the house about the
disappearance of her perfidious lover Brunton, she showed pronounced
signs of hysteria:
She looked at me with so strange an expression that I began to suspect
that her brain was affected.... She fell back against the wall with
shriek after shriek of laughter, while I, horrified at this sudden
hysterical attack, rushed to the bell to summon help. The girl was
taken to her room still screaming and sobbing....
_The Musgrave Ritual_
There was a real reason for the girl’s behavior; she had been directly
responsible for her lover’s horrible death. It is small wonder that she
suffered a violent hysterical attack.
Once Dr. Watson was asked to see the wife of his boyhood friend Robert
Ferguson. It was a tragic situation. She had been observed on several
occasions sucking blood from her infant son. The sympathetic doctor
stated that she appeared only half conscious, and had a frightened
expression. Her pulse and temperature were both high, but he felt
that this was due to her highly emotional state (_The Adventure of
the Sussex Vampire_). Mrs. Ferguson was probably suffering from
hysteria. The attack cleared up promptly when Sherlock Holmes sat down
at the patient’s bedside and, in the presence of her husband, analyzed
the situation, explaining why it was necessary for Mrs. Ferguson to
suck the baby’s wounds. They had been made by arrows dipped in curare.
The baby’s insanely jealous half-brother had committed this atrocious
deed. Truly, a shocking episode!
In _The Greek Interpreter_, reference is made to a man who showed
symptoms of St. Vitus’ dance. Mr. Melas described his unpleasant
companion: “... his lips and eyelids were continually twitching like a
man with St. Vitus’ dance. I could not help thinking that his strange,
catchy little laugh was also a symptom of some nervous malady.”
The term “St. Vitus’ dance” is seldom used nowadays; it is presently
called “acute chorea.” This condition is characterized by irregular
involuntary contractions of the muscles and is associated with a
variable amount of psychic disturbance. The name (St. Vitus’ dance)
has been handed down from the Middle Ages. Epidemics characterized
by excitement, gesticulations, and dancing brought about mainly by
religious fervor were in those days not uncommon. Whenever these
symptoms became excessive, the people in the Rhenish province
frequently made pilgrimages to the Chapel of St. Vitus in Zebern.
Another reference to twitching muscles may be cited. Sherlock Holmes
called on Mr. Sidney Johnson, senior clerk and draughtsman, in an
office from which extremely important secret papers had disappeared.
Watson writes that the clerk had haggard cheeks, and that his hands
were twitching from the nervous strain he had undergone (_The Adventure
of the Bruce-Partington Plans_).
In the tales, other references may be found to shattered nerves and
states of nervous exhaustion. In describing the condition of her
father, Alice Turner tells Sherlock Holmes: “... Dr. Willow says
that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is shattered” (_The
Boscombe Valley Mystery_). The real reason for his pitiful state,
which his daughter did not know, was that he had recently murdered an
old acquaintance.
When Don Murillo, Tiger of San Pedro, tried to kidnap Miss Burnett, she
broke away from him, and with the help of a friend got into a cab. Here
Holmes saw her, and observed that she was in a state of collapse from
nervous exhaustion (_The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge_). This brave
lady had been locked in a room for a number of days with insufficient
food, and had undergone other traumatic experiences. It is no wonder
that Holmes found her in such a pitiful state.
After Sir Henry Baskerville had narrowly escaped death on the moor from
the savage hound, he suffered a nervous collapse, “... the shock of
the night’s adventure had shattered his nerves.” Sir Henry assuredly
was not a weak man, but the victim of a concatenation of unfortunate
circumstances. The family history of the hound, Sir Henry’s love for a
married woman, his isolation and loneliness, and the somber landscape
of the bleak moor doubtless all preyed on his mind. When the hound
actually sprang upon him, his nervous system finally reached the
breaking point. Stronger men than he would have quailed.
Mr. Marlow Bates, the manager of the estates of the wealthy “Gold King”
Mr. Gibson (whose wife had been found dead), called on Sherlock Holmes.
Watson describes him as a small, thin, fidgety man, who appeared to be
on the brink of a serious nervous breakdown. Although in great fear of
his vicious employer, Bates detested him so heartily that he hurried
to Baker Street and told Holmes that Gibson was an “infernal villain.”
In view of the circumstances, this was indeed a grave accusation. The
reader will recall that the “Gold King” had not murdered his wife; she
had died by her own hand (_The Problem of Thor Bridge_).
The eyes often show a characteristic expression under emotional strain.
Referring to Colonel Valentine Walther, whose brother had suddenly
died, Watson observes that he had wild eyes and presented a worried
and disheveled appearance (_The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington
Plans_). It was discovered that it was the colonel who had stolen
an extremely important state document. His older brother, Sir James,
suspected Valentine’s guilt. The shock was too much for the older
man and caused his death; there was a question as to whether he took
his own life. Be that as it may, his younger brother was responsible
for the tragedy. We are not surprised to learn that the eyes of the
colonel had a wild expression.
People under great emotional strain often break out in a cold sweat.
Nearly everyone has, at one time or another, experienced this
phenomenon. It is caused by violent stimulation of the sympathetic
nervous system. When John Openshaw’s uncle Elias received a letter
containing five orange pips, a great change came over him. At times he
acted like a madman. His nephew told Holmes, “At such times I have seen
his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it were
new raised from a basin” (_The Five Orange Pips_).
A cold sweat is more apt to manifest itself on the forehead, but it
is not necessarily limited to the face, for any portion, or all,
of the body may be involved. The cold, clammy sweat produced under
conditions of intense mental stress is different, of course, from the
normal healthy sweat brought about by a warm environment or by physical
exertion, or by both. The physiologic explanation of a cold sweat is
that it is a condition brought about by pain or fear as a reaction
anticipatory of the strenuous muscle movements that may ensue.
Victor Trevor’s father was also the recipient of a letter which led to
tragedy:
My father read it, clapped both hands to his head and began running
round the room in little circles like a man who has been driven out of
his senses.... I saw that he had a stroke.
_The “Gloria Scott”_
Apparently, this individual became so agitated, and his blood pressure
rose so high, that he was stricken with a fatal cerebral hemorrhage.
It is well known that emotions may produce a pronounced rise in blood
pressure even in healthy people.
Most of the nervous maladies described by Dr. Watson were in the
nature of acute episodes, and more or less transient in character. The
individuals he depicted were high-strung, nervous people, overwhelmed
by the traumatic experiences to which they had been subjected. Some
of these were unable to suppress their emotions and either became
hysterical or suffered a nervous collapse.
As a rule, we do not think of the English people as giving way to
their feelings, but as governing them strictly. It is the Latins who
are supposed to manifest hysterical reactions. However, it would
take extraordinarily strong men, regardless of their nationality,
to maintain normal mental equilibrium under some of the situations
described in the spine-tingling tales; even the stolid Britishers
cracked under the mental strain. The nervous system of man can
withstand just so much and no more. It is given to but few to possess
nerves of steel, and even such rare individuals finally reach a
breaking point. Man is not a machine, but a human being.
If Dr. Watson were writing his adventurous stories today, he probably
would stress the fact that long-continued nervous strain is likely
to produce ulcers of the stomach or of the duodenum. The modern view
is that mental worry may lead to hypertension and to diseases of the
arteries, especially those which supply the heart muscles, namely, the
coronaries--although it is true, as previously mentioned, that most
of the characters depicted in the tales suffered mental strain for a
substantial length of time.
It is noteworthy that both Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson maintained a
nice mental balance even during periods of tremendous excitement and
danger. A striking characteristic about both was their extraordinary
fearlessness and mental poise. Although people around them often
manifested signs of abject fear, or were given to hysterical outbursts,
our heroes never faltered, but maintained a calm demeanor and
dispatched neatly and efficiently the task before them.
DOGS AND SHERLOCK HOLMES
“It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging
jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones.”
_The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_
To those interested in animals, it is gratifying to know that two of
the most popular heroes of detective fiction--Sherlock Holmes and
Dr. Watson--both loved dogs. They did not like them in a sickly,
sentimental sense, but rather with a genuine, masculine affection.
They regarded them as dogs, not as human beings, and emphasized and
respected their canine personalities. I am sure every self-respecting
dog would want to be so regarded.
Frequent mention of dogs is found in the tales. In point of fact, the
grisly, spectral hound portrayed in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_
has become a byword not only among readers of detective fiction but
also with people in general. Various kinds of dogs are portrayed: large
dogs, small dogs, good ones and bad ones. In one instance, a lovable,
curly-haired spaniel is depicted; in another, a plodding bloodhound;
and in still another, a fiendish dog.
One Sunday evening, in early September, in the year 1903, Sherlock
Holmes summarily sent for Dr. Watson. The friendly doctor, not wishing
to disappoint his friend, set out for Baker Street, and entered the
old apartment, which for a number of years had also been his home.
Holmes waved him to a chair, and after a considerable period of silence
remarked that he was seriously considering writing a monograph on
the use of dogs in the work of a detective (_The Adventure of the
Creeping Man_).
Dr. Watson did not think much of the idea, and pointed out that this
field had been pretty thoroughly explored. Holmes would not agree.
He explained that he wished to approach the subject from a somewhat
different angle than had previously been done. He argued that a dog
reflected a family’s life. If the household were a happy one, the dog
would be friendly and frisky; conversely, if the family were gloomy,
the dog would appear sad. He insisted further that dangerous and
unpleasant dogs are owned by dangerous and unpleasant people.
Holmes bolstered his argument by giving as an illustration the case on
which he was presently working. He believed that the changed behavior
of a wolfhound toward his master might turn out to be an important clue
in solving the mystery. This eventually proved to be true, as will
be described later. Although we may congratulate Holmes on his keen
analysis, and on his pungent manner of presenting the argument, there
surely must be many exceptions which come to the minds of us all. We
have witnessed nice people who harbor vicious dogs, and the opposite as
well. We will not quibble, but agree for the main part that Holmes was
probably right.
Hounds are frequently mentioned. In _The Sign of the Four_, Watson,
describing Holmes in action, writes: “So swift, silent, and furtive
were his movements, like those of a trained bloodhound picking out a
scent.” Again, in _A Study in Scarlet_, we see: “As I watched him I
was irresistibly reminded of a pure-blooded, well-trained foxhound,
as it dashes backward and forward through the covert, whining in its
eagerness, until it comes across the lost scent.” In _The Red-Haired
League_, Jones of Scotland Yard, speaking to his colleague Wilson,
comments: “Our friend Holmes here is a wonderful man for starting a
chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him in the running down.”
Other habits of hounds may be found in _The Adventure of the Devil’s
Foot_ and _The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans_. Numerically,
hounds are mentioned more frequently in the tales than any other
kind of dog, and in several instances hounds actually track down the
criminal.
It will be recalled that in _The Sign of the Four_ the dependable old
hound Tobey follows a creosote scent. In _The Adventure of the Missing
Three-Quarter_, faithful old Pompey follows a carriage which had had
aniseed squirted upon the wheel by Holmes. On this occasion, Holmes
remarks to Watson that a draghound would follow aniseed indefinitely.
Holmes takes almost a human interest in Pompey. The detective formally
introduces the dog to Dr. Watson and speaks highly of the draghound’s
tracking ability. However, he did not trust all dogs, for we find him
saying to Watson that some dogs bite the hand that feeds them (_The
Adventure of the Three Gables_).
Two especially fiendish dogs are portrayed in the tales: Carlo the
mastiff, in _The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_; and the spectral
hound, in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. In the former, the
despicable Rucastle, the master of Carlo, said: “We feed him once a
day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard....
God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon!” Miss Violet
Hunter, the heroine of the story, saw this beast one night: “It was a
giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black
muzzle, and huge projecting bones.” Watson vividly describes the attack
Carlo finally made on his master:
There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in
Rucastle’s throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground.
Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen
white teeth still meeting in the creases of his neck.
In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, we find a hound which would
frighten the Evil One himself. Evidently, this huge beast was a
mongrel: “It was not a pure bloodhound and it was not a pure mastiff;
but it appeared to be a combination of the two--gaunt, savage, and as
large as a small lioness.” Watson paints this animated picture:
A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as
mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes
glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap
were outlined in flickering flame.
While this hound was worrying the throat of Sir Henry Baskerville,
Holmes emptied five barrels of his revolver into the creature’s flank.
“With a last howl of agony and a vicious snap in the air, it rolled
upon its back, four feet pawing furiously, and then fell limp upon its
side.”
Other breeds are not ignored. Holmes, who had considerable
professional jealousy, would not admit that Jones of Scotland Yard
had the imagination a detective should have, or that he had a keen
intellect, but does pay him this fine compliment: “He is as brave as
a bulldog....” (_The Red-Haired League_.) A reference is made to rat
terriers in _The Adventure of the Crooked Man_. Spaniels also are
mentioned on at least two occasions. Dr. Mortimer, in the story of _The
Hound of the Baskervilles_, owns a curly-haired spaniel of which he
is extremely fond. Unfortunately, this lovable dog comes to grief on
the moor. In _The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place_, a spaniel plays
an important part in solving the mystery. The so-called “Shoscombe
spaniels” were famous throughout England, and, according to Holmes,
were frequently mentioned at dog shows. He successfully uses one of
these, a pet spaniel, to establish the fact that the person in the
carriage is not the dog’s mistress. Holmes was satisfied that the
spaniel was right, and insisted that dogs do not make mistakes in such
cases.
Another instance can be cited where the behavior of a dog helped
Sherlock Holmes solve a perplexing problem. In talking to Watson, he
laid great stress on the fact that Professor Presbury’s heretofore
friendly wolfhound Roy had turned on his master and tried to attack
him. This extraordinary episode played an important part in the final
solution of the mystery (_The Adventure of the Creeping Man_).
The facts in the case were these: Professor Presbury, a distinguished
physiologist, had fallen madly in love with a very young girl, and,
in an effort to regain his lost youth, had periodically been taking
hypodermic injections of serum obtained from langurs. According to
the story, the monkey serum produced apelike qualities in Professor
Presbury. Following the injections, the professor would deliberately
and maliciously tease his wolfhound until one night the hound slipped
his collar and viciously attacked his master. He buried his muzzle in
his master’s throat; and if timely aid had not come, Presbury would
have been killed. As Holmes remarked to Watson, the hound thought he
was attacking the monkey and not the professor.
Since Holmes was a detective, and not a professional biologist, he
seldom found it necessary to use dogs for experimental purposes. Once,
however, he did not hesitate to try out the effects of a poison drug,
curare, on an old dog which was _in extremis_. It will be recalled
that this poison caused instant death (_A Study in Scarlet_). While
not a biological scientist--as we understand the word today--Holmes
nevertheless was scientifically minded, and it is certain that had the
need arisen to obtain evidence which would have helped mankind he would
not have hesitated to experiment on a normal, healthy dog. He was a
practical man, in the fullest sense of the word, and had, as Watson
said, “... an admirably balanced mind” (_A Scandal in Bohemia_).
It is true that both Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson grieved when Dr.
Mortimer’s pet curly-haired spaniel met its fate on the moor, and they
both loved Tobey, the faithful old bloodhound who had aided them in
_The Sign of the Four_. However, they did not hesitate to shoot
five bullets into the flank of the hound of the Baskervilles when he
was at the throat of Sir Henry, or to blow out the brains of Carlo the
mastiff when he sank his teeth into the fat neck of the villainous
Rucastle. Holmes and Watson were not sentimentalists, but virile,
vigorous men of action--the type of men dogs like.
Finally, Dr. Watson pays a tribute to dogs in general in _The
Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_. In this story, after McPherson died
from his encounter with the Lion’s Mane (_Cyanea capillata_),
his pet Airedale eventually met a similar fate. According to Sherlock
Holmes himself, the terrier did not eat for a week following his
master’s death, and finally followed the trail of his dead master. He
was found dead on the edge of the same pool where his master had lost
his life. It is true that the terrier did not have the opportunity
of saving his master’s life--but no doubt he would have, had it been
possible. The story portrays vividly the bond of companionship between
a man and his dog, for in this instance the dog apparently gave his
life searching for his master. Dr. Watson pays tribute to such devotion
in the words of Sherlock Holmes: “That the dog should die was after
the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs.” This is a tribute that can
be endorsed by all, but especially by biologists, who are so deeply
indebted to the dog for the aid it has given in the search for means to
alleviate the pain and suffering of mankind. I am certain that every
biologist who professes to be a Christian gentleman would say “Amen”
to Dr. Watson’s beautiful tribute to an animal which would die so that
mankind might live.
THE BOTANICAL DOCTOR WATSON
“... there stood a patriarch among oaks, one of the most magnificent
trees that I have ever seen.”
_The Musgrave Ritual_
Many delightful references to plant life may be found in the tales.
These allusions enrich the stories and add greatly to their charm and
interest. Love for inviting landscapes, for trees, for flowers, and
for shrubs appears to be innate in human beings. This would be a drab
world indeed without a variegated and a beautiful plant life. One need
not be a botanist to appreciate the beauty and fragrance of a rose or
a violet. They are different in design, but lovely in their own ways.
It is not meet that we attempt to analyze their beauty; let us merely
enjoy it. If an extravagant phrase be permitted, let us not subject the
beauty of the orchid to the flame of the analytic blowpipe or attempt
to measure the fragrance of the June rose with an olfactometer.
After Dr. Watson had lived with Sherlock Holmes a few weeks, he became
intensely interested in this quiet but unusual man. One day he sat
down and made an attempt to analyze and evaluate Holmes’ conversance
in several fields. While Dr. Watson felt that Holmes’ understanding of
anatomy was good, his knowledge of botany was “variable.” The worthy
doctor writes: “Knowledge of Botany--Variable. Well up in belladonna,
opium, and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening” (_A
Study in Scarlet_). Thus, it appears that Holmes was more interested
in medicinal plants, and especially those from which poisons could be
extracted. This does not surprise us, because of his interest in crime
detection; we know, too, of his researches in the chemistry of the
alkaloids.
We must keep in mind that Watson wrote of Sherlock Holmes:
“Appreciation of nature found no place among his many gifts” (_The
Adventure of the Cardboard Box_). A man uninterested in nature is
not apt to take especial notice or appreciate the beauty of flowers or
vegetation. We are indebted, therefore, largely to Dr. Watson for the
many pleasing references to plant life and landscapes.
We find allusions to a botanist and to the study of botany in _The
Valley of Fear_ and in _The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge_. In the first
story, Watson likens Holmes to a botanist rapt in his admiration for
a beautiful flower; and in the latter story, Watson points out that
many instructive days can be spent in the study of botany and suggests
the use of an elementary text on the subject, a spud, and a proper box
to hold the specimens. The amateur botanist will surely appreciate
these suggestions. Such a person will find pleasure no matter where he
strays--in the forest, the plains, the mountains, or the desert. He
will never be bored.
Dr. Watson obviously loved the vegetation of early spring, for he
writes: “... the first faint shoots of green were breaking out upon the
elm, and the sticky spearheads of the chestnuts were just beginning to
burst into their fivefold leaves” (_The Adventure of the Yellow Face_).
Also, we read, “The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out
their first green shoots.” (_The Adventure of the Speckled Band_).
The observant doctor was not unmindful of the autumn foliage. In _The
Hound of the Baskervilles_, he calls our attention to the melancholy
aspect of the countryside in the fall of the year, and speaks of the
yellow leaves lying on the ground, some still fluttering down from the
trees. In _The Problem of Thor Bridge_, he notes that the plane tree
in the backyard was losing its remaining leaves on a stormy October
morning. (We would call a plane tree a sycamore.) Some people claim
they become somewhat melancholic in the autumn and dislike to see the
leaves falling, the grass turning brown, and other signs associated
with the fall of the year. I am not one of these. There is much to be
said for distinct changes in seasons. The changes occurring in the
autumn are necessary so that the wonderful season of spring may be
thoroughly appreciated and enjoyed.
Several types of landscapes are pictured. In _A Study in Scarlet_,
the arid land in our great West is described:
As far as the eye can reach stretches the great flat plainland, all
dusted over with patches of alkali, and intersected by clumps of the
dwarfish chaparral bushes.
The purist might object to the term “chaparral bushes,” because
chaparral, being a nonspecific term, refers to any stunted type of
vegetation found growing on dry soil in our West. It might have been
more proper simply to have said “clumps of chaparral.” In the same
story, a prosperous, peaceful countryside landscape is depicted:
“All looked so peaceful and happy, the rustling trees and the broad
silent stretch of grainland....” In _The Adventure of the Solitary
Cyclist_, a landscape of flowering gorse is described, and attention
is called to its golden color on the heather-covered fields.
Dr. Watson obviously was impressed with landscapes of gold and bronze,
especially those which contained faded ferns, for we find him using the
description several times, for example:
The sun was beginning to sink ... and the long, sloping plain in front
of us was tinged with gold, deepening into rich, ruddy browns where
the faded ferns and brambles caught the evening light.
_Silver Blaze_
Similarly, in the same story: “... the low curves of the moor,
bronze-coloured from the fading ferns, stretched away to the sky
line....” Besides these landscapes, several references to some of
the famous forests of England are made in _The Adventure of Black
Peter_ and _The Naval Treaty_.
As might be anticipated, numerous allusions are made to trees. Dr.
Watson presents a pleasing picture: “Just beyond it is a nice little
grove of Scotch firs, and I used to be very fond of strolling down
there, for trees are always a neighborly kind of thing” (_The Yellow
Face_). The word “neighborly” strikes a sympathetic note. All of
us have experienced this feeling at one time or another. Walking in a
pleasant woodland, one can quietly commune with nature. The singular
thing is that on such occasions the creative mind is often stimulated.
New ideas and new concepts apparently rise from the subconscious to the
higher brain centers. Numerous examples could be given of this truly
remarkable phenomenon.
Dr. Watson must have had a lively interest in oak trees, for he alludes
to them on several occasions. He speaks of “ancient” oaks and “mighty”
oaks, terms surely applicable to the famous English oak trees (_The
Valley of Fear_ and _The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_).
The prize oak, presumably, is the one described in _The Musgrave
Ritual_. Sherlock Holmes related the story to Dr. Watson one winter
night: “... there stood a patriarch among oaks, one of the most
magnificent trees that I have ever seen.” He went on to quote his
host, Reginald Musgrave: “It was there at the Norman Conquest in all
probability.... It has a girth of twenty-three feet.” Truly, it was a
mighty oak and worthy of comment. If its girth was twenty-three feet,
it had a diameter of approximately seven and one-third feet. The events
described in the story occurred in the last quarter of the nineteenth
century, so the tree must have been over nine hundred years old if it
dated from the Norman Conquest of 1066.
Probably few people appreciate the longevity of oak trees. I recall,
as a child, an oak that stood not far from my home. I have seen it
periodically for over a half-century. It still looks about the same
as when I first saw it, but presumably it has had a slow but steady
growth throughout the years. Assuming that such a tree is not ravaged
by wind and storm or struck by lightning, it probably will stand for
several centuries. This is a fascinating thought, because it staggers
the imagination to think what historical events could occur during such
a span of years.
Dr. Watson describes trees in various settings, such as parks (_The
Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_ and _The Adventure of the Abbey
Grange_), and in several instances as borders for avenues or lanes. A
number of examples might be cited, but one will suffice: “The house ...
with a fine lime-lined avenue leading to it” (_The “Gloria Scott”_).
In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, the Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall
played an extremely important part in the story. It will be recalled
that Sir Charles, before going to bed at night, was wont to take a walk
down the Yew Alley. One night he saw the huge hound which the evil
Stapleton had purposely let loose on the moor. Sir Charles became so
frightened that he ran headlong and dropped dead from a heart attack.
In this story, too, mention is made of trees which have been subjected
to adverse growing conditions. Dr. Watson speaks of trees which have
been stunted and nipped on the moor, and emphasizes how the oaks and
firs are bent and twisted by the furious storms throughout the years.
The bizarre shapes which such trees assume are truly fascinating. Their
irregular outlines appear ghostlike by night and weird by day. They are
the joy of the amateur photographer and the professional artist.
Various types of trees are used to create a proper setting for the
mystery stories. In _The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone_, a melancholy
grove of half-grown pines is described; and in _The Adventure of
Wisteria Lodge_, a row of chestnuts is depicted as giving the avenue a
gloomy appearance.
The fact that pine trees are used to set the note for a gloomy
landscape calls for comment. I have always felt that a clump of
evergreen trees around a house creates a distinctly depressing
atmosphere; this is especially true if the house is isolated in the
country. To me these somber trees give a sense of loneliness and gloom,
and bring to mind Anna Katherine Green’s mystery story, _The House of
Whispering Pines_. It may be that this story, which I read in my youth,
is the reason for my feeling. I am sure, in any event, that many people
enjoy evergreen trees around their home, especially in winter, as a
welcome relief from the drab, slate-gray landscape.
Besides those trees already enumerated, several other species are
mentioned throughout the tales: namely, the larch, the beech, and
the copper beech. In _The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_, this
description occurs: “The group of trees with their dark leaves shining
like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun....”
Flower beds and borders are described in several of the tales. In _The
Sign of the Four_, we find that: “... just under the window a single
foot-mark was visible in the flower bed.” Also, in _The Adventure of
the Devil’s Foot_, a flower border lying underneath the window is
noted, but it contained no trace of a footprint. Obviously, footprints
are a necessary component of mystery stories; and what better place to
look for them than in the soft earth of a flower bed under a window?
In all the stories, only a few flowers are specifically named:
crocuses, orchids, roses, and violets. In _The Hound of the
Baskervilles_, when Dr. Watson met the wife of the naturalist Stapleton
on the moor, she asked him to pick an orchid for her, and explained
that the moor was rich in them. This is supposed to have occurred in
the fall of the year. It seems singular that orchids would be in bloom
at that time.
The amateur gardener will be sympathetically interested to read of
gardens and lawns which did not live up to expectations: “A small
garden sprinkled over with a scattered eruption of sickly plants
separated each of these houses” (_A Study in Scarlet_). In _The
Adventure of the Retired Colourman_, a sorry-looking garden is
depicted. It is pictured as going to seed and bearing every evidence
of gross neglect. In _The Red-Haired League_, an ill-kept lawn is
described: “... where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded
laurel bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and uncongenial
atmosphere.”
Several welcome allusions are made to the odors of flowers or of
vegetation. The scent of flowers, gardens, greenhouses, trees, meadows,
swamps, and the decay of autumn leaves often bring back memories of
other times and places. In _The Naval Treaty_, we find “... the rich
scent of the garden ...”; and in _A Study in Scarlet_, we read of “...
the balsamic odours of the pine trees....” All of us have experienced
the refreshing and delightful odors of a flower garden, and those who
have been in the north, or in the mountains in almost any latitude,
remember with pleasure the clean smell of the evergreen trees. In _The
Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_, our attention is called to the scent of
thyme on the downs. I am sure that to many people the faintly exotic
aroma of thyme (which belongs to the mint family) is enjoyable.
Some plants have a distinctly heavy, cloying odor--for example, certain
lilies. The effect produced may actually be unpleasant. Dr. Watson, in
describing a greenhouse, brings this out (_The Adventure of Charles
Augustus Milverton_). He speaks of the heavy fragrance of certain
plants which actually causes a choking sensation. The odor of decayed
plants arising from the treacherous Grimpen Mire is emphasized in _The
Hound of the Baskervilles_. Most of us are familiar with the miasmic
vapors which often arise from swampland. Presumably, everyone has his
own favorite odor. Some people enjoy the exquisite fragrance of the
rose, some that of the carnation, and others the faint and delicate
odor of the sweet pea. The city dweller who was raised in the country
may yearn for the sweet smell of newly mown hay, and, strangely enough,
may even long for the pungent ammoniacal smell of the barnyard.
Throughout the tales, we find mention of bracken, bramble, bushes,
ferns, gorse, heather, hedges, laurel, lichens, rhododendron, shrubs,
and vines. We have already alluded to many of these. To my knowledge,
in only one instance is there a reference to blood-stained vegetation
indicating that a murder might have been committed. We find, in
_The Adventure of the Priory School_, that Holmes, to the horror of
Watson, held up some flowering gorse which was blood-stained. The
surrounding heather, too, showed evidence of old blood stains. It will
be remembered that these were found on the spot where the unfortunate
German master of the Priory School had met his death.
Everyone interested in Sherlock Holmes will vividly recall the meeting
between Holmes and Professor Moriarty on the brink of the falls of the
Reichenbach. Dr. Watson inspected the spot shortly after the meeting:
A few yards from the end the soil was all ploughed up into a patch of
mud, and the brambles and ferns which fringed the chasm were torn and
bedraggled.
_The Final Problem_
The patches of mud and torn vegetation gave clear evidence of what had
taken place on the edge of the falls. We learn later, of course--much
to our surprise and satisfaction--that Holmes had, by his superior
skill, triumphed over his arch enemy. The meeting marked the end of
Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime.
Dr. Watson’s many allusions to botany give added charm to the tales,
and indicate not only his love for the flora of England but also his
zest for nature.
THE SURGICAL DOCTOR WATSON
“... the thin white hand he laid on the mantelpiece ... was that of an
artist rather than of a surgeon.”
_The Resident Patient_
Dr. Watson professed to be a general practitioner of medicine. Such a
person is called upon from time to time to do minor, but under ordinary
conditions he does not attempt to do major, surgery. To my knowledge,
there is no particular reference to major surgery in any of the tales,
although one or two famous surgeons are mentioned. On the other hand,
numerous allusions are made to minor surgery. I am cognizant of the
fact that there is often but a thin line between major and minor
surgery.
Dr. Watson evidently felt that a good surgeon must have large and
supple hands, for he writes: “... the thin white hand he laid on the
mantelpiece ... was that of an artist rather than a surgeon” (_The
Resident Patient_). The size of the hand probably is not of major
importance. It is the ability to use the hands that counts. Several
eminent surgeons, to my own knowledge, are men of large physical
stature, and I am sure have correspondingly large hands. But I have
seen some equally capable men, hardly of average height, who had small
hands. Harvey Cushing, the brilliant Harvard brain surgeon, was a man
of medium size, and, if I recall correctly, had rather small hands. Let
us not labor this point further, for this is not an essay on surgeons’
hands, but turn to the tales of Sherlock Holmes.
It is axiomatic that every man who practices medicine, regardless of
his specialty, must be familiar with the current literature in his
field. It is gratifying that Dr. Watson appreciated this. In _The
Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez_, Watson observes that one stormy
night he and Holmes sat together in silence; the latter was working on
a palimpsest, while Watson was reading a treatise on surgery.
Holmes appreciated that a correct diagnosis is of paramount importance
to a conscientious surgeon. In _The Problem of Thor Bridge_, we
find Mr. Neil Gibson, the “Gold King,” telling Holmes that he was
like a surgeon, because Holmes wanted to know every symptom before
he ventured a diagnosis. Holmes quickly retorted that this was quite
true, and strongly implied that his client was withholding important
information which Holmes needed before the mystery about which he was
being consulted could be solved.
There are a number of references to scalp wounds or injuries to the
skull, or both. In the rough-and-tumble life a detective leads, it
might be expected that he would often see such injuries. Let us examine
some of them.
Once Sherlock Holmes himself came under a surgeon’s care. The great
detective had been attacked on the street by two ruffians and had
been pretty roughly handled (_The Adventure of the Illustrious
Client_). Sir Leslie Oakshot, the eminent London surgeon who had
been called in, stated that Holmes had suffered lacerations of the
scalp and that several stitches were necessary. Holmes fortunately made
an uneventful recovery, and we learn that the stitches were taken out
on the seventh day.
Dr. Watson describes a man in _The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_
who had suffered a severe scalp wound. He had been found unconscious,
although the bones of the skull had not been penetrated. Another case
is mentioned which surely must puzzle the layman (_The Adventure
of the Dancing Men_). A bullet passed through the frontal portion
of the brain. The reader is assured that, although the patient was
unconscious, she would live. The medically trained person would think
immediately of an accidental lobotomy.
One is reminded in this connection of the skull of a workman exhibited
in the museum of the Harvard Medical School. This rare specimen shows
an enormous hole made by a tamping bar. The bar passed through the
skull, and a considerable amount of brain substance was destroyed.
Remarkably enough, the patient did not die from this terrific injury,
but lived for a long time afterward--surely a most unusual case.
It should be added that he suffered an unfortunate change in his
personality following the accident.
In several instances, the head injuries mentioned were immediately
fatal. For example, in _The Adventure of the Empty House_, an
expanding revolver bullet was fired into the victim’s head. In _The
Boscombe Valley Mystery_, we find that: “The head had been beaten
in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon.” In this last
story, Dr. Watson gets technical: “In the surgeon’s deposition it was
stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left
half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a
blunt weapon.” But contrast the following nontechnical description:
“The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering was found
to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of his head,
which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a blunt weapon”
(_The Crooked Man_). This is a good example of a wound so simply
described that anyone could easily understand and appreciate it. With
few exceptions, Watson never forgot that he was writing for laymen.
Scalp wounds and injuries to the head are often used to dramatize
detective stories. The average layman instinctively feels that such
wounds are extraordinarily dangerous, and that people experiencing such
accidents are nearly always in a critical state. This, of course, may
or may not be true, because nature has provided a strong bony cage to
protect the brain.
In _The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire_, there occurs a reference
concerning an orthopedic problem. Dr. Watson writes that the gait of
a fifteen-year-old boy suggested plainly that he had a weak spine. We
are further informed that a fall in childhood had brought about this
condition. The devoted father spoke of the lad as being an unfortunate
cripple and quite inoffensive. He was quite mistaken, for this
so-called inoffensive lad became so insanely jealous of his normal,
healthy baby half-brother that he tried to do away with him by use of
curare, the South American Indian arrow poison. When Holmes unearthed
this diabolic scheme, he reluctantly informed the boy’s unsuspecting
father. Holmes prefaced his remarks by stating that he was a busy man
and would come to the point quickly; and he used the simile that, the
swifter surgery is done, the less painful it is.
The idea Holmes expressed in regard to swift surgery holds our
interest. In the early days, before the discovery of ether, surgeons
for obvious reasons attempted to perform operations in the shortest
possible time. Indeed, the skill of a surgeon was largely gauged by the
speed with which he could perform an operation.
In at least two of the tales, the carotid artery was the focal point
of interest. In _The Adventure of the Creeping Man_, we find that
when Professor Presbury was viciously attacked by his wolfhound, the
teeth of the dog narrowly missed the carotid artery. In spite of the
rather severe hemorrhage which followed, it will be recalled that the
professor recovered. In _The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez_,
the victim was not as lucky. His carotid had been severed by an
old-fashioned sealing-wax knife, and death ensued in a short time.
Watson emphasized that the wound was small but deep. He was aware that
a large blunt instrument might have pushed the elastic artery aside
rather than piercing it.
We find one reference to an amputation, although it was not performed
by a surgeon. Early one morning, there appeared in Dr. Watson’s
consultation room a young engineer who, during the preceding night, had
undergone a harrowing experience in which his thumb had been hacked off
by a vicious counterfeiter. The doctor was astounded when he saw the
wound: “It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There
were four protruding fingers and a horrid, red, spongy surface where
the thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right from the
roots” (_The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb_).
When Dr. Watson asked the victim whether the wound had bled a
great deal, the answer was: “Yes, it did.... I tied one end of my
handkerchief very tightly around the wrist and braced it up with a
twig.” Watson’s succinct reply was: “Excellent. You should have been
a surgeon.” To satisfy the reader’s sympathetic curiosity, it should
be mentioned that Dr. Watson gave the patient a drink of brandy, and
cleansed and bandaged the wound. Since the thumb had been “torn right
out from the roots,” it seems that Dr. Watson should have taken a few
stitches to bring the cut tissues together. No such mention is made,
and it is to be hoped that the wound healed satisfactorily.
It is noteworthy that this engineer must have had a rugged
constitution. Dr. Watson, after caring for the wound, took him to 221B
Baker Street, where he joined Holmes and Watson in eating a substantial
breakfast. Then, for the benefit of the consulting detective, he
related the night’s terrible adventure at some length. He next
accompanied Holmes and his companions on a train journey to Eyeford, a
little Berkshire village. This was a strenuous program. The question
arises, why did the kind Watson allow his patient to do all these
things? This young man should have received a narcotic to deaden the
pain, which must have been severe, and then should have gone to bed. If
the patient experienced difficulty in going to sleep, a hypnotic should
have been administered. In this instance, Dr. Watson placed himself in
an indefensible position.
Let us now turn from injuries of the human flesh and consider something
relatively less gruesome. A surgical instrument is described and,
interestingly enough, the name of the manufacturer is given. Holmes
himself calls our attention to it: “... an ivory-handled knife with a
very delicate, inflexible blade marked Weiss & Co., London” (_Silver
Blaze_). Parenthetically, it should be stated that Weiss & Co.,
are still famous makers of knives. Indeed, there are several in my
laboratory at the present time.
When Holmes speaks of the singularity of this knife, and suggests to
Dr. Watson that surely this was in his line, the latter states, “It is
what we call a cataract knife.” Holmes replies, “A very delicate blade
devised for very delicate work.” The reader should be reminded that
the knife in question was not employed to murder a human being, but a
villainous horse trainer had intended to use it to cut the tendon of a
famous race horse. It will be remembered that the nefarious scheme was
never carried out, for the highly nervous thoroughbred animal killed
his trainer by kicking him on the head before the operation could be
performed.
As far as I am aware, Watson did not make any specific mention of any
other surgical instruments in the tales. He does, however, on one
occasion make an allusion to a surgeon’s choice of his instrument
during an operation. He is commenting on Holmes’ selection of tools
when attempting to open the safe of the notorious blackmailer,
Charles Augustus Milverton, and points out that Holmes chose his
instruments with the same scientific precision as a surgeon about to
perform an important operation (_The Adventure of Charles Augustus
Milverton_).
In the present essay, we have discussed only those cases which are
concerned with surgery. But in England the medical man is often
spoken of as a “surgeon,” rather than a physician or a doctor or a
general practitioner. We find such expressions in the Sherlock Holmes
stories: “And here comes the country surgeon ...” (_The Adventure
of the Copper Beeches_). Numerous other references could be cited,
but this one will suffice. Furthermore, a doctor’s treatment room is
spoken of as his “surgery.” This latter expression is often found,
especially in English novels. The villain Stapleton, in _The Hound of
the Baskervilles_, tells Dr. Watson that he had been visiting with
Dr. Mortimer, and that while they were in his “surgery,” Dr. Mortimer
had pointed out Dr. Watson through the window. In another instance,
we find, “The surgery, where I used to make up my drugs ...” (_The
Sign of the Four_). In this country, we would simply call it “the
doctor’s office,” or if we wanted to be more specific, his “treatment”
or “examining room.” These are minor differences, it is true, but they
are of passing interest.
Some of the wounds so dramatically described by Dr. Watson surely
became severely infected, and the patient’s suffering must have been
considerable. Pasteur and Lister had already published the results of
their brilliant researches, and the medical profession was well aware
of the dangers of infections at the time. In spite of this, not much
could be done once the wounds began to suppurate, for the antibiotics
had as yet not been discovered. We may rest assured, however, that Dr.
Watson did all he could to alleviate the patient’s pain and to promote
healing of the wound.
SHERLOCK HOLMES, THE CHEMIST
“A formidable array of bottles and test tubes, with the pungent
cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day
in the chemical work which was so dear to him.”
_The Red-Haired League_
Mention is made from time to time in the tales of certain chemical
problems which occupy the attention of the great detective. Moreover,
the chemical desk and chemical paraphernalia in the rooms at 221B
Baker Street are referred to frequently. Indeed, the reader would be
disappointed if they were not mentioned, for he has come to accept them
as he has the Persian slipper and the gasogene. Since we are living
in an age of chemistry, it is pertinent and timely to review Sherlock
Holmes’ interest in this important field. It is, moreover, of certain
intellectual and historical interest to examine--even though rather
superficially--the status of any phase of chemistry during the last
quarter of the past century, or, for that matter, of any period. At the
time of which we write, biological chemistry was still in its infancy,
but organic chemistry was already an important subject.
In _A Study in Scarlet_, it will be remembered that when
Stamford took Dr. Watson to the laboratory of the medical school to
meet Sherlock Holmes, they found him working on a chemical problem.
So enthusiastic was Holmes that, even before Stamford had had an
opportunity to present Watson, Holmes sprang to his feet and cried:
“I’ve found it! I’ve found it!... I have found a reagent which is
precipitated by hemoglobin, and by nothing else.” He then acknowledged
the introduction, and made the famous remark, “You have been in
Afghanistan, I perceive.”
Holmes proceeded next to give a demonstration of his new test:
“Now, I add this small quantity of blood to a litre of water. You
perceive that the resulting mixture has the appearance of water. The
proportion of blood cannot be more than one in a million. I have no
doubt, however, that we shall be able to obtain the characteristic
reaction.”
As he spoke, he threw into the vessel a few white crystals, and then
added some drops of a transparent fluid. In an instant, the contents
assumed a dull mahogany color, and a brownish dust was precipitated to
the bottom of the glass jar.
Holmes was so well pleased that he added, “Now we have the Sherlock
Holmes’ test....”
At this point a sour note can be injected. Assuming that Holmes did
discover a sensitive test for hemoglobin, it was nevertheless not
a specific one for human blood. The blood of many animals contains
hemoglobin. In a case of murder, for example, if blood were found on a
cudgel, a knife, or on the clothing of a suspect, it would still have
to be proved that it was human blood. This, incidentally, can now be
scientifically shown, but it is a long, delicate procedure.
After Holmes had demonstrated his brilliant experiment, the trio sat
down, and Holmes and Watson discussed the possibility of sharing rooms.
Holmes volunteered, “I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally
do experiments.” Parenthetically, it may be stated that Watson on later
occasions complained about the odors produced by these experiments. As
we know, however, an agreement was reached, and perhaps the two most
famous characters in fiction decided to cast their lot together and
locate on 221B Baker Street.
The staid Dr. Watson, after living with Holmes several weeks, took
it upon himself to make an appraisal of his unusual roommate. His
conclusions were that Holmes’ knowledge in certain areas, such as
literature, philosophy, and astronomy, was “nil,” but in the field of
chemistry, “profound.”
Holmes as a college student had evinced a marked interest in chemistry.
When telling Dr. Watson the story of _The “Gloria Scott,”_ his
first case, he said: “All this occurred during the first month of the
long vacation. I went up to my London rooms, where I spent seven weeks
working out a few experiments in organic chemistry.”
Holmes maintained his interest in chemistry throughout the years.
In _The Red-Haired League_, Watson describes how he called on
Holmes one day: “A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with
the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had
spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him.” When
Watson asked him whether he had reached a solution, Holmes answered in
the affirmative, and stated it was the bisulphate of baryta. Watson,
evidently disgusted said, “No, no, the mystery.” Holmes’ reply was:
“Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon.” Today
one seldom hears the word “baryta” in this country; we speak of it as
“barium.” The bisulphate of baryta, therefore, which Holmes mentioned,
becomes barium sulphate.
The hobby of the great detective, it appears, afforded him relaxation,
for we find:
“Well, I gave my mind a thorough treat by plunging into a chemical
analysis. One of our greatest statesman has said that a change of work
is the best rest. So it is. When I had succeeded in dissolving the
hydrocarbon which I was at work at, I came back to our problem of the
Sholtos, and thought the whole matter out again.”
_The Sign of the Four_
In his later years, Holmes must have missed his chemical experiments;
for once, when he was away from home, we find Watson writing that
his friend’s temper was on edge because he especially yearned for
his chemistry bench and his scrapbook (_The Adventure of the Three
Students_).
Holmes was wont at times to announce the results of his chemical
researches in a dramatic manner. According to Watson, his hero was
not averse to seeking the limelight. We already have seen how Holmes
acted when he discovered an agent precipitated only by hemoglobin. He
insisted upon telling of his important discovery before giving Stamford
an opportunity of presenting Watson. We find another typical example in
_The Naval Treaty_:
Holmes was seated at his side-table clad in his dressing-gown, and
working hard over a chemical investigation. A large curved retort was
boiling furiously in the bluish flame of a Bunsen burner, and the
distilled drops were condensing into a two-litre measure. My friend
hardly glanced up as I entered, and I, seeing that his investigation
must be of importance, seated myself in an armchair and waited. He
dipped into this bottle ... and finally brought a test-tube containing
a solution over to the table. In his right hand he held a slip of
litmus paper.
“You come at a crisis, Watson,” said he. “If this paper remains blue,
all is well. If it turns red, it means a man’s life.” He dipped it
into the test-tube and it flushed at once into a dull, dirty crimson.
“Hum, I thought as much!”
It is hardly necessary to point out that such dramatic chemical
discoveries so glibly announced by Holmes are rare, and it is not given
to any one individual to find many of them in a lifetime.
Reference already has been made to the fact that the reader rather
expects Dr. Watson to make mention of the chemical bench when he
describes the rooms at 221B Baker Street. One imagines Dr. Watson of a
winter evening sitting in his rocking chair before the fire, absorbed
in a treatise on surgery while Sherlock Holmes is busily engaged with
some chemical problem. In _The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone_, we
find Watson writing that it was pleasant to find himself again at 221B
Baker Street, and that he felt at home when he saw the old chemical
bench, the chemicals, and the other paraphernalia in the living room.
Watson again mentions this in _The Adventure of the Empty House_,
where he speaks of the old landmarks, and especially of the chemical
corner.
On one occasion, Watson described a small chemical laboratory in a
dwelling place.
It appeared to have been fitted up as a chemical laboratory. A
double line of glass-stoppered bottles was drawn up upon the wall
opposite the door and the table was littered over with Bunsen burners,
test-tubes and retorts. In the corner stood carboys of acid in wicker
baskets. One of these appeared to leak, or to have been broken, for a
stream of dark-coloured liquid had trickled out from it, and the air
was heavy with a peculiarly pungent, tarlike odor.
_The Sign of the Four_
This passage shows clearly that Dr. Watson was quite familiar with the
arrangement in chemical laboratories.
Previously, it was mentioned that at their first meeting Holmes had
warned Watson that he preferred to do chemical experiments in his
rooms. The good doctor probably did not think much about it at that
time, but later he had occasion to get firsthand information. In _The
Musgrave Ritual_, Watson, telling how untidy Holmes was, states,
“Our chambers were always full of chemicals....” We find further, in
_The Sign of the Four_:
He [Holmes] would hardly reply to my questions and busied himself all
the evening in an abstruse chemical analysis, which involved much
heating of retorts and distilling of vapors, ending at last in a smell
which fairly drove me out of the apartment. Up to the small hours of
the morning I could hear the clinking of his test-tubes which told me
that he was still engaged in his malodorous experiments.
And again, in _The Adventure of the Dancing Men_, we find Watson
writing that Holmes was fouling the air with some malodorous chemical
experiment. And finally, in _The Adventure of the Dying Detective_,
Watson relates that the long-suffering Mrs. Hudson, too, often had to
put up with noxious odors emanating from Holmes’ chemical experiments.
One wonders whether on occasion Watson regretted the day he agreed to
share an apartment with his famous friend. It may be that Watson, who
also had had considerable chemistry in his medical student days, did
not mind too much the ill smells which from time to time polluted their
living quarters; at any rate, there is no indication that Watson ever
thought of seeking other quarters on this account.
Not only did Holmes’ chemical experiments fill the apartment with
unpleasant odors, but he also kept ungodly hours. In _The Adventure
of the Copper Beeches_, we find:
The telegram ... came late one night, just as I was thinking of
turning in, and Holmes was settling down to one of those all-night
chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I would
leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find him
in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the morning.
This instance, as well as others just mentioned, clearly show that
Holmes was apt to devote long hours to his experiments. Evidently, he
thought nothing of sitting up until the small hours of the morning, or,
for that matter, all night, pursuing his researches. If young college
instructors in departments of chemistry showed such zeal, they surely
would soon gain recognition in their fields. Working all day and most
of the night, however, probably is too much to expect of the average
human frame.
The casual reader naturally takes it for granted that Holmes’ love
for chemistry was due to his interest in crime detection; that is,
he intended to use the knowledge he gained from his experiments for
practical purposes. We recognize this today as applied research. I
would like to emphasize that Holmes was interested in pure or basic
research, too--in other words, research which has no immediate
practical value. Instances may be found in the tales to support this
view. I will mention only two: “That will do very nicely. Then perhaps
I had better postpone my analysis of the acetones, as we may need
to be at our best in the morning” (_The Adventure of the Copper
Beeches_). And, in _The Final Problem_, Holmes remarks rather
plaintively to Watson: “Between ourselves, the recent cases in which I
have been of assistance to the royal family of Scandinavia, and to the
French Republic have left me in such a position that I could continue
to live in the quiet fashion which is most congenial to me, and to
concentrate my attention upon my chemical researches.”
His interest in basic research is rather remarkable, for in that day
there were comparatively few persons engaged in any type of chemical
research. Today, of course, there are thousands of chemists working in
institutions of higher learning and also in many industries. Indeed,
some of the chemists in large industrial plants are not only allowed
but encouraged to do basic research.
We can conceive of Holmes as a famous professor of chemistry in a great
university. In _The Adventure of the Dancing Men_, Watson writes
that Holmes had propped his test tubes in a rack, and that he then
began to lecture like a professor addressing his class. As a teacher,
he might at times have been somewhat curt with his students and
probably impatient with the stupid ones, but at all times he would have
been fair. He had the energy, stamina, and enthusiasm not only to be a
stimulating teacher but a productive scholar as well. He would not have
been an armchair professor, but rather a leader in his chosen field. We
are thankful that he did not choose an academic career, for then the
delightful Sherlock Holmes stories never would have been written, and
the world would be a less interesting place in which to live.
In closing, we can paint a pleasant picture of Sherlock Holmes in his
retirement in his comfortable home on the Sussex Downs. We can imagine
him in the long English twilight working at his chemical bench before
a large window overlooking the beautiful countryside. His fingers
are stained with acids, alkalies, silver nitrate, and other potent
chemicals. His pipe is going full blast, and his brow is probably
perplexed as he scans a recent learned treatise on the chemistry of the
aldehydes or the alkaloids.
While his researches may be profound and manifold, it is more than
likely that he devotes his best efforts toward the detection of some
obscure poisons, with the hope that some scheming sinister criminal
may be brought to justice. Time does not hang heavily on his hands
in his retirement, for there is no end to chemical researches;
infinite problems present themselves to the prepared mind. With his
keen intellect, his wide knowledge, and his rich imagination, he has
doubtless outlined investigative work which will keep him happy and
busy for years to come.
DOCTOR WATSON’S UNIVERSAL SPECIFIC
“... with the aid of ammonia and brandy, I had the satisfaction of
seeing him open his eyes.”
_The Greek Interpreter_
The therapeutic agent most frequently used by Dr. Watson was brandy.
Mention is made of this stimulant in a number of the tales. Let us
examine the conditions in which Dr. Watson’s favorite remedy was used.
In _The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle_, Sherlock Holmes had
accused the pathetic Ryder of stealing the valuable carbuncle. The poor
wretch turned pale, and Holmes remarked to Watson, “Give him a drink
of brandy.” In describing this incident, Watson writes, “For a moment
he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a tinge of
colour into his cheeks....”
We find, in _The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge_, that when the
eminently respectable Mr. Scott Eccles was relating his strange
experience to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Inspector Gregson of
Scotland Yard came in unannounced and informed Eccles that Mr. Garcia,
his host of the preceding night, had been found murdered. Dr. Watson
writes that their client turned deathly pale. Holmes quickly suggested
to Watson that he give Eccles a brandy and soda. This evidently helped
the poor fellow; he gulped it down, and his face soon resumed its
normal color.
Dr. Watson, in the story of _The Greek Interpreter_, took credit for
saving the life of Mr. Melas, who was found locked in a room filled
with a poisonous gas. Holmes and Watson rushed into the room and
dragged out the victim. Dr. Watson writes that, “... with the aid of
ammonia and brandy, I had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes.”
In _The Naval Treaty_, Holmes found the highly important document
which his client Mr. Percy Phelps thought had been lost through his own
negligence. The great detective invited him to have breakfast with him
and Watson; and when Phelps took the lid off the dish which was served
him, and saw the precious papers lying there, he became hysterical with
joy: “Then he fell back into an armchair so limp and exhausted with his
own emotions that we had to pour brandy down his throat to keep him
from fainting.”
We learn, in _The Adventure of the Priory School_, that when Thorney
Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., made his dramatic entrance and collapsed upon
Holmes’ bearskin hearthrug, both the detective and the medical man
extended helping hands. Holmes hurriedly placed a cushion under his
head, and Watson got ready to give him a drink of brandy. However,
the pompous fellow fell to the floor in a faint. When he regained
consciousness, he asked for some milk and a biscuit. This revived him,
and he then told his story. We do not know whether he was an abstainer
or not.
Brandy evidently enjoyed a reputation as an effective stimulant even
among laymen. In perusing the tales, we find in one instance that it
was given by a tutor to his servant who had suffered a mental shock;
and in another, a constable intended to give it to a beautiful young
woman who, he thought, had fainted. Dr. Watson relates, in _The
Adventure of the Three Students_, how Mr. Soames, tutor and lecturer
at one of the great British universities, administered brandy to his
servant, Bannister. The highly nervous tutor thought his man had
disturbed the examination papers on his desk; and when Bannister saw
that the papers had been disturbed, he appeared as if he were about to
faint. Soames immediately gave him a drink of brandy; but, in spite
of the stimulant, Bannister appeared to be in a state of collapse, and
threw himself into a nearby chair. We shall never know whether or not
it was an actual collapse, the brandy failing to help, for later it
came out that the servant was desirous of concealing something on the
seat of the chair. We may safely assume, however, that in any event
Bannister welcomed the proffered drink.
We learn from the pen of Dr. Watson, also, how Lady Hilda duped
Constable McPherson and obtained the precious blue envelope which
contained high state secrets (_The Adventure of the Second Stain_). The
crestfallen constable told Holmes that, when Lady Hilda had seen the
stain on the carpet, she apparently fell down in a faint. The constable
rushed outside to a nearby corner to procure some brandy, but when
he returned, the noble lady had disappeared. We wonder whether the
constable treated himself to the drink which he had procured for her.
In two other instances--one related by Sherlock Holmes and the other
by Dr. Watson--brandy was administered with a lavish hand indeed, and
the inference may be drawn that the subjects probably drank about
all they could decently manage. In _The Adventure of the Lion’s
Mane_, Ian Murdock, who had come into contact with the jellyfish
_Cyanea capillata_, staggered into the room, on the verge of a
collapse, crying for brandy. Holmes, in writing this tale, tells how
he administered a half-tumbler of the stuff. The treatment appeared
to be of some help, but the patient was still in great pain. Holmes
gave him several more large drinks. Finally, Murdock’s head fell upon
the cushion in a state of unconsciousness. It was well that he did not
attempt to get up and walk. I doubt whether he could have stood up.
In the second example, Victor Hatherly, a hydraulic engineer, had
suffered a terrifying experience (_The Adventure of the Engineer’s
Thumb_). In his effort to escape being crushed to death by the
powerful hydraulic press, he had torn off his thumb. When he presented
himself in Dr. Watson’s surgery and began to tell of his ghastly
experience, he became hysterical. Dr. Watson, who had given him a drink
of water previously, rose to the occasion: “I dashed some brandy into
the water, and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks.”
He then proceeded to bandage the area where the thumb had been. This
must have been a most painful operation indeed, and it is hoped that
Dr. Watson did not spare the brandy. There is reason to believe that
he did not. Since the engineer wished to report the incident, Watson
took him to consult with Sherlock Holmes. The latter listened to the
engineer’s story, “... placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid
a glass of brandy and water within his reach.” Dr. Watson did not
indicate whether the patient was able to go home under his own power.
Let us turn now to the longer tales of Sherlock Holmes. In _The Sign
of the Four_, when Jonathan Small was telling his story to Holmes
and his colleagues, the astute detective remarked to him: “... you had
best take a pull out of my flask, for you are very wet.” And a little
later: “He stopped and held out his manacled hands for the whiskey and
water which Holmes had brewed for him.”
In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, the reader will recall that the
Baronet, Sir Henry, was attacked by the spectral hound and miraculously
escaped death. Dr. Watson writes: “Lestrade thrust his brandy flask
between the Baronet’s teeth, and two frightened eyes were looking up at
us.” And, when Holmes asked him whether he was strong enough to stand,
the Baronet replied: “Give me another mouthful of that brandy and I
shall be ready for anything.” Brandy was given also to the beautiful
Mrs. Stapleton, the villain’s wife, when she was found in her house in
a pitifully exhausted state.
Dr. Watson himself had need of brandy as a stimulant at least once in
his lifetime. He, like everyone else, believed that Sherlock Holmes had
died with Professor Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls. We cannot blame
the doctor for fainting when, three years later, he saw Holmes in the
flesh standing on the opposite side of the study table. Watson claims
that this was the only time in his life he had ever fainted. When he
regained consciousness, he found that Holmes had undone his collar
and had administered brandy to him (_The Adventure of the Empty
House_).
Brandy and whiskey are, of course, used medicinally today, but probably
not as frequently as several decades ago. Some scientists argue
that alcohol does not cause a physiologic stimulation but rather a
depression. Pharmacologically, this is true, for it is now accepted
that the talkativeness and hilarity so often produced by alcohol do not
indicate a true stimulation of the nervous system but a removal of the
inhibition which the higher centers normally exert.
On the other hand, it is still held by many physicians, and some
pharmacologists as well, that brandy and whiskey are useful therapeutic
agents in emergencies. Dr. Torald Sollman, dean of American
pharmacologists, feels that alcohol is a quick-acting stimulant, and
has a definite place in treating conditions such as syncope, exhaustion
and certain forms of shock. He attributes its effect to reflex
stimulation, which accounts for its brief action.[4] He suggests that
a dose of 25 cc. (somewhat less than an ounce) of whiskey or brandy be
given, and that it be repeated every ten or fifteen minutes.
Dr. Watson, throughout his stirring adventures with Sherlock Holmes,
was called upon to meet many emergencies. He was presumably justified
in resorting to frequent administrations of brandy. He had ample
opportunity for observing the effects of his medication, and apparently
was well satisfied with his results, for he continued to employ brandy
as a stimulant throughout the years. One practical justification for
doing so was that it seemingly always was available. There is every
reason to believe that Dr. Watson carried a flask of brandy, as did
Sherlock Holmes. Even Lestrade, the dependable Scotland Yard detective,
was not found wanting when the occasion demanded, as we have seen in
the story of _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. Apparently, it was
the practice of the day.
In conclusion, we may rest assured that Dr. Watson was firmly convinced
that his favorite remedy, brandy, as he employed it, helped alleviate
the suffering of his unfortunate fellow men. We may accept, also,
that he administered it only in an emergency, and when he was morally
certain that there was a real indication for its use--in short, he
observed faithfully the ethics of his noble profession.
DOCTOR WATSON, ENDOCRINOLOGIST
“The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning.”
_The Sign of the Four_
The colorful story of _The Adventure of the Creeping Man_ has
always especially interested me, for the theme embraces the fascinating
field of endocrinology. The plot revolves around Professor Presbury,
the Camford physiologist, who is portrayed as a biological scientist of
international renown. It is in order to review briefly the setting of
the story.
Professor Presbury, a widower in his early sixties, had fallen madly
in love with a very young girl, the daughter of one of his colleagues.
During the course of the love affair, he began to show pronounced
changes in personality; he became secretive, highly irritable at
intervals, and on occasion even savage. When this portly and dignified
physiologist began to do such astounding things as walking on all fours
and swinging on the ivy-covered walls with the abandon and agility
of an ape, he naturally caused grave concern to his only daughter
Edith and to his associate Mr. Bennett, Edith’s fiancé. Furthermore,
the professor’s heretofore faithful wolfhound Roy had tried to
attack his master on several occasions. Events came to such a pass
that Mr. Bennett and Miss Presbury asked Sherlock Holmes to make an
investigation.
Holmes summoned Dr. Watson to 221B Baker Street one night in September,
and casually announced that he was seriously considering writing a
monograph on the uses of dogs in detective work. He observed that
the action of a dog often reflects family life, and gave as an
illustration the case on which he was presently working. He believed
that the changed behavior of the wolfhound toward his master might
prove to be an important clue in solving the mystery. In point of fact,
this eventually proved to be true.
During this discussion, Mr. Bennett called on Sherlock Holmes and,
in the presence of Dr. Watson, reviewed the strange actions of the
professor and the dog’s attitude toward his master. He brought out the
important information that it was every ninth day when Presbury acted
so abnormally. With this latter fact in mind, it was not difficult for
Sherlock Holmes to arrange to be on hand at a time when the professor
would probably perform again his astonishing antics.
Accordingly, one night Holmes and Watson secreted themselves in the
shrubbery in the professor’s extensive yard and awaited events. Holmes
had previously instructed Mr. Bennett to follow secretly his future
father-in-law should he venture out on this particular night. Their
vigil was rewarded, for about midnight the famous physiologist emerged
from his house clad in his dressing gown. To the astonishment of his
onlookers, he began walking on all fours. Dr. Watson describes his
further antics. The professor, with surprising agility, began to ascend
the ivy-colored walls, springing aimlessly from branch to branch, but
apparently hugely enjoying his singular powers. He finally tired of
thus disporting himself, came down to the ground, and moving along on
his hands and feet, made his way to the barn where Roy was tethered.
Remaining at a safe distance, he deliberately teased the dog until the
infuriated beast, having managed to slip his collar, sank his teeth
into the neck of the unfortunate professor. The two onlookers, with the
help of Bennett, rushed to the rescue; without their intervention, the
dog doubtless would have killed his master.
Holmes had been working quietly on the case and had discovered that
Presbury, in his desire to regain the vigor of his youth, had connived
with an obscure Prague scientist who was attempting to unravel the
secret of rejuvenescence. Holmes found that this individual was
attacking the problem by studying the physiologic effects on man of the
administration of serum obtained from certain apes. The serum he had
prescribed for Professor Presbury had been prepared from the langur, a
large black-faced monkey which lives on the slopes of the Himalayas.
Holmes emphasized that the langur was both a climber and a crawler.
The implication is obvious; it accounts for the professor’s mode of
progression and his agility as a climber.
Holmes, discussing the case later with Watson, remarked that it was the
untimely love affair with the young girl which had given the professor
the idea of trying to turn himself into a younger man. Holmes also
commented on the strange behavior of the wolfhound; he felt the dog
had turned on his master because he thought it was a monkey he was
attacking.
The theme of this story is of interest particularly to biologically
trained men. About the time it was written, there was a great deal of
interest in the possibility of rejuvenation by the transplantation of
testicular glands or by an injection of their extract. The work of
Steinach and of Voronoff, the European physiologists, had received
immoderate publicity.
The real pioneer in the study of rejuvenation was, of course,
Charles-Edouard Brown-Séquard (1818-94), who reported the results of
his experiments in June 1889 before the _Société de Biologie_.
This brilliant French psychologist during the course of the preceding
fortnight had administered to himself six subcutaneous injections of
the water extract of ground-up testicles of dogs or of guinea pigs. He
was then seventy-two years old. He enthusiastically reported that the
effects had been astonishingly beneficial, and firmly believed that
both his physical forces and his mental activities were enormously
improved. He claimed that he felt less fatigued at the end of the day,
which was quite important to him, since he spent long hours in his
laboratory.
Brown-Séquard had such an enviable reputation as a scientist that
testicular extracts at once became widely and indiscriminately used.
The idea spread like wildfire. More than twelve thousand physicians
were administering testicular extracts to their patients before the end
of the year. Some of the more conservative physicians in England and
in the United States, however, were highly critical of Brown-Séquard’s
recent researches. They spoke derisively of the extract as “senile
folly,” “elixir of youth,” and made other uncomplimentary remarks. In
fairness to Brown-Séquard, it should be stated that he realized the
extract was not a panacea for all illnesses. But he did feel, up to the
time of his death, which occurred four years later, that testicular
extracts built up what he termed “nervous force.”
It is now recognized by modern endocrinologists that the distinguished
Brown-Séquard had not controlled his experiments well. The testicular
extracts he used were probably inactive. If I may be technical about
it, he had made an aqueous extract which would leave behind the
hormones, which are fat soluble. It is known also that some of the
claims made by Steinach and by Voronoff were grossly exaggerated.
It is possible that people who are not familiar with the science of
endocrinology might gain the impression that the administration of
ape serum could produce the effects so vividly described in _The
Adventure of the Creeping Man_. The concept that such a serum exists
is, of course, rank nonsense. Even though the tale is incredible, I
confess that I have always enjoyed reading it. This may be because it
is a story about a physiologist--and an unusual physiologist, for he
was also extremely wealthy. Parenthetically, mention should be made
that the story actually touches on science-fiction, which is at present
so much in vogue.
The theme of rejuvenation has been used by numerous authors. One
story which comes to mind is the novel _Black Oxen_, written by
the late Gertrude Atherton, and published many years ago. This book
was widely read. The story, of course, was actually in the nature of
science-fiction.
The subject of the renewal of youth is not as popular as it was some
years ago. There are still a few charlatans in the medical profession
who take advantage of the public and prescribe gonadal therapy
irrationally and even indiscriminately. These misguided medical men
make wild promises as to the permanent benefits to be derived from
administration of gonadal extracts. Indeed, there have been a few such
doctors in the United States, and one, at least, is reported to have
amassed a fortune. A few of these men have acted in good faith, and we
may charitably assume they believed that the administration of gonadal
extracts stimulated the libido of their patients or enabled them to
lead a more strenuous life. Be that as it may, many such practitioners
have acted on slender evidence, and they surely have, in a large
measure, the will to believe.
Since the time Dr. Watson wrote _The Adventure of the Creeping
Man_, there have been highly important developments in gonadal
therapy. Testosterone, for example, a preparation from the male gonads,
is presently widely used and has a definite place in the therapeutic
armamentarium of any reputable physician. There are other preparations,
such as the estrogenic substances and progesterone, which have
therapeutic uses. These latter substances are extracted from the female
gonads. It would take us too far afield to elaborate on these or to
give the indication for their uses. There is good reason to believe
that there will be many new developments in this particular field, for
the science of endocrinology is still in its infancy.
GENETICS AND SHERLOCK HOLMES
“The point under discussion was how far any singular gift in an
individual was due to his ancestry and how far to his early training.”
_The Greek Interpreter_
Allusions are made in several of the tales to the subject of
genetics--that is, the science of heredity. Many of the observations
set forth, although perhaps not entirely acceptable today, are
nevertheless intellectually stimulating.
Nearly all human beings--some much more than others--are interested
in matters pertaining to heredity. Most of us like to hear about our
grandparents and even about our great-grandparents, despite the fact
that the deeds of some of our ancestors, and the lives they lived, may
cause us some embarrassment.
In this connection, I am reminded of a statement made to me one evening
(a long time ago) by a distinguished Southerner of the old school, a
Kentucky gentleman, during a discussion of our ancestors. In effect,
he suggested that perhaps we should not examine the lives of our early
kinfolk too closely, because one of them might have been hanged as a
horse thief.
When we uncover some irregularity in the behavior of our ancestors, we
often toss it aside by pointing out that after all they were products
of their times, which indicates, in part at least, that environment
was highly important. There is doubtless considerable truth in this
statement, but an honorable man in the eighteenth century probably had
(or anyway, _should_ have had) the same high standard of conduct
as an honorable man in the twentieth century. Rather than sermonize
further, let us turn to the tales of Sherlock Holmes.
We find Doctor Watson and Sherlock Holmes talking together on a
beautiful summer evening. Doctor Watson writes:
... the conversation ... came round to the question of atavism and
hereditary aptitudes. The point under discussion was how far any
singular gift in an individual was due to his ancestry and how far to
his early training.
_The Greek Interpreter_
Watson expressed the thought that Holmes’ faculty of observation and
his peculiar facility for deduction were due to his own systematic
training. Holmes ventured this was true only to some extent. When
Watson asked him why he thought it hereditary, Holmes replied, “Because
my brother Mycroft possesses it in a larger degree than I do.”
Doctor Watson was amazed at this answer, and expressed the sentiment
that if any other man in England possessed greater keenness in
observation and deductive powers than did Sherlock Holmes, the public
would surely know of him. Watson hinted it was Holmes’ modesty which
caused him to extoll his brother’s powers. Holmes quickly made this
rejoinder: “I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the
virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are,
and to underestimate one’s self is as much a departure from truth as to
exaggerate one’s own powers. When I say, therefore, that Mycroft has
better powers of observation than I, you may take it that I am speaking
the exact and literal truth.”
There are doubtless many people who would take issue with the thoughts
Holmes expressed. But they do contain more than a modicum of truth.
Is there not an expression to the effect that false modesty is not a
virtue? Does not the matter of intellectual honesty also enter into
this picture? We will not at this time pursue the matter further,
although it is tempting.
Sherlock Holmes suggested to Dr. Watson that, since he had never
met Mycroft, it would be fitting for him to make his acquaintance.
Accordingly, they set out for the Diogenes Club, where Holmes assured
Watson that Mycroft, on account of his routine life, would be found
this very hour of the day.
Watson was presented to this extraordinary person:
... his face ... had preserved something of the sharpness of
expression which was so remarkable in that of his brother. His eyes,
which were of a peculiarly light, watery gray, seemed to always
retain that far-away introspective look which I had only observed in
Sherlock’s when he was exerting his full powers.
Watson has skillfully depicted the family likeness--that is, the highly
intelligent face and the dreamy and introspective look. Obviously,
Mycroft and Sherlock were both remarkably keen, alert men.
At the Diogenes Club, Mycroft and Sherlock seated themselves before a
window which gave them a clear view of the street. As they sat there
conversing, two strangers were approaching along the sidewalk. Mycroft
called attention to them, and the following brilliant dialogue ensued:
“Look at these two men ... coming toward us....”
“The billiard-marker and the other?”
“Precisely. What do you make of the other?”
(Dr. Watson then explained that he noted some chalk marks on the
waistcoat of one of the men which was the only evidence of billiards
he could see, and that the other one was carrying several packages.)
“An old soldier, I perceive,” said Sherlock.
“And very recently discharged,” remarked the brother.
“Served in India, I see.”
“And a non-commissioned officer.”
“Royal Artillery, I fancy,” said Sherlock.
“And a widower.”
“But with a child.”
“Children, my dear boy, children.”
Watson laughingly remarked that this was too much. Sherlock and Mycroft
assured him it was not. They pointed out some of the salient points
which had enabled them to make their astute conclusions. Among those
mentioned were that the man in question had the bearing of a soldier,
wore the expression of authority, and had a deeply tanned skin (which
suggested he had served in India). The fact that he was wearing deep
mourning indicated he was probably a widower.
The dialogue actually was a contest of wits between Sherlock and
Mycroft. The latter obviously won when he said, “Children, my dear boy,
children.” This winning stroke Mycroft explained in this way: “He has
been buying things for his children.... There was a rattle which shows
one of them is young ... a picture book under his arm shows that there
is another child to be thought of.”
When Mycroft had finished, Holmes merely turned to Watson and smiled,
not only to acknowledge his brother’s genius but also his superiority
in observation and deduction.
Sherlock Holmes apparently believed firmly that heredity played an
extremely important part in the life of an individual. There is no end
to the argument among biologists whether heredity or environment plays
the more significant role in the development of an individual. It is
especially so with a person’s mental capacity. One who unfortunately
has inherited a mediocre mind will always be handicapped, to a degree,
regardless of his environment or training. The mental powers will
remain ordinary. Conversely, the individual who is endowed with a
keener intellect will always be potentially the intellectual superior
of his less fortunate brother. There is no doubt that training and
environment in general will aid both types of individuals, but even
the most ideal developmental conditions can not completely overcome a
deficient genetic constitution.
In the story of _The Yellow Face_, it will be recalled that a
white woman had married a Negro. The child, according to the story,
had even a darker skin than her father: “It was our misfortune that
our only child took after his people rather than mine. It is often so
in such matches, and little Lucy is darker than her father was.” This
statement must be challenged. It appears incredible that a child born
of a white mother could be darker than her Negro father. If the mother
had had some Negro blood, then by certain arrangements of genes this
could have happened, but not otherwise. Dr. Watson doubtless is in
error in this instance.
A hereditary likeness once enabled Holmes to solve a mystery (_The
Adventure of the Cardboard Box_). A maiden lady (Miss Cushing)
had received in the mail a small cardboard box containing two human
ears--one that of a woman. Holmes was called in, and during the course
of the investigation visited the receiver of this gruesome package.
He noted the resemblance of one of the severed ears to the ears of
the lady upon whom he was calling. Because of the striking likeness,
he felt certain that the person whose ear had been dismembered was a
close relative of the Miss Cushing whom he had come to interrogate.
Holmes remarks to Dr. Watson: “I perceived that her ear corresponded
exactly with the female ear I had just inspected.... There was the same
shortening of the pinna, the same broad curve of the upper lobe, the
same convolution of the inner cartilage.... It was evident that the
victim was a blood relation, and probably a very close one.” It will be
recalled that the dismembered ear proved to be that of Miss Cushing’s
sister.
Holmes propounds an interesting theory of the development of the
individual, in _The Adventure of the Empty House_. Speaking of
the terrible Colonel Moran, he expressed the idea that the individual
represents the whole procession of his ancestors in his development,
and that the person becomes the epitome of the history of his own
family. Doctor Watson thought this rather fanciful, and Holmes’
rejoinder was that he would not insist upon it.
In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, Holmes successfully demonstrates
by means of a family portrait that the villain Stapleton is actually
a Baskerville. It will be remembered that Holmes stands upon a chair
and uses his arm to cover the broad hat and the long ringlets depicted
in the portrait. Now that only the features are visible, the portrait
of old Hugo Baskerville boldly stands out. Watson is astounded when he
beholds the results. Holmes remarks that it was an interesting instance
of a throwback, apparently both physical and spiritual.
The discovery that Stapleton markedly resembles one of his early
ancestors is not too surprising, for this surely could happen in any
family. The remarkable thing is that Holmes had had the acumen to cover
up certain portions of the old family portrait to make the face of
old Hugo Baskerville stand out. This clever demonstration would not
have occurred to many people. The extraordinary family resemblance
portrayed is a splendid example of atavism--that is, a reappearance of
the characteristics of a remote ancestor which presumably had been more
or less absent in intervening generations. The matter of atavism would
make a most interesting study. Therein lies the value and interest of
the old family album which used to grace the center table in the parlor.
In _The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_, Holmes makes a neat
point in regard to the subject of heredity: “My dear Watson, you as a
medical man are continually gaining light as to the tendencies of a
child by the study of the parents. Don’t you see that the converse is
equally valid. I have frequently gained my first real insight into the
character of parents by studying their children.”
This is an interesting analysis. Let us pursue the thought further. The
expression is often heard that a child’s behavior resembles that of one
of his parents. A popular way of putting it is that he is “a chip off
the old block.” This makes it appear that the pattern of behavior is
set up early in life. An old maxim has it: “As the twig is bent, so the
tree will incline.”
The problem is not always as simple as Holmes suggests. It is true that
we all have seen fine and lovable children whose parents have similar
qualities. But we also have seen ill-mannered, nasty-tempered children
whose parents have fine characters and possess charming manners. One
is reminded of a statement attributed to the gentle and amiable Robert
Louis Stevenson: “It has been a source of perpetual mystification to
me where all the disagreeable medical students go to, and all the
admirable doctors come from.”
I think the same may be said about some of the spoiled, unlovable
children. Many of them develop into sterling young men and women who
later in life carry on with noble purpose and high resolve. These
individuals often form the backbone of their community.
The entire matter of heredity is a complicated one, and much is still
to be learned about the subject. It is extremely important in the
study and practice of medicine. There are some common diseases which
certainly run in families, such as migraine, high blood pressure
(hypertension), and diseases of the coronary arteries. And it is
definitely known that diabetes may be inherited. In my own experience,
I have known a father with diabetes whose three daughters had all
developed this condition early in life. There are other diseases just
as formidable: for example, certain neurological and mental diseases.
Any researches which may throw any light on the subject of heredity
should be encouraged.
As we have seen, there are not many allusions in the Sherlock Holmes
stories to genetics. It is a pity that the topic of crime and heredity
was not touched upon. As far as I know, no specific reference is made
to it. I am not sufficiently acquainted with crime statistics to know
how commonly one would find several criminals in one family--that is,
in a single generation. However, one does think of those Missouri
bandits: the James brothers, the Younger brothers, and the Daltons.
Perhaps there are others. In any case, one would like to know whether
their parents or grandparents had criminal records. I submit, however,
that these last-named cases are rather special ones, for the James
brothers and their colleagues were products of an unusual period.
Doubtless, a black sheep may be found in an otherwise respectable
family. As Sherlock Holmes stated to Dr. Watson, once in a while a
carrion crow appears among the eagles (_The Adventure of Shoscombe
Old Place_).
THE ZOOLOGICAL DOCTOR WATSON
“The coyote skulks among the scrub, the buzzard flaps heavily through
the air, and the grizzly bear lumbers through the dark ravines....”
_A Study in Scarlet_
Dr. Watson was a man of catholic tastes and diversified interests. Not
only was he a capable and experienced physician, but he was a man of
letters, an amateur detective, and an athlete of considerable ability.
No one, as far as I know, has emphasized his interest in zoology.
This trait is more apparent to those acquainted with the biological
sciences, but even the most casual reader cannot but notice the
frequent references to animal life.
The plots in a number of the tales depend entirely upon a zoologic
background. In _The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_, for example, the
death of a person as well as that of a dog are attributed to the
poisonous sting of _Cyanea capillata_, a huge jellyfish. A swamp adder,
which Watson describes as “the deadliest snake in India,” is used to
kill two people in _The Adventure of the Speckled Band_. In another
tale, the plot hinges upon the fact that a goose has swallowed a rare
jewel, which is eventually recovered from its crop (_The Adventure of
the Blue Carbuncle_). A race horse is answerable for the mysterious
death of his trainer (_Silver Blaze_). In _The Adventure of the Veiled
Lodger_, a lion is responsible for the dilemma of the unfortunate
lodger. The central theme in _The Adventure of the Creeping Man_ has to
do with the antics of a scientist who at times shows apelike qualities.
Finally, in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, the grisly spectral hound
plays the title role.
Let us consider first some references to the lower forms of life,
such as insects. The naturalist Stapleton, in _The Hound of the
Baskervilles_, was supposed to be an authority on butterflies and
moths, that is, lepidoptera. When he and Watson met one day on the
moor, the naturalist invited him to see his collection, which he
described as the most complete in the southwest of England. Later in
the story, when searching the house for the fiendish Stapleton, Dr.
Watson describes a room fitted up as a small museum with glass-topped
cases filled with butterflies and moths.
The scholarly recluse Nathan Garrideb evidently was another such
collector, for when Holmes and Watson visited his house they found
cases of butterflies and moths on each side of the entrance (_The
Adventure of the Three Garridebs_). One must remind the reader
that butterflies are distinguished from moths by the shape of their
antennae, the former having clubbed antennae, the latter not.
Two allusions are made to the antennae of insects. In _The Adventure
of the Illustrious Client_, the waxed tips of the Baron’s mustache
are likened to an insect’s antennae. The other is found in _The
Hound of the Baskervilles_. Dr. Watson, observing Dr. Mortimer, the
country practitioner, rolling a cigarette, remarks that his long and
quivering fingers remind one of the agility and restlessness of the
antennae of an insect. These descriptions are extremely apt, since the
antennae of insects are nearly always in motion.
In _The Adventure of Black Peter_, Captain Peter Carey was found
one morning harpooned to death in a small shed near his house. Holmes
remarks that the captain had been pinned to the wall like a beetle on a
card.
Let us go higher in the zoological scale. It is evident that Holmes
despised snakes, for he refers to them as extremely repugnant
creatures and remarks to Watson that watching them in a zoo gives him
a most unpleasant sensation (_The Adventure of Charles Augustus
Milverton_). A number of animals which live in the water are
mentioned: namely, fish, jellyfish, sharks, seals, and crocodiles.
For instance, when Holmes introduces his brother Mycroft to Watson,
the latter writes that Mycroft put “... out a broad fat hand like the
flipper of a seal” (_The Greek Interpreter_). And in _The Sign
of the Four_, Jonathan Small had the extreme misfortune of having
his leg bitten off by a crocodile.
Birds are not neglected. In _The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_,
Watson tells how he and Holmes on one of their walks enjoyed the music
of the birds. On another occasion, he likens Holmes to a lank bird
(_The Adventure of the Dancing Men_). Watson, in _The Adventure of the
Priory School_, speaks of the plover and the curlew; and in _The Hound
of the Baskervilles_, the raven and bittern are used effectively to
accentuate the utter loneliness of the moor. The ravens croak loudly
behind the tor, and this is the only life stirring over the vast
landscape. When Watson one day asks the naturalist Stapleton what had
caused the bloodcurdling sound on the moor, the latter’s shifty reply
is that they had heard the cry of the last of the bitterns. In _A Study
in Scarlet_ occurs the felicitous expression: “... the buzzard flaps
heavily through the [desert] air....” In _The Adventure of Shoscombe
Old Place_, Holmes makes the pertinent statement, when speaking of
the weakness of Lord Robertson, that even among eagles one may find a
carrion crow.
An occasional reference to the eggs of birds also occurs. Watson
writes, “... a young lady entered the room with a bright quick face,
freckled like a plover’s egg ...” (_The Adventure of the Copper
Beeches_). The cipher Holmes employed in _The “Gloria Scott”_
contained the words, “pheasant hen eggs.”
So much for the lower forms of life; let us move on to the mammals.
Attention is called to several small mammals--in _The Adventure of
the Crooked Man_, a mongoose; and in _The Sign of the Four_, a
stoat and a mole as well as a weasel. The reader may recall that other
names for a stoat are “ermine” or “ferret.”
Large mammals are referred to more often. Dr. Watson writes, in _A
Study in Scarlet_, “The coyote skulks among the scrub ... and the
grizzly bear lumbers along the dark ravines....” Big-horn sheep also
appear: “... there stood a creature somewhat resembling a sheep in
appearance, but armed with a pair of gigantic horns. The big-horn--for
so it was called....” In this same story, bison are also to be found.
Holmes, exasperated when looking for footprints, says, “If a herd of
buffaloes happened along, there could not be a greater mess.” In still
another instance, Watson writes, “... the observer would have come to
the conclusion that one of those great herds of bisons which graze upon
the prairie land was approaching him.” A herd of bison is referred to
again in _The Boscombe Valley Mystery_. Holmes feelingly remarks,
“Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been there before they
came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed over it!” It is obvious that
Holmes was impressed with the immense herds of buffalo which once
roamed over the great plains of our romantic West.
In _The Valley of Fear_, we come across an interesting analogy.
Holmes remarks to Watson that Porlock, although unimportant in his own
right, nevertheless takes on importance through his close touch with
the master criminal Professor Moriarty. He spoke of the relationship of
the two men as that of the pilot fish to the shark, or of the jackal
to the lion; that is, one was insignificant and the other formidable.
In this same story, our attention is called to two other mammals--the
wolf and the caribou. In _The Adventure of the Speckled Band_, we
are introduced to two African animals, the cheetah (reputed to be the
fastest animal on earth) and the baboon. And in _The Adventure of
the Creeping Man_, reference is made to one of the higher apes, the
langur, which is described as a large animal with a black face living
on the slopes of the Himalayas.
When we read about large mammals, big-game hunting comes to mind,
at least to the sportsman. Several allusions to this exciting and
dangerous sport are found in the tales. In _The Naval Treaty_, we
read, “... it has the sort of excitement about it that the sportsman
feels when he lies beside the water course and waits for the big game.”
In _The Adventure of Black Peter_, we read again of the hunter’s
thrill while lying in wait for some unknown large beast to approach the
water hole.
When Sherlock Holmes ironically introduces the terrible Colonel Moran
to Dr. Watson and Lestrade, he says, among other things, that the
Colonel is an outstanding big-game hunter, practically without peer,
and that his bag of tigers remains unrivaled (_The Adventure of
the Empty House_). In _The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington
Plans_, Holmes notes that it was such a foggy day in London that a
thief or murderer could roam the streets and pounce on his prey like
a tiger in the jungle. In another instance, Holmes tells Watson about
Count Sylvius, the famous big-game hunter who had stolen the Crown
diamond. The nonchalant detective facetiously remarks that if the
Count could add him (Holmes) to his bag of big game, it would be an
outstanding triumph (_The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone_).
The numerous allusions to animal life in the tales show clearly that
Dr. Watson was keenly interested in zoology. This is not unexpected,
since he was a physician, and, as everyone knows, a student of medicine
has a broad training in the biological sciences. It is doubtful whether
a man untrained in biologic science could have used the references to
animals as accurately and as effectively as did Dr. Watson.
Where did he obtain his love for zoology? Solely from his preparatory
studies in medicine? Probably not. Dr. Watson was an athlete and an
outdoor man. Such men frequently take a pronounced interest in plant
and animal life, since it is before their eyes a good part of the time.
We may conclude, then, that Dr. Watson was not only a physician, an
amateur detective, an athlete, and a man of letters, but a zoologist as
well. In this age of specialization, it is refreshing to reflect that
Dr. Watson had such a wide range of interests.
DOCTOR WATSON, CARDIOLOGIST
“Marsten had sprung out of his chair in a paroxysm of anger, when he
suddenly pressed his hand to his side, his face turned a dusky hue,
and he fell backward....”
_The Sign of the Four_
Dr. Watson did not profess to be a cardiologist, but rather a general
practitioner of medicine. There are more allusions to minor surgery
and to nervous disorders in the tales than there are to diseases of
the heart or circulation. There are, however, several references to
the latter which are of historical interest to medical students and
practicing physicians.
Let us examine some of the references to cardiovascular conditions. In
_The Sign of the Four_, a sudden cardiac death already cited above
is described:
Marsten had sprung out of his chair in a paroxysm of anger, when he
suddenly pressed his hand to his side, his face turned a dusky hue,
and he fell backward, cutting his head against the corner of the
treasure-chest. When I stooped over him, I found to my horror that he
was dead.
The cause of death in this instance, so dramatically described,
presumably was produced by a coronary occlusion. It is noteworthy that
the patient was “in a paroxysm of anger” at the time he was stricken.
One is reminded of John Hunter, the famous English anatomist, who in
later life suffered from severe angina pectoris. He is reputed to have
said that he was at the mercy of any rascal who saw fit to make him
angry. Any intense emotion, of course, is capable of producing profound
effects on the cardiovascular system.
It will be remembered in the novel, _The Hound of the Baskervilles_,
that Sir Charles Baskerville had a cardiac disorder. His friend and
physician, Dr. James Mortimer, had concurred that “Sir Charles’
health has for some time been impaired, and points especially to
some affection of the heart manifesting itself in changes in colour,
breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression.” One evening,
when Sir Charles was taking his customary walk between the rows of
yew trees, he saw the awesome hound; he became greatly frightened and
ran as fast as he could toward Baskerville Hall. He fell dead before
he reached the house. In this instance, the intense mental excitement
and the tremendous physical effort caused heart failure--perhaps
ventricular failure produced by a diseased myocardium rather than a
coronary occlusion.
Physical exertion does not necessarily produce a coronary occlusion. It
was once thought that patients suffering from angina pectoris, or who
actually had coronary disease, should not exert themselves physically.
They were warned, for example, not to run to catch a streetcar. A
more liberal view is held today; most patients are urged to exercise
themselves. In point of fact, many coronary occlusions occur when the
patient is at complete rest or performing some slight task.
An interesting allusion to cardiac neurosis may be found in _The Sign
of the Four_. When Dr. Watson was introduced to Thaddeus Sholto,
the latter became greatly excited and said: “A doctor, eh?... Have
you your stethoscope? Might I ask you--would you have the kindness?
I have grave doubts as to my mitral valve, if you would be so very
good. The aortic I may rely upon, but I would value your opinion upon
the mitral.” After Dr. Watson had listened to Sholto’s heart, and had
assured him that he had no cause for uneasiness, the patient turned to
Miss Morstan and said: “You will excuse my anxiety, Miss Morstan ... I
am a great sufferer, and I have long had suspicions as to that valve. I
am delighted to hear that they are unwarranted.”
The above clearly depicts a man who is unduly, and probably needlessly,
alarmed about the condition of his heart; the diagnosis of cardiac
neurosis can obviously be made. This could have been brought about by
some physician who, in an ill-advised moment, had hinted to the patient
that he might be suffering from a cardiac disorder. Such a condition
is spoken of as “iatrogenic heart disease.” Unfortunately, a good many
people suffer from cardioneurosis, and the majority probably would be
benefited by consulting a psychiatrist. The doctor might be able to
ascertain the underlying cause for the patient’s fear.
These passages from _The Sign of the Four_ show that Dr. Watson
was acquainted with valvular heart disease; they are, however, rather
farfetched, if not ludicrous, and probably could not be appreciated
by the nonmedical reader. Watson does not often attempt to show his
erudition or weary his readers by employing technical terms. A good
example of this matter-of-factness may be found in _The Crooked
Man_: “The injury from which this unfortunate veteran was suffering
was found to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part
of his head, which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from
a blunt weapon.” The above is written in a language that anyone can
understand.
In the novel _A Study in Scarlet_, may be found an interesting
reference to an aortic aneurism. Jefferson Hope told Dr. Watson to put
his hand over his heart. Watson writes:
I did so, and became at once conscious of an extraordinary throbbing
and commotion which was going on inside. The walls of the chest seemed
to thrill and quiver as a frail building would do inside when some
powerful engine was at work. In the silence of the room I could hear
a dull humming and buzzing noise which proceeded from the same source.
Dr. Watson promptly diagnosed it as an aortic aneurism. Just before
Watson made his examination, Jefferson Hope had put up a terrific
struggle to escape capture, and it had taken four men to subdue him:
So powerful and fierce was he that the four of us were shaken off
again and again. He appeared to have the convulsive strength of a man
in an epileptic fit. It was not until Lestrade succeeded in getting
his hand inside his neckcloth and half strangling him that we made him
realize that his struggles were of no avail.
The remarkable thing is that this man was suffering from an aortic
aneurism which was on the point of bursting. Why the aneurism did not
burst during the terrific struggle will always be a mystery. We find
later in the story that it subsequently did burst.
Several references to the pulse may be found in the tales. When
the pompous if dignified Thorney Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., collapsed
in Holmes’ living room, Dr. Watson attended him, and described the
condition as one of severe exhaustion; he spoke of the pulse as being
thready in character (_The Adventure of the Priory School_). In
_The Adventure of the Stock Broker’s Clerk_, a man had tried
to hang himself, but Dr. Watson helped rescue him just in time. The
patient was placed on the floor, and the good doctor immediately felt
his pulse; he reported that it was feeble and intermittent.
At the time Dr. Watson practiced medicine, more attention was probably
paid to the study of the pulse than now obtains. The experienced
physician knows that considerable information can be obtained by
studying the pulse. Not only can the rate be ascertained, but the
character of the beat as well: whether it is full or bounding, or
thready or feeble, and the like. By digital pressure on the radial
artery, a rough idea can be obtained of the systemic blood pressure,
and at the same time some information can be gained as to whether the
artery shows any sclerosis.
Some physicians of the older school feel that the younger generation
of physicians neglects the pulse, and its study is becoming a lost
art. The more recently trained physicians are more apt to depend upon
certain instruments of precision. Be that as it may, we have already
seen that Dr. Watson attempted to gain as much information as he could
by feeling the pulse.
On one occasion (_The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place_), Dr. Watson
speaks of a failing heart; he describes a patient who had a dropsical
condition. When reading about a failing heart in English medical
literature, one cannot but think of William Withering (1741-99), who
was the first physician to employ digitalis therapeutically as a
single pharmacologic agent. He reported his findings many years before
Dr. Watson practiced medicine. It is singular that Dr. Watson never
mentioned any digitalis preparation in the Sherlock Holmes stories.
He does mention amyl nitrite, but not in connection with any heart
condition; he also mentions morphine as a drug to assuage pain, but
again not in connection with the heart.
Since the time Dr. Watson practiced medicine in London, great strides
have been made in the diagnosis and treatment of cardiovascular
disorders. The electrocardiogram and other instruments have been
developed for diagnosing disorders of the heart and vessels. Methods of
treatment, such as the use of antibiotic drugs, and agents for reducing
high blood pressure, have been of inestimable value.
In this country during the past few years, the citizens have become
increasingly aware of the value of research in cardiovascular disease.
It is noteworthy that a part of this interest was stimulated by the
fact that President Dwight D. Eisenhower suffered a coronary occlusion
and later a mild cerebral accident.
In conclusion, when Dr. Watson practiced medicine, he did not have any
effective drugs at his disposal to combat hypertension, or any drugs,
such as dicumarol, to lessen the danger of further coronary occlusions.
We may be assured, however, that those agents he did have were used to
the best of his ability, and he did all he could to restore the patient
to health. No man could do more.
THE PHYSIOLOGIC DOCTOR WATSON
“Surely your medical experience will tell you, Watson, that weakness
in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional strength in the
other.”
_The Man with the Twisted Lip_
Since I am a professional physiologist, references made to physiologic
matters in the tales are of especial interest to me. Physiology, as the
term is now used, may be defined as the science which deals with the
function of an organism and its parts, in contrast with anatomy, which
is concerned only with the structure of an organism.
Dr. Watson took his work at the University of London Medical School,
and was graduated in 1878--eighty years ago. We may assume that he
received good training in physiology; at any rate, he apparently had
a healthy respect for this important science. Let us examine the
references he makes to physiologic matters in the tales.
_Physiologists_
In _The Adventure of the Creeping Man_, a physiologist, Professor
Presbury, is the central figure. Dr. Watson speaks of him as a renowned
“Camford” physiologist. The word “Camford” is a happy choice. It
strikes one that it could be a combination of two words, Cambridge
and Oxford. Whether Dr. Watson had these two famous schools in mind,
I cannot say, but I am inclined to believe he did. It is noteworthy
that he depicts Professor Presbury as a wealthy man. On one occasion,
Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson called at Presbury’s home. The good
doctor wrote glowingly about the physiologist’s charming house and
beautiful grounds, and emphasized that the professor was surrounded
with every sign of luxury.
This is truly an unusual picture, for not many professional
physiologists are wealthy, and they certainly are not surrounded with
luxury. Professor Presbury, fortunately, was an exception. He must have
been a wealthy man in his own right, or have married a woman of means,
for surely he did not become wealthy by teaching physiology.
Professor Presbury’s assistant, Mr. Trevor Bennett, is interestingly
pictured as a handsome, tall young man, and elegantly dressed. He
was portrayed as having the shyness of the student rather than the
self-possession of a man of the world. We can readily understand his
shyness and his studious manner, but it is more difficult to imagine
his elegant appearance. Bennett, we find later, had a medical degree,
so perhaps he enjoyed a consulting clinical practice, which might
account for his exceptional elegance.
Mr. Bennett’s careful grooming is in contrast to the usual situation,
because physiologists, I fear, do not have the reputation for being
well-dressed people. They are apt to be somewhat indifferent about
their personal appearance, especially when at work in the laboratory.
This is quite understandable, since they often work with such animals
as cats, dogs, and monkeys, and with even larger animals like sheep,
goats, and pigs. Some of the more fastidious scientists don old clothes
for such occasions, but this is not always convenient. At any rate, the
average physiologist is not known for his elegant appearance--and for
good measure, I will throw in the pharmacologists also! Several living
examples of each could be cited to prove my point, but I must refrain
from embarrassing my distinguished friends and colleagues. At least
Mr. Bennett may be considered an exception.
_Endocrinology_
In the story discussed above, the author uses the theme of
endocrinology. Professor Presbury, widower in his early sixties, had
fallen madly in love with a very young girl. In his desire to regain
his lost youth, the professor administered to himself injections of
serum prepared from apes. A conniving Prague scientist had prepared the
material from the langur, which Watson dramatically described as one of
the higher apes, distinguished by a black face, and an inhabitant of
the slopes of the Himalayas.
According to the story, the serum had a profound effect on the
professor. Following the serum injections, which he took at nine-day
intervals, he acquired the characteristics of an ape, not only by
simulating the mode of locomotion of this animal but by developing,
also, an uncanny ability to climb.
One night, following a serum injection, the professor got into grave
difficulty when his heretofore faithful wolfhound Roy, which he was
bedeviling, attacked him viciously. As Sherlock Holmes told Dr. Watson,
the wolfhound thought he was attacking the monkey, not his master.
Presbury was saved by the quick action of Holmes and Watson.
The plot is fantastic, but interestingly told. Today this story would
be regarded as science-fiction. It was written at a time when the
subject of rejuvenescence had been made popular by the endocrine
studies of Steinach and of Voronoff, the European scientists. The
father of endocrinological studies was, of course, Charles-Edouard
Brown-Séquard, who had reported his studies on testicular extracts in
1889. Dr. Watson was undoubtedly familiar with Brown-Séquard’s work.
In _The Adventure of the Creeping Man_, Holmes points out a moral
when he remarks to Watson that, if one leaves the straight road to
destiny, even the highest type man may revert to the animal.
_Digestion_
Let us turn to the physiology of digestion. Dr. Watson obviously felt
that one should eat sparingly if brain work is to be done. We find him
saying that his friend Holmes had eaten no breakfast, because in his
more intense moments he allowed himself no food. Holmes contended that
he did not have energy to spare for both nerve force and digestion
(_The Adventure of the Norwood Builder_). On another occasion,
Holmes, when talking to Doctor Watson, emphasized the fact that
starvation refines the faculties. He insisted that during digestion the
brain is robbed of blood, because blood is needed in the splanchnic
area. Holmes insisted that he himself was a brain, and the rest of his
body a mere appendix (_The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone_).
The ideas expressed in the above paragraph hold our physiologic
interest because, at the time Watson wrote, the concept he expressed
was the accepted one. Later work has shown that this theory is not
tenable. The modern view is that digestion does not influence the
blood supply to the brain. In point of fact, nature has taken careful
precautions to ensure the brain of a rich blood supply at all times
under normal physiologic conditions.
Although the brain does not suffer in its blood supply during
digestion, it is well known that the body is capable of shunting blood
to those regions which are functioning and are, therefore, in need of
it. If a hearty meal is eaten, a rich supply of blood is required to
digest and absorb it. Athletes know that a large meal should not be
eaten before taking strenuous exercise. Indeed, if a substantial amount
of food be eaten preceding intense physical exertion, the athlete may
become nauseated or even vomit.
The voluntary muscles need blood when functioning, and the greater the
amount of exercise, the more blood is needed. The circulatory system
cannot supply both the splanchnic region and the skeletal muscles under
these conditions, so some part of the body must suffer. The nausea and
vomiting are, in a measure at least, produced by anemia of the stomach.
In the example just given, there is also a nervous component, which in
some individuals plays an extremely important part.
Let us return to the blood supply of the brain. There is some evidence
that the brain needs a slightly increased blood supply during lively
mental activity, but not all physiologists will accept these findings.
However, this may safely be stated: the metabolism of the brain is high
at all times and is not affected by mental work. If one indulges in
“heavy thinking,” one simply directs the activities of the nerve cells
in the brain, which already are active.
If we accept the hypothesis that increased mental activity does call
for slightly more blood to the brain, then the mind actually may be
more keen and alert when the circulatory system does not have to
sustain the burden of digestion and absorption of food. The fact that
there is often a feeling of well-being following a satisfying meal does
not negate this concept. There are those who maintain that the mind
functions best during a state of moderate fasting. Dr. Watson evidently
believed this, as has been previously stated. All physiologists would
not agree with this concept. Undoubtedly, there is a wide individual
variation in this regard, and it would be unwise to make a sweeping
generalization.
_A Weaker Sex?_
Dr. Watson implies, in _The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot_, that
physiologically the female has a weaker constitution than the male.
In this story, it will be recalled that two men and one woman were
exposed to the fumes of the powdered devil’s-foot root. Watson stated
that only the woman was killed, presumably because she was the more
sensitive. This is indeed a challenging statement.
Considerable proof can be adduced to show that the female is hardier
than the male. The old cliché, “the weaker sex,” can be seriously
questioned. It is well known, for example, that women can withstand a
high blood pressure for years. In some instances, although by no means
all, it seems to do them but little harm, since in spite of it they may
live to a ripe old age. Hypertension in the male is generally a serious
condition. Many men die comparatively young from heart failure or from
cerebral hemorrhage due to hypertensive states.
Recently, it has been shown that female animals, such as rats, can
withstand acute oxygen-want far better than males. I do not wish to
belabor the point that the female may be hardier than the male, but two
more bits of evidence can be presented. Data compiled by life-insurance
companies definitely show that there are more widows in this country
than widowers. Lastly, more boy babies die than girl babies.
These arguments seem to prove convincingly that the male and not the
female is the weaker sex. The problem, however, is not as simple as
this, but space does not permit further critical treatment of the
subject. In fairness to Dr. Watson, it must be stated that many of the
facts just presented were not known when he wrote his entertaining but
gruesome story about the devil’s-foot root.
_Mental Development in the Young_
We find, in _The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire_, an interesting
and significant reference to mental development in the young. Holmes,
speaking of a child, remarked in this story that the child probably had
a very well-developed mind, because his body had been circumscribed in
action. Obviously, a child who has a definite physical handicap cannot
romp and play like other healthy, vigorous children. He is forced to
find other outlets, and as a result probably reads a great deal, and is
likely, moreover, to be thrown in with older people. As a consequence,
his mind presumably is more precociously trained. There are many
physically handicapped children, and this entire matter deserves more
critical psychologic study than it has so far received.
_Curare and Physiology_
Dr. Watson was acquainted, at least to a degree, with the action of
curare. Actually, he used it as a lethal agent in two of his tales: in
his novel _A Study in Scarlet_, and in his story, _The Adventure
of the Sussex Vampire_. In the former, he was careless of the way he
handled curare in his plot, for he ascribed actions to this drug which
it simply does not possess. But in the latter instance, he uses curare
in a masterly manner. He points out, for example, that if a child were
pricked with an arrow which had been dipped in a solution of curare,
death might ensue by muscular paralysis if the curare were allowed
to be absorbed. Incidentally, this story can be highly recommended
not only to physiologists and pharmacologists but to all medical and
biological students as well.
It is likely that Watson became familiar with curare in his work in
the physiology laboratory, for about twenty years before he enrolled
in medical school, Claude Bernard, the famous French physiologist, had
published his studies on curare.
_Muscle Physiology_
Let us now consider references to muscle physiology. Both Sherlock
Holmes and Dr. Watson are portrayed as splendid athletes. In _The
Hound of the Baskervilles_, Watson writes about their heroic
efforts to save Sir Henry from the awesome hound. He states that he
had never seen Holmes run as fast as he did that night. He remarks
further that he (Watson) was reckoned fleet of foot, but Holmes easily
outpaced him. In physiologic parlance, the muscles of Holmes and Watson
presumably had short reflex times. Some men are born fast runners. The
exact reason for this is not fully understood. Probably the entire
neuromuscular apparatus, including the higher nervous centers, is
implicated. Another factor is the mechanical advantage involved in the
muscle-bone relationship. All these factors undoubtedly have to do with
heredity. The entire picture is complicated. We do know, however, that
training alone cannot produce champions.
In another instance, Holmes discusses with Watson the footprints
found in the yew alley, which were presumably made by Sir Charles
Baskerville. It looked as if he had walked on tiptoe for at least a
part of the way. Watson asked why Sir Charles had walked on tiptoe.
Holmes instantly replied: “He was running, Watson--running desperately,
running for his life, running until he burst his heart and fell dead
upon his face.”
On another occasion, Holmes described the gait of a man: “... he was
running hard with occasional little springs, such as a weary man
gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs” (_The
Adventure of the Beryl Coronet_). On still another occasion, we find
an interesting reference to muscle physiology--one which only recently
has been scientifically demonstrated. In _The Man with a Twisted
Lip_ Holmes makes this pregnant remark: “He is a cripple in the
sense that he walks with a limp; but in other respects he appears to be
a powerful and well-nurtured man. Surely your medical experience will
tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb is often compensated for by
exceptional strength in the other.”
Muscle physiology is a highly specialized field. Considerable
information is known about the chemical changes which take place during
muscular contractions, but much more needs to be learned. One of the
factors of supreme interest is the short period of time required for
these complicated chemical and heat reactions. The problem is of more
than academic interest, for it must be remembered that, in spite of all
the modern machines at man’s disposal, the greater part of the work in
this world is still done by muscular activity.
Any light thrown on the exact mechanism of muscle contraction
may eventually prove to be of extreme practical benefit. It is
indeed difficult to overemphasize this point. Finally, there are
certain serious disorders of muscular functioning which may not
only incapacitate individuals but actually cause their death. The
distressing condition of patients suffering from muscular dystrophy
is a poignant example. For this reason, if no other, a complete
understanding of muscular contraction is of paramount importance.
Since the time when Dr. Watson studied physiology--eighty years
ago--there have been vast developments in this field of science. There
is hardly an area of scientific endeavor in which more research has
been done or is in progress.
SHERLOCK HOLMES AND DOCTOR WATSON, PERENNIAL ATHLETES
“Sherlock Holmes was a man who seldom took exercise for exercise’s
sake ... he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of energy.”
_The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet_
Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson were unquestionably men of outstanding
athletic ability. Holmes was a single-stick player, a boxer, and a
swordsman (_A Study in Scarlet_). Watson had played rugby in
college, and probably had engaged in other collegiate sports. They were
strong men, quick of action and fleet of foot.
Quickness of action surely was needed to save Sir Henry Baskerville
from the hound. It will be recalled that the fog from the Grimpen Mire
that autumn night had spread over the path which Sir Henry was to
follow from Stapleton’s house to Baskerville Hall. As a consequence,
the visibility was so low that Sherlock Holmes and his companions
could not see the hound until it was dangerously close to its intended
victim. Watson describes the episode dramatically: “Never have I seen
a man run as Holmes ran that night. I am reckoned fleet of foot, but
he outpaced me as much as I outpaced the little professional” (_The
Hound of the Baskervilles_). At any rate, we know that these
determined men, led by Holmes, reached Sir Henry just in time and
killed the hound before it could harm him.
Watson’s statement, “Never have I seen a man run as Holmes ran that
night,” bespeaks high praise of Holmes as an exceptionally fast
man. Watson, when a college student, had doubtless seen first-class
trackmen perform, but nevertheless he distinctly implies that Holmes
as a runner was in a class by himself. Holmes was making an effort to
save a man’s life, but so were Watson and Lestrade, the Scotland Yard
detective. Holmes, it is true, had the build of a trackman, since he
was tall and lithe, whereas Watson had a decidedly burly physique, and
Lestrade is described as rather short in stature. Watson, despite his
stocky build, admits that he himself was a sprinter of parts, but he
was obviously no match for Holmes.
Not only was Holmes a fast runner, but a skilled boxer as well. Watson
writes: “He was undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight I
have seen ...” (_The Yellow Face_). A real compliment, for Watson
was a keen sportsman who probably had had occasion to attend many
boxing matches. Holmes was six feet tall--at least he so described
himself (_The Adventure of the Three Students_). The suggestion
has been made that he weighed about 11 stone (154 pounds) and had
a physique resembling that of Bob Fitzsimmons,[5] that is, he was
rangy. A boxer with a long reach has, of course, a decided advantage.
Holmes, too, was fast on his feet, as previously mentioned. Added to
these attributes, he had a superior intelligence, which enabled him
to analyze his opponent’s tactics and to outsmart him. He doubtless
was a dangerous man in the ring. There is evidence that this is so. He
gave an extremely good account of himself when he tackled such rough
customers as Roaring Jack Woodley (_The Adventure of the Solitary
Cyclist_), Joseph Harris (_The Naval Treaty_), and an anonymous
ruffian (_The Final Problem_); furthermore, the professional boxer
McMurdo (_The Sign of the Four_) had a high regard for Holmes’
boxing ability.
Besides being a runner and a boxer, Holmes was a wrestler of no mean
ability. He tangled with such villains as Colonel Sebastian Moran,
the second most dangerous man in London (_The Adventure of the Empty
House_); Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime (_The Final
Problem_); and the vigorous and powerful German master spy Von Borck
(_The Last Bow_). It has been suggested,[6] and I believe rightly, that
Holmes used “baritsu” when dealing with these dangerous characters.
They were real killers and would have stopped at nothing. Sherlock
Holmes could not afford to take chances when he encountered them. In
many instances, Holmes had the dependable and powerful Watson at his
side; but whether alone or in company, we know he nearly always got his
man.
We infer, especially from a certain episode, that Holmes possessed
muscles of steel and had an iron grip. It will be remembered that
on one occasion the fierce and gigantic Dr. Grimesby Roylott strode
unannounced into the chambers at 221B Baker Street. In a fit of temper,
he seized a poker, “... and bent it into a curve” (_The Adventure of
the Speckled Band_). After the unpleasant visitor had left, Holmes
without much apparent effort straightened the poker out--a task
requiring more strength than the initial bending.
I have always felt that, in spite of this startling demonstration on
the part of Holmes, for sheer bull-like strength Dr. Watson undoubtedly
excelled him. It is true that once at least Watson met his match.
He relates that on one occasion he was assaulted by an extremely
powerful and active man who sprang upon him and nearly choked him
to death (_The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax_). This is
an unusual incident, and Watson must have been unprepared, for in a
rough-and-tumble fight he could take care of himself in fast company.
He had the courage and tenacity of an English bulldog, and, what is
more important, knew how to use his strength. Watson did not pretend to
be as quick on his feet as Holmes, but he had the other qualities just
mentioned to a superlative degree, and these count for a great deal in
a catch-as-catch-can bout. Holmes was cognizant of Watson’s prowess,
for once the great detective stated that when a man was in a tight
place there was no better man to have on one’s side than Watson.
An interesting query can be posed: How did these men keep themselves in
reasonably sound physical condition? Watson does not help us to answer
this question satisfactorily, for he has this to say about Holmes:
Sherlock Holmes was a man who seldom took exercise for exercise’s
sake. Few men were capable of greater muscular effort, and he was
undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight that I have ever
seen; but he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of
energy, and he seldom bestirred himself save where there was some
professional object to be served. Then he was absolutely untiring and
indefatigable. That he should have kept himself in training under such
circumstances is remarkable, but his diet was usually of the sparest,
and his habits were simple to the verge of austerity.
_The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet_
Watson makes two statements which especially require critical comment:
the first one, “Few men were capable of greater muscular effort ...”
and the second, “Then he was absolutely untiring and indefatigable.”
These statements are not convincing, because they are not consistent.
Watson plainly indicates that Holmes did not believe in training; and
when the record is examined, we discover that actually both Holmes and
Watson led sedentary lives. Neither of them engaged in any sport while
residing at 221B Baker Street. The only exercise they took, when not
working on a case, was walking.
It might be in order to digress a moment and speak of the physiology
of exercise. As far as physical training is concerned, we know that
there is no substitute for strenuous exercise. The physiology of
training is not yet well understood, and but few objective criteria
are recognized. There is one criterion, however, which is widely
known, and that is the muscular hypertrophy produced by exercise. The
classical example is the tremendously developed muscles of the arm of
the blacksmith. Most of us in childhood learned Longfellow’s apt lines:
“The smith, a mighty man is he, with large and sinewy hands; And the
muscles of his brawny arms are strong as iron bands.”
Besides muscular development, there are other factors, although
less objective in character and less clearly understood, which are
brought about by training. Among these are adaptive changes in the
cardiovascular and respiratory system, and certain chemical changes in
the blood.
Several examples can be given to show that Dr. Watson appreciated the
physiologic symptoms brought about by lack of physical training. On
one occasion, he describes the unexpected visit to 221B Baker Street,
upon a winter’s morning, of Mr. Alexander Holder, the financier of
Threadneedle Street. “He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and
imposing ... he was running hard, with occasional little springs, such
as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his
legs.” Watson continues: “... the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at
our door ...” (_The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet_). This excited
and distracted individual finally composed himself and apologetically
explained that, instead of taking a cab (because cabs go slowly through
the snow), he had hurried to Baker Street on foot. Said he: “That
is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little
exercise.” In this connection, one is reminded of Lewis Carroll’s lines:
“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat.”
On another occasion, Watson discloses that, because of his sedentary
life, he became “blown” and was forced to slow down, whereas Holmes
never faltered, because he was always in training. Watson admitted
that his sedentary life had begun to tell upon him and he had to
fall behind. Holmes, on the other hand, never slackened his pace,
and apparently had an inexhaustible supply of nervous energy (_The
Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_).
Another example is found in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. It
will be remembered that, on a damp, sullen evening, Dr. Watson and Sir
Henry attempted to catch the escaped criminal Selden, who was hiding
out on the moor. Watson, in his report to Holmes, writes:
We were both swift runners and in fairly good training, but we soon
found that we had no chance of overtaking him.... We ran and ran until
we were completely blown, but the space between us grew ever wider.
Finally we stopped and sat panting on two rocks....
In this instance, Watson mentions that he was in fairly good physical
condition, although he does not tell us how he managed to reach
that state. We must assume that he had been keeping his weight
down by dieting and probably taking long walks on the lonely moor.
These two factors alone, however, are not sufficient to fit a man
for extraordinary and prolonged physical exertion. As pointed out
previously, the only way this can be done is by daily, well-regulated,
arduous exercise.
In the matter of physical fitness, there is another side of the shield
which we must examine. A few individuals, although not many, in spite
of their sedentary habits, are apparently at all times physically fit.
The muscles of these men seem to keep their firmness and power even
though they are but little used. This is difficult to understand.
Sherlock Holmes probably was one of these unusual people.
I doubt whether Watson would fit into this category. The good doctor
probably had a tendency to put on weight rather easily, and one gets
the impression from reading the tales that Watson liked his three
square meals each day. He was, to my mind, a typical beefeater.
Furthermore, he smoked a great deal, but for that matter so did Holmes.
Smoking is thought to interfere with physical fitness; it is said to be
“hard on the wind.” Athletes in training are invariably forbidden to
smoke. Just how smoking affects physical fitness is not known. It is
generally conceded, however, that tobacco in any form, especially if
used to excess, reduces both mental and physical efficiency. There is
considerable scientific proof for this statement, although this is not
the place to present it.
The beneficial effect of even a moderate amount of exercise has been
questioned by otherwise intelligent men. A brilliant colleague of mine,
for example, contends that the only thing exercise does is to make one
fit for still more exercise _ad infinitum_. Well, in a measure this
is true, for exercise really is the basis of training, as has been
repeatedly emphasized. One famous educator in this country has publicly
stated that, when he feels like exercising, he lies down until the
feeling passes away. Then there is the story of Chauncey Depew, who
lived to the age of ninety-four. When asked what exercise he took to
maintain his health, he replied: “The only exercise I have ever taken
is to serve as pallbearer for my friends who exercised.” I suspect
that these members of the intelligentsia, in their zeal to make their
points, have purposely overstated their case.
Be that as it may, many people insist that a certain amount of exercise
causes them to feel better. Admittedly, it is difficult for them
to explain just what is meant when they say “feel better”--it is a
subjective rather than an objective matter. Several reasons can be
mentioned, however, why moderate exercise seems beneficial to many
people.
To those whose work keeps them constantly at a desk, exercise comes as
a welcome relief from monotony. Physiologically, we know that a change
of occupation in many instances is as good as a rest. A brisk walk
through the park--or better still, in the country--brings to the eye a
shifting panorama and relieves boredom and fatigue. Many people enjoy
sports, such as a leisurely swim or a short round of golf. The pursuit
of these not only calls for exercise, but rests the mind from vexing
problems. In fact, there is something intangible about it all; in many
individuals, a pronounced psychic component unquestionably plays an
important part. Keeping fit, for example, often produces a mental lift
and makes some people feel quite content with themselves. This feeling
may assume sizable, if not untoward, proportions. The person who takes
exercise regularly, who keeps his waistline down, and maintains himself
in a fairly good physical state, may feel smug and distinctly superior.
He often looks down with pity at his friends who do not believe “in
exercise for exercise’s sake,” and, we might add, whose figures confirm
and illustrate the fact.
In discussing the philosophy of exercise, we wish to make clear that
there is no proof that strenuous muscular activity is beneficial to
the body. Indeed, great physical exertion in those past middle age
may be deleterious to the organism. The late distinguished English
physiologist, Professor F. A. Bainbridge, has happily stated: “The
exercise consequent upon the ordinary activities of life is sufficient.”
Exercise, however, should not be counted upon to bring about
weight reduction. It has been shown, for example, working with
marathon runners at the Harvard Fatigue Laboratories, that it took
two and one-half hours of steady running to burn up two pounds of
carbohydrates. It has been facetiously pointed out that the most
telling exercise leading to a trim figure is the simple procedure of
pushing the chair away from the dining table.
The current belief is that people who keep reasonably fit appear
healthier than those who do not. Watson caught this thought when he
wrote that Mr. Garrideb had a cadaverous face, his skin was dull, and
it resembled that of a person who never exercised (_The Adventure of
the Three Garridebs_).
In passing, we find a reference concerning a means of taking exercise
which shows the austere Holmes in a light frame of mind. He twits
Watson about an individual’s using only one dumbbell, and facetiously
states that such a person would not develop his muscles symmetrically,
and as a consequence might suffer from curvature of the spine (_The
Valley of Fear_). Holmes does not tell the whole story. The
single dumbbell which worried him could have been used alternately
by the right and left hand, and thus unilateral development would be
prevented. Watson, as a medical man, knew this; but like a good soldier
he let Holmes have his fun and made no reply.
In conclusion, we may say that the principal question we have raised
still remains unanswered: that is, how did Holmes and Watson keep
themselves in good physical condition? This will always be a mystery.
Search as we will, we can find no evidence that either Holmes or Watson
kept himself in training. This seems remarkable since there were times
when they needed strength and stamina in order to put their foes out
of commission, and indeed there were occasions when their very lives
depended upon it.
It is difficult to believe that unless Holmes and Watson kept
themselves in fairly good condition they could have held their own
against strong and desperate men, who presumably were in good fighting
form. When one considers how important it was for our heroes to keep
physically fit, one is drawn to the irresistible conclusion that they
actually took much more exercise and kept themselves in far better
training than appears in the tales. Besides their long walks through
London, they probably took setting-up exercises at 221B Baker Street.
They may even have done some weight lifting or have used dumbbells
(since Holmes was so concerned about finding a single dumbbell);
perhaps they boxed with each other. It is even possible that they did
some swimming. It will be recalled that, after his retirement, Holmes
frequently went swimming (_The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_). They may
have engaged in still other forms of exercise. I, for one, am ready to
believe that they did not lead such sedentary lives as Dr. Watson would
have us think.
THE THERAPEUTIC DOCTOR WATSON
“I had obtained good results in such cases by the inhalation of
nitrite of amyl....”
_The Resident Patient_
John H. Watson, M.D., practiced medicine in the city of London in the
early eighties of this past century. This was a long time ago--nearly
seventy-five years. At the time of which we write, Roentgen had not
as yet discovered the X-ray, and Ehrlich’s “606” (salvarsan) was not
available for the treatment of syphilis. Banting and Best, the Canadian
physiologists, had not given insulin to the world, nor had Minot and
Murphy of Harvard discovered that liver extract was an efficient
agent in the treatment of pernicious anemia, a heretofore fatal blood
disease. The sulfonamide drugs and the antibiotics, such as penicillin
and streptomycin, presumably were only a dream.
From what has been related, it appears that Dr. Watson’s therapeutic
armamentarium, insofar as efficacious drugs are concerned, was sadly
limited. But the fact must not be forgotten that he had at his command
a number of powerful medicines: morphine, cocaine, belladonna, and
strychnine, to name a few.
Let us turn to the stories and see what medicines Dr. Watson used in
his practice and under what conditions they were employed.
It appears that iodoform and silver nitrate were well known drugs,
for Holmes on one occasion remarked to him: “... if a gentleman walks
into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of
silver upon his right forefinger.... I would be dull indeed if I do not
pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession” (_A
Scandal in Bohemia_).
Iodoform was introduced as an antiseptic about the year 1879. For
many years it was widely employed as a dusting powder, especially
to diminish infection of open wounds and to promote granulation.
Its persistent and penetrating odor, as well as its relative
ineffectiveness, gradually brought it into disfavor. This is probably
just as well, for its use is not entirely without danger, especially
when iodoform is applied over an extensive area where a good deal of it
can be absorbed.
Silver nitrate still enjoys a wide usage. It is employed to produce
astringent, antiseptic, and caustic effects. Even many laymen know that
silver nitrate will remove “proud flesh.” Unfortunately, it has the
property of staining the skin “with a black mark” (as Holmes remarked),
which incidentally is often difficult to remove. It may persist until
it is virtually worn off, although recent and superficial stains can be
removed by painting the area with a ten per cent solution of potassium
iodide.
As might be expected, Dr. Watson found it necessary on several
occasions to resort to morphine to alleviate pain. We find, for
example, that when Kitty Winter, the cast-off mistress of the
infamous Baron Gruner, threw vitriol in the Baron’s face, Dr. Watson
administered a hypodermic of morphine to the wretched Baron to ease
the intense suffering (_The Adventure of the Illustrious Client_). On
another occasion, when Professor Presbury was savagely attacked by
his wolfhound, Watson immediately gave morphine to the unfortunate
professor (_The Adventure of the Creeping Man_). In still another
instance, when Carlos, the mastiff, had attacked Rucastle, Watson
probably would have used morphine had he had it in his possession. He
wrote: “I did what I could to relieve the pain” (_The Adventure of the
Copper Beeches_). He did not state, however, what agent he employed.
On one occasion, at least, it was necessary to administer morphine
to Sherlock Holmes. He had been attacked and beaten severely by two
ruffians. Sir Leslie Oakshott, the eminent London surgeon, had been
called in on the case. He later tersely remarked to Watson that
Holmes suffered from lacerated scalp wounds, and there were also some
bruises. It had been necessary to take several stitches. Morphine had
been administered (_The Adventure of the Illustrious Client_).
Morphine, because it is a dangerous habit-forming drug, should be
used only when absolutely indicated. It is noteworthy that Dr. Watson
administered morphine only when the patient had suffered a grave
physical injury. He is to be commended for his conservative attitude.
On many occasions, when assisting Sherlock Holmes with his cases,
Dr. Watson found it necessary to administer a stimulant to those
individuals who had suffered a physical injury or had been under great
emotional stress. His favorite remedy for such conditions was brandy.
Numerous instances may be cited when this agent was employed as an
emergency measure. Dr. Watson obviously believed firmly in the efficacy
of brandy as a stimulant, and, indeed, claimed to have saved the life
of an individual by its use:
Mr. Melas, however, still lived, and in less than an hour, with the
aid of ammonia and brandy I had the satisfaction of seeing him open
his eyes, and of knowing that my hand had drawn him back from that
dark valley in which all paths meet.
_The Greek Interpreter_
Dr. Watson in this beautiful passage expresses the wish of every
physician.
Brandy and whiskey were not the only stimulants used by Dr. Watson; in
point of fact, he employed several others. We have noted previously
that ammonia was administered along with brandy to Mr. Melas, the
Greek interpreter. Physicians will recall that ammonia is the principal
ingredient in so-called smelling salts. The vapors of ammonia when
inhaled stimulate the medullary centers, causing an increase in
respiration, and by action on the vasomotor center produce a rise in
blood pressure.
In his heroic efforts to save the life of a woman who had been
chloroformed nearly to death, Dr. Watson gave ether intravenously with
successful results (_The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax_).
At any rate, he records that the patient regained consciousness. Ether
is not often given in this manner as a stimulant, and the question
could be raised whether it was indicated under the condition which
faced Dr. Watson. I am afraid that this was an instance in which the
patient lived in spite of the treatment.
A popular and effective stimulant, namely, caffeine, was used to bring
a young woman out of a stuporous state produced by opium. Dr. Watson
relates that a couple of cups of very strong coffee brought her out of
this state (_The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge_). Dr. Watson used
the classical agent. Strong coffee is still used today in morphine
poisoning, although relatively new preparations, such as metrazol,
nikethamide, and amphetamine are at present the drugs of choice. Coffee
is, of course, easy to obtain, is a relatively harmless stimulant, and
has the pleasing virtue of not producing disagreeable aftereffects.
On one occasion, the nature of the stimulant administered was not
disclosed. We find the following: “... while his nurse poured him out
a glass of some stimulating medicine” (_The Naval Treaty_). We
can only guess at the contents of the glass, but more than likely it
contained either brandy or whiskey. We have previously pointed out that
these agents were frequently prescribed as stimulants.
Dr. Watson, strangely enough, administered amyl nitrite to a patient
who presumably was suffering from catalepsy. He writes, “I had
obtained good results in such cases by the inhalation of nitrite of
amyl....” (_The Resident Patient_). It will be recalled that
this rather rare condition is characterized by a rigidity of all the
skeletal muscles; the patient, as a consequence, tends to remain in any
position in which he is placed. The reason Dr. Watson used amyl nitrite
in this instance is not clear. The nitrites are frequently prescribed
to reduce systemic blood pressure or to relieve angina pectoris. Surely
there is no evidence in the literature that the nitrites are of aid in
cataleptic states. We can dismiss the matter by assuming that in this
instance Dr. Watson used amyl nitrite empirically.
Oil is mentioned as a therapeutic agent in at least two of the
stories. Both Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes had occasion for its use.
When Baron Gruner had vitriol thrown in his face, Dr. Watson tried
to alleviate the poor wretch’s pain by bathing his face in oil and
applying cotton to the raw areas (_The Adventure of the Illustrious
Client_).
On another occasion, Holmes relates how he treated Murdoch, who had
come into contact with the giant jellyfish. He used cotton-wool which
had been soaked in salad oil; and he related that this application
greatly relieved the pain (_The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_).
This adventure took place in the country, and we may assume that there
was little, if any, medication on hand. The patient was suffering
intensely, and Holmes did what he could to assuage the pain with the
material he had at his disposal. He showed real ingenuity by making use
of a homely preparation. Morphine obviously was badly needed, and it
is a pity that Dr. Watson was not there to administer it. But it must
be remembered that, at the time this happened, Holmes had retired to
the Sussex Downs and Dr. Watson was in London. A perusal of the story
shows, however, that the patient had been given liberal quantities of
brandy, so perhaps he got along fairly well without morphine after all.
Dr. Watson used carbolized bandages to dress the hand of the
unfortunate hydraulic engineer who had, a few hours previously,
lost his thumb in an adventure which nearly cost him his life. “I
sponged the wound, cleansed it, dressed it, and finally covered it
over with cotton wadding and carbolized bandages” (_The Adventure
of the Engineer’s Thumb_). Carbolized bandages are no longer used
in present-day surgery. Historically, it is of interest to record
that carbolic acid became widely known as an antiseptic through its
introduction by Lister in 1867.
Dr. Watson does not often mention hypnotics. We find in one of his
stories that it was the custom of an invalid, Mr. Percy Phelps, to take
some sleeping potion: “... you did not take your usual draught that
night” (_The Naval Treaty_). We shall never know what the “usual
draught” contained. The barbiturates which are so widely used today
were unknown when Dr. Watson practiced medicine. Bromides were employed
not only for sedation but for inducing sleep as well. The draught of
which Watson spoke might have contained chloral hydrate, for it once
enjoyed wide usage as a hypnotic. It is a potent and dangerous drug
and, as generally known, is used by gangsters (among others) in what
are inelegantly but expressively referred to as “knockout drops.”
An interesting reference is found to an alterative in one of the
stories (_The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax_). Holmes,
meeting Watson in an establishment which specialized in Turkish baths,
asked his friend why he insisted upon this type of therapy. The latter
replied that a Turkish bath is actually an alterative in medicine. He
explained further that an alterative was a cleanser of the system.
An “alterative” is defined in _Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary_
as: “A medicine or treatment which gradually induces a change, and
restores healthy functions without sensible evacuations.” A modern
medical dictionary states: “An obsolete term originally used for drugs
said to reestablish healthy functions of the system.” (_Dorland’s
Illustrated Medical Dictionary_. Philadelphia: W. B. Saunders
Company, 1947).
Present-day medical students probably never heard of alteratives. Many
middle-aged physicians, however, will remember them well, for formerly
alteratives were used extensively in therapeutics, and included the
following preparations: iodine, arsenic, iron, and the compounds of
mercury. Nowadays, a more scientific attitude is taken toward these
agents, and they are prescribed only if there is a specific need for
them: for example, iron for certain anemias, mercury for syphilis,
and so on. If one considers the esteem in which alteratives were held
in the latter part of this past century--and, for that matter, in the
early part of the present one--it is surprising that Dr. Watson did not
mention alteratives more frequently.
One wishes that Dr. Watson had mentioned other drugs used in his
practice. In the early part of the twentieth century, a survey
in England showed that physicians considered that from thirty to
thirty-five drugs were necessary to practice medicine satisfactorily.
In the stories of Sherlock Holmes, the names of about a dozen occur.
Dr. Watson probably mentioned only those which for the main part are
familiar to the layman.
Drugs are, of course, an important part of the armamentarium of
doctors, especially those engaged in general practice. From the
evidence at hand, obviously Dr. Watson was not a therapeutic nihilist,
but neither can he be accused of prescribing drugs loosely or in
excessive doses.
The matter of overdosing with drugs calls for a brief comment. The
famous poet-physician, Oliver Wendell Holmes, wrote: “If the whole
_materia medica_ (excepting opium and ether) as now used, could
be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for
mankind--and all the worse for the fishes.” These were harsh words;
but when written, timely. The indiscriminate use of drugs was directly
responsible for the genesis of the ill-conceived homeopathic system
of medicine founded by Hahnemann. The followers of this school used
drugs in such minute doses that they were virtually ineffectual. It is,
indeed, an ill wind which blows no good, for the rise of homeopathy had
a sobering influence on many physicians of the allopathic school who
were using drugs lavishly, but not well. Let us not forget, however,
that the prescribing of drugs plays only a part--albeit an important
one--in the successful practice of medicine.
In conclusion, we may think of Dr. Watson briskly setting out to
answer the call, carrying his trusty bag filled with the recognized
and popular drugs of that period. He undoubtedly prescribed these
fairly liberally, and firmly believed in their curative powers.
Most of Dr. Watson’s patients probably got well with the aid of, or
perhaps in spite of, his prescriptions. Those who were not helped by
his medication were undoubtedly benefited by his kindliness and his
sympathetic understanding of their ailments.
DOCTOR WATSON, GENERAL PRACTITIONER
One night ... there came a ring to my bell, about the hour when a
man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat up in my
chair.... I groaned for I was newly back from a weary day.
_The Man with the Twisted Lip_
John H. Watson, M.D., was born in England in 1852. He was graduated
from the University of London Medical School in 1878 (_A Study in
Scarlet_), and took his internship at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.
Since England was then engaged in a war on the Afghan frontier,
Dr. Watson became attached as a military surgeon to the Fifth
Northumberland Fusiliers. The English were badly defeated on July 27,
1880 by a large Afghan force at Maiwand. Dr. Watson received a painful
wound--a Jezail bullet hit him in the shoulder. Later he contracted
typhoid fever in a base hospital at Peshawar. He was eventually
discharged from the army and returned to London with a very modest
disability pension.
Not long after this, he met Sherlock Holmes through a mutual
acquaintance, and they obtained comfortable living quarters at 221B
Baker Street. While living with Holmes, Dr. Watson, as we know,
assisted him in many of his cases and served as his chronicler.
After a time, Dr. Watson married and set up as a general practitioner
in London. Doubtless, many of his experiences in his practice are
reflected in his writing. It is in order to consider some of the
references made to the general practice of medicine in the tales.
In one of Watson’s early stories, _A Scandal in Bohemia_ (written
about seventy years ago), we find Holmes saying to Dr. Watson:
As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling
of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right
forefinger and a bulge on the side of his top-hat to show where he has
secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull indeed, if I do not pronounce
him to be an active member of the medical profession.
As Holmes stated, if an individual smelled of iodoform, had silver
nitrate stains on his fingers, and carried his stethoscope in his hat,
it would not be difficult to pronounce him a medical man. Iodoform,
which was once widely used, is employed but little today, and it would
be poor taste for a physician making professional calls to carry its
odor with him. Silver nitrate is still widely used, but most physicians
make an earnest effort to keep their hands looking neat and free of
stains.
Dr. Watson had an appropriate sense of the fitness of things,
and appreciated the fact that a physician should comport himself
with dignity both in manner and in dress. Dr. Watson writes: “The
rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural
Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits
a medical man” (_The Musgrave Ritual_). In speaking of dress,
Watson states: “His dress was quiet and sober--a black frock coat, dark
trousers, and a touch of color about his necktie” (_The Resident
Patient_).
It is hardly necessary to say that the modern physician no longer
carries his stethoscope in his hat. An interesting reference is found
in the story just mentioned concerning how the general practitioner
carried his instruments. One evening, Holmes and Watson returned from
a walk and found a brougham waiting at their door. Holmes remarked
that it belonged to a general practitioner. Watson writes: “I was
sufficiently conversant with Holmes’ methods to be able to follow his
reasoning, and to see the nature and state of the various medical
instruments in the wicker basket which hung in the lamplight inside the
brougham....”
A fact not generally known in this country is that a red lamp was once
the sign of the general practitioner. Reference is made to this in
_The Adventure of the Six Napoleons_. Watson writes that a bust of
Napoleon, owned by a Dr. Barnicott, was found broken near his red lamp.
A pleasing manner is surely a desirable trait in a physician. There
are doctors whose mere presence in the sickroom makes a patient feel
better. Dr. Watson is depicted as a person not only eager to help his
patients but also as a kind and sympathetic individual--attributes
that are most commendable in all physicians. Once when Dr. Watson was
speaking of a lady who was emotionally upset, he writes: “We soothed
and comforted her by such words as we could find.” Somewhat later, he
states: “I am an old campaigner.... If I can be of any assistance,
either to you or my friend here, I should be indeed happy” (_The Man
with the Twisted Lip_). In _The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire_,
Dr. Watson again states that he would be glad to be of any service.
Later, when he was asked to see a lady who had suffered a great nervous
shock, he explains how he stepped up to the bed on which she was lying
and spoke a few reassuring words to her, while he took her pulse and
temperature.
Dr. Watson, like many practitioners, presumably had patients whom he
felt he was not helping, and who were taking an inordinate amount of
his time and energy. It is likely that he persuaded them to seek the
aid of some other physician. Holmes probably sensed this, for on one
occasion Dr. Watson asked whether a certain individual was Holmes’
client. The detective remarked that he supposed so, since Scotland
Yard had sent this individual to him on the same principle that some
doctors refer their incurable patients to quacks, with the idea that
nothing can be done for them anyway, and that whatever happens they are
no worse off than they were formerly. Dr. Watson made no reply. One
does not like to think that an ethical practitioner would knowingly
send any patient to a quack. Holmes probably was in a facetious mood
when he made this remark, and was simply teasing Watson, who was not
known for his sense of humor.
Dr. Watson clearly recognized a doctor’s responsibility to his patient,
because in _The Sign of the Four_ he writes: “Remember that I speak
not only as one comrade to another but as a medical man to one for
whose constitution he is to some extent answerable.” In _The Dying
Detective_, Holmes twitted Watson by reminding him that he was after
all only a general practitioner with rather mediocre qualifications.
This hurt Dr. Watson, and his comment was that Holmes might be his
master elsewhere, but not in the sickroom. Here undeniably Watson was
his master.
Like other general practitioners, Dr. Watson undoubtedly had hard days,
but presumably he answered night calls. The following occurs in _The
Man with the Twisted Lip_:
One night ... there came a ring to my bell, about the hour when a man
gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat up in my chair,
and my wife ... made a little face of disappointment.... I groaned,
for I was newly back from a weary day.
Obviously, Dr. Watson had never had a lucrative practice, for he
states: “Everyone was out of town, and I yearned for the glades of the
New Forest or the shingle of Southsea. A depleted bank account had
caused me to postpone my holiday....” (_The Resident Patient_). In a
similar vein, “I have nothing to do today. My practice is never very
absorbing” (_The Red-Haired League_). In _A Scandal in Bohemia_ occurs
a reference which further indicates that Dr. Watson was not a busy
practitioner: “At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but
Holmes had not yet returned.... I sat down beside the fire, however,
with the intention of awaiting him however long he might be.” This
shows that Dr. Watson was not loath to be absent from his practice in
the middle of the day for an indeterminate length of time. Apparently,
he thought nothing of this, but sat down calmly out of reach of his
patients to wait for his friend.
We must not infer, however, that his practice was always dull, for on
one occasion he explains that he had pressing professional business of
his own, and it was not possible for him to accompany Holmes (_The
Adventure of the Illustrious Client_). And again: “A professional
case of great gravity was engaging my attention at the time, and the
whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer” (_The
Red-Haired League_). Also, once when Holmes suggested that he and
Watson go out of town, the latter writes that although it was easy for
Holmes to go almost any time, he (Watson) had to do a certain amount
of planning and hurrying because his practice was not inconsiderable.
Holmes was cognizant of the fact that Watson had definite obligations,
for once Holmes told a client that not only was he a busy man but
that Dr. Watson had his patients to consider (_The Adventure of the
Creeping Man_).
Apparently, at the time Watson wrote, it was common for physicians
to buy and sell their practice. Several references are made to this
custom. Watson describes how he had purchased his practice:
I had bought a connection.... Old Mr. ... from whom I purchased it,
had at one time an excellent practice, but his age, and an affliction
... had very much thinned it.... Until when I purchased it from him
it had sunk from twelve hundred to a little more than three hundred a
year.
_The Stock Broker’s Clerk_
It must be remembered that at that time the English pound was worth
almost five dollars; so the practice described by Dr. Watson had been
bringing in about $6,000 per year, but had sunk to $1,500. In those
days, of course, money went much further than it does now, and $6,000 a
year was a splendid income.
On another occasion, Watson relates that, at the request of Holmes, who
wanted Watson to come to live with him at Baker Street, he sold his
small Kensington practice at a rather good figure to a young doctor. A
few years later, he found that the purchaser was a distant relative of
Holmes, and it was the latter who actually had put up the money (_The
Adventure of the Norwood Builder_).
Dr. Watson takes sly digs at specialists. Once he remarks that a
certain individual was an excellent antagonist, and that he was as
cool as ice, silky voiced and soothing as a fashionable consultant
(_The Adventure of the Illustrious Client_). And another time, he
states that he read in his friend’s eye the arrogance which a learned
specialist might experience who had been called to see a case only to
find the patient had measles (_The Adventure of the Abbey Grange_).
As to the drugs used in Watson’s day, only about a dozen are mentioned.
Among them were ammonia, amyl nitrite, brandy, caffeine, ether,
chloroform, iodoform, carbolic acid, curare, and silver nitrate. A
survey made in England in the early part of this century showed that
physicians considered from twenty to twenty-five drugs necessary to
practice medicine satisfactorily. If a survey were made today, it is
likely that more would be listed, because during the past few years
potent antibiotic agents have been discovered and great strides
have been made in chemotherapy. Oliver Wendell Holmes, the famous
poet-physician, if living today, could not write as he did in the last
century: “If the whole materia medica (excepting opium and ether) as
now used could be sunk to the bottom of the sea it would be all the
better for mankind--and all the worse for the fishes.”
We may think of the faithful Dr. Watson answering a call, perhaps late
at night, his stethoscope concealed in his hat, and his trusty medical
bag filled with the acceptable drugs. We can picture him further,
riding along in his hansom--the lights of which shine dimly through
the fog--rattling over the cobblestones of the old London streets,
carrying on the tradition of his noble profession. And we pray that
this priceless tradition will continue as long as mankind suffers from
illnesses of the mind or body.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Cassamajor, Louis, “Brain Fever,” _Journal of the
American Medical Association_, CXLIX (1952), 1443-46.]
[Footnote 2: Klein, W. E., and R. H. Bradshaw, “Portuguese Man-of-War
Sting,” _Armed Forces Medical Journal_, II (March, 1951), 509-512.]
[Footnote 3: Waite, C. L., “Medical Problems of an Underwater
Demolition Team,” _Armed Forces Medical Journal_, II (Sept.,
1951), 1317-26.]
[Footnote 4: Sollman, T., _A Manual of Pharmacology_
(Philadelphia, W. B. Saunders Co., 6th ed., 1946), p. 104.]
[Footnote 5: H. T. Webster, “Observations on Sherlock Holmes as an
Athlete and Sportsman,” _The Baker Street Journal_, III (1948),
No. 1, pp. 24-31.]
[Footnote 6: H. T. Webster, _op. cit._]
=TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES= Simple typographical errors have been
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change was obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced. Punctuation and
spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found
in the original book; otherwise they were not changed. Inconsistent
hyphens left as printed.
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