Holmes and Watson (25 page)

(Other unrecorded cases for 1894: the repulsive story of the red leech and the terrible death of Crosby, the banker; the Addleton tragedy and the singular contents of the
ancient British barrow; the Smith-Mortimer succession case; the tracking and arrest of Huret, the Boulevard assassin.)

(Other unrecorded cases for 1895: the sudden death of Cardinal Tosca; the arrest of Wilson, the notorious canary trainer.)

On reading through Watson’s accounts of these investigations in sequence, several interesting and important factors emerge, one of which is Holmes’ increasing involvement in cases concerning matters of state security which had European significance and which were to bring him into contact with international espionage, an experience which was to have important repercussions after his retirement. The inquiry into the missing Bruce-Partington plans was, as Mycroft pointed out, a ‘vital international problem’ in which Holmes had never had ‘so great a chance of serving his country’.
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In carrying out the investigation, Holmes would have the
‘whole force of the State’ at his back, should he need it. Mycroft was in a position to make such assurances, as he himself had enormous political influence, a fact which Holmes confided in Watson for the first time, adding the remark already quoted in which he states that on occasions Mycroft
was
the British Government.

The Second Stain inquiry also involved an important document, in this case a letter from a foreign ruler criticising British colonial policy which, if it fell into the wrong hands, could cause a serious rift in Anglo-German relations, leading even to war between the two nations.
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In fact, so serious was the situation that no less persons than Trelawney Hope, Secretary of State for European Affairs, and Lord Bellinger, Prime Minister, called on Holmes personally to ask him to take up the case (see p. 398). It is a mark of Holmes’ growing influence that he was prepared to buy the letter back at any cost, even if it meant another penny on income tax.

He also continued to enhance his international reputation in France in 1894 by bringing about the arrest of Huret, the Boulevard assassin, for which he received the Legion of Honour, the only award he agreed to accept, as well as an autographed letter of thanks from the French President. The following year, 1895, the Pope again called on his services to enquire into the sudden death of Cardinal Tosca, a case which almost certainly necessitated his presence once more in Rome. He was also
able to assist another religious body, the Coptic church,
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in an inquiry involving two of its patriarchs, although Holmes appears to have conducted the investigation from Baker Street, for he was engaged at the same time with the Retired Colourman case in Lewisham, south London. None of these foreign inquiries were recorded by Watson apart from references within the canon.

Despite his increasing fame, Holmes continued to charge his clients on a fixed scale, rarely claiming large fees and occasionally waiving payment altogether. However, although there are few references to his finances after 1894, he presumably earned enough to maintain his standard of living, although Watson reports that his tastes were ‘frugal’ and there are no references during this period to the epicurean little suppers and choice wines in which he had indulged himself and his guests in earlier years. But the remark he made to the Duke of Holdernesse – ‘I am a poor man’ – as he pocketed his Grace’s cheque for £6,000, a huge sum in those days, is meant ironically, so too is the affectionate pat he gave to his notebook in which the cheque was placed. Taking the Duke’s money was one way of making the man pay, quite literally, for his unjustifiable treatment of his young son, Lord Saltire.

There are subtle changes also in his attitude to Watson. Although Holmes refers to him as his ‘friend and partner’, he tends to treat him at times more as a secretary and even,
on one occasion, almost as a bodyguard. In ‘The Adventure of the Norwood Builder’, Watson is requested to read a lengthy newspaper account out loud and is also expected to keep abreast of current affairs and inform Holmes of any interesting news items, as happens at the beginning of ‘The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans’, while in the Norwood Builder case, Holmes declines Watson’s help as there is unlikely to be any danger. Otherwise, he says, ‘I should not dream of stirring out without you.’

Watson also had his uses as a research assistant when Holmes himself was too busy with more important matters. Holmes calls on his services in three cases: the Retired Colourman, the Solitary Cyclist and the Carfax inquiries. In the latter investigation, Watson is sent off to France to trace the whereabouts of Lady Frances Carfax. Watson’s efforts were not always successful and he came in for criticism from Holmes over his methods, a response which not unnaturally angered Watson, who had done his best. But to be fair to Holmes, he gave praise where it was due and in the Retired Colourman case complimented Watson on noticing the smell of paint in Josiah Amberley’s house and remembering the number on the man’s theatre ticket.

More significant still is Holmes’ change of attitude towards such basic principles as law and justice, influenced no doubt by his increasing power and also by his near-fatal experience at the Reichenbach Falls which, as well as altering his opinion on publicity and public honours, brought about a fundamental shift in attitude towards certain moral issues. Holmes became more prepared to break the law when his own conscience
told him justice was better served by contravening it. ‘Once or twice in my career,’ he declares to Watson in the Abbey Grange inquiry, ‘I feel I have done more real harm by my discovery of the criminal than he had ever done by his crime. I have learnt caution now, and I had rather play tricks with the law of England than with my own conscience.’

It was a tendency he had already shown earlier as, for example, in the Yellow Face inquiry when he suggested breaking into a cottage to discover the truth about its mysterious inhabitant, or in the Blue Carbuncle case when he allowed the thief, Ryder, to go free on the grounds that he will not steal again whereas, if he were sent to prison, he will become a ‘gaolbird for life’. After the Great Hiatus, he was prepared to act even more as a maverick. He actually breaks into Amberley’s house in the Retired Colourman case, an illegal action he repeats even more spectacularly in the Charles Augustus Milverton inquiry when, equipped with a first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, probably bought specially for the occasion, Holmes, accompanied by Watson, forces an entry to Milverton’s house in order to destroy the papers used by Milverton for purposes of blackmail. At first, Watson is horrified both by the illegality of the act and its consequences should Holmes be arrested. But once Holmes convinces him of the moral purpose behind the escapade, Watson, game as ever for a little excitement, eagerly joins in. He even makes the black silk masks which they wear during the burglary. ‘Far from feeling guilty,’ he remarks, ‘I rejoiced and exulted at our dangers.’

Later, Holmes allows Milverton’s murderer to escape
justice even though he knows her identity, an act of leniency he also extends to Dr Sterndale for his murder of Mortimer Tregennis in the Devil’s Foot case, while in the Three Students inquiry, he holds a ‘private court martial’ at the end of which both Bannister and Gilchrist are freed of any consequences arising from their attempt to cheat over the Fortescue Scholarship examination.

Holmes goes even further in the Abbey Grange inquiry when, with himself acting as judge and Watson as jury, they acquit Captain Croker of the murder of Sir Eustace Brackenstall, a drunken and violent brute, whom Croker has killed in a fight after Brackenstall struck his wife, Lady Brackenstall, across the face with his stick. Holmes justifies his decision with the comment that, unlike the police, he has the right to private judgement and, provided no one else is arrested for Brackenstall’s death, Croker should go free.

Less justifiable, in my opinion, is Holmes’ attitude at the end of the Priory School inquiry
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when he agrees to
withhold essential evidence from the police so that James Wilder, the Duke’s illegitimate son, will not be charged with conspiracy to abduct the young Lord Saltire, on the understanding Wilder will emigrate to Australia. Wilder’s crime has led to the murder of Herr Heidegger and the forcible imprisonment of a ten-year-old schoolboy under distressing conditions. Holmes’ attempt to give the Duke marital advice by suggesting a reconciliation with the Duchess from whom he is separated is also difficult to accept, for it shows a disturbing tendency on Holmes’ part to interfere in other people’s private lives, an inclination he has already shown in his behaviour towards Watson over the sale of the Kensington practice and his veto on publication.

The official police were, of course, ignorant of these occasions when Holmes withheld evidence or perverted the course of justice. Had they known, their attitude towards him might have been very different. As it was, there is a marked increase in respect and admiration, especially from Lestrade, who openly acknowledges the debt Scotland Yard owes to Holmes and his methods.

‘We’re not jealous of you at Scotland Yard,’ Lestrade assures him at the end of the Six Napoleons case. ‘No, sir, we are very proud of you, and if you came down tomorrow there’s not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn’t be glad to shake you by the hand.’

Holmes’ own attitude to the police also improved, especially towards the more intelligent members of the
force, such as Inspector Baynes of the Surrey Constabulary and Stanley Hopkins, a young Scotland Yard inspector, although Hopkins comes in for some criticism during the Black Peter investigation. Sadly, for Holmes genuinely liked the big Scotsman, there is no reference to Inspector ‘Mac’ MacDonald during this period. Perhaps he had been promoted and transferred to another force. Athelney Jones, who may have retired, also disappears from Watson’s accounts.

But despite all these changes, much remained the same. Holmes still showed those manic-depressive tendencies which had been evident in his behaviour as a younger man, his ‘hilarious manner’ and ‘spasms of merriment’ which Watson observes during the Norwood Builder case alternating with more sombre moods when he was ‘taciturn’, not to say ‘morose’. Even in his more lighthearted moments there was a ‘sinister quality’ about his cheerfulness which Watson has never remarked on before. In fact, the references to Holmes laughing or even smiling are much less frequent. One feels he has lost some of his sparkle and youthful zest, although he still continued to be an active man who was physically very fit – more so than Watson who, in the Solitary Cyclist inquiry, had difficulty in keeping up with Holmes’ faster pace. Of the two men, it was Watson who was beginning to feel his age, complaining of feeling ‘rheumatic and old’, in consequence of which he treated himself to the comforts of a Turkish bath. But he was no longer troubled by the wound to his leg, which seems to have healed completely,
and he was still agile enough to scale a six-foot-high wall at the end of the Milverton investigation.

There was no change either in Holmes’ coldness of temperament and his indifference, amounting at times almost to callousness, towards other people, which Watson still had reason to deplore. He was particularly concerned over Milverton’s housemaid, Agatha, to whom, under the assumed identity of Escott, a plumber, Holmes proposed marriage, solely for the purpose of gaining access to the house.

‘But the girl, Holmes?’ Watson cries on hearing of the engagement, to which protest Holmes responds by shrugging his shoulders. It is on this occasion that Holmes indulges in one of his rare fits of laughter, silent, inward merriment which does indeed have a sinister ring to it. Holmes’ manipulation of the young woman’s affections is hardly excused by the fact that she had another suitor vying for her hand. However, in the Veiled Lodger inquiry, Holmes does show compassion towards Eugenia Ronder, hideously disfigured by a circus lion.