Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 September 1894 — A STUDY IN SCARLET. [ARTICLE]

A STUDY IN SCARLET.

PART I. [Being a reprint from the reminiscences of John H. Watson, M. D.. late of the Army Medical * Department.] CHAPTER ll—Continued. _ MK. SHERLOCK HOLMES. 7 “ ~

As the weeks went by, my interest in him and my, curiosity as to his aims in life gradually deepened and increased?“Hlsveryperebn’and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too. had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of deierminatiom His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical intruinents. The reader may set me down as a hopeless busy body when Iconfess how much this man stimulated my curiosity, and how often I endeavored to break through the reticence which he showed in all that concerned himself. Before pronouncing judgment, however, beqt remembered how objectless was my life, and how little there was to engage my attention. My health forbade me from venturing out unless in exceptionally genial weather, and I had no friends who would call upon me and break the monotony of my existence. Under these circumstances I eagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around my companion, and spent most of my time in endeavoring to unravel it. He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in reply to a question, confirmed Stamford’s opinion upon that point. Neither did he appear to have pu rstied any course of reading which might fit him for a degree in science or any other recognized portal which would give him an entrance into the learned world. Yet his zeal for certain studies was remarkable, and within eccentric 1 limits his knowledge was so extraordinarily ample and minute that his observations have fairly astounded me. Surely no man would work so hard to attain such precise information unless he had some definite Aim in view. Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the exactness of their learning. No man burdens his mind with small matters unless he has some very good reason for so doing. His ignorance was as remarkable 1 ashis knowledge. Of contemporary I literature, philosophy and politics he i appeared to know next to nothing. ] Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, i he inquired in the neivest way who he might be and what he had done. My surprise reached a climax, however, when 1 found incidentally that he was ignorant of the Copernican] theory and of the composition of the | solar system. That any civilized man i being in this nineteenth century] should not be aware that the earth | traveled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it. “You appear to be astonished,” he said, smiling at my expression of surprise. “New that Ido know it, I shall do my best to forget it.” “To forget it!” “You see,” he explained, “I con-' sider that a man’s brain originally is ■ like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture ] as you choose. A fool takes in all] the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things, so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands ’wpon it. Now the skillful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain attic. He. will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think (hat little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it. there comes a-time when for every addition you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones.” “But the solar system!” I protested. “What the deuce is it to me?” he interrupted, impatiently; “you say that we go round the sun. If we went round t)ie moon, it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to ray work.” I was on the point of asking him what that work might be, but something in his manner showed me that the question would be an unwelcome one. I pondered over our shortconversation, however, and endeavored to draw my deductions from it. He said that he would acquire no knowledge which did not bear upon his object. Therefore, all the knowledge ••Inch he possessed was such as would be useful to him. I enumerated in raj r own mind all the various points upon which he had shown me that lie was exceptionally well informed. leven took a pencil and jotted them down. I could not help •Killing at th«C<!<2cumei»t when I had AAffipleUd it. <truu iu this way:

Sherlock Holmes—his limits. 1. Knowledge of Literature. ---Nil. 2. “ Philosophy.— Nil. 3. “ Astronomy.— Nil. 4. -TilSolitics,— Feeble. 5. “ “ Botany. Variable. Well up in 1 in belladonna, opium and poisons generally.. Knows nothing of practical gardening. 6. “ Geology. Prac- ' al. put limited. Tells at a glance different s oils from each other. After walks has shown me splashes upon his trousers, andJtoldem&JbyL their color and consistence i n what part of London he had "77. received them. 7. Knowledge of Chemistry.—Profound. 8. “ Anatomy.—Accupurate but unsystematic. 9. * “ Sensational Lit-’-erature. - . mense. He appears to know every detail of every horror . - . perpetrated iu the century. 10. Plays the violin well. 11. Is an expert single stick playboxer and swordsman. 12. Has a good practical knowledge of civil law. When I got so far in my list I threw it into the fire in despair. “If I can’t find what the fellow is driving at by reconciling all these accomplishments, and discovering a calling that needs them all,” I said to myself, “I may as well give up the attempt at once.” I see that I have alluded above to his powers upon the violin. These were very remarkable, but as eccentric as all his other accomplishments. That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew well, because at my request he had played nje some of Mendelssohn’s Lieder, and other favorites. When left to himself, however, he would seldotn produce any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his arm chair of an evening he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle, which was thrown carelessly across his knee. Sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy. Occasionally they were fantastic and cheerful. Clearly they reflected the thoughts which possessed , him. but whether the music aided those thoughts,or whether the playing was simply the result of a whim or fancy, was more than I could determine. I might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had it not been that he usually terminated them by playing in- quick succession a whole series of my favorite airs as a slight compensation for the trial upon my patience. During the first week or so we had no callers, and I began to think that my companion was as friendless a man as I was myself. Presently, however, I found that he had many acquaintances, and those in the most different classes of society. There was one littlesallow, rat-faced, darkeyed fellow who was introduced to me as Mr. Lestrade, and who came three or four times in a single week. One morning a young girl called, fashionably dressed, and stayed for half an hour or more. The same afternoon brought a gray headed, seedy visitor, looking like a Jew peddler, who appeared to me to be much excited, and who was closely follbwed by a slipshod elderly woman. ]On another occasion an old white--haired gentleman had an interview I with my companion; and on another 'a railway porter in his velveteen uniform. When any of these nondescript individuals put in an appearance, Sherlock Holmes used to beg for the use of the sitting room and I would retire to my bed room. He always apologized to me for puttingme to this inconvenience. “I have to use this room as a place of business.” he said, “and these people are my clients.” Again I had an opportunity of asking „ him a point-blank question, and again my delicacy prevented tne from forcing another man to confide in me. I imagined at the time that he had some strong reason for not alluding to it, but he soon dispelled the idea by coming round to the subject of his own accord. It was upon the 4th of March, as I have good reason to remember, that I rose somewhat earlier than usual, and found that Sherlock Holmes had not yet finished his breakfast. The landlady had become so accustomed ] to my late habits that my place had not been laid nor my coffee prepared. With the unreasonable petulance of mankind I rang the bell and gave a curt intimation that I was ready. Then I picked up a magazine from the table and attempted to while I at ay the time with it, while my com-

pan ion munched silently at his toast. One of the articles had a pencil mark at the heading, and I naturally began to run my eye through it. .somewhat ambitious title to “The Book of Life,” audit attempted to show how much an observant man might Jearn by an accurate and systematic examination of all that came in his way. It struck me as being a remarkable mixture of shrewdness ■and of absurdity. The reasoning was close and intense, but the deductions appeared to me to be farfetched and exaggerated. The writer claimed by a’ momentary expression, a twitch of a muscle, or a glance of an eye, to fathom a man’s inmost thoughts. Deceit, according to him. was an impossibility in the case of one trained to observation and analysis. His conclusions were as infallible as so many propositions of Euclid. So startling would his results appear to the uninitiated that, until they learned the processes by which he had arrived at them, they might well consider him as a necro-__“From.4U-drop of water, - said the writer, “a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic ora Niagara without having seen or heard of one or the other. So all life is a great chain, the nature of which is known whenever we are shown a single link of it. Like all other arts, thcSc ien ce of Deduction an<l An aly - sis is one which can only be acquired by long and patient study, nor is life long enough to allow any mortal to attain the highest possible perfection in it. Before turning to these moral and mental aspects of the matter which present the greatest difficulties, let the inquirer begin by mastering more elementary problems. Let him, on meeting a fellow mortal, learn at a glance to distinguish the history of the man, and the trade or profession to which he bblongs. Puerile as such an exercise may seem, it sharpens the faculties of observation and teaches one where to look and what to look for. By a man’s finger nails, by his coat sleeve, by his boot, by his trouser knees, by the callosities of his forefinger and thumb, by his expression, by his shirt cuffs —by each of these things a man’s calling is plainly revealed. That all united should fail to enlighten the competent inquirer in any case is almost inconceivable.” “What ineffable twaddle!” I cried, slapping the magazine down on the table; “I never read such rubbish in my life.” “What is it?” asked Sherlock Holmes. “Why, this article,” I said, pointing at it with my egg spoon as I sat down to my breakfast. “I see that you have read it, since you have marked it. I don’t deny that it is smartly written. It irritates me, though. It is evidently the theory of some arm-chair lounger who evolves all these neat little paradoxes in the seclusion of his own study. It is not practical. I should like to see him clapped down in a third class carriage on the Underground and asked to give the trades of all his fellow travelers. I would lay a thousand to one against him.” “You would lose your money,” Sherlock Holmes remarked, calmly. “As for the. article, I wrote it myself.” “You!” “Yes; 1 have a turn both for observation and for deduction. The theories which I have expressed there, and which appear to you so chimerical, are really extremely practical—so practical that I depend upon them for my bread and cheese.” “And how?” I asked, involuntarily.” “Well, I have a trade of my own. I suppose I am the only one in the world. I’m a consulting detective, if you understand what that is. Here in London we have lots of government detectives and lots of private ones. When these fellows are at fault they come to me and I manage to put them on the right scent. They lay all the evidence,, before me, and 1 am generally able, by the help of my knowledge of the history of crime, to set them straight. There is a strong family resemblance about misdeeds, and if you have all the details of a thousand at your finger ends, it is odd if you can’t unravel the thousand and first. Lestrade is. a well known detective. He got himself into a fog recently over a forgery case and " that was what brought him here.” “And these other people?” “They are mostly sent out by private iriquiry agencies. They are all people who are in trouble about something and want a little enlightenment. I listen to their story, they listen to my comments, and then I pocket my fee.” “But do you mean to say,” I said, “that without leaving your roqm you can unravel some knot which other men can make nothing out of, although they have seen every detail for themselves?” “Quite so. I have a kind of intuition that way. Now and again a case turns up which is a little more complex. Then I have to bustle about and things with my own eyes. You see, I have a lot of special knowledge which I apply to the problem, which facilitates matters wonderfully. Those rules of deduction laid down in that article which aroused your scorn are invaluable to tne in practical work. Observation, with me, is second nature. You appeared to be surprised when I told you, on our first meeting, that you had come from Afghanistan.” “You were told, no doubt.” ■ “Nothing of the sort. I know you came from Afghanistan. From long fiab!t the train of thqught ran so swiftly through my mipd that I arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate

steps. There were such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran thus: ‘Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face shows clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan.’ The whole train o| thought did not occupy a second. I then remarked that you came from Afghanistan, and you were astonished.” “It is simple enough as you explain it,” J said, smiling. “You re-*-mind me of Edgar Allen Poe’s Dupin. I had no idea? that such individuals did exist outside of stories.” Sherlock Holmes rose and lighted his pipe. “No doubt you think you are complimenting me in comparing me to Dupin,” he observed. ‘Now, in my opinion, Dupin was a very inferior fellow. That trick of his of breaking in on his friends’ thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter ol an hour’s silence is really very showy and superficial. He had some analytical genius, no doubt, but he was by no means such a phenomenon as Poe appeared to imagine.” “Have you, read Gaboriau’s works?” I* asked. “Does Lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?” Sherlock Holmes sniffed sardonically. “Lecoq was a miserable bungler,” he said, in an angry voice; “be had only one thing to recommend him, and that was his energy. That book made me positively ill. The question was how to identify an unknown prisoner. I could have done it in twenty-four hours. Lecoq took six months or so. It might be made a text-book for detectives to teach them what to avoid.” I felt rather indignant at having two characters whom I admired treated in this cavalier style. I walked over to the window, and stood looking out into the bnsy street. “This fellow may be very clever,” I said to myself, “but he is certainly very conceited.” “There are no crimes and no criminals in these days,” he said, querulously. “What is the use of havingbrains in our profession? I know well that I have it in me to make my namb' famous. No man lives or has ever lived who has brought the same amount of study and of natural talent to the detection of crime, which I have done. And what is the result? There is no crime to detect, or, at most, some bungling villainy with a motive so transparent that even a Scotland Yard detective can see through it.” I was still annoyed at his bumptious style of conversation. I thought it best to change the topic. “I wonder what that fellow is looking for?” I asked, pointing to a stalwart, plainly dressed individual who was walking slowly down the other side of the street, looking anxiously at the numbers. He had a large blue envelope in his hand, and was evidently the bearer of a message. (to be continued.l