Part 6
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.