Chapter III: Part 3

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.