The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Volume II - By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle & Kyle Freeman Page 0,6

gentleman, with all the notions of class in nineteenth-century England that the word implies. Yet he does things no gentleman would dream of doing. On one occasion he disguises himself as a beggar, on another as an opium addict, and, most improbably of all, on another as an old woman. Since these disguises help him get to the truth, we think of them, if we think of them at all, as merely techniques, albeit clever and entertaining ones, for solving crimes. But respectable men in London in the 1890s would be aghast at seeing a fellow they knew sauntering forth in a frock and a wig, or holed up in an opium den. Neither would such men pay any but the most begrudging and uncomfortable notice to street urchins beseeching them for alms. Yet Holmes not only befriends such boys, he enlists them as extra eyes and ears. Dubbing them “the Baker Street Irregulars,” he also seems to feel affection and sympathy for them. But then “respectability” is achieved by conforming to an external set of shared beliefs. Holmes couldn’t care less what any one else might think of his actions, so long as those actions help him bring criminals to their just deserts. His self-worth comes from measuring up to his own moral code.

Holmes’s attitude toward class distinctions is also unusual for his time, and may be an added reason he is popular in America. His judgments about people arise from the content of their characters, not from the color of their coats of arms. He shows the most respect for characters who display loyalty to someone they love, particularly when they also exhibit courage. Irene Adler in “A Scandal in Bohemia,” Grant Munro in “The Yellow Face,” and Captain Jack Crocker in “The Adventure of the Abbey Grange” all gain his respect because they show these qualities. It’s surely significant that none of those characters are upper class. Aristocrats and even royalty usually fare rather less well in his estimation. His acidic assessment of the King of Bohemia seems to go right over the royal head. Holmes sternly rebukes Lord Holdernesse in “The Adventure of the Priory School” as if he were a judge scolding a prisoner in the dock. He can scarcely conceal his distaste for Lord Robert St. Simon in “The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor,” and we read in “The Adventure of the Three Garridebs” that he refused an offer of knighthood from Edward VII. It isn’t that he dislikes these people because of their class. He accepts an emerald pin from Queen Victoria in “The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans,” and he’s perfectly gracious to the title family in “The Musgrave Ritual.” It’s that he expects everyone, irrespective of their class, to live up to a common set of human values.

Lest he seem impossibly superior, Holmes is given some counterbalancing weaknesses. He is wrong from time to time, though usually about something trifling. He is inclined to be critical of the people around him, including Watson, when they haven’t met what seems like some impossibly high standard. Some could see this trait as one of his strengths, though, since he holds himself to the same standard. More important, he is what we would call today a manic-depressive. He comes alive only when on the trail of crime, but not just any crime. It must have some special feature that baffles ordinary mortals. When no crime worthy of his skills is currently afoot, he lapses into listlessness, requiring cocaine for stimulation. Cocaine was not illegal at the time; these were the 1880s and 1890s, the time of bohemians in the European capitals, the absinthe drinkers of Degas, and the drug-induced estheticism of the fin-de-siècle. Though not illicit this dependency is clearly a character flaw.

The sum of all his qualities makes Sherlock Holmes seem like a real person. This sense of his reality sets these stories apart from other literature, and from the very beginning the illusion of his existence was powerful. On October 29,1892, an article called “The Real Sherlock Holmes” by “Our Special Correspondent” appeared in the National Observer. It quoted Sherlock Holmes complaining about the way Conan Doyle had plagiarized Dr. Watson. Holmes also expressed indignation at Conan Doyle’s misrepresentations of some of his cases. He didn’t make any of those little mistakes Conan Doyle ascribes to him. The Strand Magazine, which published all the short stories, received letters wanting to know if Holmes were a real person. The magazine cagily replied that