Chapter II: Part 2

A swimmer exposed to the tentacles of these large jellyfish may, according to Klein and Bradshaw, suffer pain, swelling, and redness in the affected part. In a few minutes to an hour following exposure, systemic effects may appear, such as anxiety, muscular pains and cramps, dyspnea, constriction of the throat, cardiac symptoms, and prostration. The authors stress that the alarming symptoms which often follow stings from coelenterates suggest the action of a powerful neurotoxin.

Waite,[3] writing in the same year, stresses the fact that contact with a Portuguese man-of-war produces symptoms indicative of anaphylactic shock, such as pallor, sweating, faintness, fall in blood pressure, and the like. He mentions that although there have been no authenticated medical reports of death as a result of the sting of a Portuguese man-of-war, it could happen if complicated by anaphylactic shock.

One wonders, of course, what would have happened if the patient described by Klein and Bradshaw had been some distance from shore. If anaphylactic shock had occurred within a few minutes, the patient no doubt would have drowned if no one had been in the vicinity to help him. A swimmer who experiences difficulty in breathing, who is afflicted with severe abdominal cramps, who shows signs of shock, and who is mentally confused, will certainly drown. Indeed, any one of these four symptoms could provoke disaster in deep water.

The treatment instituted by Klein and Bradshaw is worthy of our attention. The patient was hospitalized and given calcium gluconate and benadryl intravenously. Epinephrine and atropine were administered intramuscularly, and ammonia applied locally. I might add that a purist could raise the question whether all this medication was necessary. The next day, the itching areas were treated with tetracaine. The patient made an uneventful recovery, although it took about three weeks before the lesions were healed. Waite emphasizes that, in case of anaphylactic shock, epinephrine or benadryl should be given immediately. He warns further that if angioneurotic edema appears, the air passageways should be cleared, oxygen supplied, and, if necessary, a tracheotomy performed. The latter constitutes heroic treatment, but may, of course, save a person’s life.

Let us return to _The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_, in an attempt to ascertain what medical agents were used fifty years ago to treat the sting of coelenterates. As previously mentioned, Sherlock Holmes was in retirement and living alone, so unfortunately he could not call upon his friend Dr. Watson to prescribe for Ian Murdoch.

Holmes, however, rose to the occasion and made an earnest attempt to help the patient, for he writes that he soaked cotton in salad oil and applied it to the wounds. He felt that this greatly alleviated the pain. The famous detective showed real ingenuity in making use of such a homely remedy. He also gave the suffering man liberal quantities of brandy, which doubtless had a narcotizing effect. There is considerable evidence that brandy was widely used for medicinal purposes at the turn of the century, when this adventure is supposed to have occurred.

It is of interest to speculate upon what medication Dr. Watson would have administered to Ian Murdoch had he been in attendance. At that time, neither benadryl nor calcium gluconate nor, for that matter, tetracaine was available. On the other hand, epinephrine, atropine, and ammonia were even then widely used. Dr. Watson presumably would have given a hypodermic injection of morphine and offered the patient brandy, as did Sherlock Holmes. He, too, doubtless would have applied some soothing ointment to the painful lesions, or, like Klein and Bradshaw, might have used ammonia. It is even possible that he would have employed epinephrine. The latter certainly was indicated, for the symptoms described by Holmes were those of anaphylactic shock. This syndrome (anaphylactic shock) was not well understood fifty years ago. In point of fact, the word “anaphylaxis” was coined in 1907 by Richet. This, as mentioned earlier, was the year when the adventure was supposed to have taken place. Holmes, however, wrote _The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_ probably in 1925, since it was first published in 1926. At that time, the significance of anaphylactic shock in man was pretty well understood, and it is possible that he was familiar with this condition.

It is a pity that we have to resort to speculation, and that Dr. Watson was not in attendance instead of Holmes, a nonmedical man. If such had been the case, Watson probably would have mentioned the agents medical men used at that time. This would not only have satisfied our sympathetic curiosity but, what is more important, these facts would have been of historical interest. We then could actually have compared the medical agents which were prescribed fifty years ago with those currently employed for the grave symptoms of shock produced by the excruciatingly painful stings of coelenterates.

DOCTOR WATSON AND NERVOUS MALADIES

“... the shock of the night’s adventures had shattered his nerves.”

_The Hound of the Baskervilles_

The harrowing adventures experienced by some of the characters in the stories of Sherlock Holmes, and the great shocks they sustained, often induced in them a state of high nervous tension. References to such individuals are numerous.

Sherlock Holmes himself possessed an iron constitution, and was favored with an especially well-balanced mind. His biographer, John H. Watson, M.D., writes, “All emotions ... were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind” (_A Scandal in Bohemia_). But even Holmes, on one occasion at least, was on the verge of a serious nervous breakdown. In the spring of 1897, Dr. Watson became concerned about the health of his distinguished friend: “... I found him a prey to the blackest depression ... [even his realization of his worldly fame] was insufficient to rouse him from his nervous prostration” (_The Reigate Puzzle_).

Watson felt that Holmes needed a complete rest in a quiet and soothing atmosphere, and finally persuaded the great detective to take a holiday in the country. Arrangements were made to stay at the home of one of Dr. Watson’s old friends. On the evening of their arrival, their host, Colonel Hayter, in the course of a conversation following dinner, told them of an unusual burglary which had occurred a few nights before in the neighborhood. When Holmes manifested too warm an interest in this event, Watson became alarmed and cautioned him: “You are here for a rest, my dear fellow. For Heaven’s sake don’t get started on a new problem when your nerves are all in shreds” (_The Reigate Puzzle_). Watson’s admonition proved of no avail. The next morning, while at breakfast, they were informed that a dastardly murder had been committed at the home of a nearby neighbor. Inspector Forrester, knowing that Sherlock Holmes was in the vicinity, asked for his help. Holmes answered the call, and after a rather painful experience, solved the mystery brilliantly in the course of a few hours.

The neat solution of this case, together with the concomitant excitement which it afforded, apparently caused Holmes to recover quickly from his “blackest depression,” for that afternoon he remarked to his faithful friend, “Watson, I think our quiet rest in the country has been a distinct success, and I shall certainly return much invigorated to Baker Street tomorrow” (_The Reigate Puzzle_). This episode demonstrates the man’s superb constitution. Most people would have required several weeks, or even months, to recover their normal health following a severe nervous breakdown. But not Holmes.

In several instances, the characters described by Dr. Watson showed clear-cut signs of hysteria. When the well-known banker Alexander Holden found that the “Beryl Coronet,” which had been intrusted to his care, had been mutilated and three of its jewels stolen, he became greatly agitated and called on Sherlock Holmes:

For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits of his reason. Then suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room.

_The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet_

This highly respected citizen must have been an emotionally unstable person. One wonders how he could have been a successful banker, with such a sensitive nervous system. The poor man must have lain awake many a weary night worrying about his investments. We do not know his subsequent history, but I suspect that he eventually developed hypertension or suffered from gastric ulcers.

When Rachel Howells was questioned by the master of the house about the disappearance of her perfidious lover Brunton, she showed pronounced signs of hysteria:

She looked at me with so strange an expression that I began to suspect that her brain was affected.... She fell back against the wall with shriek after shriek of laughter, while I, horrified at this sudden hysterical attack, rushed to the bell to summon help. The girl was taken to her room still screaming and sobbing....

_The Musgrave Ritual_

There was a real reason for the girl’s behavior; she had been directly responsible for her lover’s horrible death. It is small wonder that she suffered a violent hysterical attack.

Once Dr. Watson was asked to see the wife of his boyhood friend Robert Ferguson. It was a tragic situation. She had been observed on several occasions sucking blood from her infant son. The sympathetic doctor stated that she appeared only half conscious, and had a frightened expression. Her pulse and temperature were both high, but he felt that this was due to her highly emotional state (_The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire_). Mrs. Ferguson was probably suffering from hysteria. The attack cleared up promptly when Sherlock Holmes sat down at the patient’s bedside and, in the presence of her husband, analyzed the situation, explaining why it was necessary for Mrs. Ferguson to suck the baby’s wounds. They had been made by arrows dipped in curare. The baby’s insanely jealous half-brother had committed this atrocious deed. Truly, a shocking episode!

In _The Greek Interpreter_, reference is made to a man who showed symptoms of St. Vitus’ dance. Mr. Melas described his unpleasant companion: “... his lips and eyelids were continually twitching like a man with St. Vitus’ dance. I could not help thinking that his strange, catchy little laugh was also a symptom of some nervous malady.”

The term “St. Vitus’ dance” is seldom used nowadays; it is presently called “acute chorea.” This condition is characterized by irregular involuntary contractions of the muscles and is associated with a variable amount of psychic disturbance. The name (St. Vitus’ dance) has been handed down from the Middle Ages. Epidemics characterized by excitement, gesticulations, and dancing brought about mainly by religious fervor were in those days not uncommon. Whenever these symptoms became excessive, the people in the Rhenish province frequently made pilgrimages to the Chapel of St. Vitus in Zebern.

Another reference to twitching muscles may be cited. Sherlock Holmes called on Mr. Sidney Johnson, senior clerk and draughtsman, in an office from which extremely important secret papers had disappeared. Watson writes that the clerk had haggard cheeks, and that his hands were twitching from the nervous strain he had undergone (_The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans_).

In the tales, other references may be found to shattered nerves and states of nervous exhaustion. In describing the condition of her father, Alice Turner tells Sherlock Holmes: “... Dr. Willow says that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is shattered” (_The Boscombe Valley Mystery_). The real reason for his pitiful state, which his daughter did not know, was that he had recently murdered an old acquaintance.

When Don Murillo, Tiger of San Pedro, tried to kidnap Miss Burnett, she broke away from him, and with the help of a friend got into a cab. Here Holmes saw her, and observed that she was in a state of collapse from nervous exhaustion (_The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge_). This brave lady had been locked in a room for a number of days with insufficient food, and had undergone other traumatic experiences. It is no wonder that Holmes found her in such a pitiful state.

After Sir Henry Baskerville had narrowly escaped death on the moor from the savage hound, he suffered a nervous collapse, “... the shock of the night’s adventure had shattered his nerves.” Sir Henry assuredly was not a weak man, but the victim of a concatenation of unfortunate circumstances. The family history of the hound, Sir Henry’s love for a married woman, his isolation and loneliness, and the somber landscape of the bleak moor doubtless all preyed on his mind. When the hound actually sprang upon him, his nervous system finally reached the breaking point. Stronger men than he would have quailed.

Mr. Marlow Bates, the manager of the estates of the wealthy “Gold King” Mr. Gibson (whose wife had been found dead), called on Sherlock Holmes. Watson describes him as a small, thin, fidgety man, who appeared to be on the brink of a serious nervous breakdown. Although in great fear of his vicious employer, Bates detested him so heartily that he hurried to Baker Street and told Holmes that Gibson was an “infernal villain.” In view of the circumstances, this was indeed a grave accusation. The reader will recall that the “Gold King” had not murdered his wife; she had died by her own hand (_The Problem of Thor Bridge_).

The eyes often show a characteristic expression under emotional strain. Referring to Colonel Valentine Walther, whose brother had suddenly died, Watson observes that he had wild eyes and presented a worried and disheveled appearance (_The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans_). It was discovered that it was the colonel who had stolen an extremely important state document. His older brother, Sir James, suspected Valentine’s guilt. The shock was too much for the older man and caused his death; there was a question as to whether he took his own life. Be that as it may, his younger brother was responsible for the tragedy. We are not surprised to learn that the eyes of the colonel had a wild expression.

People under great emotional strain often break out in a cold sweat. Nearly everyone has, at one time or another, experienced this phenomenon. It is caused by violent stimulation of the sympathetic nervous system. When John Openshaw’s uncle Elias received a letter containing five orange pips, a great change came over him. At times he acted like a madman. His nephew told Holmes, “At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin” (_The Five Orange Pips_).

A cold sweat is more apt to manifest itself on the forehead, but it is not necessarily limited to the face, for any portion, or all, of the body may be involved. The cold, clammy sweat produced under conditions of intense mental stress is different, of course, from the normal healthy sweat brought about by a warm environment or by physical exertion, or by both. The physiologic explanation of a cold sweat is that it is a condition brought about by pain or fear as a reaction anticipatory of the strenuous muscle movements that may ensue.

Victor Trevor’s father was also the recipient of a letter which led to tragedy:

My father read it, clapped both hands to his head and began running round the room in little circles like a man who has been driven out of his senses.... I saw that he had a stroke.

_The “Gloria Scott”_

Apparently, this individual became so agitated, and his blood pressure rose so high, that he was stricken with a fatal cerebral hemorrhage. It is well known that emotions may produce a pronounced rise in blood pressure even in healthy people.

Most of the nervous maladies described by Dr. Watson were in the nature of acute episodes, and more or less transient in character. The individuals he depicted were high-strung, nervous people, overwhelmed by the traumatic experiences to which they had been subjected. Some of these were unable to suppress their emotions and either became hysterical or suffered a nervous collapse.

As a rule, we do not think of the English people as giving way to their feelings, but as governing them strictly. It is the Latins who are supposed to manifest hysterical reactions. However, it would take extraordinarily strong men, regardless of their nationality, to maintain normal mental equilibrium under some of the situations described in the spine-tingling tales; even the stolid Britishers cracked under the mental strain. The nervous system of man can withstand just so much and no more. It is given to but few to possess nerves of steel, and even such rare individuals finally reach a breaking point. Man is not a machine, but a human being.

If Dr. Watson were writing his adventurous stories today, he probably would stress the fact that long-continued nervous strain is likely to produce ulcers of the stomach or of the duodenum. The modern view is that mental worry may lead to hypertension and to diseases of the arteries, especially those which supply the heart muscles, namely, the coronaries--although it is true, as previously mentioned, that most of the characters depicted in the tales suffered mental strain for a substantial length of time.

It is noteworthy that both Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson maintained a nice mental balance even during periods of tremendous excitement and danger. A striking characteristic about both was their extraordinary fearlessness and mental poise. Although people around them often manifested signs of abject fear, or were given to hysterical outbursts, our heroes never faltered, but maintained a calm demeanor and dispatched neatly and efficiently the task before them.

DOGS AND SHERLOCK HOLMES

“It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging
jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones.”

_The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_

To those interested in animals, it is gratifying to know that two of the most popular heroes of detective fiction--Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson--both loved dogs. They did not like them in a sickly, sentimental sense, but rather with a genuine, masculine affection. They regarded them as dogs, not as human beings, and emphasized and respected their canine personalities. I am sure every self-respecting dog would want to be so regarded.

Frequent mention of dogs is found in the tales. In point of fact, the grisly, spectral hound portrayed in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ has become a byword not only among readers of detective fiction but also with people in general. Various kinds of dogs are portrayed: large dogs, small dogs, good ones and bad ones. In one instance, a lovable, curly-haired spaniel is depicted; in another, a plodding bloodhound; and in still another, a fiendish dog.

One Sunday evening, in early September, in the year 1903, Sherlock Holmes summarily sent for Dr. Watson. The friendly doctor, not wishing to disappoint his friend, set out for Baker Street, and entered the old apartment, which for a number of years had also been his home. Holmes waved him to a chair, and after a considerable period of silence remarked that he was seriously considering writing a monograph on the use of dogs in the work of a detective (_The Adventure of the Creeping Man_).

Dr. Watson did not think much of the idea, and pointed out that this field had been pretty thoroughly explored. Holmes would not agree. He explained that he wished to approach the subject from a somewhat different angle than had previously been done. He argued that a dog reflected a family’s life. If the household were a happy one, the dog would be friendly and frisky; conversely, if the family were gloomy, the dog would appear sad. He insisted further that dangerous and unpleasant dogs are owned by dangerous and unpleasant people.

Holmes bolstered his argument by giving as an illustration the case on which he was presently working. He believed that the changed behavior of a wolfhound toward his master might turn out to be an important clue in solving the mystery. This eventually proved to be true, as will be described later. Although we may congratulate Holmes on his keen analysis, and on his pungent manner of presenting the argument, there surely must be many exceptions which come to the minds of us all. We have witnessed nice people who harbor vicious dogs, and the opposite as well. We will not quibble, but agree for the main part that Holmes was probably right.

Hounds are frequently mentioned. In _The Sign of the Four_, Watson, describing Holmes in action, writes: “So swift, silent, and furtive were his movements, like those of a trained bloodhound picking out a scent.” Again, in _A Study in Scarlet_, we see: “As I watched him I was irresistibly reminded of a pure-blooded, well-trained foxhound, as it dashes backward and forward through the covert, whining in its eagerness, until it comes across the lost scent.” In _The Red-Haired League_, Jones of Scotland Yard, speaking to his colleague Wilson, comments: “Our friend Holmes here is a wonderful man for starting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him in the running down.” Other habits of hounds may be found in _The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot_ and _The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans_. Numerically, hounds are mentioned more frequently in the tales than any other kind of dog, and in several instances hounds actually track down the criminal.

It will be recalled that in _The Sign of the Four_ the dependable old hound Tobey follows a creosote scent. In _The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter_, faithful old Pompey follows a carriage which had had aniseed squirted upon the wheel by Holmes. On this occasion, Holmes remarks to Watson that a draghound would follow aniseed indefinitely. Holmes takes almost a human interest in Pompey. The detective formally introduces the dog to Dr. Watson and speaks highly of the draghound’s tracking ability. However, he did not trust all dogs, for we find him saying to Watson that some dogs bite the hand that feeds them (_The Adventure of the Three Gables_).

Two especially fiendish dogs are portrayed in the tales: Carlo the mastiff, in _The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_; and the spectral hound, in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. In the former, the despicable Rucastle, the master of Carlo, said: “We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard.... God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon!” Miss Violet Hunter, the heroine of the story, saw this beast one night: “It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones.” Watson vividly describes the attack Carlo finally made on his master:

There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle’s throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the creases of his neck.

In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, we find a hound which would frighten the Evil One himself. Evidently, this huge beast was a mongrel: “It was not a pure bloodhound and it was not a pure mastiff; but it appeared to be a combination of the two--gaunt, savage, and as large as a small lioness.” Watson paints this animated picture:

A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame.

While this hound was worrying the throat of Sir Henry Baskerville, Holmes emptied five barrels of his revolver into the creature’s flank. “With a last howl of agony and a vicious snap in the air, it rolled upon its back, four feet pawing furiously, and then fell limp upon its side.”

Other breeds are not ignored. Holmes, who had considerable professional jealousy, would not admit that Jones of Scotland Yard had the imagination a detective should have, or that he had a keen intellect, but does pay him this fine compliment: “He is as brave as a bulldog....” (_The Red-Haired League_.) A reference is made to rat terriers in _The Adventure of the Crooked Man_. Spaniels also are mentioned on at least two occasions. Dr. Mortimer, in the story of _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, owns a curly-haired spaniel of which he is extremely fond. Unfortunately, this lovable dog comes to grief on the moor. In _The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place_, a spaniel plays an important part in solving the mystery. The so-called “Shoscombe spaniels” were famous throughout England, and, according to Holmes, were frequently mentioned at dog shows. He successfully uses one of these, a pet spaniel, to establish the fact that the person in the carriage is not the dog’s mistress. Holmes was satisfied that the spaniel was right, and insisted that dogs do not make mistakes in such cases.

Another instance can be cited where the behavior of a dog helped Sherlock Holmes solve a perplexing problem. In talking to Watson, he laid great stress on the fact that Professor Presbury’s heretofore friendly wolfhound Roy had turned on his master and tried to attack him. This extraordinary episode played an important part in the final solution of the mystery (_The Adventure of the Creeping Man_). The facts in the case were these: Professor Presbury, a distinguished physiologist, had fallen madly in love with a very young girl, and, in an effort to regain his lost youth, had periodically been taking hypodermic injections of serum obtained from langurs. According to the story, the monkey serum produced apelike qualities in Professor Presbury. Following the injections, the professor would deliberately and maliciously tease his wolfhound until one night the hound slipped his collar and viciously attacked his master. He buried his muzzle in his master’s throat; and if timely aid had not come, Presbury would have been killed. As Holmes remarked to Watson, the hound thought he was attacking the monkey and not the professor.

Since Holmes was a detective, and not a professional biologist, he seldom found it necessary to use dogs for experimental purposes. Once, however, he did not hesitate to try out the effects of a poison drug, curare, on an old dog which was _in extremis_. It will be recalled that this poison caused instant death (_A Study in Scarlet_). While not a biological scientist--as we understand the word today--Holmes nevertheless was scientifically minded, and it is certain that had the need arisen to obtain evidence which would have helped mankind he would not have hesitated to experiment on a normal, healthy dog. He was a practical man, in the fullest sense of the word, and had, as Watson said, “... an admirably balanced mind” (_A Scandal in Bohemia_).

It is true that both Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson grieved when Dr. Mortimer’s pet curly-haired spaniel met its fate on the moor, and they both loved Tobey, the faithful old bloodhound who had aided them in _The Sign of the Four_. However, they did not hesitate to shoot five bullets into the flank of the hound of the Baskervilles when he was at the throat of Sir Henry, or to blow out the brains of Carlo the mastiff when he sank his teeth into the fat neck of the villainous Rucastle. Holmes and Watson were not sentimentalists, but virile, vigorous men of action--the type of men dogs like.

Finally, Dr. Watson pays a tribute to dogs in general in _The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_. In this story, after McPherson died from his encounter with the Lion’s Mane (_Cyanea capillata_), his pet Airedale eventually met a similar fate. According to Sherlock Holmes himself, the terrier did not eat for a week following his master’s death, and finally followed the trail of his dead master. He was found dead on the edge of the same pool where his master had lost his life. It is true that the terrier did not have the opportunity of saving his master’s life--but no doubt he would have, had it been possible. The story portrays vividly the bond of companionship between a man and his dog, for in this instance the dog apparently gave his life searching for his master. Dr. Watson pays tribute to such devotion in the words of Sherlock Holmes: “That the dog should die was after the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs.” This is a tribute that can be endorsed by all, but especially by biologists, who are so deeply indebted to the dog for the aid it has given in the search for means to alleviate the pain and suffering of mankind. I am certain that every biologist who professes to be a Christian gentleman would say “Amen” to Dr. Watson’s beautiful tribute to an animal which would die so that mankind might live.

THE BOTANICAL DOCTOR WATSON

“... there stood a patriarch among oaks, one of the most magnificent
trees that I have ever seen.”

_The Musgrave Ritual_

Many delightful references to plant life may be found in the tales. These allusions enrich the stories and add greatly to their charm and interest. Love for inviting landscapes, for trees, for flowers, and for shrubs appears to be innate in human beings. This would be a drab world indeed without a variegated and a beautiful plant life. One need not be a botanist to appreciate the beauty and fragrance of a rose or a violet. They are different in design, but lovely in their own ways. It is not meet that we attempt to analyze their beauty; let us merely enjoy it. If an extravagant phrase be permitted, let us not subject the beauty of the orchid to the flame of the analytic blowpipe or attempt to measure the fragrance of the June rose with an olfactometer.

After Dr. Watson had lived with Sherlock Holmes a few weeks, he became intensely interested in this quiet but unusual man. One day he sat down and made an attempt to analyze and evaluate Holmes’ conversance in several fields. While Dr. Watson felt that Holmes’ understanding of anatomy was good, his knowledge of botany was “variable.” The worthy doctor writes: “Knowledge of Botany--Variable. Well up in belladonna, opium, and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening” (_A Study in Scarlet_). Thus, it appears that Holmes was more interested in medicinal plants, and especially those from which poisons could be extracted. This does not surprise us, because of his interest in crime detection; we know, too, of his researches in the chemistry of the alkaloids.

We must keep in mind that Watson wrote of Sherlock Holmes: “Appreciation of nature found no place among his many gifts” (_The Adventure of the Cardboard Box_). A man uninterested in nature is not apt to take especial notice or appreciate the beauty of flowers or vegetation. We are indebted, therefore, largely to Dr. Watson for the many pleasing references to plant life and landscapes.

We find allusions to a botanist and to the study of botany in _The Valley of Fear_ and in _The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge_. In the first story, Watson likens Holmes to a botanist rapt in his admiration for a beautiful flower; and in the latter story, Watson points out that many instructive days can be spent in the study of botany and suggests the use of an elementary text on the subject, a spud, and a proper box to hold the specimens. The amateur botanist will surely appreciate these suggestions. Such a person will find pleasure no matter where he strays--in the forest, the plains, the mountains, or the desert. He will never be bored.

Dr. Watson obviously loved the vegetation of early spring, for he writes: “... the first faint shoots of green were breaking out upon the elm, and the sticky spearheads of the chestnuts were just beginning to burst into their fivefold leaves” (_The Adventure of the Yellow Face_). Also, we read, “The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots.” (_The Adventure of the Speckled Band_).

The observant doctor was not unmindful of the autumn foliage. In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, he calls our attention to the melancholy aspect of the countryside in the fall of the year, and speaks of the yellow leaves lying on the ground, some still fluttering down from the trees. In _The Problem of Thor Bridge_, he notes that the plane tree in the backyard was losing its remaining leaves on a stormy October morning. (We would call a plane tree a sycamore.) Some people claim they become somewhat melancholic in the autumn and dislike to see the leaves falling, the grass turning brown, and other signs associated with the fall of the year. I am not one of these. There is much to be said for distinct changes in seasons. The changes occurring in the autumn are necessary so that the wonderful season of spring may be thoroughly appreciated and enjoyed.

Several types of landscapes are pictured. In _A Study in Scarlet_, the arid land in our great West is described:

As far as the eye can reach stretches the great flat plainland, all dusted over with patches of alkali, and intersected by clumps of the dwarfish chaparral bushes.

The purist might object to the term “chaparral bushes,” because chaparral, being a nonspecific term, refers to any stunted type of vegetation found growing on dry soil in our West. It might have been more proper simply to have said “clumps of chaparral.” In the same story, a prosperous, peaceful countryside landscape is depicted: “All looked so peaceful and happy, the rustling trees and the broad silent stretch of grainland....” In _The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_, a landscape of flowering gorse is described, and attention is called to its golden color on the heather-covered fields.

Dr. Watson obviously was impressed with landscapes of gold and bronze, especially those which contained faded ferns, for we find him using the description several times, for example:

The sun was beginning to sink ... and the long, sloping plain in front of us was tinged with gold, deepening into rich, ruddy browns where the faded ferns and brambles caught the evening light.

_Silver Blaze_

Similarly, in the same story: “... the low curves of the moor, bronze-coloured from the fading ferns, stretched away to the sky line....” Besides these landscapes, several references to some of the famous forests of England are made in _The Adventure of Black Peter_ and _The Naval Treaty_.

As might be anticipated, numerous allusions are made to trees. Dr. Watson presents a pleasing picture: “Just beyond it is a nice little grove of Scotch firs, and I used to be very fond of strolling down there, for trees are always a neighborly kind of thing” (_The Yellow Face_). The word “neighborly” strikes a sympathetic note. All of us have experienced this feeling at one time or another. Walking in a pleasant woodland, one can quietly commune with nature. The singular thing is that on such occasions the creative mind is often stimulated. New ideas and new concepts apparently rise from the subconscious to the higher brain centers. Numerous examples could be given of this truly remarkable phenomenon.

Dr. Watson must have had a lively interest in oak trees, for he alludes to them on several occasions. He speaks of “ancient” oaks and “mighty” oaks, terms surely applicable to the famous English oak trees (_The Valley of Fear_ and _The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_).

The prize oak, presumably, is the one described in _The Musgrave Ritual_. Sherlock Holmes related the story to Dr. Watson one winter night: “... there stood a patriarch among oaks, one of the most magnificent trees that I have ever seen.” He went on to quote his host, Reginald Musgrave: “It was there at the Norman Conquest in all probability.... It has a girth of twenty-three feet.” Truly, it was a mighty oak and worthy of comment. If its girth was twenty-three feet, it had a diameter of approximately seven and one-third feet. The events described in the story occurred in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, so the tree must have been over nine hundred years old if it dated from the Norman Conquest of 1066.

Probably few people appreciate the longevity of oak trees. I recall, as a child, an oak that stood not far from my home. I have seen it periodically for over a half-century. It still looks about the same as when I first saw it, but presumably it has had a slow but steady growth throughout the years. Assuming that such a tree is not ravaged by wind and storm or struck by lightning, it probably will stand for several centuries. This is a fascinating thought, because it staggers the imagination to think what historical events could occur during such a span of years.

Dr. Watson describes trees in various settings, such as parks (_The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_ and _The Adventure of the Abbey Grange_), and in several instances as borders for avenues or lanes. A number of examples might be cited, but one will suffice: “The house ... with a fine lime-lined avenue leading to it” (_The “Gloria Scott”_).

In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, the Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall played an extremely important part in the story. It will be recalled that Sir Charles, before going to bed at night, was wont to take a walk down the Yew Alley. One night he saw the huge hound which the evil Stapleton had purposely let loose on the moor. Sir Charles became so frightened that he ran headlong and dropped dead from a heart attack.

In this story, too, mention is made of trees which have been subjected to adverse growing conditions. Dr. Watson speaks of trees which have been stunted and nipped on the moor, and emphasizes how the oaks and firs are bent and twisted by the furious storms throughout the years. The bizarre shapes which such trees assume are truly fascinating. Their irregular outlines appear ghostlike by night and weird by day. They are the joy of the amateur photographer and the professional artist.

Various types of trees are used to create a proper setting for the mystery stories. In _The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone_, a melancholy grove of half-grown pines is described; and in _The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge_, a row of chestnuts is depicted as giving the avenue a gloomy appearance.

The fact that pine trees are used to set the note for a gloomy landscape calls for comment. I have always felt that a clump of evergreen trees around a house creates a distinctly depressing atmosphere; this is especially true if the house is isolated in the country. To me these somber trees give a sense of loneliness and gloom, and bring to mind Anna Katherine Green’s mystery story, _The House of Whispering Pines_. It may be that this story, which I read in my youth, is the reason for my feeling. I am sure, in any event, that many people enjoy evergreen trees around their home, especially in winter, as a welcome relief from the drab, slate-gray landscape.

Besides those trees already enumerated, several other species are mentioned throughout the tales: namely, the larch, the beech, and the copper beech. In _The Adventure of the Copper Beeches_, this description occurs: “The group of trees with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun....”

Flower beds and borders are described in several of the tales. In _The Sign of the Four_, we find that: “... just under the window a single foot-mark was visible in the flower bed.” Also, in _The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot_, a flower border lying underneath the window is noted, but it contained no trace of a footprint. Obviously, footprints are a necessary component of mystery stories; and what better place to look for them than in the soft earth of a flower bed under a window?

In all the stories, only a few flowers are specifically named: crocuses, orchids, roses, and violets. In _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, when Dr. Watson met the wife of the naturalist Stapleton on the moor, she asked him to pick an orchid for her, and explained that the moor was rich in them. This is supposed to have occurred in the fall of the year. It seems singular that orchids would be in bloom at that time.

The amateur gardener will be sympathetically interested to read of gardens and lawns which did not live up to expectations: “A small garden sprinkled over with a scattered eruption of sickly plants separated each of these houses” (_A Study in Scarlet_). In _The Adventure of the Retired Colourman_, a sorry-looking garden is depicted. It is pictured as going to seed and bearing every evidence of gross neglect. In _The Red-Haired League_, an ill-kept lawn is described: “... where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded laurel bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere.”

Several welcome allusions are made to the odors of flowers or of vegetation. The scent of flowers, gardens, greenhouses, trees, meadows, swamps, and the decay of autumn leaves often bring back memories of other times and places. In _The Naval Treaty_, we find “... the rich scent of the garden ...”; and in _A Study in Scarlet_, we read of “... the balsamic odours of the pine trees....” All of us have experienced the refreshing and delightful odors of a flower garden, and those who have been in the north, or in the mountains in almost any latitude, remember with pleasure the clean smell of the evergreen trees. In _The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane_, our attention is called to the scent of thyme on the downs. I am sure that to many people the faintly exotic aroma of thyme (which belongs to the mint family) is enjoyable.

Some plants have a distinctly heavy, cloying odor--for example, certain lilies. The effect produced may actually be unpleasant. Dr. Watson, in describing a greenhouse, brings this out (_The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton_). He speaks of the heavy fragrance of certain plants which actually causes a choking sensation. The odor of decayed plants arising from the treacherous Grimpen Mire is emphasized in _The Hound of the Baskervilles_. Most of us are familiar with the miasmic vapors which often arise from swampland. Presumably, everyone has his own favorite odor. Some people enjoy the exquisite fragrance of the rose, some that of the carnation, and others the faint and delicate odor of the sweet pea. The city dweller who was raised in the country may yearn for the sweet smell of newly mown hay, and, strangely enough, may even long for the pungent ammoniacal smell of the barnyard.

Throughout the tales, we find mention of bracken, bramble, bushes, ferns, gorse, heather, hedges, laurel, lichens, rhododendron, shrubs, and vines. We have already alluded to many of these. To my knowledge, in only one instance is there a reference to blood-stained vegetation indicating that a murder might have been committed. We find, in _The Adventure of the Priory School_, that Holmes, to the horror of Watson, held up some flowering gorse which was blood-stained. The surrounding heather, too, showed evidence of old blood stains. It will be remembered that these were found on the spot where the unfortunate German master of the Priory School had met his death.

Everyone interested in Sherlock Holmes will vividly recall the meeting between Holmes and Professor Moriarty on the brink of the falls of the Reichenbach. Dr. Watson inspected the spot shortly after the meeting:

A few yards from the end the soil was all ploughed up into a patch of mud, and the brambles and ferns which fringed the chasm were torn and bedraggled.

_The Final Problem_

The patches of mud and torn vegetation gave clear evidence of what had taken place on the edge of the falls. We learn later, of course--much to our surprise and satisfaction--that Holmes had, by his superior skill, triumphed over his arch enemy. The meeting marked the end of Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime.

Dr. Watson’s many allusions to botany give added charm to the tales, and indicate not only his love for the flora of England but also his zest for nature.

THE SURGICAL DOCTOR WATSON

“... the thin white hand he laid on the mantelpiece ... was that of an
artist rather than of a surgeon.”

_The Resident Patient_

Dr. Watson professed to be a general practitioner of medicine. Such a person is called upon from time to time to do minor, but under ordinary conditions he does not attempt to do major, surgery. To my knowledge, there is no particular reference to major surgery in any of the tales, although one or two famous surgeons are mentioned. On the other hand, numerous allusions are made to minor surgery. I am cognizant of the fact that there is often but a thin line between major and minor surgery.

Dr. Watson evidently felt that a good surgeon must have large and supple hands, for he writes: “... the thin white hand he laid on the mantelpiece ... was that of an artist rather than a surgeon” (_The Resident Patient_). The size of the hand probably is not of major importance. It is the ability to use the hands that counts. Several eminent surgeons, to my own knowledge, are men of large physical stature, and I am sure have correspondingly large hands. But I have seen some equally capable men, hardly of average height, who had small hands. Harvey Cushing, the brilliant Harvard brain surgeon, was a man of medium size, and, if I recall correctly, had rather small hands. Let us not labor this point further, for this is not an essay on surgeons’ hands, but turn to the tales of Sherlock Holmes.

It is axiomatic that every man who practices medicine, regardless of his specialty, must be familiar with the current literature in his field. It is gratifying that Dr. Watson appreciated this. In _The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez_, Watson observes that one stormy night he and Holmes sat together in silence; the latter was working on a palimpsest, while Watson was reading a treatise on surgery.

Holmes appreciated that a correct diagnosis is of paramount importance to a conscientious surgeon. In _The Problem of Thor Bridge_, we find Mr. Neil Gibson, the “Gold King,” telling Holmes that he was like a surgeon, because Holmes wanted to know every symptom before he ventured a diagnosis. Holmes quickly retorted that this was quite true, and strongly implied that his client was withholding important information which Holmes needed before the mystery about which he was being consulted could be solved.

There are a number of references to scalp wounds or injuries to the skull, or both. In the rough-and-tumble life a detective leads, it might be expected that he would often see such injuries. Let us examine some of them.

Once Sherlock Holmes himself came under a surgeon’s care. The great detective had been attacked on the street by two ruffians and had been pretty roughly handled (_The Adventure of the Illustrious Client_). Sir Leslie Oakshot, the eminent London surgeon who had been called in, stated that Holmes had suffered lacerations of the scalp and that several stitches were necessary. Holmes fortunately made an uneventful recovery, and we learn that the stitches were taken out on the seventh day.

Dr. Watson describes a man in _The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist_ who had suffered a severe scalp wound. He had been found unconscious, although the bones of the skull had not been penetrated. Another case is mentioned which surely must puzzle the layman (_The Adventure of the Dancing Men_). A bullet passed through the frontal portion of the brain. The reader is assured that, although the patient was unconscious, she would live. The medically trained person would think immediately of an accidental lobotomy.

One is reminded in this connection of the skull of a workman exhibited in the museum of the Harvard Medical School. This rare specimen shows an enormous hole made by a tamping bar. The bar passed through the skull, and a considerable amount of brain substance was destroyed. Remarkably enough, the patient did not die from this terrific injury, but lived for a long time afterward--surely a most unusual case. It should be added that he suffered an unfortunate change in his personality following the accident.

In several instances, the head injuries mentioned were immediately fatal. For example, in _The Adventure of the Empty House_, an expanding revolver bullet was fired into the victim’s head. In _The Boscombe Valley Mystery_, we find that: “The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon.” In this last story, Dr. Watson gets technical: “In the surgeon’s deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon.” But contrast the following nontechnical description: “The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering was found to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of his head, which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a blunt weapon” (_The Crooked Man_). This is a good example of a wound so simply described that anyone could easily understand and appreciate it. With few exceptions, Watson never forgot that he was writing for laymen.

Scalp wounds and injuries to the head are often used to dramatize detective stories. The average layman instinctively feels that such wounds are extraordinarily dangerous, and that people experiencing such accidents are nearly always in a critical state. This, of course, may or may not be true, because nature has provided a strong bony cage to protect the brain.

In _The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire_, there occurs a reference concerning an orthopedic problem. Dr. Watson writes that the gait of a fifteen-year-old boy suggested plainly that he had a weak spine. We are further informed that a fall in childhood had brought about this condition. The devoted father spoke of the lad as being an unfortunate cripple and quite inoffensive. He was quite mistaken, for this so-called inoffensive lad became so insanely jealous of his normal, healthy baby half-brother that he tried to do away with him by use of curare, the South American Indian arrow poison. When Holmes unearthed this diabolic scheme, he reluctantly informed the boy’s unsuspecting father. Holmes prefaced his remarks by stating that he was a busy man and would come to the point quickly; and he used the simile that, the swifter surgery is done, the less painful it is.

The idea Holmes expressed in regard to swift surgery holds our interest. In the early days, before the discovery of ether, surgeons for obvious reasons attempted to perform operations in the shortest possible time. Indeed, the skill of a surgeon was largely gauged by the speed with which he could perform an operation.

In at least two of the tales, the carotid artery was the focal point of interest. In _The Adventure of the Creeping Man_, we find that when Professor Presbury was viciously attacked by his wolfhound, the teeth of the dog narrowly missed the carotid artery. In spite of the rather severe hemorrhage which followed, it will be recalled that the professor recovered. In _The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez_, the victim was not as lucky. His carotid had been severed by an old-fashioned sealing-wax knife, and death ensued in a short time. Watson emphasized that the wound was small but deep. He was aware that a large blunt instrument might have pushed the elastic artery aside rather than piercing it.

We find one reference to an amputation, although it was not performed by a surgeon. Early one morning, there appeared in Dr. Watson’s consultation room a young engineer who, during the preceding night, had undergone a harrowing experience in which his thumb had been hacked off by a vicious counterfeiter. The doctor was astounded when he saw the wound: “It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding fingers and a horrid, red, spongy surface where the thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right from the roots” (_The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb_).

When Dr. Watson asked the victim whether the wound had bled a great deal, the answer was: “Yes, it did.... I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly around the wrist and braced it up with a twig.” Watson’s succinct reply was: “Excellent. You should have been a surgeon.” To satisfy the reader’s sympathetic curiosity, it should be mentioned that Dr. Watson gave the patient a drink of brandy, and cleansed and bandaged the wound. Since the thumb had been “torn right out from the roots,” it seems that Dr. Watson should have taken a few stitches to bring the cut tissues together. No such mention is made, and it is to be hoped that the wound healed satisfactorily.