Sunday, October 17, 2021

Love in the Canon by Elaine Litzenich

Love in the Canon by Elaine Litzenich


When Rob first proposed I write something up for October's blog, I thought "Nah." Then I thought "Maybe." Followed by "Okay." 

I had just finished The Scottish Ploy by Quinn Fawcett, a Mycroft Holmes novel. Several modes of horse-drawn transportation, new to me, were mentioned so this seemed to be a topic to be researched. Not too interesting. Then I missed a Zoom from the Torists International of Chicago. The speaker's topic was "Villainesses of the Canon." I couldn't think of any woman who could be truly be termed a villainess, so I was sorry to miss this meeting. 


After this, The Bimetallic Question held its meeting and discussed BERY and, by Jove, along came Mary Holder. Poor Mary. She showed remarkably poor judgement, but could she be termed a villainess? One of the members of The Bimetallic Question had been Deputy of Corrections in Canada. He said that the majority of inmates in women's prisons were incarcerated because of their relationships with men. So you can see where this is leading. How perilous was it to fall in love in the Canon?

Having just read and discussed MISS in our group, poor Mrs. G. Staunton was dying throughout the story, finally succumbing to consumption at the end. The poor woman didn't even rate a first name. 


Not long past in GOLD, we have Anna the righteous militant betrayed by her husband and sent to Siberia. And, of course, also dead but by her own hand. 

Maria Pinto Gibson in THOR also takes her own life when her husband's love fades and she is replaced by lovely Grace Dunbar. If Miss Dunbar decides to become the next Mrs. Gibson, her chances of keeping the Gold King's affection seem to be 50-50. 


Mrs. X in CHAS loses her husband ("he broke his gallant heart and died") and becomes a murderess although acquitted by Holmes. 

Julia Roylott also had the bad luck of falling in love in SPEC and, although she is murdered offstage, her sister comes close to the same fate.


Of course, falling in love in the Canon doesn't always lead to death, murder or suicide. Sometimes, it's just bad judgement as in Mary's case in BERY. 

Our story for November in Parallel Case ABBE involves another Mary nee Fraser. This Mary arrives from Australia and is swept off her feet by Sir Eustace Brackenstall. She is simply a wonderful person (much like the dead Mrs. Staunton) who can't tell her wooer is a confirmed drunk. After she marries him, Sir Eustace shows his true colors and she's stuck. The Divorce and Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857 only allow a woman to sue for divorce if her husband's infidelity also involves rape, sodomy, incest, bestiality, physical cruelty or 2 years desertion. (From Klinger's Annotated) One may believe she wasn't 'really' in love with Sir Eustace but since she's such a good person, we must assume she just didn't marry him for his money. (Yes, there's an eye-roll there.) 


Perhaps the worst case of bad judgement is covered in IDEN in which Mary Sutherland (such a lot of Marys) searches for her lost fiancé who is in actuality her treacherous stepfather.

My conclusion: falling in love in the Canon often leads to dire consequences including death (Rather like side effects in those drug commercials). Granted, a few brave souls seem to live happily ever after such as Irene Adler & Godfrey Norton in SCAN. However, that is the first story. For a romantic, as I envision Watson to be, it must have pained him to relate all these failed love stories. Perhaps, with the death of his Mary, he himself felt that love was perilous indeed.


Thursday, September 16, 2021

September Meeting: The Missing Three-Quarter

After our summer hiatus, we were back!  Sherlockians from across the country and around the globe met to discuss this month's story, "The Missing Three-Quarter."  


But first, announcements:

Howard Ostrom's Facebook group is always discussing adaptations of the Canon.

The Dynamics of a Podcast will be recording their latest episode soon.

If you haven't been to the Parallel Case blog lately, there have been some great blog posts over the past few months!

The Sherlockian Chronologist Guild has launched since our last meeting.

It's time for nominations for the Susan Diamond Beacon Award for anyone introducing young people to Sherlock Holmes.

The Watsonian is accepting material for their latest volume.

The latest Enola Holmes novel came out last week.


And then it was time to discuss "The Missing Three-Quarter"

Our story starts off with Holmes receiving a telegram from Cyril Overton saying “Please await me. Terrible misfortune. Right wing three-quarter missing; indispensable to-morrow."

Watson tells us that this time in Holmes's career was one of inaction, but Watson had weaned Holmes "from that drug mania which had threatened once to check his remarkable career."  Even though Holmes is off of drugs now, Watson worries that the habit is "not dead, but sleeping."  This is some great foreshadowing for later on....

Cyril Overton arrives to ask for help.  Godfrey Staunton has gone missing.  And Overton talks about how great Staunton is.  Holmes checks his commonplace book and finds Arthur Staunton, a forger, and Henry Staunton, whom he helped to hang, but nothing about Godfrey Staunton.


It turns out that Overton and Staunton are rugby players for Cambridge.  Andrew read Overton's discourse on rugby, and Shana said the whole passage reminded her of the adults in Charlie Brown cartoons!  Elaine said she wanted to read the rugby rules, but just couldn't get herself interested in it and Kevin was impressed with how many teeth rugby players lost.  Michael pointed out that could have been a little too reminiscent if you believe that Doyle wrote the stories.  He also told us that the etymology of "varsity" is a shortened version of "university."  

Edith said Overton talking about rugby reminded her of Oliver Wood talking about Quidditch: overly excited and singularly focused.  Elaine wondered why Watson didn't recognize either of the names from the team.  Srini found it interesting that rugby never made it to the Indian subcontinent while it did to so many other colonies.

Cambridge is playing Oxford tomorrow.  Last night, Staunton looked pale and bothered when Overton checked in on him.  When he was found missing this morning, Overton learned from a hotel porter that a bearded man sent a not to Staunton's room and he fell into a chair when he read the note.  Staunton left with the bearded man and hasn't returned.  Overton thinks that his teammate is gone and the team is doomed in the upcoming match.  Arthur shared that there is two types of rugby: union and league.

Since finding that Staunton was missing, Overton has wired Cambridge only to learn that Staunton was not there, wired Staunton's uncle, Lord Mount James, one of the richest men in the country, and been to Scotland Yard, who sent him to Holmes.


Holmes, Watson, and Overton return to the hotel, where the porter tells them that the bearded man was medium size and about 50.  The man and Staunton talked for a minute and the porter heard something about time before they hurried off.

The porter also reported that Staunton received a telegram a few hours before this visit and that he sent a reply.  Holmes looks at the blotting paper in the room and can see the end of Staunton's reply: "Stand by us for God's sake!"

Holmes notes that the use of the word "us" in this note proves that another person is involved.  He also finds a piece of paper that leads him to believe that Staunton may be ill.


While Holmes is looking through Staunton's papers, Lord Mount James arrives.  Mount James has a noticeable case of gout, and Srini took us through a medical digression on that and Arthur asked if King's Disease could lead to gout.  Sonia found him being dressed like an undertaker's mute very interesting.   Mount James demands to know what they are doing.  Overton explains, and when questioned about the cost says he would imagine that Staunton or his family would cover expenses.  

Mount James refuses Holmes any fee, but the detective says that maybe Staunton had been kidnapped to learn the layout of his rich uncle's house so that the old man could be robbed.  Stacey wondered why this wasn't the first idea to cross his mind.  Lord Mount James quickly changes his tune and offers "a fiver, or even a tenner" to Holmes to prevent this.  This led us to talk about how much that would translate to in our time.  Shaun pointed out that it would have been about one month's wages for the average workman.

Rob read a citation from the Sherlock Holmes Reference Library that noted "Holmes later 'assured Dr. Armstrong that he was 'not employed by Lord Mount-James' and, as he had to keep Godfrey Staunton's confession a closely guarded secret, it seems ridiculous to suppose that he was ever able to claim any reward from the parsimonious nobleman.  Presumably nobody paid Holmes anything, despite the relatively heavy expenses which he must have incurred in investigating the case'"


Holmes and Watson go to the telegraph office to follow up on their lead and Holmes pretends to need to check on a telegram that he sent the previous night, actually checking on Staunton's communication.  After reading the man's telegram, he tells Watson that he "had seven different schemes for getting a glimpse of that telegram."

Rob noted that in The Staunton Tragedy, Lou Lewis wrote an article hypothesizing what those schemes may have been: using personal charm, disguise, acting ill, creating a distraction in the office, a riot in the street, faking a bet, luring the clerk away from the desk, or just plain old burglary.  Arthur wondered if Holmes just liked the number 7 from his days on a seven per-cent solution.

On the way to Cambridge, Holmes tells Watson that since the disappearance occurred on the eve of the big match, he suspects that it is related to Staunton's importance to the team or that he might be being held for ransom.

Once they arrive in Cambridge, Holmes and Watson visit Dr. Leslie Armstrong, the head of the university medical school.  He tells Holmes that he does not approve of his profession, to which Holmes replies, "In that, Doctor, you will find yourself in agreement with every criminal in the country."  Sonia pointed out that a private detective would not have been a respectful profession to many people, no matter how popular Holmes was.


Stacey found it interesting that Watson was not familiar with Dr. Armstrong, which led Brad to discuss the chronology of the case and where it would fall in Watson's medical career.  Shana said that Armstrong would have been someone who published regularly but Sonia wondered if his specialty was outside of Watson's purview.  

Dr. Armstrong tells Holmes that he is butting into other people's business and claims to have no knowledge of Staunton's whereabouts.  He also answers Holmes's question about Staunton's health and says that he was a healthy man to which Holmes produces a receipt for medical services made out to Dr. Armstrong.

Holmes asks the doctor if he heard from Staunton last night and Armstrong says no, but Holmes tells him he knows of the telegram that Staunton sent him just four hours before his disappearance.  Armstrong has had enough of Holmes and kicks them out after telling them that they can tell their employer, Lord Mount James, that he won't have anything to do with him.  Sonia found it interesting that Holmes didn't correct the man and could have prevented a lot of complications if he had.  Rob said he felt that Holmes immediately took an antagonistic view towards Armstrong.

Holmes tells Watson that Dr. Armstrong could be the next Moriarty!  This made Charlene feel that Holmes wasn't antagonistic towards Armstrong, he was more respectful.  Shana agreed and cited Holmes's talk of Armstrong's character.  Brad wondered if Holmes's testiness had to do with him being weaned off of drugs.  


Watson secures a room at the inn across the street from Dr. Armstrong's house while Holmes goes to collect some information.  When he comes back, Holmes tells Watson that Dr. Armstrong leaves in his brougham once or twice per day and is gone for a few hours each time.  Holmes tries to follow Armstrong on a bike the next time he leaves, only to have the doctor stop and call him out on his efforts.

The next day, a note from Dr. Armstrong arrives at the inn:

"Sir,
can assure you that you are wasting your time in dogging my movements. I have, as you discovered last night, a window at the back of my brougham, and if you desire a twenty-mile ride which will lead you to the spot from which you started, you have only to follow me. Meanwhile, I can inform you that no spying upon me can in any way help Mr. Godfrey Staunton, and I am convinced that the best service you can do to that gentleman is to return at once to London and to report to your employer that you are unable to trace him. Your time in Cambridge will certainly be wasted.
Yours faithfully,
Leslie Armstrong"

Shaun found it interesting that the author used the word "dogging."  It's was some foreshadowing!  Stacey loved Armstrong taunting Holmes.  Brad wondered if Doyle was getting aggravated with Holmes eight stories into The Return and let some feelings towards the character come through in Armstrong's views.

Holmes searches the nearby villages for sign of Armstrong's carriage, but has no luck.  In the meantime, Cambridge lost their match against Oxford.  Elain offered a theory on why Holmes was taking so long to find Staunton: he had a bet on Oxford!  

The next day, Watson comes into their room to find Holmes standing with a syringe in his hand! But Holmes says that it will prove to be a solution to their mystery.  Outside, Holmes introduces Watson to "a squat, lop-eared, white-and-tan dog, something between a beagle and a foxhound."  It's Pompey, the real detective in this story!  Michael pointed out that the dog's name may have been a nod to Portsmouth's football team, the Portsmouth Pompey, on which Doyle played for a time.


Holmes had sprayed aniseed oil on the rear wheel of Dr. Armstrong's brougham and Pompey will follow the scent.  Sonia appreciated how similar this was to the use of Toby in SIGN, but Andrew pointed out that Holmes may have learned from his mistake in that previous case.  He leads them to a lonely cottage where they see Dr. Armstrong leaving.  Holmes says, "I fear there is some dark ending to our quest."  Arthur said this reminded him of Holmes's line that the worst things happen out in the country.


They barge into the cottage only to find a young woman lying dead in the room.  Godfrey Staunton is sobbing at the foot of the bed, and thinking Holmes and Watson to be some medical men, tells them that they are too late and the woman has died.  Armstrong comes back and is angry with Holmes and Watson for interrupting the grieving man.  They all go to another room to explain themselves.

Holmes explains to Armstrong that since there has been no crime or trouble, he has no reason to tell anyone of this matter.  Armstrong fills in the backstory by telling them that Godfrey Staunton met and fell in love with his landlord's daughter.  They married but kept it a secret because they knew his uncle would disinherit him for marrying below his class.  She got "consumption of the most virulent
kind."  When it worsened, Staunton came to the cottage to visit her despite the rugby match.  Bruce said it would've made for a better story if Staunton had played in the match.


Armstrong says to Holmes, "I am sure that I can rely upon your discretion and that of your friend" to which Holmes agrees.  (That is, until Watson publishes this story for every Strand reader a few years later...)  Stacey was impressed with what a great confederate Armstrong was in this secret.  There was a very good discussion connecting this story to Doyle's personal experience having a wife suffering from consumption.

Sonia pointed out the reference to Sleepy Hollow, written by Washington Irving.  Charlene said that there were a few poems during this time called Sleepy Hollow, so it may not be a direct reference to the classic story.  Kevin said that Holmes talks about Poe a few times in other stories, so maybe this was meant to be a reference to American literature.  Shana felt that Mrs. Staunton's death scene had a very Poe-like feeling to it.  This led to a small sidebar where Michael and Adam shared some Mark Twain-Arthur Conan Doyle connections and fun stories.  


Holmes and Watson leave the cottage, and that's the end of the story, a very abrupt end to the story.

Shaun said he kept expecting there to be a villain in this story, but one never appeared.  In fact, the antagonist turned out to be pretty cool!  Rob felt that this story was similar to YELL: Holmes follows someone to a house, has a wrong idea, and leaves quietly when he sees what's really going on.

While no one was going to put MISS on their top ten list, Elaine pointed out how well-written all of the characters were and Michael appreciated the chivalrous aspect of the story.  Stacey was reminded of the Brontes as she read.  Shana found it interesting that the title character was the least interesting one in the story!

Rob brought up another point from the SH Reference Library: "What is it that Dr. Leslie Armstrong, the head of a medical school and a 'thinker of European repute' who is devoted to his literary work, saw in Staunton, a man regarded by his coach as a 'sportsman...down to his marrow'?..."

Kevin offered that maybe Armstrong patched up Staunton.  Stacey and Elaine said maybe he was just a fan of the sport.  Arthur wondered if Armstrong really was a villain, the Moriarty of medicine!  Madeline thought he could have been a friend of Staunton's parents, Brad said of Staunton's in-laws, and Andrew thought he was friends with the dog!  Shana won the discussion by connecting Armstrong and Staunton in a Doc Brown/Marty McFly friendship.


Join us again in November, for our next meeting on "The Adventure of the Abbey Grange."  Come at once if convenient!

Post Script: The Watsonian Weekly followed up this month's meeting on their latest episode and Brad Keefauver did his own recap on his blog.

Sunday, August 29, 2021

The Breaking Water: Moriarty, Math, Music, and The Questions That Lie Between Them by Joshua Harvey

In a world of many Sherlocks, the game cascades.


Having reached a meta level of post-canon knowledge, compounded by The Great Game, we harbor expectations for translating a story into other mediums, holding certain guidelines, like nets, in which interpretations are revealed. Personal lines are set by individual tastes, ranges of Holmesian knowledge, life experience, and other factors. A question (to be addressed another time) is: how do we pursue such boundaries for adaptation? The answers are soritical in nature and vague. Do five pips a good interpretation make? How many monographs equal a pile of pipe ash? How many Holmesian pursuits doth a Sherlockian make? Are we owed a certain interpretation?


When it comes to character translations certain patterns seem less ephemeral. The line for Watsons, for example, seem fairly porous. We accept the variations: the vaudeville/music hall buffoonery of Nigel Bruce; the strong, kick-ass intelligence and perseverance of Lucy Liu; the subtle shades of boyish and gleeful David Burke versus the mature and capable Edward Hardwicke; the whiny emo girlishness of Shihori Kanjiya’s Wato-san; and the faithful, action-addicted, soldierly Martin Freeman.

Lestrades are most often, well, Lestrades.


But when it comes to Moriartys (Moriarties? Moriartae?), there are fewer seas to navigate.

Moriarty is inevitable. He is fate. There are many paths to Reichenbach, but they all have one terminus—a reckoning.

This is played upon in the BBC Sherlock series, where the nemesis constantly reminds Sherlock of his “I.O.U.” Moffat and Gatiss, along with script writer Stephen Thompson, call upon the old powers. The Fates, the Moirai, were the keepers of the life-line to which even the gods were bound. They created the boundary of birth, life, and death: the allotment in which every entity exists before the string is cut. This apportionment is a loan—not a gift—and, being a loan, requires a debt to be paid. Life itself is an “I.O.U.” In all instances, Moriarty becomes Moira-rty, the reckoner and debt collector of the final problem—Sherlock’s death for his life.


In the realm of BBC
Sherlock, Moriarty is prefigured “mythologically” twice: in one of his many employees, the cab driver Jeff Hope, bringer of two-pilled life and death (one of the first times we hear the Moriarty musical theme); and in Mr. Ewart of two-faced Janus Cars, a for-hire faker of deaths—and new lives (and an anagram for “water,” of which Moriarty is the captain). The masking-unmasking of many faces continues with Moriarty’s Hansel-and-Gretel torturing of children with a Sherlock look-a-like as well as his creation of the “Secret Life of Sherlock Holmes”-esque Richard Brook.

Of course, this duality was pre-ordained by the canonical meeting:

‘All that I have to say has already crossed your mind,’ said he.

“Then possibly my answer has crossed yours,’ I replied. [FINA]


Subsequently the professor lists his descriptive notation of being “inconvenienced” by the detective, followed by the dire warning: “It has been a duel between you and me, Mr. Holmes….You hope to beat me. I tell you that you will never beat me. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you.” [FINA]

This tone continues in several of the new adaptations of the scene, enhanced with diagetic music (that is, music known and acknowledged by the characters within the world of the scene), whether the time, context, and locations differ.

Game of Shadows has a wide-range of Moriarty-attached musics: their initial meeting in Moriarty’s college office was soundtracked diagetically by Schubert’s Fischerweise and by low strings (a common orchestration that we will see again), and even the torture scene where Holmes is hooked like a fish is underscored by classical music. Moriarty tosses Irene’s death handkerchief on the pristine chessboard and navigates an opening gambit towards the camera. The villain’s soundtrack theme is also accompanied by a common Zimmer trope, a clock, like the ticking of fate, the limit of Holmes’ life approaching him: “The laws of celestial mechanics dictate that when two objects collide there is always damage of a collateral nature.”

BBC Sherlock has Holmes playing the violin as Moriarty creeps up the stairs to 221B Baker Street (Bach, followed by the tale of the “unfinished melody”). Throughout the series Jim Moriarty is variously tied to music like Rossini’s overture to “The Thieving Magpie” and, more tellingly, “Staying Alive” by The BeeGees. He wants to solve the final problem of their mutual existence: “Every fairy tale has an old-fashioned villain.” And he and Holmes meet to duel on the roof of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, eternally twin rivals.


Nowhere is this duality more perspicuous than in the musical clues left by BBC Sherlock’s composers Michael Price and David Arnold. The motivic themes of the two characters suggest great interconnectedness and “propinquity” (as Nero Wolfe would say).

Much has been said by Michael Price himself about the main Sherlock theme and the “hero’s theme” (the jaunty, slightly humorous call-to-action music, derived from the chords of the main opening, that accompanies the setting off of John and Sherlock in innumerable instances). The main Sherlock theme is the recognizable first few measures, played in the strings, right after the iconic drum pick-up into the iconic blurred London opening titles. Here is what it looks like, from the piano arrangements by Anthony Weeden



Contraposed to this is the Moriarty theme, heard (or felt) nearly anytime he is mentioned, but most famously employed in the “Prepared to Do Anything” cue leading up and through “the jump” scene atop St. Bart’s. It is always low strings, ominous, active, prowling (this example is both lines in the bass clef, taken directly from the original score).



When we move things about on the staff a bit, simplify meter and note length for the sake of visual patterns, take the Moriarty theme up into treble clef, then transpose it, a very clear relationship emerges.



The Moriarty theme shares the first musical intervals as his rival—but where Moriarty hangs, Sherlock, well…falls. They are two sides of a coin awaiting the toss and the landing.
And, oh, what a landing.

The interpretations of the Reichenbach scene range from the faithfulness of Granada to the (spoilers!) London-scenarios of Rathbone’s The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (in which Moriarty dives from the Tower of London) and The Woman in Green (Moriarty, solo, from a drainpipe); to Moriarty the Patriot’s dive from Tower Bridge under construction (this is a slight deviation in intent that, for the sake of spoilers, we won’t discuss further); to the similar Tokyo tumble of Stella Maris herself (another great play on Moriarty’s nautical name), Dr. Moriwaki of Ms. Sherlock; to the metaphorical (perceived) moral collapse of Holmes in Elementary. All feature roadblocks, rivals, and plummets. Downward.


This cascading motion is set by Granada composer Patrick Gowers in his representation of Moriarty. First appearing in the episode for “The Red-Headed League” and continuing, naturally, through “The Final Problem,” Gower’s Moriarty shares the bass clef, low strings—plus erudite church organ—with the Zimmer and Arnold/Price renditions: borrowing operatic conventions that the villain is often played by bass voices or accompanied by bass instruments, sinister and craven.


Not only does the serpentine line tumble down, it also features three groupings of the tritone, the interval which splits the chromatic octave in two: the first two separated by a middle note, the final immediately side by side. (This last is a common motive of Gowers to signify distress or darkness—to be discussed another time.)




It is this interval that ecclesiastic authorities allegedly banned for centuries due to its sinister angularity, the difficulty in singing it correctly, and its dissonance. It was, and is still, referred to as “The Devil’s Interval.” And it is in the eternal battle of angelic and demonic forces that the struggle continues.

Though it was cut from the final product, one of the original scripts floating around on the internet for the BBC Sherlock episode “The Reichenbach Fall” has a reference to "the 64,” the number of digits in Moriarty’s all-access code which the assassins are trying to gain from Sherlock. The popular Netflix show “The Queen’s Gambit” reminds us that the 8 x 8 square of chess is one of the oldest metaphors for a battle of wits between equals. The great game of chess is used just prior to Reichenbach in the Guy Ritchie film in a clear and intentional way and is even featured in the toy shop scene against Ratigan in The Great Mouse Detective.


A very famous game theory problem involving an infinite chess board is the Angel problem, first proposed by John Conway—also known as the “Angel and Devil” game. This title calls to mind one of the most famous lines from the BBC show: "Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them.” Often interpreted moralistically as Moriarty tempts Sherlock to suicidal despair and ruin, with this statement Sherlock reveals that he is, indeed, “prepared to do anything” and has arranged for his own death (or at least a fall)—he will not fly. Finally beaten, Moriarty pulls the final “check” with his own suicide, but not until after thanking Sherlock for the endgame—the hero is not a “boring” angel after all. Not just heroic language, the quote may be grounded more simply in the Conway game. BBC script writer Stephen Thompson is a mathematician and was a maths teacher (and it goes without saying in a forum such as this: Moriarty is a professor of maths). In the game, the Angel can move to any square in any direction, while the Devil leaves a block for the Angel’s path. “The angel may leap over blocked squares, but cannot land on them. The devil wins if the angel is unable to move. The angel wins by surviving indefinitely.” On an infinite 2D chessboard, the Devil will always win—which seems impossible considering how the Angel can infinitely maneuver. On an infinite 3D chessboard, the Angel has been shown to be able to win. He needs an infinite height—the infinite height of the Reichenbach in our minds—and a landing spot. In the episode, Sherlock has been trying to move from Moriarty's blocks but, at the last moment, is prepared to lose/take the fall/leap on to the Devil's block by anticipating: he loses on purpose. The Devil is revealed to be only working in dualities—but Sherlock sublimates the game altogether.

"I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second I am one of them.” Checkmate.


The math no longer adds up (though the final problem is solved) and the limits of the board are shattered (though the limits are infinite); the net is cut (but is used for Sherlock to be caught). The hero chooses to sacrifice, to protect friends, and the tables are turned. As we have been expecting the duality of “So Sherlock, so then Moriarty,” we also surmise (along with Moriarty) “So not-Sherlock, so then not-Moriarty.” The excitement is to see how, in each interpretation, Holmes sidesteps the syllogism altogether. That makes us, as viewers, move from “So Reichenbach, so then The Fall” to “So Reichenbach, so how The Fall?” From our height, post-canon, we are excited to see how Holmes is
the better, not the equal. How will he appear to cut his own thread?

The board is turned over completely and the great game spills over—until the next time.  


Tuesday, July 6, 2021

The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist: What Did She Wear? by Sonia Yazmadjian

The Victorian era was a time of growth and change. With the industrial revolution, a middle class appeared, having free time, even if less than upper classes.

Leisure activities were numerous: croquet, tennis, skating, water sports, horseback riding and, later, cycling. Initially the fad of the elite, its practice was so popular and widespread that, towards the end of the 19th century, the bicycle became a major tool of liberation for women, 

Easily acquired by men, the right to pedal was a battle for women.

Doctors predicted terrible consequences: riding a bicycle could lead to infertility, trigger orgasms, and cause permanent disfigurement due to the effort required by pedaling. 

The problem had already been raised with horseback riding. A woman of quality had to keep her legs closed and covered. To get on a horse, she would have had to pull up her clothes, revealing her ankles and calves, or even more in windy conditions. As a result, riding was only permitted side saddle and in the countryside.

In cities, women were therefore dependent on cars for long distances, which limited their freedom of movement. The bicycle had the same drawbacks as the horse, but it was so coveted that it gave rise to many inventions.


1. At the beginning

After seeing a draisine, the Scotsman Kirkpatrick MacMillan, a blacksmith by trade, began in 1839 the construction of a vehicle equipped with a system of levers connected to the rear wheel, moving rigid connecting rods for rotation.  


In 1866, Pierre Lallement, a French expatriate in America obtained the patent for a velocipede called a "bicycle".


If men could use bicycles, women were deprived of them because they wore bulky skirts and petticoats. A short outfit was invented but not adopted for reasons of decorum.


After 1870, the improvement of the velocipede continued, especially in England, aiming at gaining speed. The front wheel got bigger while the rear wheel got smaller.

The first Ordinary, created in1871, met an overwhelming success with the men of the upper-middle class who alone could afford it. It was nicknamed "penny-farthing" after the respective size of these two coins, by analogy with the wheels.


The penny-farthing was very popular among sportsmen until 1880, but not used by amateurs because of its dangerousness.

It was replaced a few years later by the so-called “safety” bicycle, invented in 1884 by John K. Starley. A gear turned the rear wheel faster than the pedals, allowing the machine to go fast even without a giant wheel.


Women were offered the tricycle (one seat) and the sociable (two seats) that could be used wearing skirts. Despite the efforts of their community to dissuade them, rich women, from 1880, took the right to use them. Chaperone associations were immediately formed to provide them with seemly accompanying. 



However, the interest of Queen Victoria herself for the tricycle did not silence all the oppositions because, obviously, tricycles and sociables allowed connections...


Anyway, heavy and bulky, they did not meet the aspirations of agility and freedom awakened by bicycles.


2. Clothing as a stage of women's liberation

In France and America, women pedaled without causing too much scandal.

In America, as early as 1849, Amelia Bloomer and Elizabeth Stanton, two suffragettes, preached against bulky skirts.

In 1851, they received the visit of Libby Miller who had come by bicycle and wore baggy pants of her design. They were later dubbed "bloomers", despite Ms. Bloomer's efforts to publicize the true designer.


The new clothing item appeared in manufacturers' advertising and dances were reserved for ladies in bloomers and their companions.

In France, from 1868, women rode velocipedes, wearing baggy pants with lace, considered rather daring.

In Victorian England, it was different: the rules of decent dressing imprisonned women in heavy petticoats and corsets. They were in fact kept away from the cycling trips that delighted men.

Fortunately, in 1889, the Starley Brothers company offered a Rover bicycle for women, with a low frame and a skirt guard. Its price was significantly more economical than that of previous models, which put it within the reach of a class of women less encumbered by conventions.


But the skirts sometimes got stuck in the mechanics. Exasperated by such illogicality, Lady Florence Harberton founded the "Rational Dress Society" dedicated to ridding women of the unnecessary fabric that encumbered them, and asserting their right to a dress code that no longer constrained their movements.

It offered "trousers", a kind of panties going to below the knee.


Public opinion was shocked and suggested that the "bifurcated" clothing would make cyclists unnatural women. At the same time, the skirts shortened a little "picking up less manure and spitting in their folds", according to the progressives, and a look under them would have revealed that the countless petticoats had remained in the closet, to be replaced by "knickers", that is to say…simple underwear.

The debates about female cyclists paint an eloquent portrait of the social anxiety caused by the increasing autonomy of women. For those who could afford it, the bicycle was more than a means of getting around and exercising; it signaled a refusal to comply with the restrictive rules of the Victorian era, and a desire to enter fully into modernity

 

3. Violet Smith’s clothes 

Violet belonged to a new generation of women who, at the end of the 19th century, began to work to be independent and move as they wanted, thanks to the advent of the bicycle.

In the Victorian era, the education of young girls was essentially limited to preparation for marriage and to the acquisition of the talents of amenity intended to enable them to decorate their husband's house with dignity, such as watercolor painting, embroidery, singing, playing the piano... As a result, a woman wishing to earn her living outside the domestic service could hardly do more than exercise the professions of schoolmistress, governess or music teacher.

In the upper class, and even in the growing middle class, homes were equipped with a piano and, depending on financial means, lessons were given either by the mother or by a teacher.

Violet's father having been a conductor, she escaped being a servant by marrying an electrical engineer. In addition, thanks to her knowledge of music, she could teach the piano. Mr. Carruthers' offer was a godsend: "He offered me a hundred a year which was, certainly, a splendid pay" and, as noted later by Sherlock Holmes, double the usual rate.

Violet wore neither a blouse nor an apron to exercise her profession, but probably the Victorian outfit in use for young girls of her condition, with a corset and long ornate skirt brushing the floor :


On the other hand, we must not forget that Violet returned every week to her mother: "You must know that every Saturday forenoon I ride on my bicycle to Farnham Station in order to get the 12.22 to town."

She covered a great distance for this, as Holmes told Watson: "What sort of a ménage is it which pays double the market price for a governess but does not keep a horse, although six miles from the station?"

For this, the clothes had to be looser than usual to allow pedaling. Here we see the illustration by Sidney Paget:


And here is an illustration from a fashion magazine:


Finally, this photograph is a good illustration of what the "Solitary Cyclist" could have worn: