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sherlock60This week we’re looking at The Missing Three-Quarter. I’ve written up a few thoughts to get the discussion started. NB: We welcome anonymous comments but the community has been having problems with spam. All anonymous comments are now screened, so there will be a short waiting period before they become visible. Sorry for any inconvenience ^^
We were fairly accustomed to receive weird telegrams at Baker Street, but I have a particular recollection of one which reached us on a gloomy February morning some seven or eight years ago and gave Mr. Sherlock Holmes a puzzled quarter of an hour. Surely it’s not that “enigmatic” a message? A rugby player is missing, and as he’s “indispensable to-morrow”, surely it’s not much of a leap to work out that there’s a match that he should be playing in. Is the fact that Holmes doesn’t know what a “three-quarter” is? But Watson appears to have seen the telegram too and could have told Holmes what the term referred to. We know from SUSS that Watson had played rugby for Blackheath.
"Dr. Leslie Armstrong is certainly a man of energy and character," said he. "I have not seen a man who, if he turned his talents that way, was more calculated to fill the gap left by the illustrious Moriarty…” This comparison seems a bit out of leftfield. (Is it an insult or a compliment..?) Though I suppose Armstrong is Holmes’ opponent in a sense. Actually, Armstrong reminds me of Holmes—except that Armstrong tends to let his emotions get the better of him.
We had got well out on the country road when a somewhat mortifying incident occurred. The carriage stopped, the doctor alighted, walked swiftly back to where I had also halted, and told me in an excellent sardonic fashion that he feared the road was narrow, and that he hoped his carriage did not impede the passage of my bicycle…
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. I do wonder, if someone had never heard of Sherlock Holmes and this was the first story they read, exactly what impression they would come away with. Holmes does come across as a bit of a fool towards the end—doggedly and gauchely sticking his nose in where it’s not needed. It feels almost at times as though he’s an annoying minor character in a tragic love story, instead of being the detective star.
Dr. Armstrong took a quick step forward and wrung Holmes by the hand. Does that seem a bit of a rapid turnaround? I know Holmes has explained himself but Armstrong just doesn’t seem the kind of man to then abruptly tell a stranger the whole story.
“I did not tell him how urgent the danger was, for I knew that he could do no good here, but I sent the truth to the girl's father, and he very injudiciously communicated it to Godfrey.” “Do no good”? Surely he could understand that Staunton would want to be with his dying wife, even if she wasn’t aware he was there? And Armstrong thinks rugby matches "childish games”. He wouldn’t have considered playing in a match to be important. Perhaps he was thinking of his patient—he wanted to give her a peaceful environment and some privacy as she died.
“That is all, Mr. Holmes, and I am sure that I can rely upon your discretion and that of your friend." I wonder if after this, Staunton will have the heart to keep his marriage a secret. In my head, I imagine Staunton wanted to be open from the start. He said they could do without his relative’s money. But his wife insisted they keep the marriage a secret—not because she cared about the money, just that she didn’t want to be the cause of her husband being disinherited. But I’m not sure the young widower cares about being disinherited by his awful uncle any more.
"Come, Watson," said he, and we passed from that house of grief into the pale sunlight of the winter day. It’s this last line that gets me—even more than witnessing young Staunton’s terrible distress. Holmes and Watson can walk away from the other man’s grief and come out into the sunshine. But it’s pale winter sunshine, not the sun of spring or summer. They are both aware that they haven’t really escaped—it will eventually be their turn to experience grief in the future. I suppose it’s the state of mind we all reach in maturity. When we see mourners, we feel a detached sympathy. We remember in abstract what it’s like to mourn and feel relieved that it’s not us in that situation at the present moment. But we also know that our turn will come again. (I looked back at some of the old 60s and I think two of them make the point that Watson has of course already gone through the same grief as Staunton—watching his wife die prematurely.)
Next Sunday, 27th April, we’ll be looking at The Second Stain. Hope you can join us for that.
(Incidentally, the week after that (4th May), we’ll be looking at the first seven chapters of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Just a bit of advance warning in case you want to get started reading now. I’m rather looking forward to it. It’s been ages since I read it ^^)
We were fairly accustomed to receive weird telegrams at Baker Street, but I have a particular recollection of one which reached us on a gloomy February morning some seven or eight years ago and gave Mr. Sherlock Holmes a puzzled quarter of an hour. Surely it’s not that “enigmatic” a message? A rugby player is missing, and as he’s “indispensable to-morrow”, surely it’s not much of a leap to work out that there’s a match that he should be playing in. Is the fact that Holmes doesn’t know what a “three-quarter” is? But Watson appears to have seen the telegram too and could have told Holmes what the term referred to. We know from SUSS that Watson had played rugby for Blackheath.
"Dr. Leslie Armstrong is certainly a man of energy and character," said he. "I have not seen a man who, if he turned his talents that way, was more calculated to fill the gap left by the illustrious Moriarty…” This comparison seems a bit out of leftfield. (Is it an insult or a compliment..?) Though I suppose Armstrong is Holmes’ opponent in a sense. Actually, Armstrong reminds me of Holmes—except that Armstrong tends to let his emotions get the better of him.
We had got well out on the country road when a somewhat mortifying incident occurred. The carriage stopped, the doctor alighted, walked swiftly back to where I had also halted, and told me in an excellent sardonic fashion that he feared the road was narrow, and that he hoped his carriage did not impede the passage of my bicycle…
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. I do wonder, if someone had never heard of Sherlock Holmes and this was the first story they read, exactly what impression they would come away with. Holmes does come across as a bit of a fool towards the end—doggedly and gauchely sticking his nose in where it’s not needed. It feels almost at times as though he’s an annoying minor character in a tragic love story, instead of being the detective star.
Dr. Armstrong took a quick step forward and wrung Holmes by the hand. Does that seem a bit of a rapid turnaround? I know Holmes has explained himself but Armstrong just doesn’t seem the kind of man to then abruptly tell a stranger the whole story.
“I did not tell him how urgent the danger was, for I knew that he could do no good here, but I sent the truth to the girl's father, and he very injudiciously communicated it to Godfrey.” “Do no good”? Surely he could understand that Staunton would want to be with his dying wife, even if she wasn’t aware he was there? And Armstrong thinks rugby matches "childish games”. He wouldn’t have considered playing in a match to be important. Perhaps he was thinking of his patient—he wanted to give her a peaceful environment and some privacy as she died.
“That is all, Mr. Holmes, and I am sure that I can rely upon your discretion and that of your friend." I wonder if after this, Staunton will have the heart to keep his marriage a secret. In my head, I imagine Staunton wanted to be open from the start. He said they could do without his relative’s money. But his wife insisted they keep the marriage a secret—not because she cared about the money, just that she didn’t want to be the cause of her husband being disinherited. But I’m not sure the young widower cares about being disinherited by his awful uncle any more.
"Come, Watson," said he, and we passed from that house of grief into the pale sunlight of the winter day. It’s this last line that gets me—even more than witnessing young Staunton’s terrible distress. Holmes and Watson can walk away from the other man’s grief and come out into the sunshine. But it’s pale winter sunshine, not the sun of spring or summer. They are both aware that they haven’t really escaped—it will eventually be their turn to experience grief in the future. I suppose it’s the state of mind we all reach in maturity. When we see mourners, we feel a detached sympathy. We remember in abstract what it’s like to mourn and feel relieved that it’s not us in that situation at the present moment. But we also know that our turn will come again. (I looked back at some of the old 60s and I think two of them make the point that Watson has of course already gone through the same grief as Staunton—watching his wife die prematurely.)
Next Sunday, 27th April, we’ll be looking at The Second Stain. Hope you can join us for that.
(Incidentally, the week after that (4th May), we’ll be looking at the first seven chapters of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Just a bit of advance warning in case you want to get started reading now. I’m rather looking forward to it. It’s been ages since I read it ^^)
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no subject
Date: 2014-04-20 05:33 pm (UTC)Possibly Armstrong explained so quickly because he was feeling overwrought? He might very well have just been going over in his own mind, how did they come to this.
I like that head canon about Mrs Staunton being determined not to be the cause of her husband's poverty. It would include their children, too, probably.
The very injudiciously...could it be that though Armstrong rather despises games, Staunton had hopes of a professional sports, or teaching sports, career, and throwing the match would have risked that.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-20 06:35 pm (UTC)I like your idea that Armstrong had been going through things already in his mind. Naturally he was upset, his patient was the wife of a friend. He would have had to be strong and supportive for Staunton's sake and there had been a lot of secrecy - it may have been a relief to be able to talk things through with someone else.
I hadn't even thought about children - yes, of course the young couple would probably have hoped for children in the future. They may have thought that giving up the future bequest would be selfish - they had to think of the next generation.
There is that explanation: The poor boy was half crazed with grief, and yet he had to go to London to play this match, for he could not get out of it without explanations which would expose his secret. But surely he would rather have known his wife was nearing her end, so he could be with her no matter what.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-20 07:40 pm (UTC)It occurs to me that one extra piece of grief is Staunton has no friend except Armstrong. On the team or anywhere else, there's not only no one Staunton confided in; there's no one Overton thought he might have confided in. He sounds a bit like Victor Trevor, except he doesn't even have a chemistry nerd friend.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-20 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-20 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-21 12:45 am (UTC)