The Early Punch Parodies of Sherlock Holmes

by Bill Peschel

  “Shall I try to find you, Holes?” I asked timidly.

  He turned on me with a blaze of anger in his eyes. “Potson,” he said, “you really are a most consummate fool.”

  Since then I have abandoned my efforts. For one in my desolate condition the well-tried clues would have been useless. The brain that had given them their unique value had departed with Holes, and no other could deal with them as they ought to be dealt with.

  And so, for the present, my task is done. Yet in the silence of the night-time, or in the busy haunts of men by day, I sometimes hear a voice which says in mysterious accents:—“Some day you shall meet him again.”

  The Intelligence Department

  Leonard Raven-Hill

  Another example of Holmes’ influence on the culture. Leonard Raven-Hill (1867-1942) was a prolific artist, illustrator and painter whose accomplishments ranged from exhibiting his works at the annual Salon and Royal Academy, to illustrating books by Rudyard Kipling and Jerome K. Jerome, and contributing illustrations to many magazines. He began contributing to Punch in 1895, and joined the staff in 1901, where his passion for politics gave his cartoons a biting wit and made him a cantankerous foe at the weekly editorial meetings. From 1910 to 1935, he was the staff’s second cartoonist behind Bernard Partridge.

  THE INTELLIGENCE DEPARTMENT

  First Budding General: “I say, is that Johnnie on the hill a scout or a wretched civilian?”

  Second Budding General: “My dear chap, do you take me for a sort of Sherlock Holmes?”

  A Way We Have at the ’Varsity

  R.C. Lehmann

  ACD’s recently published story “The Adventure of the Three Students,” set at a university much like Oxford or Cambridge, brought this reaction from the Cambridge-educated Lehmann.

  In the most recent Sherlock Holmes adventure the guilt of reading an Examination Paper before it was issued is brought home to an undergraduate by the fact that, returning from the University Athletic Ground, where he had been practising the jump, he left “his tan gloves” on a chair in his tutor’s room. The two following extracts are taken from stories shortly to be published by Sir Arth-r C-n-n D-yle:]

  I.

  It was half-past six o’clock on the evening of June 1, and Henry Blessington was walking across Midsummer Common on his way back from the river Cam, where he had been engaged with some of his friends and colleagues in practising for the summer boat-races in the celebrated College six-oared boat. His face was flushed and an air of determination sat not ungracefully on his manly brow, for had he not been the means that very afternoon of putting a stop to the notorious crab-catching propensities of the Duke of Delamere, the brawny ruffian who, in spite of his drunken habits, wielded the bow-oar on behalf of his Alma Mater. This feat had rendered it certain that the St. Barnabas six-oar would go head of the river tomorrow. As he thought of the coming triumph Henry Blessington’s blood coursed feverishly through his veins, and he proceeded mechanically to feel in the pockets of his fashionable frock-coat for his pipe and tobacco-pouch. Heavens! they were not there! As he realised his loss, a reading man, coming in the opposite direction, collided with him and trod heavily on both his patent leather lace-up boots. Smothering an oath, Blessington raised his gold-headed cane and struck the clumsy intruder a heavy blow . . .

  II.

  The High Street of Oxford was a scene of tumultuous excitement. From every side undergraduates, accompanied by their parents and other more remote relatives, were pouring in crowds to the Schools to hear the Chancellor announce the winner of the Classical Greats. Every class was represented. Here a scholar of Marcon’s Hall, tastefully arrayed in the conspicuous blazer of his College Croquet Club, with his mortarboard rakishly set on the side of his head, might be seen arm in arm with two sprigs of Britain’s nobility, clothed in the pink coat consecrated by an immemorial tradition to the followers of the Turl Hounds. Following these were to be observed two of the fastest and most brilliant members of Christ Church College walking cheek by jowl with their inseparable associates, the Captain and Vice-Captain of the St. Edmund’s Hall Boat Club. The top hats which graced the heads of the two latter undergraduates had been freshly ironed and their lavender kid gloves (the badge of their aquatic prowess) shone across the High Street with a lustre that contrasted strangely with the frayed trousers and short Norfolk jacket of the Senior Proctor, whose duty it was to fine every tenth member of the assemblage.

  Telepathy Day by Day

  C.L. Graves and E.V. Lucas

  In July, author H. Rider Haggard claimed in a letter to the Times that he dreamed that the family’s dog, Bob, attempted to communicate with him after being fatally injured by a train. The dream disturbed him so much that his wife woke him up. The next day, they found that Bob had died that way a few hours before Haggard’s dream. The long letter was accompanied by affidavits from the veterinarian who found Bob’s body and family members who heard Haggard talk about the dream. Punch thought it a shaggy-dog story and used it to poke fun at Hall Caine, Henry James, and a certain consulting detective.

  This is an imitative age, and Mr. Rider Haggard’s success as a dreamer has naturally produced a crop of similar experiences among his fellow-novelists. A selection is printed below:

  SIR A. CONAN DOYLE.

  Perhaps you will think with me that the following circumstances are worthy of record, if only for their scientific interest. It is principally because of this interest that, as such stories should not be told anonymously, after some hesitation I have made up my mind to publish this one over my own name, although I am well aware that by so doing I may expose myself to a certain amount of ridicule and disbelief.

  On the night of Saturday, July 23, I went to bed at 12.19 and immediately fell asleep. At 3.14 I awoke with the feeling that my favourite terrier Joe was trying to communicate with me. Having read Mr. Rider Haggard’s recent letter in the Times, long though it was, I knew what to do, and, summoning my household, we at once set out for the nearest point on the South Western Railway where the line crosses water. We searched there and in other places, even as far afield as the Frensharn Ponds, all day, but without success. At nightfall we returned home crestfallen and heart-heavy, only to find that Joe had been in his kennel all the time. Naturally we had not thought to look there before. This shows how unwise it would be to elevate Mr. Rider Haggard’s fantastic, and, if I may express the opinion, somewhat tedious, experience to the dignity of a precedent.

  I will only add that I ask you to publish the annexed documents with this letter, as they constitute the written testimony at present available to the accuracy of what I state.

  Undershaw, Hind Head, July 26.

  No. I.

  Haslemere, July 25.

  Dear Sir,—In pursuance of your instructions I have inspected the dog found in his kennel at Undershaw.

  He is in good health and has had distemper.

  I believe that the cause of his presence in the kennel is that he was affixed to a strong chain. (Signed)

  Henry De Wet, M.R.C.V.S.

  No. II.

  I spent the whole of Sunday, July 24, in tramping over Surrey with Sir Conan Doyle looking for a dead dog. I did not find one. (Signed)

  William Potts (Gardener).

  No. III.

  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has told me his dream several times with the utmost particularity and has never altered a syllable. Upon it I constructed several theories, none of which, however, could be thoroughly tested owing to the presence of the dog alive in his kennel.

  (Signed) Sherlock Holmes

  Reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd., www.punch.co.uk.

  Society Whispers From the States

  P.G. Wodehouse

  This story was inspired by a clipping from an unnamed newspaper that reported that “Two well-known Philadelphia society men have recently fought a prize-fight of twenty-five rounds in a private room. At the end of the twenty-fifth round one of the pair was knocked out.” Wodehouse used the
item to parody the society notes found in most newspapers, which reported who attended whose party and what happened there. He provided examples of other fights involving “Tough Ted” Roosevelt and “Oily” Rockefeller, as well as this paragraph about “Sherlock Holmes” actor William Gillette. A “histrion” is an outdated word for an actor.

  From the “New York Society Slogger”:—

  . . . Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish’s At Home on Friday last was a genuine success. The event of the evening was, of course, the twenty-round contest between “Corny” Vanderbilt and “Bill” Gillette. The histrion had height and reach in his favour, but the nightly doses of morphia which he was compelled to inject while playing “Sherlock Holmes” in London have had their inevitable effect on his stamina; and “Corny,” after having the worst of some exchanges at long range, bored in and rattled his man with heavy hooks at the body. At the end of the fifteenth round the tall and brainy mummer was compelled to throw up the sponge. The winner, it is interesting to note, was trained by his fascinating hostess exclusively upon larks’ tongues on toast.

  Reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd., www.punch.co.uk.

  1906

  To Brighten Cricket

  C.L. Graves and E.V. Lucas

  Another typical Punch article, setting up the situation in the first paragraph and following up with humorous “replies” from notable figures. In this case, Edgar Wallace pumps for adding bull-fights to the game, while composer Algernon Ashton suggests a sing-song from the players and bugles for the umpire.

  The mere rivalry of bat and ball, which was good enough for every one till the last year or so, having failed any longer to command attention, the most ingenious cricketers and brainiest journalists of the day are busy devising additional attractions. Mr. Punch, although he had never himself found the game, when played with energy and skill, lacking in interest, has thrown upon his columns to the innovators. A selection of letters follows:—

  Sir—Why not have fireworks? If the umpires were empowered to send up rockets every time a man was out, the effect would be distinctly bright and pleasing. Or every player might be forced to wear an electric scarf pin.

  Yours, &c.,

  Arthur Conan Doyle.

  Reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd., www.punch.co.uk.

  Great Discoverers

  F. Edmonds

  As Sherlockians know, ACD appreciated Holmes for bringing him money and popularity, but resented how the stories distracted from what he considered his more lasting work. “Great Discoverers” listed “George Edwardes, the Discoverer of Musical Comedy” and “Alfred Harmsworth, the Discoverer of ‘The Daily Mail’” and this dart.

  Sherlock Holmes, the Discoverer of Sir A. Conan Doyle

  But for this distinguished detective, Sir A. Conan Doyle might never have been discovered. As it was, he was pottering about in comparative literary obscurity when the great detective, like a sleuth-hound, tracked him down, and revealed him to the admiration of the world. This was probably the greatest feat on the part of the renowned Sherlock Holmes.

  Sir Nigel

  In 1903, ACD began work on a historical novel, a prequel to “The White Company” called “Sir Nigel.” In it, the young Nigel Loring is taken into the service of King Edward III. To win the fair Lady Mary (named for ACD’s mother and daughter), he vows to perform three deeds. The rest of the book has Nigel ferreting out French spies, helping to battle a Spanish fleet, and joining a raid on France where he fights France’s King John II on the battlefield at Poitiers. Published by Smith, Elder, the book sold well, and ACD considered it his “high-water mark in literature,” but he was disappointed when reviewers considered it a mere adventure book for boys. The Punch reviewer turned to verse to describe his reaction.

  When good Sir Nigel trod our soil

  He dealt in deeds of knightly glory,

  So says Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  Who (per Smith, Elder) tells his story;

  In every chapter he is near

  To death, yet always fails to strike it—

  I fancy from a courteous fear

  That gentle readers wouldn’t like it.

  He battles nobly in the thick

  Of odds indubitably trying,

  Of which not least I count the trick

  Sir Arthur has of speechifying.

  Whenever someone’s going strong,

  Sir A. dispatches several pages

  To tell how codes of right and wrong

  Have altered since the Middle Ages.

  Now, booklore-laden atmosphere’s

  A thing that knights don’t really care for

  They like to pull each other’s ears

  Without a thought of why or wherefore;

  And so it rather spoils the fun

  To find Sir Arthur’s warriors waiting

  While he postpones their turn for one

  Less thrilling but more elevating.

  1907

  Cheap Books

  C.L. Graves and E.V. Lucas

  The establishment in 1870 of universal elementary education in Britain created a class of readers eager for books that reflected their lives and concerns, or just entertained them. This sparked a debate between authors who wanted to profit as much as possible from their books and those, such as author and journalist Richard Whiteing (1840-1928), who wanted to make inexpensive books available to people who could afford them.

  ACD’s cry of “up goes the donkey” refers to the antics of street acrobats who perform a balancing act with poles. They would solicit money from the spectators by promising that, if they collect enough money, they would raise a donkey on their poles.

  Fired by recent remarks at The Tribune Rendezvous, and stimulated further by Mr. Punch’s verses last week, a number of leading authors met recently at the Royalty Arms at Great Bookham, to discuss Mr. Richard Whiteing’s suggestion that all books should be published at a penny.

  . . . Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, wearing a handsome Turkish bath-towel, which had been conferred on him by the Sultan, said that he entirely objected to the cheapening of books. A good book ought not to cost less than a ride in the Tube. (Cheers.) It ought to cost more. (Renewed cheers.) “Another penny and up goes the donkey!” was no motto for him (the speaker), and so long as he could get six shillings for a novel and three-and-six for a book of sparkling literary essays he meant to do so. (A sob.)

  Reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd., www.punch.co.uk.

  1908

  Sir Conan Doyle on Big Bores

  It can be difficult at times to find the joke in a Punch brief. Readers of that era knew more about their world than today’s readers. Take this brief, for example, which consisted of a sentence from ACD’s story “The Pot of Caviare.”

  “There was not so much of that now since young Ainslie with his neat little .303 sporting rifle had devoted his days to abating the nuisance.”—The Strand Magazine

  Where’s the humor? The answer is hinted at in the title: The .303 sporting rifle takes a shell that is .312 inches in diameter and more than 3 inches long. Hardly a “neat little” rifle!

  Misfire

  In South Africa, ACD was impressed by the way the Boer farmers fought off trained and experienced British troops for so long. He suggested establishing rifle clubs to encourage marksmanship, and organized one himself at his home, Undershaw. He also sponsored an annual event through the National Rifle Association. So from the magazine’s Charivaria column came this dart:

  “A remarkable incident is reported from Bisley. During the firing for the Conan Doyle prize a competitor aimed at a bull, and hit a cow.”

  1909

  International and Imperial Crime Exhibition, 1910 at the Great Black City

  C.L. Graves and E.V. Lucas

  This article played off the popularity of spectacles such as world’s fairs and international exhibitions, and the competition for exhibits to draw visitors. The Black City referred to the White City, a model city exhibited at the 1893 World’s
Columbian Exposition in Chicago.

  Exhibitions are becoming so popular, and, at any rate with regard to sideshows, so remunerative, that intense rivalry is expected in the near future, and also a good deal of ingenuity in hitting upon new subjects to illustrate by stall and entertainment. No one will therefore be surprised to learn that preparations are already far advanced for the opening, in May, 1910, of the great Criminal Exhibition at Hounslow Heath. As the sympathetic co-operation of Scotland Yard has been enlisted, the success of the Exhibition is already assured, and even a hasty sketch of its scope and features will reveal the unique and transcendent interest of the exhibits.

  It is expected that few pavilions will be more popular than that devoted to Sherlock Holmes, under the control of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Detectives at work will there be seen through smoked glass. Traces of crime invited. Sir Arthur will draw inferences from footprints and cigar-ash from 3 to 11 daily.

  Reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd., www.punch.co.uk.

  1910

  Why Read at All?