by Barry Cryer
Philpott’s photo corner
The photographs within this book were found in Mrs Hudson’s diaries, along with the letters and recipes also contained here.
Unfortunately, only two bear annotation and confirm their connection to our worthy landlady. Therefore one can only speculate as to whether the others belonged to Mrs Hudson at all. Nevertheless, they undoubtedly deserve inclusion, painting as they do a comprehensive portrait of life in Baker Street and the surrounding area.
I don’t mind confessing that I found this lack of specific detail quite irksome. However, dear reader, we soldier on and I will endeavour to provide you with as much background as possible.
Onward and upward!
This appears to be a picture of ‘The Great Bilbo’ and his dancing bear ‘Bruin’, who were well known on the streets of London at the time.12 The Great Bilbo and Bruin once featured in the finale of the Royal Command performance of 1912 at the Palace Theatre. Records show that following that performance, Bruin, fuelled by champagne, escaped The Great Bilbo and roamed the streets of Soho. He even escaped being apprehended by the police and a veterinary surgeon. At one point, it was said that he entered a workman’s café and was served with a loaf of bread. Tragically, Bruin died shortly afterwards, whilst dancing enthusiastically for an assembled throng on the Embankment. His body fell into the Thames, and The Great Bilbo, who had caught up with him just before, was dragged in with him. Fortunately, The Great Bilbo managed to swim to safety but Bruin was last seen floating towards Kent. Rumour has it that his body was recovered by some fishermen and that he was stuffed for exhibition, but I have, as yet, been unable to verify this.
12 This picture should be entitled ‘Bear With Me’!
1882
14 August
A blazing hot day today with little chance of anyone moving. Hannah and I sat in the coolest part of the scullery and talked of nothing but the ‘Melancholy Event’ in her street. Ann, an old lady who never came out of her house, died on the twelfth of consumption. She had nearly been the wife of Mr Oliver Neid, who we all knew from Tottenham Court Road and was something of a cad. She had also been a former mistress of Hannah’s, when she was a maid, whose service she left owing to a misunderstanding. Ann called her a fool and Hannah made the same answer back. The old woman never forgave her. Hannah was very sad but cheered up when I told her of the story of the two human ears that were mailed in a cardboard box to a woman in Croydon.
17 September
The butcher boy was meant to call last Monday with some offal. What greeted me at the back door was no boy. He was a gentleman, probably in his thirties, and he said I should remember him. I confessed that I didn’t. Then I asked him what he’d done with the butcher boy. He said don’t look at the offal too closely in case you find an apron. What a wicked thing to say, I said. Then he grinned an unmistakable grin and I went quite pale. It’s been over twenty years since we both earned 5s a week shunting glass around that factory in Bow. It was D. L.
The first thing to note was that he seemed rather taken aback by my situation and kept offering to doff his cap to me as ‘Mistress of the House’. How you’d have laughed, Arthur, to see me and D. L. pretending to be Queen and servant.
The years have not been kind to him. I did not want to upset the poor man by prying but it seems that Molly at the factory may have led him a merry dance once upon a time and broken his heart. And all those years near the furnace have left him capable of little but running meat around to the likes of me. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but he assures me that Mr Yarrow is kind to him and he’s just happy to play his part.
He promised to bring me sweetmeats tomorrow. I must confess I blushed and went a bit giddy. I’ve forgotten what they tasted like. Well, I was unsure at first and then I thought, ‘I don’t care what people say’ and then I thought ‘Yes, I do’, and I declined. I feel silly now.
18 September
I was talking to Mrs Turner today and given it was a Monday, thoughts turned to bluing.13 She’s had terrible problems with her maid, Kate, putting too much oxalic in the wash. I don’t want to sound smug, but Martha uses Sawyer’s and we never have that problem. Mrs T. is forever complaining about Sawyer’s Crystal Blue but I’m sure she’ll stop now. In fact Hannah Brayley often says that Mrs T. complains until she is ‘bluine’ the face! Mrs T. thinks Hannah ever so silly. She also mentioned that Mr Yarrow had a new ‘boy’. I pretended not to know. No sweetmeats.
2 November
Inspector Lestrade popped in again today for a cup of tea and a chat. The more I see of him, the more he interests me. He obviously respects Mr Holmes and they’re always having their long chats, but afterwards, ‘old Moaner’ as I call him, seems not very happy. He goes on about Mr Holmes telling him his job and it makes him cross but I know that these chats are important to him. Moaner goes away and remembers something Mr Holmes has said and that gives him the idea of what to do. I’m sure Mr Holmes doesn’t take any credit but he doesn’t need to, does he? But, oh dear, the Inspector does go on as if he’s not getting credit. I said this to him one day and, mercy, that started him off. It reminded me of the boy at my Arthur’s school who was smarter than the others, but all the other boys could do was find fault with him. There was another time when the Inspector came in here full of himself and on top of the world. He’d just solved a case and couldn’t wait to tell me about it. Funny thing is, I remember that case and how Mr Holmes had shouted down the stairs to Moaner, ‘I think you’ll find the answer is in the bank vault!’ So when he comes in here bragging about a case, I now realise it’s usually Mr Holmes who’s put his finger on the solution. I’m beginning to think he might be quite an intriguing tenant.
As the reader will know, Holmes’s image, in the absence of any photographs (which is in itself a mystery) has become iconic: the deerstalker hat and the calabash pipe, depicted by artists in order to attempt to get to the heart of the appearance of the man. If he did indeed sport these immediately recognisable ‘props’, whence came the reason? Something was nagging at my brain – a picture I came across in previous research for a book I was writing on the subject of Russian folk singers in the nineteenth century.14 This particular portrait depicted Yuri Gerschenko (1820–94), a popular balladeer in his day, whose distinctive look riveted me. He wore a hat that can only be described as a deerstalker and cradled a pipe indistinguishable from that apparently owned by Holmes (although I believe the Meerschaum/Calabash community is split over this one). Further research unearthed the fact that he was a policeman, who sang at community gatherings in the evenings. The constant coincidences occurring in my investigative work in the service of this book (compare the assassination of Lord Crumbrooke later) led me to think that there is a positive undercurrent of synchronicity beneath the whole Holmes canon. There had even been an Inspector Holmes in the City of London police force only years before. One can only speculate (along with Hamlet) that there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. I venture to suggest that I could not have put it better myself.
13 ‘Bluing’ is a reference to the practice of creating a colloidal suspension in water in order to promote whiteness in dirty linen. An early example of a ‘blue rinse’, perhaps?
14 Balalaikas and Samovars: Songs from The Steppes (Rushton Press, 1985).
1883
22 March
D. L. again today. I have to say I am getting quite used to his visits. On a few occasions, when Mr H. is upstairs practising his violin, D. L. has been in the kitchen. D. L. likes to pretend that the sound of the violin is a fly buzzing around. He chases it to the back door and ushers it out. D. L. says it works very well with Mendelssohn but less so with Smetana as the fly can be a little sluggish. I cannot tell the difference myself, but I do find it funny.
28 March
I was sitting in Langbourn’s Coffee House on Lombard Street earlier when I overheard two cabbies talking about their wives. Such language. I a
m pleased that I walk everywhere.
7 September
I’m sat here with Mr Disraeli. What a naughty boy. He went missing the other day.
I wasn’t worried at first but then I started asking around and Hannah said she’d seen him in the alley, so, I went and there he was. I called him, but as we all know, you can’t call a cat – they never come. Dogs do but cats seem to have a mind of their own. I called and called but he ran off again. What possessed me, I don’t know, but I happened to mention it to Mr Holmes this morning, whilst he was sitting in his chair, smoking away. By the way, when he’s puffing on his pipe, I feel like I’m walking into a fog but that’s neither here nor there (as the man said when he put his truss on upside-down – lawks! – that must be a rude joke Hannah Brayley told me). Anyway, when I told him, Mr Holmes sprang up straight away and said ‘Mr Disraeli is in Courtney Road, third elm tree along with the withered limb, directly opposite the fire station.’ How on earth did he know that, I thought? Whatever it is he does, he’s obviously very good at it. Sure enough, when Mr Holmes and I went to look, there was Mr Disraeli up that very tree, bold as brass, licking himself. He started mewing (Mr Holmes, not the cat). And that cheeky Mr Disraeli looked and looked, and then jumped into Mr Holmes’s arms. I wanted to clap, so help me. ‘There we are Mrs Hudson!’ said Mr Holmes. ‘The prodigal returns.’ What a day that was! I couldn’t believe it. I’ve a mind to tell Dr Watson about what happened today. He could call it ‘Sherlock Holmes and the case of the cat up a tree’. Anyway, I gave the great man extra biscuits with his claret on the strength of it.
17 September
Just yesterday, I was standing in Baker Street talking to Mrs Turner when I see Mrs Brayley gazing up at the rooftops and pointing. A crowd soon gathered and she continued pointing. After a few moments, she walked away, leaving the crowd baffled. Mrs Turner seemed baffled as well. Hannah does make me laugh.
I find the wallpaper in this picture very interesting. After some research, I learned that the wallpaper is not typical of its time, in terms of thickness and general layout. Why would this be? My only theory is that it may be the work of foreign decorators (who worked in a different pattern) but whence came the columns? I will obviously endeavour to pursue this line of enquiry, but not, alas, in time for the publication of this book. As regards the couple in front of the wall, they may be family, neighbours or not connected in any way to Mrs Hudson. The man’s collar is interesting, insofar as the ‘wing’ was rarely worn with a single-breasted jacket (depicted). I glean this fascinating sliver of information in Garth Winslow’s Neck & Neck: The History of the Collar 1642–1945.15
15 Gerund Press, 1992. I’ve noticed one or two errors in this book, but space does not permit expanding on them here.
1884
4 March
Inspector Lestrade popped into the kitchen for a cup of tea again after he’d seen Mr H.
I like him, but he still spends too much of his time here complaining about people claiming credit for something he’s done. I think that’s a bit rich when I know for a fact Mr H. has often let him take the credit for things that Mr H. has done. Still, never mind, it all comes out in the wash as my mother used to say.
The other day, Inspector Gregson, who Mr Lestrade thinks is a bit of a dandy, stopped by and was talking about a case they were working on. He’s as bad as Moaner – talk about little boys fighting under a blanket, I had to calm him down. If these men continue to behave as if they’re in their club, then I will have to start charging for their tea.
5 April
I’m sitting here chuckling whilst I should be polishing my brass salvers. I don’t mind telling you that he’s done it again.
Yesterday, I was having two stair rods replaced (for the third time this year). They had been broken by Mr H.’s heels of course, who goes up and down those stairs several times a day. I am always complaining about it to him but when I mentioned it this time one of the workmen piped up in his defence. How he knew so much about Mr H. was beyond me, but there he was, bold as brass, telling me that Mr Holmes was obviously an exceptional case. Well, I had no idea what he was on about, so I asked the gentleman to explain himself. Without a pause, he points at his heels and says ‘Behold! The curse!’ Well, I didn’t understand what that meant and I was ready to dismiss him, when he winks at me and rips his moustache off. I nearly fainted on the spot. It was Mr Holmes himself. I’ve never had a tenant like him.
31 September
Today, I saw a crowd around Hannah Brayley, who was talking into the slot of a pillar box. She said ‘How long have you been in there?’ and do you know what, I think they all thought there really was someone in there. She carried on asking questions and then walked away, leaving some of the crowd talking to the box. She should go on the stage, that one. I’d pay to see her.
1 November
The rain fell all day and Martha has a leak in her room. Poor thing spent last night with her umbrella up. I must have the tiles looked at this week.
Another enigma! I could ascertain no direct connection with Mrs Hudson in this picture, but the woman’s collar, complete with medallion, set me on the chase. Close examination with my trusty magnifying glass16 revealed a small trowel thereon. Trowel/bricklayer/mason, perhaps? Come with me now as we travel down a Masonic road. Women were not members of the order, so why was a woman wearing it? The picture does not reveal a wedding ring or an absence thereof, so I cannot conjecture as to whether she was wearing it as an unspoken tribute to her husband. I can only assume she did not recognise the significance of the trowel and wore it unwittingly. The Freemasons operated then (as now, apparently) under a veil of secrecy and this picture unequivocally perpetuates that! A thought occurs. Is this perhaps a Mason in female attire? The plot thickens!17
16 Move over Mr Holmes!
17 I venture Holmes himself would relish this conundrum. ‘The Strange Affair of the Trowel Medallion’ certainly has a ring to it. A three-pipe problem indeed.
1885
3 April
D. L. delivered the bacon and I was a little shocked by the price. So much so, I think I was a little short with him. Mr Yarrow likes to add a penny every spring it seems but tuppence18 this year was uncalled for. D. L. asked me if I would like to go with him to Hyde Park on May Day to see the Chimney Sweep parade19 on account of his cousin being in the party, but I quickly declined. What if there is a fire? I cannot leave the house if all the chimney sweeps in London are in Hyde Park. The May Day parade is all a little too chaotic for my liking. I think I will save that jaunt for another year. Besides, there’s Mr H.’s supper to cook. As Arthur used to say, ‘You can’t catch all the trains.’
PIG’S LIVER
Cut the liver in half, as a butterfly, taking care to keep it intact. Put in a tin with seasoning of salt and pepper and cover with butter. Leave aside for twenty minutes. Take some chopped bacon, onion and parsley and push inside the liver before tying up with string. Put in a bigger dish with a big piece of bacon wrapped around it, cover it and set in medium oven. Serve it in its own juice with either mustard or some vinegar.
Letter from the Prince of Wales.
London, 11 July 1885
His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales wishes me to inform you, Mr Holmes, that he will be at the villa on the 23rd.20
Yours sincerely,
Captain H. Stephenson, R.N., C.B. (Extra Equerry to the Prince of Wales)
18 Tuppence is worth 50p in today’s money.
19 In 1893, this parade’s monopoly on Hyde Park was challenged by the inaugural ‘Muffin Seller’s March’. A skirmish ensued by The Serpentine and the police were called. Thirty-eight sweeps and twenty-two muffin sellers were detained. There were no fatalities.
20 This is obviously a reference to a notorious scandal of the time, over which we will draw a veil.*
*What am I paying you for? – Publisher
1886
27 January
Chestnut Charlie has gone. Wiggins told me that he
’s found a new life helping out in a Chinese mission house. You never know with some people. Where will our chestnuts come from now?
17 June
Today, Hannah told me Mme Charpentier has these ‘spiritual evenings’. She claims to put people in touch with the dead and often speaks with their voice. Well, I told Hannah that I’ve often wondered what Arthur is up to these days. ‘Now’s your chance to find out,’ she said. I wonder if there is anything in these ‘séances’. I’ll soon find out as Hannah has already made an appointment.
19 June
Bought a new hat today. Peterson’s recommended an ivory spring but I decided to purchase a French bonnet instead. I like the tall crown and the wide brim but Hannah says that I look like a bookie.
21 June
To Camberwell and Mme Charpentier’s spiritual evening with Mrs Brayley. On the way there, when I told Hannah to behave herself she just winked at me.
I have to say Mme Charpentier has done rather well for herself. She now lives in the big house at the end of the road – the one she’d always had her eye on. After everything that happened to that poor woman I can’t deny that she perhaps deserves a little good fortune. Indeed it was nice to see Alice serving the drinks. Madame is indeed looking older, as you would expect, but there is something of the made-up doyenne about her which is not entirely out of character. When the séance began, we were five in number, including a Mr and Mrs Glossop, who were there to find out the whereabouts of some silver, and another gentleman. Madame began by suddenly addressing the man in a deep baritone voice, which made him cry for some reason and leave the room. We never did catch his name.
