Thomas: What shall we give for it?
Tempter: Pretence of priestly power.
Thomas: Why should we give it?
Tempter: For the power and the glory.
After a great deal of literary controversy, Eliot declares in a letter to Nathan L. Bengis: “My use of the Musgrave Ritual was deliberate and wholly conscious.”
32Unclear from the instructions is the matter of where the observer was supposed to stand, ponders Jay Finley Christ in “Musgrave Mathematics.” While Holmes chose to do so on the former location of the elm, the compiler of the Ritual could not have stood there while the elm lived. Furthermore, why does Holmes refer to the shadow of the elm, when the Ritual refers to the shadow under the elm? “How did Holmes, or the butler who preceded him,” puzzles Christ, “know what shadow it was?”
33Musgrave earlier stated that the house had been thoroughly searched from cellar to garret, and he clearly knew of this place. Why was it not searched?
34Charles I (1600–1649), was king of England, Scotland, and Ireland (1625–1649); his authoritarian rule and quarrels with Parliament provoked a civil war that led to his beheading. Many of the Latin inscriptions on coins issued during Charles’s reign reflect his troubled relations with his subjects and his belief in the divine right of the monarchy: NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT (No one provokes me with impunity); CHRISTO AUSPICE REGNO (I reign under the auspices of Christ); MOR POPULI PRAESIDIUM REGIS (The love of the people is the King’s protection). One inscription that appears in various forms on many Charles I coins, RELIG PRO LEG ANG LIBER PAR, is a kind of Latin shorthand for “the religion of the Protestants, the laws of England and the liberty of Parliament,” or a summation of the “Declaration” that Parliament forced Charles to sign.
35To resist successfully, or to advance in spite of.
36In the English Civil Wars (1642–1651), the name was adopted by Charles I’s supporters, who contemptuously called Oliver Cromwell’s Puritans “Roundheads” after their short haircuts. (Cavaliers wore long, fashionable wigs.) At the Restoration of Charles II in 1660, the court party preserved the name “Cavalier”; the designation survived until the term “Tory” came to signify support for the royalist cause.
David L. Hammer identifies Sir Ralph Musgrave as General George Goring (1608–1657), an intriguing figure who plotted against Parliament on Charles I’s behalf, betrayed the conspirators by revealing their plans to Parliament, and then reversed himself yet again to declare his support for the king once and for all. Goring’s family remained substantial landholders in West Sussex. See note 18, above.
37The identification of the artifact rescued by Holmes is the subject of some controversy. The most widely accepted view is that of Nathan Bengis, expressed in “Whose Was It?,” who claims it was the Crown of St. Edward. Thought destroyed by the order of Parliament in 1649, a new “Crown of St. Edward” was made for Charles II’s coronation in 1661, and all of the kings and queens regnant since 1661 (except Queen Victoria) have been crowned with it. The crown discovered at Hurlstone, Bengis alleges, was the original crown, which had been saved from destruction by Musgrave’s ancestor. This view is echoed by no less an authority than Maj. Gen. H. D. W. Sitwell, C.B., M.C., Keeper of H. M. Jewel House, Tower of London.
38Charles II (1630–1685), son of Charles I, held the throne briefly after the execution of his father, but was forced to flee England in 1651 after being defeated at Worcester by Oliver Cromwell’s parliamentary forces. He was forced to live in poverty-stricken exile for several years in France, Germany, and the Spanish Netherlands, and it is during this period that we may assume the Musgrave Ritual was written. In 1660 Charles was restored to the throne following the brief, unsuccessful rule of Cromwell’s son, Richard.
39Given the not-so-secret hiding place of the crown—a cellar that was still being used to store wood—it seems curious that the crown was not discovered long before Brunton (and Holmes) came along to decipher the map. As D. Martin Dakin observes, surely someone over the course of two centuries would have noticed the cellar’s unusual ornamentation: “there in the middle of the floor was a flagstone with a ring in it, just shouting out to be lifted up.”
40“The most amazing feature of the whole story,” Nathan Bengis writes, “is not that this relic survived, but that Reginald Musgrave was allowed by the British Government to retain it.” As a public possession and unique historical relic, one would expect that the crown would have been quickly added to the nation’s treasures in the Tower.
41Perhaps not surprisingly, many concur with Watson’s initial assessment of “The Musgrave Ritual” as a case in which Holmes erred (see “The Yellow Face”). Although at least one revisionist kindly theorises that Holmes simply made up the entire story, some critics believe that Reginald Musgrave himself murdered Brunton, either to stop Brunton’s blackmail or out of jealousy and greed. Another suggests that Rachel Howells killed Brunton with laudanum (in his bedroom) and that Musgrave helped to move the body.
THE REIGATE SQUIRES1
Holmes is suffering the effects of overwork, having brought to a successful conclusion the “Netherlands-Sumatra Company” case, about which we know virtually nothing. Watson coerces him to vacation in Surrey, at the home of a military companion of Watson (Colonel Hayter, perhaps the only reputable colonel in the entire Canon). Suddenly, his rest ends, as he is thrust into “The Reigate Squires,” an investigation of a robbery-murder. His father-and-son “clients” are strangely reluctant to have Holmes involved, and Holmes appears to be functioning at less than full capacity. Although Holmes’s claim of twenty-three deductions from the handwritten note central to the case sounds preposterous, handwriting analysis was highly regarded in Victorian times, and there is much sound information which can be drawn from the note, even without Holmes’s help. However, no scholar has solved the mystery of the identity of Annie Morrison.
IT WAS SOME time before the health of my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, recovered from the strain caused by his immense exertions in the spring of ’87. The whole question of the Netherland-Sumatra Company and of the colossal schemes of Baron Maupertuis is too recent in the minds of the public, and too intimately concerned with politics and finance, to be fitting subjects for this series of sketches. It led, however, in an indirect fashion to a singular and complex problem, which gave my friend an opportunity of demonstrating the value of a fresh weapon among the many with which he waged his life-long battle against crime.
On referring to my notes, I see that it was upon the fourteenth of April that I received a telegram from Lyons which informed me that Holmes was lying ill in the Hotel Dulong.2 Within twenty-four hours I was in his sickroom and was relieved to find that there was nothing formidable in his symptoms. Even his iron constitution, however, had broken down under the strain of an investigation which had extended over two months, during which period he had never worked less than fifteen hours a day and had more than once, as he assured me, kept to his task for five days at a stretch. The triumphant issue of his labours could not save him from reaction after so terrible an exertion, and at a time when Europe was ringing with his name, and when his room was literally ankle-deep with congratulatory telegrams,3 I found him a prey to the blackest depression. Even the knowledge that he had succeeded where the police of three countries had failed, and that he had out-manoeuvred at every point the most accomplished swindler in Europe, was insufficient to rouse him from his nervous prostration.
Title.
E. S. Morris, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, February 4, 1912
Three days later we were back in Baker Street together, but it was evident that my friend would be much the better for a change, and the thought of a week of spring-time in the country was full of attractions to me also. My old friend Colonel Hayter, who had come under my professional care in Afghanistan, had now taken a house near Reigate, in Surrey, and had frequently asked me to come down to him upon a visit. On the last occasion he had remarked that if my friend would only come with
me, he would be glad to extend his hospitality to him also. A little diplomacy was needed, but when Holmes understood that the establishment was a bachelor one, and that he would be allowed the fullest freedom, he fell in with my plans, and a week after our return from Lyons we were under the Colonel’s roof. Hayter was a fine old soldier, who had seen much of the world, and he soon found, as I had expected, that Holmes and he had plenty in common.
On the evening of our arrival we were sitting in the Colonel’s gun-room after dinner, Holmes stretched upon the sofa, while Hayter and I looked over his little armory of fire-arms.4
“By the way,” said he suddenly, “I’ll take one of these pistols upstairs with me in case we have an alarm.”
“An alarm!” said I.
“Yes, we’ve had a scare in this part lately. Old Acton, who is one of our county magnates, had his house broken into last Monday. No great damage done, but the fellows are still at large.”
“No clue?” asked Holmes, cocking his eye at the Colonel.
“None as yet. But the affair is a petty one, one of our little country crimes, which must seem too small for your attention, Mr. Holmes, after this great international affair.”
Holmes waved away the compliment, though his smile showed that it had pleased him.
“Was there any feature of interest?”
“I fancy not. The thieves ransacked the library and got very little for their pains.
“The whole place was turned upside down, drawers burst open and presses5 ransacked, with the result that an odd volume of Pope’s Homer,6 two plated candlesticks, an ivory letter-weight, a small oak barometer, and a ball of twine are all that have vanished.”
“What an extraordinary assortment!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, the fellows evidently grabbed hold of anything they could get.”
Holmes grunted from the sofa.
“The county police ought to make something of that,” said he. “Why, it is surely obvious that—”
But I held up a warning finger.
“I held up a warning finger.”
Sidney Paget, Strand Magazine, 1893
“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.”
Holmes shrugged his shoulders with a glance of comic resignation towards the Colonel, and the talk drifted away into less dangerous channels.
It was destined, however, that all my professional caution should be wasted, for next morning the problem obtruded itself upon us in such a way that it was impossible to ignore it, and our country visit took a turn which neither of us could have anticipated. We were at breakfast when the Colonel’s butler rushed in with all his propriety shaken out of him.
“Have you heard the news, sir?” he gasped. “At the Cunninghams’, sir!”
“Burglary?” cried the Colonel, with his coffee cup in mid air.
“Murder!”
The Colonel whistled. “By Jove!” said he. “Who’s killed, then? The J. P. or his son?”
“Neither, sir. It was William, the coachman. Shot through the heart, sir, and never spoke again.”
“Who shot him, then?”
“The burglar, sir. He was off like a shot and got clean away. He’d just broke in at the pantry window when William came on him and met his end in saving his master’s property.”
“What time?”
“It was last night, sir, somewhere about twelve.”
“Ah, then, we’ll step over presently,” said the Colonel, coolly settling down to his breakfast again. “It’s a baddish business,” he added, when the butler had gone; “he’s our leading squire7 about here, is old Cunningham, and a very decent fellow too. He’ll be cut up over this, for the man has been in his service for years, and was a good servant. It’s evidently the same villains who broke into Acton’s.”
“And stole that very singular collection,” said Holmes thoughtfully.
“Precisely.”
“Hum! It may prove the simplest matter in the world; but all the same, at first glance this is just a little curious, is it not? A gang of burglars acting in the country might be expected to vary the scene of their operations, and not to crack two cribs in the same district within a few days. When you spoke last night of taking precautions, I remember that it passed through my mind that this was probably the last parish in England to which the thief or thieves would be likely to turn their attention; which shows that I have still much to learn.”
“I fancy it’s some local practitioner,” said the Colonel. “In that case, of course, Acton’s and Cunningham’s are just the places he would go for, since they are far the largest about here.”
“And richest?”
“Well, they ought to be; but they’ve had a lawsuit for some years which has sucked the blood out of both of them, I fancy. Old Acton has some claim on half Cunningham’s estate, and the lawyers have been at it with both hands.”
“If it’s a local villain, there should not be much difficulty in running him down,” said Holmes with a yawn. “All right, Watson, I don’t intend to meddle.”
“Inspector Forrester, sir,” said the butler, throwing open the door.
The official, a smart, keen-faced young fellow, stepped into the room. “Good morning, Colonel,” said he. “I hope I don’t intrude, but we hear that Mr. Holmes, of Baker Street, is here.”
The Colonel waved his band towards my friend, and the Inspector bowed.
“We thought that perhaps you would care to step across, Mr. Holmes.”
“Inspector Forrester.”
Sidney Paget, Strand Magazine, 1893
“The Fates are against you, Watson,” said he, laughing. “We were chatting about the matter when you came in, Inspector. Perhaps you can let us have a few details.” As he leaned back in his chair in the familiar attitude I knew that the case was hopeless.
“We had no clue in the Acton affair. But here we have plenty to go on, and there’s no doubt it is the same party in each case. The man was seen.”
“Ah!”
“Yes, sir. But he was off like a deer after the shot that killed poor William Kirwan was fired. Mr. Cunningham saw him from the bedroom window, and Mr. Alec Cunningham saw him from the back passage. It was a quarter to twelve when the alarm broke out. Mr. Cunningham had just got into bed, and Mister Alec was smoking a pipe in his dressing-gown. They both heard William, the coachman, calling for help, and Mister Alec he ran down to see what was the matter. The back door was open, and as he came to the foot of the stairs he saw two men wrestling together outside. One of them fired a shot, the other dropped, and the murderer rushed across the garden and over the hedge. Mr. Cunningham, looking out of his bedroom window, saw the fellow as he gained the road, but lost sight of him at once. Mister Alec stopped to see if he could help the dying man, and so the villain got clean away. Beyond the fact that he was a middle-sized man, and dressed in some dark stuff, we have no personal clue, but we are making energetic inquiries, and if he is a stranger we shall soon find him out.”
“What was this William doing there? Did he say anything before he died?”
“Not a word. He lives at the lodge with his mother, and as he was a very faithful fellow, we imagine that he walked up to the house with the intention of seeing that all was right there. Of course, this Acton business has put everyone on their guard. The robber must have just burst open the door—the lock has been forced—when William came upon him.”
“Did William say anything to his mother before going out?”
“She is very old and deaf, and we can get no information from her. The shock has made her half-witted, but I understand that she was never very bright. There is one very important circumstance, however. Look at this!”
He took a small piece of torn paper from a note-book and spread it out upon his knee.
“This was found between the finger and thumb of the dead man. It appears to be a fragment torn from a larger sheet. You will observe that the hour
mentioned upon it is the very time at which the poor fellow met his fate. You see that his murderer might have torn the rest of the sheet from him or he might have taken this fragment from the murderer. It reads almost as though it were an appointment.”
Holmes took up the scrap of paper, a facsimile of which is here reproduced.
“Presuming that it is an appointment,” continued the Inspector, “it is, of course, a conceivable theory that this William Kirwan, though he had the reputation of being an honest man, may have been in league with the thief. He may have met him there, may even have helped him to break in the door, and then they may have fallen out between themselves.”
“This writing is of extraordinary interest,” said Holmes, who had been examining it with intense concentration. “These are much deeper waters than I had thought.” He sank his head upon his hands, while the Inspector smiled at the effect which his case had had upon the famous London specialist.
“Your last remark,” said Holmes presently, “as to the possibility of there being an understanding between the burglar and the servant, and this being a note of appointment from one to the other, is an ingenious and not entirely impossible supposition. But this writing opens up—” He sank his head into his hands again and remained for some minutes in the deepest thought. When he raised his face again I was surprised to see that his cheek was tinged with colour, and his eyes as bright as before his illness. He sprang to his feet with all his old energy.
“I’ll tell you what!” said he, “I should like to have a quiet little glance into the details of this case. There is something in it which fascinates me extremely. If you will permit me, Colonel, I will leave my friend Watson and you, and I will step round with the Inspector to test the truth of one or two little fancies of mine. I will be with you again in half an hour.”
An hour and a half had elapsed before the Inspector returned alone.
“Mr. Holmes is walking up and down in the field outside,” said he. “He wants us all four to go up to the house together.”
The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Short Stories: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (Non-slipcased edition) (Vol. 1) (The Annotated Books) Page 75
