Sherlock Holmes' Fair Ladies: An Analysis of "The Adventures of Charles Augustus Milverton"

At first glance, Arthur Conan Doyle’s “The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton” presents a moral dilemma: is breaking the law acceptable if done for good reasons? Holmes and Watson break into Milverton’s house in order to retrieve sensitive documents being used for blackmail, and one of Milverton’s female victims gets her revenge - and prevents other women from suffering her same fate in the future - by shooting him. Because the “bad guy” gets it in the end, the felonious acts committed by Holmes, Watson and the unnamed murderess are easy to justify. However, the form of this particular piece takes a noticeable deviation from the dozens of other Holmes stories which generally follow the same pattern: crime, detection, justice. Rather than being presented with a crime and then discovering clues which allow the crime to be solved in a logical manner, in “Charles Augustus Milverton” there is no unsolved crime. Milverton commits the crime of blackmail, which we are told from the beginning. Milverton’s home is broken into, but we are aware, of course, that the trespassers are Holmes and Watson. And lastly, Milverton is murdered - right in front of our detectives and us, the reader. Unlike the rest of the Holmes collection, Holmes does not solve anything. In fact, the conclusion would have happened the same way had Holmes not even been involved - the murderess’ actions were not dependent on Holmes whatsoever, nor did she even know he was there. He is, essentially, an extra in this particular story - participating only on the fringes, while the story unfolds around him.

Interestingly, Catherine Belsey describes the Holmes stories as follows: “The stories begin in enigma, mystery, the impossible, and conclude with an explanation which makes it clear that logical deduction and scientific method render all mysteries accountable to reason” (Belsey 102). In this regard, “Charles Augustus Milverton” follows an inverse of the pattern put forth by the rest of the canon. Rather than beginning in enigma, it begins with everything being known to us - the criminal, the crime, everything. Instead of ending with clarity, it ends with an unknown murderess whose identity is never revealed.

In the absence of a crime to solve, and with Holmes playing a less significant role, this particular narrative is an anomaly in the Holmes collection and, invoking literary critic John Hodgson, breaks the rules of detective fiction. The question arises, then - why might this particular Holmes story differ so substantially from the others? As Hodgson answered a similar question regarding another Holmes story, “The Adventure of the Speckled Band,” “the very question, of course, is itself an invitation to detection” (Hodgson 337). In the case of “Charles Augustus Milverton,” it is the unusual form of the story that begs for further analysis.

In his examination of “The Adventure of the Speckled Band,” Hodgson explores that story’s incongruence within the canon - its defiance of the laws of formal realism, and thus of the detective fiction genre. Hodgson’s belief regarding that story, which coincides with my own interpretation of “Charles Augustus Milverton,” is that such a staunch deviation, when there is such a precedence of a method within the canon, must be significant. Hodgson quotes Holmes himself, in another of the tales: “Singularity is almost invariably a clue” (Hodgson 337). The single exception of “Charles Augustus Milverton,” wherein Holmes does not solve a crime or even participate meaningfully in the story, warrants the consideration that its significance may lie outside the detective fiction realm. Of course, in the absence of a consultation with Doyle himself, authorial intent cannot possibly be established. However, he has advised us, through Holmes, to take particular interest in singularities such as this one, and it is my interpretation that this particular narrative presents a criticism of gender ideology at the time. Where Hodgson continues his analysis into “The Speckled Band” in the realm of form, in “Charles Augustus Milverton,” formal analysis paves the way for idealogical examination.

The plot of “Charles Augustus Milverton” revolves around a collection of letters in Milverton’s possession. The letters, written by women of nobility, are all adulterous in nature - but the exact degree of impropriety is never revealed. They are apparently “imprudent, Watson nothing worse” (Doyle 2). As Catherine Belsey argues, we cannot know the true contents of the letters, because any more specifics “would be to risk losing the sympathy of the reader for either the woman or her husband” (Belsey 102). The ambiguity of the letters is necessary to convince us the women are still deserving of our pity. However, we do know that these letters, upon their being made public to the spouse or fiance, would bring ruin upon the women. It is necessary, in order to maintain sympathy for the victimized women, for the reader to believe that the letters in question are virtually harmless. And yet, as Belsey continues, we must also believe that the content of the letters is enough to break off engagements and destroy marriages. The men being so intolerant of such necessarily small iniquities paints a rather stiff, unfeeling picture of them. We must believe the indiscretions of these women to be minor, and we must also believe them to be to intolerable to their husbands and fiancees. The women must, therefore, maintain the appearance of snow-white innocence in order to be acceptable as wives.

Similarly, Holmes’ explanation of Milverton’s evil presents a double standard regarding the reputations of men and women. “Heaven help the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and reputation come into the power of Milverton!” (Homes 1). Translation: a scandal involving a woman is a bigger deal than a scandal involving a man. The double standard could be interpreted in two ways. The first possibility is that women are more forgiving of men, in regards to adultery - women are more determined to preserve the marriage than men, because it is in the woman’s best interest, more-so than for the man, to avoid a divorce or a broken engagement. The other possibility is that, were the scandal scandal to result in a ruined marriage or a broken engagement, the repercussions would be much more damaging to the woman. That is - a man has the ability to bounce back after such a scandal, and the woman does not. Either scenario suggests that women are much more dependent upon men than men are upon women.

The apparent helplessness and dependence of these women is exemplified in the manner with which Holmes and Watson speak of them. The narrative incorporates chivalric language into the story in order to give the appearance that the women need to be rescued, and are relying upon men to do so. Holmes justifies the crime he is to commit by arguing that it is “morally justifiable... when a lady is in most desperate need” (Holmes 6). Holmes believes that saving a woman from disgrace is a worthy excuse for breaking the law, which shows how necessary he believes it is for men to protect women. The safe Holmes breaks open is described as a “green and gold monster, the dragon which held in its maw the reputations of many fair ladies” (Holmes 9). The narrative stops just short of actually calling these women “damsels in distress.” The dragon and “fair ladies” imagery brings to the reader’s mind images of castles being stormed and maidens being rescued. Our knights in shining armor, then, are Holmes and Watson, breaking into Milverton’s house in order to rescue the helpless women.

It therefore seems strange that, while Holmes has dedicated himself to preserving the honor of Lady Eva, he would betroth himself to a women he has seemingly no intention of marrying. When Watson, shocked by the news of his partner’s engagement, asks Holmes about his future with the girl, Holmes only “shrugged his shoulders” (Doyle 5). However, this particular girl is necessary to the continuation of the story. As Milverton’s maid, her purpose here is to serve as a plausible device through which Holmes learns the ins and outs of Milverton’s house. And since the story can’t continue effectively with the reader upset with Holmes - the supposed hero - acting in an unsavory and even hypocritical fashion, the narrative attempts to make amends. “I have a hated rival,” says Holmes, “who will certainly cut me out the instant that my back is turned” (Doyle 6). Holmes is arguably let off the hook here, because this means the maid has another suitor who will supposedly prevent her any grief at the hands of Holmes. The maid’s fate still continues the appearance of helplessness on the part of the women, though - Holmes has decided that his fiance will be just fine, because some other guy will marry her. The woman’s own wishes are not known, and don’t seem to matter. The narrative, then, gets two uses out of this girl - she is a catalyst to further the plot, and also keeps up the image he has created of the helpless woman.

“Charles Augustus Milverton,” up until the murder scene, presents a congruent picture of women’s place in society. They are shown to be very much dependent upon men, and almost childlike in their intellect and abilities. However, this view is contradicted when Milverton is shot dead by one of the women he preyed on. By creating an intelligent, cafefully-executed plan - pretending to be a maid and meeting Milverton to sell indecent letters written by her mistress - and then shooting him, this woman shows herself to be anything but helpless. And by committing this crime, she certainly can’t be considered “innocent.” By choosing a female heroine, the narrative has given power and ability to women that they lack in the public sphere.

The take-away from this narrative according to my interpretation, then, is not the common-sense moral mentioned in my introduction - that breaking the law might be excusable under certain circumstances. Instead, the granting of power and intellect to this murderess - and giving her a position in the plot usually awarded to a man, specifically Holmes - seems to be a plug for female equality. As previously mentioned, Holmes’ intentions with this story cannot be determined without him present. However, whether intentionally or not, the unusual form of “Charles Augustus Milverton” provides the perfect vehicle for further exploration into its purpose, and what I’ve found is that it takes the early-1900s female ideology and shoots it down. “Charles Augustus Milverton” is, therefore, a feminist text disguised as just another piece of detective fiction.

Works Cited
"The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton." University of Virginia Library. Web. 13 Feb. 2011. .
Belsey, Catherine. Critical Practice. London: Routledge, 2002. Print.
Hodgson, John A. "Sign In Page." Poetics Today. Web. 13 Feb. 2011. .

I am a Park Bench

Sometimes I think all I want out of life is a job where my Friday is actually a Friday. I would maybe spend my days filing things in peace. I would be commended on my words per minute. I would feel like part of the educated, adult world rather than scenery. A grocery store cashier is scenery. Like a park bench. I am a park bench.

I don’t think many people pay attention to their behavior when they go grocery shopping. However, as a park bench, I notice the people who sit on me. Or rather, as a cashier, I’ve become acutely aware of certain customer habits. Yes, grocery store customer, I’m talking to you.

Really, it’s not that you don’t try. Some of you do. A few of you may have even been in my shoes - my clumsy, aesthetically-offensive slip-resistant shoes - and know what it’s like, and your empathy and kindness are appreciated. However, you are rare. To the rest of you, I implore you to take a look at the following common check-out irritants and to compare them to your own behavior. And I invite you to change. It’s never too late to change.

It usually starts with your emphatic “can you believe it’s finally Friday?” I’m happy for you and your approaching days off, I truly am, but the world does not stop on weekends. People still eat on weekends. There are birthday parties that need cake, football games that need tortilla chips and school lunch staples that need replenished. And I will be here, selling those things. To you. Your Friday is my Tuesday, and Tuesday is not a joyful occasion.

After the uncomfortable greeting in which you unintentionally emphasize my place in society, I begin ringing up your things. You seem like a budget-conscious shopper, and as such have probably purchased some items from the bulk aisle. After all, items from the bulk department usually cost less per pound than their packaged counterparts. You’ve bought rice or couscous or some other really tiny thing, and you’ve taken your twist tie, and you’ve delicately placed it around the bag opening. Or you’ve written the item code on the tie, which is half the battle, but you’ve left the bag completely open and have set the twist tie on the conveyor belt near the item. Really, you’ve done all kinds of bizarre things with the twist tie. But what you haven’t done with it, what you never manage to do with it, is actually twist-tie the bag closed. So then here comes this bag of quinoa - it’s usually quinoa, actually, since quinoa has recently attained trend status and the people of Bellevue are very trend-conscious, even with their grains - and it’s gaping open and you act like it never occurred to you that the twist tie is a device intended to close the bag with.

It’s a complicated piece of equipment, the twist tie.

Next comes your meat. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that your meat, at least at my store, has already been wrapped twice - once in plastic, then in paper. Yet you want a plastic bag around each meat item. Then you want all of your meat items in a small paper bag together. And then you want that small paper bag placed in a large bag with handles. You apparently want five degrees of separation between your meat and your other items. Really, people, just what do you think is going to happen? The line between caution and insanity, in the instance of meat purchases, is really very wide. Yet you've managed to cross it still.

Now here comes your produce, and you feel it’s necessary to demand that I be careful with your pears and your bananas. Because if you didn’t give me these instructions, it’s inevitable that your pears and bananas will end up at the bottom of the bag. Under the pineapple and the potatoes and the bricks and the other pear-and-banana-crushing items you’ve purchased. But you’ve corrected this course of action before it happened. Whew! Crisis averted! Bravo, you produce-savvy shopper you.

So here we are. We’ve swept up and replaced the spilled quinoa. We’ve wrapped and separated the meat products until they can’t be wrapped or separated any more. And we’ve placed your bananas and your pears, individually, in tiny suits of armor. It’s time for the payment. And this, dear customer, is when you cross the final line. Because what happens, what both of us know is going to happen right from the beginning, is that you’re going to insist on paying with exact change. Now don’t get me wrong. I have no problem with exact change. But it’s how you do it.

I’ll tell you that your total is $36.72. You’ll hand me forty dollars. I’ll say “Out of $40?” You’ll say yes. So I’ll type that amount of money into my register, I’ll push enter, the drawer will pop open and the screen will tell me that your change is $3.28. And then you’ll say “Oh, I have the 72 cents!” And I want to say ‘Oh, well that’s a God damned relief! I was really wondering how I was going to execute this transaction. This has all made it so much easier!”

I don't, of course.

Now - you might be wondering what the big deal is. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a breach of etiquette. I’ve given you your opportunity to announce that you have the 72 cents. And congratulations, by the way, on having it. But no. You missed your opportunity. You agreed to the previous payment amount. And yet you still want to give me the 72 cents. Because it’s that big of a deal to you. Because you do not want that 28 cents. Because that, plus the 72 cents you already have, would be such a burden for you to carry around.

I think you’re probably with me on this. I get the feeling you’re right here with me. I really do. I think you’re following me.

So then - explain to me please, dear shopper, your next action. In your search for the 72 cents, you pull out quarter after quarter, examine each one, and place them back into your coin purse, exclaiming that you can’t possibly part with the new quarters! No, you stow these new quarters away like they’re worth more. Like there’s been another couple cents thrown into them somewhere.

I'd like to say the exact change situation is the last item on our agenda here, our final area of improvement, but it isn't. What really caps off the entire experience is when I hand you the receipt before handing you your change - dollar change, mind you, because you painstakingly averted receiving any coins - you recoil your hand from the receipt like I'm trying to hand you the spawn of Satan. If you don't want your receipt, please just ask me to get rid of it for you. But you don't do that. No, instead you run as fast and as far from that receipt as you possibly can.

That just about wraps this up, I think. I mean sure, there's always more. There's the fact that we both know you'll grab a family reunion-sized handful of forks and napkins for your single-serving salad. Or that you'll leave your shopping cart in the bushes on your way out. But I'm not looking for perfection here. I'm just looking for a bit of an effort.