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Right. So. This is middling-to-majorly nerdy of me, but howandever. It's been bugging me slightly since discussing the various Holmes adaptations with people, in particular the BBC Sherlock version and the Downey film version. Just a small exploration of the original, Arthur Conan Doyle Holmes, mostly concerned with his views on crime/morality/law. Only my interpretation, but one I'm ... ah, rather vehemently attached to. *smiles sheepishly*
[I've scrounged up links to online version of most of the stories I'm using in the discussion, they're down at the end. All of them are hosted either on Gutenberg or Wikisource. SPOILERS for all stories involved, obviously.]
[I've scrounged up links to online version of most of the stories I'm using in the discussion, they're down at the end. All of them are hosted either on Gutenberg or Wikisource. SPOILERS for all stories involved, obviously.]
ACD Holmes on Crime and Morality:
There are ... a great many of the stories that impact on this, and the novels too. I'm going to focus on three of the short stories in particular, with reference to a few others (I'm not using the novels, they're far too big, and not really necessary just to get a quick impression). The three stories I'm focusing on, which I think show most of Holmes' views on the matter, are The Adventure of the Abbey Grange, The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton (also known as The Master Blackmailer), and The Final Problem. There are another two stories that are quite illustrative: The Five Orange Pips and The Man with the Twisted Lip, the latter mostly for the language with which he describes criminal activities in the area he was investigating. The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans is also good for Holmes' approach to legalities and vigilantism.
Okay. First, the thing I keep hearing, particularly while discussing BBC Sherlock, and sometimes with the Downey versions, though not so much, is that Holmes was always in his business because of the thrill of the chase and the fascination of the intellectual exercise, and that he had no moral interest in the cases at all. I've seen comments that Holmes does not have a strong enough moral compass, in the absence of Watson, to keep on the straight and narrow, or choose morality over personal needs.
Which is ... Alright. The first part is true enough, in some ways. Holmes admits readily enough that his interest in criminal matters started out mostly as a hobby (The Adventure of the 'Gloria Scott') which he was then convinced to turn to a career. There is no doubt whatsoever that the hunger and action of the chase, the hunt, is what he lives for, and Watson draws attention repeatedly to the fact that it's the only thing that can rouse Holmes from his black moods, and that failing a case, Holmes turns to drugs instead (cocaine, mostly, which was a strong bone of contention between them). Holmes really does live for the excitement and accomplishment of what he does. In many ways, it saves his life as much as it endangers it.
And his pride is very much involved, yes. In Five Orange Pips, when a mistake of his gets his client outright killed, Holmes first reaction, after shock, is to declare it an affront to his pride. Of course he then, in a fit of mixed affront and remorse, goes out and breaks the people responsible within a day ("I have my hand upon him"). It's not wise to make things personal to that extent with Holmes. But, yes, his pride was the motive in some ways.
However, it is not true that Holmes has no moral interest in what he does. If you look over the course of the stories, it's not uncommon for Holmes to get impassioned at particularly black crimes, and he regularly refers to criminal activities in ... well, unfriendly terms. The word 'vile' comes up with some regularity, actually (see both Twisted Lip and Charles Milverton, for example). As intrigued as Holmes is in his cases, and much as he occasionally falls into admiration for particularly clever criminals (Moriarty, Irene), he almost always verbally decries crimes which actually hurt people. He enjoys the intellectual challenge of the cases, but he also does cast moral judgment over the criminals involved.
People have used the fact that Holmes is moved multiple times to let criminals go, or keep their crimes secret, as proof that he doesn't attach a moral value to criminality. And it's true that Holmes has let quite a number of criminals go over the years. However, almost all of them have been, in the end, people he considers morally justified in their actions, for reasons usually of self-defense, or to redress wrongs committed against them. He has no real care for legalities (though he shows respect for police officers who do - in Abbey Grange, part of the reason he makes sure Inspector Hopkins is gone is so the man won't have to choose between morality and the strictures of his duty), but the reason he may be moved to ignore or even break the letter of the law is his moral interest in the events.
He also has a particularly Victorian sensitivity to scandal, particularly where female clients are involved (though a few men, too), and will keep silent on his discoveries if he thinks that justice is already as much served as can be expected, and further interest would destroy or damage the reputations of people he doesn't think deserve that.
In no case, not one, has Holmes ever let go a criminal who was simply hurting people for the hell of it. In fact, as with Milverton, he generally reserves the full of his disgust for such people.
The three stories I'm looking at for this one are the meatiest arguments in regard to this. Two of the three are stories in which Holmes is moved to let murderers, actual murderers, go free, and in both cases the reasons why are interesting. And the third, Final Problem, is probably the most famous interaction with a criminal in canon, and very interesting, particularly when compared to Milverton. So. Lets have a look?
The Adventure of the Abbey Grange:
This is the one that I automatically refer to when someone raises the issue of Holmes' morality (and legality). In this story, Holmes deals head on with domestic abuse, murder and the framing of innocent (well, relatively speaking) men. He also, in the course of it, appoints himself judge and jury over the proceedings (well, Watson was the jury, but), and takes the law quite firmly into his own hands, rather handily revealing his attitudes to morality, law and justice in one neat package. It's a good case study, in short.
The criminals, in this case, are a woman suffering spousal abuse, her rather mastermind maid, and the lover she was having an affair with, who actually did the deed. After having murdered, mostly in self-defense, her abusive husband, the trio then attempt to frame a gang of robbers for the murder, and the lover takes his (temporary) leave. Holmes, naturally enough, is not long fooled, and is quick to point the police away from the suspected men (though they are, in fact, criminals - Holmes does not believe in letting a man go down for a crime he is innocent of just because he is otherwise a criminal). He does, at one point, attempt to pressure the Lady into revealing the truth, but when she refuses, he arranges to go after the lover, a ship's Captain of 'magnificent record', in order to get to the bottom of the matter.
And then he does two things. He arranges for the actual police, in the form of Inspector Hopkins, to be well away from the interview, and he appoints himself, personally, and Watson, the only relevant judges in the case.
Over the course of the interview, he draws the truth from the good captain, how he fought the victim primarily in defense of his own, and more importantly the Lady's, lives (the murdered man struck her across the face with a stick with enough violence to nearly kill her, and the captain had every reason to fear the man would finish the job if he left him alive), how the nurse/maid then suggested the ruse to keep them both free and clear, how they set it up and hoped to escape all punishment. Holmes tests the man, offers to let him go free and let the police investigate where they would, but the Captain refuses on the grounds that he would be leaving the Lady in the lurch while he ran to freedom, and no way in hell.
And upon this answer, Holmes, with Watson's support, lets him go. Vouches that he will reveal nothing, so long as no other innocent person should be blamed for the crime, and that the Captain should return to the woman he loves within a year, when it should be safe.
So. This shows a number of things. That Holmes, yes, can be persuaded to let a criminal, even one guilty of such a crime as murder, off the hook, provided that he is personally satisfied that the reasons for the crime were justifiable, and provided that the criminals in question dealt with him with honour. That Holmes, despite his respect for the men of the law and their duties, believes there are some crimes beyond the remit of the law, that are better served by men of morality rather than duty. That Holmes believes himself, and also Watson, to be two such men.
If all Holmes was interested in was the intellectual mystery the case provided, surely he would have handed the perpetrators over at the end? In order to reveal the strength of his deductions? But he doesn't. Because he values their lives, and their safety, above the mystery and above his own 'case closed' rate. He believes that what was done to Lady Brackenstall was reprehensible, and he believes that under the circumstances, the Captain was justified in striking the man down in his own and the Lady's defense. He tested the man to be sure that the Captain wasn't just taking advantage of the situation to have the woman he loved to himself, and that the Captain had enough honour and decency to take the blame should it come down to him or her. In short, Holmes tested whether or not the Captain was an honourable man forced by circumstance and, when satisfied that he was, he let the case rest unresolved.
Above all, this would seem to indicate that Holmes values morality, and the safety of innocents, over either the letter of the law or his own public success rate.
The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton:
Thematically, this one follows quite strongly from Abbey Grange above (indeed, they're in the same collection). Again, the question is which crimes Holmes holds as reprehensible and which he holds justifiable, and then what actions he believes himself justified to take when he thinks the law is not equipped to handle the distinction.
By the alternate title, Master Blackmailer, it should be obvious what kind of criminal we're dealing with here. Milverton, in this story, actually does bear a lot of resemblance to Moriarty, in that both are masterminds at the center of webs of intrigue, rather than directly violent themselves. But while Holmes shows respect for Moriarty, primarily on the grounds of his intellect, he shows absolutely none for Milverton. Primarily, it seems, because Milverton has bounced particularly strongly on Holmes chivalric streak (they're very patriarchal, him and Watson both, in regard to crimes committed against women), and damaged a woman who came to him as a client. Milverton goes out of his way to ruin lives for money, and despite his relative cleverness in keeping himself out of reach of the law, Holmes has nothing but disgust for him.
Holmes, before the story even really starts, refers to Milverton as 'the worst man in London', compares him to serpents, and says that fifty murderers wouldn't produce in him the revulsion this man does. We haven't even met the man yet, and Holmes has already made perfectly clear the revulsion with which he holds him. And it's pretty damn strong, nearly worse than Moriarty, because Holmes is induced by it to be spectacularly incautious, to the point of letting Milverton get the better of him in interview. His temper at what Milverton does makes him, for the moment, lose. (Keep in mind, this is set after Final Problem/Empty House, so while Holmes is used to going after men of considerable power and influence, Milverton has both the capability to reduce him to base temper, and also the leverage to keep Holmes relatively helpless).
Following this, and still very, very upset, Holmes proposes to do something which actually shocks Watson into hesitation. For the first time, Holmes suggests they do something wholly and deliberately criminal, and break into Milverton's house like a pair of common thieves to retrieve the blackmail material. Watson is ... understandably shocked at the idea. And Holmes persuades him by saying that morally, they are justified. Legally, no, but morally, it is either commit a criminal act, or leave a helpless lady open to blackmail, among who knows how many other victims. It's one of the few times in the books that the pair take a step into genuine vigilantism, breaking the law by action, not omission, in pursuit of justice (two other examples would be Five Orange Pips, where Holmes, again in some outrage, says "I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take the flies, but not before", and Bruce-Partington Plans, where Holmes rather gallantly offers to do the breaking and entering himself and leave Watson on watch rather than directly involve him, which Watson naturally will have none of).
And Watson, particularly in this story, apparently quite enjoys it. In fact, it seems the pair of them do. The idea of a moral crusade for justice, in defense of a woman, seems to appeal rather strongly to both of them. (Holmes and the law, shall we say, have a questionable relationship at best).
And while in the course of this very criminal activity, they interrupt what will shortly become a murder. One of Milverton's previous victims, whose husband committed suicide as a result of the blackmail, has come to finish Milverton off. And, while Holmes and Watson hide behind a curtain and watch, she does just that, to the point of grinding her heel in the man's face as he lies dead. Watson, at one point, moves to intervene, and Holmes stops him. Then, when the murderess has gone, while the house wakes up and they run a rather extreme risk of being caught at the scene of a brutal murder, Holmes stays put long enough to burn every scrap of blackmail material in Milverton's office. It delays them long enough that Watson is actually almost caught going over the garden wall, but he stays long enough to protect the good name of his client and every other victim the man had.
And finally, when Lestrade rather ironically comes around the next morning to ask Holmes to consult on the murder, Holmes says straight up that his sympathies in this case lie with the criminals (as well they might, when he and Watson were two of them, but he meant the murderess too). To wit: "I think there are certain crimes which the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private revenge."
Which, when you come down to it, explains rather a lot about Holmes and his views on both crime and the law itself. There are crimes which Holmes judges reprehensible enough to deserve death, and that is not a passionless intellectual judgment, but a rather passionate moral one. And there are crimes which Holmes believes to be fully justified, not on the grounds of their intellectual mastery (which he finds worthy of challenging), but on the grounds that they have redressed wrongs which he sees as repulsive. Holmes doesn't just react to the intellectual challenge presented by crimes, he also reacts, sometimes rather passionately, to their substance, their moral value.
The Final Problem:
And now we come to the most famous example of Holmes' respect and fellowship with a criminal mind: his archenemy, the man who almost killed him, Professor Moriarty. The one instance where, it could be argued, Holmes' respect for the intellectual almost overpowers his moral senses, and his love of the game shows to be very much the motivation.
Holmes' view of Moriarty is a fascinating one. Unlike Milverton above, what Holmes feels towards him isn't disgust, but rather genuine respect, and no small amount of fear. He calls Moriarty the 'Napoleon of crime', he talks of defeating him as the pinnacle of his career, a triumph so complete he might retire on it. He speaks of Moriarty as a genius, a wonder, a man of extraordinary career. He says that the Professor has surrounded himself with defenses so cunning that he himself was almost rendered useless by them. It's obvious, all throughout his initial descriptions to Watson, that he has every possible respect for the Professor's mental powers and impressive machinations.
But there's another thread running through that description. "But the man had hereditary tendencies of the most diabolical kind. A criminal strain ran in his blood, which, instead of being modified, was increased and rendered infinitely more dangerous by his extraordinary mental powers." And then, a little later: "I was forced to confess that I had at last met an antagonist who was my intellectual equal. My horror at his crimes was lost in my admiration at his intellectual skill."
The first sentence is interesting in that it seems to imply that Holmes believes intellect should modify criminality, that intelligence should counteract immoral urges. Now, on the one hand, that is an incredibly Victorian view, and relates more to the idea that the criminal classes are somewhat subhuman, but on the other, it does seem to indicate that there is a certain horror for Holmes in using one's intellect in criminal causes.
The second sentence is equally interesting. In that, yes, it shows that for Holmes the lure of a true intellectual challenge can, unless he watches himself, almost countermand his moral senses. On the other hand, what does he say first? "My horror at his crimes." Without the lure of the game to distract him, Holmes finds what Moriarty does to be horrifying. The intellectual challenge does not exist in a void for him. He has moral opinions about Moriarty's actions. Quite strong ones.
And then, later, we come to Holmes' description of his (rather nerve-wracking) first interview with the Professor in person. Where Moriarty makes it very, very clear that Holmes has discommoded him one time too many, and that either Holmes drops the issue right now, or Moriarty will arrange to have him killed. To wit: "I tell you that you will never beat me. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured I shall do as much to you."
And Holmes' response? "If I were assured of the former eventuality I would, in the interests of the public, cheerfully accept the latter."
In the interests of the public. For the sake of the people Moriarty is destroying, Holmes would cheerfully accept death in order to stop him. At that point, after the grand manipulations are already set in motion, and the intellectual challenges are mostly already met, when directly challenged on it, it's the people Moriarty is hurting that Holmes is willing to go all the way for. Not the triumph of having beaten the man, but the triumph of having protected them. A cause for which Holmes is, as he proves, fully prepared to give his life for.
And later, among the last things he ever says to Watson before he appears to die: "I may go so far as to say, Watson, that I have not lived wholly in vain. If my record were closed to-night I could still survey it with equanimity. The air of London is the sweeter for my presence. In over a thousand cases I am not aware that I have ever used my powers upon the wrong side."
It matters to him. That what he uses his talents for isn't just intellectually satisfying, but that it has served the right goals, protected the right people. That he has never hurt someone who didn't deserve to be hurt. That he can give his life to destroy 'the most dangerous and capable criminal in Europe'. It's not just the game, it's not just the challenge. It's the cause.
Conclusions
So. Having reviewed those three stories in particular, which I think give a pretty good overview of Holmes as he deals with issues of law and of morality, I think we can draw a few conclusions, yes?
Holmes does not have a very good relationship with the law, at least as far as the letter goes. He does respect those who serve it, at least to a degree. When explaining his reasons for sending Inspector Hopkins away in Abbey Grange, what he says is: "I have the right to private judgement, but he has none. He must disclose all, or he is a traitor to his service. In a doubtful case I would not put him in so painful a position, and so I reserve my information until my own mind is clear upon the matter." He respects the rules they live under, and honestly seems to respect them the more for following them. It's just that he is very, very conscious that there are some crimes that the law, in his opinion, is not equipped to deal with without harming things that do not need to be harmed, and in those cases Holmes is very much prepared to take the law quite literally into his own hands. He will omit information, he will quietly let perpetrators slip free, he will break into a blackmailer's house to protect his client, he will watch a woman murder a man and do nothing, should he think that murder justified. He does not, when it comes down to it, feel the need to obey the strictures of the law when it comes to better serving a moral cause.
Which leads us to: Holmes has moral causes. He has quite a powerful attachment to morality, to ideas of right and wrong, to the extent that they are, in extremis, the things he uses to guide him towards the right choices. When faced with complex situations, when faced with people in pain, Holmes decides what to do not based on what would be most intellectually stimulating, not on what would best serve his reputation, and not on what would be easiest or least personally unpleasant. He decides based on what he feels would be right, and he values that senses of rightness over the law, over personal satisfaction, and even over his own life (though possibly not over Watson's). He lets murderers go free not out of any respect for their criminality, but because he believes their personal vengeance was justified. He takes down the most intellectually equal of his enemies because of a horror that the man could have used his talents for so black a goal. And he makes himself a criminal not because he finds it stimulating (though he did, in the Milverton case, find considerable satisfaction in doing something the law could not) but so that he can serve people in ways that the law isn't able to.
Sherlock Holmes, in the original ACD canon, did not suffer from a weak sense of morality. In fact, in some ways, he suffered from an over-powerful sense of morality, one that moved him to risk life and career and even imprisonment in order to help people. The language he uses to discuss criminals who act purely for their own gain, the visible outrage he shows when confronted with ones who cross his lines, all show his genuine disdain for criminality for its own sake, no matter how intellectually stimulating it might be, and his admiration for Moriarty's genius had to first overcome his horror for the man's goals, and never completely managed it.
So, no. I do not think it can be argued that Holmes is a man of weak moral compass. I don't think he would choose personal pride or desires over what he knew to be the right thing (though he would most assuredly choose them alongside the right thing, if at all possible). You can argue with the substance of his morality (he believed blackmail repayable by murder, after all), but not the strength of it.
And I will say, on a small personal note, that it is one of my biggest problems with the BBC Sherlock adaptation (along with the entirety of 'Scandal in Belgravia', for different reasons). While the line they take on Holmes is fascinating, the modern anti-hero struggling with isolation and the realisation of his long-denied morality, it isn't actually Holmes. There were flashes of ACD Holmes, most certainly, particularly in the last episode of the second season, and slowly building in his reactions to Moriarty, but BBC Sherlock's visible attitude to crime and criminals is not ACD Holmes' attitude (compare Sherlock's 'I love the serial ones' to Holmes' 'fifty murderers would not be as repulsive as he').
My other problem is that, somewhere in the string of adaptations since the originals, the 'aloof and generally unconcerned with the law' part of his characterisation has been exaggerated to the point that a lot of people seem to honestly believe that the original had a weak moral compass. He had an exceptionally weak concern for the law, yes, when it contradicted what he saw as the true purpose of things, but I stoutly maintain that he always had a very powerful, and quite passionate in some instances, moral reaction to the cases that crossed his door.
Of course, people seem to have come to the conclusion ACD Holmes was also a complete jerk in interpersonal reactions, too, which is also ... a very questionable assumption, but I think I ought to leave that one for another essay, yes?
Finis
Links to the Short Stories:
The Adventure of the Abbey Grange
The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton
The Final Problem
The Five Orange Pips
The Man with the Twisted Lip
The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans
There are ... a great many of the stories that impact on this, and the novels too. I'm going to focus on three of the short stories in particular, with reference to a few others (I'm not using the novels, they're far too big, and not really necessary just to get a quick impression). The three stories I'm focusing on, which I think show most of Holmes' views on the matter, are The Adventure of the Abbey Grange, The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton (also known as The Master Blackmailer), and The Final Problem. There are another two stories that are quite illustrative: The Five Orange Pips and The Man with the Twisted Lip, the latter mostly for the language with which he describes criminal activities in the area he was investigating. The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans is also good for Holmes' approach to legalities and vigilantism.
Okay. First, the thing I keep hearing, particularly while discussing BBC Sherlock, and sometimes with the Downey versions, though not so much, is that Holmes was always in his business because of the thrill of the chase and the fascination of the intellectual exercise, and that he had no moral interest in the cases at all. I've seen comments that Holmes does not have a strong enough moral compass, in the absence of Watson, to keep on the straight and narrow, or choose morality over personal needs.
Which is ... Alright. The first part is true enough, in some ways. Holmes admits readily enough that his interest in criminal matters started out mostly as a hobby (The Adventure of the 'Gloria Scott') which he was then convinced to turn to a career. There is no doubt whatsoever that the hunger and action of the chase, the hunt, is what he lives for, and Watson draws attention repeatedly to the fact that it's the only thing that can rouse Holmes from his black moods, and that failing a case, Holmes turns to drugs instead (cocaine, mostly, which was a strong bone of contention between them). Holmes really does live for the excitement and accomplishment of what he does. In many ways, it saves his life as much as it endangers it.
And his pride is very much involved, yes. In Five Orange Pips, when a mistake of his gets his client outright killed, Holmes first reaction, after shock, is to declare it an affront to his pride. Of course he then, in a fit of mixed affront and remorse, goes out and breaks the people responsible within a day ("I have my hand upon him"). It's not wise to make things personal to that extent with Holmes. But, yes, his pride was the motive in some ways.
However, it is not true that Holmes has no moral interest in what he does. If you look over the course of the stories, it's not uncommon for Holmes to get impassioned at particularly black crimes, and he regularly refers to criminal activities in ... well, unfriendly terms. The word 'vile' comes up with some regularity, actually (see both Twisted Lip and Charles Milverton, for example). As intrigued as Holmes is in his cases, and much as he occasionally falls into admiration for particularly clever criminals (Moriarty, Irene), he almost always verbally decries crimes which actually hurt people. He enjoys the intellectual challenge of the cases, but he also does cast moral judgment over the criminals involved.
People have used the fact that Holmes is moved multiple times to let criminals go, or keep their crimes secret, as proof that he doesn't attach a moral value to criminality. And it's true that Holmes has let quite a number of criminals go over the years. However, almost all of them have been, in the end, people he considers morally justified in their actions, for reasons usually of self-defense, or to redress wrongs committed against them. He has no real care for legalities (though he shows respect for police officers who do - in Abbey Grange, part of the reason he makes sure Inspector Hopkins is gone is so the man won't have to choose between morality and the strictures of his duty), but the reason he may be moved to ignore or even break the letter of the law is his moral interest in the events.
He also has a particularly Victorian sensitivity to scandal, particularly where female clients are involved (though a few men, too), and will keep silent on his discoveries if he thinks that justice is already as much served as can be expected, and further interest would destroy or damage the reputations of people he doesn't think deserve that.
In no case, not one, has Holmes ever let go a criminal who was simply hurting people for the hell of it. In fact, as with Milverton, he generally reserves the full of his disgust for such people.
The three stories I'm looking at for this one are the meatiest arguments in regard to this. Two of the three are stories in which Holmes is moved to let murderers, actual murderers, go free, and in both cases the reasons why are interesting. And the third, Final Problem, is probably the most famous interaction with a criminal in canon, and very interesting, particularly when compared to Milverton. So. Lets have a look?
The Adventure of the Abbey Grange:
This is the one that I automatically refer to when someone raises the issue of Holmes' morality (and legality). In this story, Holmes deals head on with domestic abuse, murder and the framing of innocent (well, relatively speaking) men. He also, in the course of it, appoints himself judge and jury over the proceedings (well, Watson was the jury, but), and takes the law quite firmly into his own hands, rather handily revealing his attitudes to morality, law and justice in one neat package. It's a good case study, in short.
The criminals, in this case, are a woman suffering spousal abuse, her rather mastermind maid, and the lover she was having an affair with, who actually did the deed. After having murdered, mostly in self-defense, her abusive husband, the trio then attempt to frame a gang of robbers for the murder, and the lover takes his (temporary) leave. Holmes, naturally enough, is not long fooled, and is quick to point the police away from the suspected men (though they are, in fact, criminals - Holmes does not believe in letting a man go down for a crime he is innocent of just because he is otherwise a criminal). He does, at one point, attempt to pressure the Lady into revealing the truth, but when she refuses, he arranges to go after the lover, a ship's Captain of 'magnificent record', in order to get to the bottom of the matter.
And then he does two things. He arranges for the actual police, in the form of Inspector Hopkins, to be well away from the interview, and he appoints himself, personally, and Watson, the only relevant judges in the case.
Over the course of the interview, he draws the truth from the good captain, how he fought the victim primarily in defense of his own, and more importantly the Lady's, lives (the murdered man struck her across the face with a stick with enough violence to nearly kill her, and the captain had every reason to fear the man would finish the job if he left him alive), how the nurse/maid then suggested the ruse to keep them both free and clear, how they set it up and hoped to escape all punishment. Holmes tests the man, offers to let him go free and let the police investigate where they would, but the Captain refuses on the grounds that he would be leaving the Lady in the lurch while he ran to freedom, and no way in hell.
And upon this answer, Holmes, with Watson's support, lets him go. Vouches that he will reveal nothing, so long as no other innocent person should be blamed for the crime, and that the Captain should return to the woman he loves within a year, when it should be safe.
So. This shows a number of things. That Holmes, yes, can be persuaded to let a criminal, even one guilty of such a crime as murder, off the hook, provided that he is personally satisfied that the reasons for the crime were justifiable, and provided that the criminals in question dealt with him with honour. That Holmes, despite his respect for the men of the law and their duties, believes there are some crimes beyond the remit of the law, that are better served by men of morality rather than duty. That Holmes believes himself, and also Watson, to be two such men.
If all Holmes was interested in was the intellectual mystery the case provided, surely he would have handed the perpetrators over at the end? In order to reveal the strength of his deductions? But he doesn't. Because he values their lives, and their safety, above the mystery and above his own 'case closed' rate. He believes that what was done to Lady Brackenstall was reprehensible, and he believes that under the circumstances, the Captain was justified in striking the man down in his own and the Lady's defense. He tested the man to be sure that the Captain wasn't just taking advantage of the situation to have the woman he loved to himself, and that the Captain had enough honour and decency to take the blame should it come down to him or her. In short, Holmes tested whether or not the Captain was an honourable man forced by circumstance and, when satisfied that he was, he let the case rest unresolved.
Above all, this would seem to indicate that Holmes values morality, and the safety of innocents, over either the letter of the law or his own public success rate.
The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton:
Thematically, this one follows quite strongly from Abbey Grange above (indeed, they're in the same collection). Again, the question is which crimes Holmes holds as reprehensible and which he holds justifiable, and then what actions he believes himself justified to take when he thinks the law is not equipped to handle the distinction.
By the alternate title, Master Blackmailer, it should be obvious what kind of criminal we're dealing with here. Milverton, in this story, actually does bear a lot of resemblance to Moriarty, in that both are masterminds at the center of webs of intrigue, rather than directly violent themselves. But while Holmes shows respect for Moriarty, primarily on the grounds of his intellect, he shows absolutely none for Milverton. Primarily, it seems, because Milverton has bounced particularly strongly on Holmes chivalric streak (they're very patriarchal, him and Watson both, in regard to crimes committed against women), and damaged a woman who came to him as a client. Milverton goes out of his way to ruin lives for money, and despite his relative cleverness in keeping himself out of reach of the law, Holmes has nothing but disgust for him.
Holmes, before the story even really starts, refers to Milverton as 'the worst man in London', compares him to serpents, and says that fifty murderers wouldn't produce in him the revulsion this man does. We haven't even met the man yet, and Holmes has already made perfectly clear the revulsion with which he holds him. And it's pretty damn strong, nearly worse than Moriarty, because Holmes is induced by it to be spectacularly incautious, to the point of letting Milverton get the better of him in interview. His temper at what Milverton does makes him, for the moment, lose. (Keep in mind, this is set after Final Problem/Empty House, so while Holmes is used to going after men of considerable power and influence, Milverton has both the capability to reduce him to base temper, and also the leverage to keep Holmes relatively helpless).
Following this, and still very, very upset, Holmes proposes to do something which actually shocks Watson into hesitation. For the first time, Holmes suggests they do something wholly and deliberately criminal, and break into Milverton's house like a pair of common thieves to retrieve the blackmail material. Watson is ... understandably shocked at the idea. And Holmes persuades him by saying that morally, they are justified. Legally, no, but morally, it is either commit a criminal act, or leave a helpless lady open to blackmail, among who knows how many other victims. It's one of the few times in the books that the pair take a step into genuine vigilantism, breaking the law by action, not omission, in pursuit of justice (two other examples would be Five Orange Pips, where Holmes, again in some outrage, says "I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take the flies, but not before", and Bruce-Partington Plans, where Holmes rather gallantly offers to do the breaking and entering himself and leave Watson on watch rather than directly involve him, which Watson naturally will have none of).
And Watson, particularly in this story, apparently quite enjoys it. In fact, it seems the pair of them do. The idea of a moral crusade for justice, in defense of a woman, seems to appeal rather strongly to both of them. (Holmes and the law, shall we say, have a questionable relationship at best).
And while in the course of this very criminal activity, they interrupt what will shortly become a murder. One of Milverton's previous victims, whose husband committed suicide as a result of the blackmail, has come to finish Milverton off. And, while Holmes and Watson hide behind a curtain and watch, she does just that, to the point of grinding her heel in the man's face as he lies dead. Watson, at one point, moves to intervene, and Holmes stops him. Then, when the murderess has gone, while the house wakes up and they run a rather extreme risk of being caught at the scene of a brutal murder, Holmes stays put long enough to burn every scrap of blackmail material in Milverton's office. It delays them long enough that Watson is actually almost caught going over the garden wall, but he stays long enough to protect the good name of his client and every other victim the man had.
And finally, when Lestrade rather ironically comes around the next morning to ask Holmes to consult on the murder, Holmes says straight up that his sympathies in this case lie with the criminals (as well they might, when he and Watson were two of them, but he meant the murderess too). To wit: "I think there are certain crimes which the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private revenge."
Which, when you come down to it, explains rather a lot about Holmes and his views on both crime and the law itself. There are crimes which Holmes judges reprehensible enough to deserve death, and that is not a passionless intellectual judgment, but a rather passionate moral one. And there are crimes which Holmes believes to be fully justified, not on the grounds of their intellectual mastery (which he finds worthy of challenging), but on the grounds that they have redressed wrongs which he sees as repulsive. Holmes doesn't just react to the intellectual challenge presented by crimes, he also reacts, sometimes rather passionately, to their substance, their moral value.
The Final Problem:
And now we come to the most famous example of Holmes' respect and fellowship with a criminal mind: his archenemy, the man who almost killed him, Professor Moriarty. The one instance where, it could be argued, Holmes' respect for the intellectual almost overpowers his moral senses, and his love of the game shows to be very much the motivation.
Holmes' view of Moriarty is a fascinating one. Unlike Milverton above, what Holmes feels towards him isn't disgust, but rather genuine respect, and no small amount of fear. He calls Moriarty the 'Napoleon of crime', he talks of defeating him as the pinnacle of his career, a triumph so complete he might retire on it. He speaks of Moriarty as a genius, a wonder, a man of extraordinary career. He says that the Professor has surrounded himself with defenses so cunning that he himself was almost rendered useless by them. It's obvious, all throughout his initial descriptions to Watson, that he has every possible respect for the Professor's mental powers and impressive machinations.
But there's another thread running through that description. "But the man had hereditary tendencies of the most diabolical kind. A criminal strain ran in his blood, which, instead of being modified, was increased and rendered infinitely more dangerous by his extraordinary mental powers." And then, a little later: "I was forced to confess that I had at last met an antagonist who was my intellectual equal. My horror at his crimes was lost in my admiration at his intellectual skill."
The first sentence is interesting in that it seems to imply that Holmes believes intellect should modify criminality, that intelligence should counteract immoral urges. Now, on the one hand, that is an incredibly Victorian view, and relates more to the idea that the criminal classes are somewhat subhuman, but on the other, it does seem to indicate that there is a certain horror for Holmes in using one's intellect in criminal causes.
The second sentence is equally interesting. In that, yes, it shows that for Holmes the lure of a true intellectual challenge can, unless he watches himself, almost countermand his moral senses. On the other hand, what does he say first? "My horror at his crimes." Without the lure of the game to distract him, Holmes finds what Moriarty does to be horrifying. The intellectual challenge does not exist in a void for him. He has moral opinions about Moriarty's actions. Quite strong ones.
And then, later, we come to Holmes' description of his (rather nerve-wracking) first interview with the Professor in person. Where Moriarty makes it very, very clear that Holmes has discommoded him one time too many, and that either Holmes drops the issue right now, or Moriarty will arrange to have him killed. To wit: "I tell you that you will never beat me. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured I shall do as much to you."
And Holmes' response? "If I were assured of the former eventuality I would, in the interests of the public, cheerfully accept the latter."
In the interests of the public. For the sake of the people Moriarty is destroying, Holmes would cheerfully accept death in order to stop him. At that point, after the grand manipulations are already set in motion, and the intellectual challenges are mostly already met, when directly challenged on it, it's the people Moriarty is hurting that Holmes is willing to go all the way for. Not the triumph of having beaten the man, but the triumph of having protected them. A cause for which Holmes is, as he proves, fully prepared to give his life for.
And later, among the last things he ever says to Watson before he appears to die: "I may go so far as to say, Watson, that I have not lived wholly in vain. If my record were closed to-night I could still survey it with equanimity. The air of London is the sweeter for my presence. In over a thousand cases I am not aware that I have ever used my powers upon the wrong side."
It matters to him. That what he uses his talents for isn't just intellectually satisfying, but that it has served the right goals, protected the right people. That he has never hurt someone who didn't deserve to be hurt. That he can give his life to destroy 'the most dangerous and capable criminal in Europe'. It's not just the game, it's not just the challenge. It's the cause.
Conclusions
So. Having reviewed those three stories in particular, which I think give a pretty good overview of Holmes as he deals with issues of law and of morality, I think we can draw a few conclusions, yes?
Holmes does not have a very good relationship with the law, at least as far as the letter goes. He does respect those who serve it, at least to a degree. When explaining his reasons for sending Inspector Hopkins away in Abbey Grange, what he says is: "I have the right to private judgement, but he has none. He must disclose all, or he is a traitor to his service. In a doubtful case I would not put him in so painful a position, and so I reserve my information until my own mind is clear upon the matter." He respects the rules they live under, and honestly seems to respect them the more for following them. It's just that he is very, very conscious that there are some crimes that the law, in his opinion, is not equipped to deal with without harming things that do not need to be harmed, and in those cases Holmes is very much prepared to take the law quite literally into his own hands. He will omit information, he will quietly let perpetrators slip free, he will break into a blackmailer's house to protect his client, he will watch a woman murder a man and do nothing, should he think that murder justified. He does not, when it comes down to it, feel the need to obey the strictures of the law when it comes to better serving a moral cause.
Which leads us to: Holmes has moral causes. He has quite a powerful attachment to morality, to ideas of right and wrong, to the extent that they are, in extremis, the things he uses to guide him towards the right choices. When faced with complex situations, when faced with people in pain, Holmes decides what to do not based on what would be most intellectually stimulating, not on what would best serve his reputation, and not on what would be easiest or least personally unpleasant. He decides based on what he feels would be right, and he values that senses of rightness over the law, over personal satisfaction, and even over his own life (though possibly not over Watson's). He lets murderers go free not out of any respect for their criminality, but because he believes their personal vengeance was justified. He takes down the most intellectually equal of his enemies because of a horror that the man could have used his talents for so black a goal. And he makes himself a criminal not because he finds it stimulating (though he did, in the Milverton case, find considerable satisfaction in doing something the law could not) but so that he can serve people in ways that the law isn't able to.
Sherlock Holmes, in the original ACD canon, did not suffer from a weak sense of morality. In fact, in some ways, he suffered from an over-powerful sense of morality, one that moved him to risk life and career and even imprisonment in order to help people. The language he uses to discuss criminals who act purely for their own gain, the visible outrage he shows when confronted with ones who cross his lines, all show his genuine disdain for criminality for its own sake, no matter how intellectually stimulating it might be, and his admiration for Moriarty's genius had to first overcome his horror for the man's goals, and never completely managed it.
So, no. I do not think it can be argued that Holmes is a man of weak moral compass. I don't think he would choose personal pride or desires over what he knew to be the right thing (though he would most assuredly choose them alongside the right thing, if at all possible). You can argue with the substance of his morality (he believed blackmail repayable by murder, after all), but not the strength of it.
And I will say, on a small personal note, that it is one of my biggest problems with the BBC Sherlock adaptation (along with the entirety of 'Scandal in Belgravia', for different reasons). While the line they take on Holmes is fascinating, the modern anti-hero struggling with isolation and the realisation of his long-denied morality, it isn't actually Holmes. There were flashes of ACD Holmes, most certainly, particularly in the last episode of the second season, and slowly building in his reactions to Moriarty, but BBC Sherlock's visible attitude to crime and criminals is not ACD Holmes' attitude (compare Sherlock's 'I love the serial ones' to Holmes' 'fifty murderers would not be as repulsive as he').
My other problem is that, somewhere in the string of adaptations since the originals, the 'aloof and generally unconcerned with the law' part of his characterisation has been exaggerated to the point that a lot of people seem to honestly believe that the original had a weak moral compass. He had an exceptionally weak concern for the law, yes, when it contradicted what he saw as the true purpose of things, but I stoutly maintain that he always had a very powerful, and quite passionate in some instances, moral reaction to the cases that crossed his door.
Of course, people seem to have come to the conclusion ACD Holmes was also a complete jerk in interpersonal reactions, too, which is also ... a very questionable assumption, but I think I ought to leave that one for another essay, yes?
Finis
Links to the Short Stories:
The Adventure of the Abbey Grange
The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton
The Final Problem
The Five Orange Pips
The Man with the Twisted Lip
The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans
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