Lady Frances Carfax
Want to read this along with me? This essay is part of His Last Bow, published in 1917. I used the epub version found on Feedbooks.com.
“Lady Frances Carfax” is, on the surface, a typical story with a few interesting points of canonical reinforcement – another case of Holmes deducing something from a trifling of Watson’s (in this case, a Turkish bath from his boots), as well as some passing references to Lestrade and Holmes’ “own small but very efficient organization,” for example – but it shows what seems like a common trend in the late canon – Holmes being unfairly critical of Watson.
Similar to stories like Hound of the Baskervilles, Watson is sent off alone to investigate a case. Watson, to his credit, does a fine job not only picking up the trail, but actually beating Green to the end of the trail (and actually not informing the criminals at all – Green does a worse job of that!) And yet, Holmes claims Watson has made “a very pretty hash” of the investigation:
“And a singularly consistent investigation you have made, my dear Watson,” said he. “I cannot at the moment recall any possible blunder which you have omitted. The total effect of your proceeding has been to give the alarm everywhere and yet to discover nothing.”
Admittedly, Watson does make a single, noticeable error. At one point, Holmes asks for a description of Dr. Shlessinger’s left ear. Watson, despite knowing of Holmes’ methods and interest in trifles, assumes that Holmes is joking. Granted, this kind of inquiry does seem in line with Holmes’ mischievous nature, and certainly the “half-humorous commendation” he received earlier might have made Watson a little defensive. Still, it’s a strange fumble for Watson. Further, if Holmes is unfairly critical of Watson (one mistake is not a complete failure), he is at least correctly critical of his own performance in the case, and shows unusual respect to the criminals (“If our ex-missionary friends escape the clutches of Lestrade, I shall expect to hear of some brilliant incidents in their future career”).
Aside from Watson’s performance as a detective, this is certainly a case later in their collective careers, and Watson mentions feeling old. That reference has caused many scholars (as well as myself) to place this case sometime after 1900, although there is no consensus on a specific year. Further, it seems the Hotel National wasn’t listed in Baedeker’s Switzerland Guide until 1902, which seems to confirm that dating. We also learn that Holmes dislikes leaving the country because “Scotland Yard feels lonely without me, and it causes an unhealthy excitement among the criminal classes” (although his appearance later in the story seems to put the lie to that particular claim, as well as his lengthy time abroad during the Great Hiatus).
There are also a number of interesting historical details nestled through the text. Not having a servant at a certain class of society is considered to be suspicious. Medical science at the time had two methods for resuscitation: artificial respiration and injected ether. Being buried alive was a very real Victorian fear (even so far as some coffins installed bells and other devices to indicate that the inhabitants were still alive). Turkish baths were considered to be a medical “alterative” (not “alternative,” as my sadly inadequate epub version asserts) or treatment used to alter the course of an illness.
But most prominent is the discussion of the habits (both social and financial) of single high-class ladies. For example, Holmes points out that “Single ladies must live, and their passbooks are compressed diaries.” We also learn that some lonely ladies found comfort and occupation in religion, and that they are sometimes the instigator or inspiration for crime, although those points may be Holmes’ sexism rather than objective truisms. Still, despite the exciting imagery of the ending, the story is really only interesting for the context and information it provides.