articles in London Society later in London Characters authors illustrators
(1867) Thumbnail Studies in the London Streets William S. Gilbert William S. Gilbert
(1868) Getting Up a Pantomime William S. Gilbert William S. Gilbert
(1868) Sitting at a Play William S. Gilbert William S. Gilbert
(1868) The Thumbnail Sketcher in a Cab William S. Gilbert William S. Gilbert
(1865) Scenes in Court "Mr. Jones" none
(1865) In the Witness Box anonym William Brunton
(1865) More "Witnesses" anonym William Brunton
(1866) Sketches in Court anonym William Brunton
(1869) Down at Westminster anonym William Brunton
(1866) The Old Bailey anonym William Brunton
(1869) Outsiders of Society and Their Homes in London anonym none
(1869) Opposite a Cabstand anonym none
(1869) Afternoons in "The Park" anonym H. Harral
(1868) Life in London anonym none
(1863) Housekeeping in Belgravia anonym none
(1866) Billingsgate at Five in the Morning anonym W. McConnell

London Characters and the Humorous Side of London Life is public domain material that
can be freely used. It should be of special interest to enthusiasts of Sherlock Holmes stories
by A. Conan Doyle.

Although there is no printed date of publication, the "Outsiders of Society and Their Homes
in London" article of this book mentions "the celebrated vintage of 1869" as then available
for drinking, and inside the front cover of my copy of the book is this handwritten inscription:
"Alfred C. Carter, Penge, Oct. 27, 1871." So the book must have been printed either in 1870
or in 1871 before Oct. 27. The British Library catalogue places it in 1870.

Everything included in this book, both text and illustrations, previously appeared in London
magazine. Although the names of authors of articles were not printed with them, the
contents pages of bound volumes of London Society reveal the names of illustrators. I think
that it is likely that the book's four articles illustrated by William S. Gilbert (bearing his
esoteric "Bab" signature) were written by him. The author of the article "Scenes in Court,"
in its tenth paragraph, relates that he was asked, "whether I were not Mr. Jones." He begins
the eleventh paragraph stating, "I readily acknowledged that ancient name to be mine."

There have been at least three books with "London Characters" as the start of their titles.
In 1851 appeared London Characters and Crooks by Henry Mayhew (1812-1887). In 1870
appeared London Characters and the Humorous Side of London Life. In 1874 appeared
London Characters: Illustrations of the Humor, Pathos, and Peculiarities of London Life,
which has the sixteen articles of London Characters and the Humorous Side of London Life
(1870), followed by eight additional articles. Since I think that several of the first sixteen
articles were not written by Henry Mayhew, I am wondering why only his name appeared on
the title page as the author of the 1874 book. In the "Billingsgate at Five in the Morning"
article of London Characters and the Humorous Side of London Life (1870), Henry Mayhew
is twice mentioned by name:

"Some years ago Mr. Henry Mayhew, in a series of remarkable articles in the 'Morning
Chronicle,' gave a tabulated statement of the probable amount of this trade; and about five
or six years later, Dr. Wynter, in the 'Quarterly Review,' quoted the opinion of some
Billingsgate authority, that the statement was probably not in excess of the truth.... Another
learned authority, Mr. Braithwaite Poole, when he was goods manager of the London and
North-Western Railway Company, brought the shell-fish as well as the other fish into his
calculations, and startled us with such quantities as fifty million mussels, seventy million
cockles, three hundred million periwinkles, five hundred million shrimps, and twelve hundred
million herrings. In short, putting this and that together, he told us that about four thousand
million fish, weighing a quarter of a million tons, and bringing two million sterling, were sold
annually at Billingsgate! Generally speaking, Mr. Poole's figures make a tolerably near
approach to those of Mr. Mayhew; and therefore it may possibly be that we Londoners—
men and women, boys, girls, and babies—after supplying country folks—at about two fish
each every average day, taking our fair share between turbot, salmon, and cod at one end of
the series, and sprats, periwinkles and shrimps at the other."

crime in Victorian London

"He [Moriarty] is the Napoleon of crime, Watson. He is theorganizer of half that is evil and
of nearly all that is undetected in this great city" [The Adventure of the Final Problem
. Watson had called London "that great cesspool into which all the loungers and
idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained" [A Study in Scarlet (1887)]. Sherlock Holmes
"loved to lie in the very centre of five millions of people, with his filaments streteching out
and running through them, responsive to every little rumor or suspicion of unsolved crime"
[The Adventure of the Cardboard Box (1893)].

"A London crowd is an awful thing, when you reflect upon the number of infamous
characters of which it is necessarily composed. I don't care what crowd it is—whether it is
an assemblage of 'raff' at a suburban fair, a body of Volunteers, Rotten Row in the season,
or an Exeter Hall May meeting. Some ingenious statistician has calculated that one in
every forty adults in London is a professional thief; that is to say, a gentleman who adopts,
almost publicly, the profession of burglar, pickpocket, or area sneak; who lives by
dishonesty alone, and who, were dishonest courses to fail him, would have no means
whatever of gaining a livelyhood. But of the really disreputable people in London, I
suppose that acknowledged thieves do not form one twentieth portion. Think of the number
of men now living and doing well, as respectable members of society, who are destined
either to be hanged for murder or to be reprieved, according to the form which the
humanitarianism of the Home Sectretary for the time being may take. Murderers are not
recruited, as a rule, from the criminal classes. It is true that now and then a man or woman
is murdered for his or her wealth by a professed thief, but it is the exception, and not the
rule. Murder is often the crime of one who has never brought himself under the notice of
the police before. It is the crime of the young girl with a illegitimate baby; of the jealous
husband, lover, or wife; of a man exposed suddenly to a temptation which he cannot
resist—the temptation of a good watch or well-filled purse, which, not being a professional
thief, he does not know how to get at by any means short of murder. Well, all the
scoundrels who are going to commit these crimes, and to be hung or reprieved for them
accordingly, are now walking among us, and in every big crowd there must be at least one
or two of them. Then the forgers; they are not ordinarily professional thieves; they are
usually people holding situations of greater or less responsibility, from bank managers
down to office boys; well, all these forgers who are to be tried at all the sessions and
assizes for the next twenty years, are walking about among us as freely as you or I. Then
the embezzlers—these are always people who stand well with their employers and their
friends. I remember hearing a judge say, in the course of the trial of a savings-bank clerk
for embezzlement, when the prisoner's counsel offered to call witnesses to character of the
highest respectability, that he attached little or no value to the witnesses called to speak
to their knowledge of the prisoner's character in an embezzlement case, as a man must
necessarily be of good repute among his fellows before he could be placed in a position in
which embezzlement was possible to him. Then the committers of assaults of all kinds.
These are seldom drawn from the purely criminal classes, though, of course, there are
cases in which professional thieves resort to violence when they cannot obtain their booty
by other means. All these people—all the murderers, forgers, embezzlers, and assaulters,
who are to be tried for their crimes during the next (say) twenty years, and moreover, all
the murderers, forgers, embezzlers, and assaulters whose crimes escape detection
altogether (here is a vast field for speculation open to the ingenious statisticians—of whom
I am certainly one—who begin with conclusions, and 'try back' to find premisses!)—all are
elbowing us about in the streets of this and other towns every day of our lives. How many
of these go to make up a London crowd of, say, thirty thousand people? Add to this
unsavoury category all the fraudulent bankrupts, past and to come, all the army of
swindlers, all the betting thieves, all the unconscientious liars, all the men who ill-treat
their wives, all the wives who ill-treat their husbands, all the profligates of both sexes, all
the scoundrels of every shape and dye whose crimes do not come under the ken of the
British policeman, but who, for all that, are infinitely more harmful to the structure of
London society than the poor prig who gets six months for a 'wipe,' and then reflect upon
the nature of your associates whenever you venture into a crowd of any magnitude!"
[Thumbnail Studies in the London Streets]

"As you are aware, Watson, there is no one who knows the higher criminal world of London
so well as I. For years past I have continually been conscious of some power behind the
malefactor, some deep organizing power which forever stands in the way of the law, and
throws its shield over the wrong-doer. Again and again in cases of the most varying sorts—
forgery cases, robberies, murders—I have felt the presence of this force, and I have
deduced its action in many of those undiscovered crimes in which I have been personally
consulted." [The Adventure of the Final Problem (1893)]

"More innocent men are charged with crime and more guilty men escape at the Old
Bailey than at any other court in the kingdom; because the juries, being Londoners, are
more accustomed to look upon the niceties of evidence from a legal point of view, and in
many cases come into the jury-box with exaggerated views of what constitutes a
'reasonable doubt,' and so are disposed to give a verdict for the prisoner, when a country
jury would convict." [The Old Bailey]

"the byways of London"

"Our route was certainly a singular one. Holmes's knowledge of the byways of London was
extraordinary, and on this occasion he passed rapidly and with an assured step through a
network of mews [stable-yards] and stables, the very existence of which I had never
known. We emerged at last into a small road, lined with old, gloomy houses, which led us
into Manchester Street, and so to Blandford Street." [The Adventure of the Empty House

"... he must be intimately acquainted with the nearest cut to the obscurest streets; and he
must be prepared to look with an eye of suspicion on all fares who require to be set down
at the Burlington Arcade, the Albany, Swan and Edgar's, Waterloo House, and all the other
edifices which a person may enter from one street and leave by another; and he must know
exactly how long he is to wait at such addresses before he is justified in coming to the
conclusion that his fare has bolted by the other exit. Altogether his profession demands
the exercise of various mental accomplishments, and the Thumbnail Sketcher cannot help
thinking that a thoroughly expert London cabman deserves a far higher intellectual position
than that which his envious fellowmen usually award him." [Thumbnail Sketcher in a Cab]

"Very puzzled, too, is the cabman when he stops at an address and finds that his fare,
perhaps the impecunious Jones, has bolted in transitu, or, if he goes into a city court, has
declined to emerge by the way of the original entrance." [Opposite a Cabstand]


"Do you keep plate in the house, or anything to attract burglars?" [The Adventure of the
Naval Treaty (1893)]

The Little Oxford Dictionary has, among the meanings of "plate," this one listed: "table
utensils of gold, silver, or other metal."

"Entertainments are in proportion to income; and since you have none of the garden fetes
and tea and fruit on the lawn—nothing, in short, to offer your guests but the dinner or the
ball alone, and since there is no little cost of dress and time in meeting, the meal is, all in
all, quite a serious and formidable matter; and the rivalry in dishes and courses enough to
sicken us, as also in plate and table decorations, is rife indeed." [Life in London]

"Occasionally a cabman is exposed to a good deal of temptation, and the cabman who
hesitates is lost. For instance, if a cabman is hired in the small hours of the morning by
disreputable roughs, and told to be in waiting for a time, and these men subsequently make
their appearance again, with a heavy sack which obviously contains something valuable,
and which might be plate, I think the cabman ought to give information in the proper
quarter unless he wishes to make himself an accomplice." [Opposite a Cabstand]

"Few masters would deny a man reasonable air and exercise, but all who study their own
comfort should fight against any special hour being appropriated by the servant for his
outing. His time belongs to his master, and ought to be subservient to his, to say nothing
of the danger of a butler, who has so much in his charge, making a practice of being absent
at a stated time, and thus giving the opportunity, so soon taken, for many a serious plate
robbery." [Housekeeping in Belgravia]

"everybody was out of town"

"It was a blazing hot day in August. Baker Street was like an oven, and the glare of the
sunshine upon the yellow brickwork of the house across the road was painful to the eye ...
Parliament had risen. Everybody was out of town, and I yearned for the glades of the New
Forest or the shingle of Southsea. A depleted bank account had caused me to postpone my
holiday ..." [The Adventure of the Cardboard Box (1893)]

"All of this occurred during the first month of the long vacation. I went up to my London
rooms, where I spent seven weeks working out a few experiments in organic chemistry.
One day however, when the autumn was far advanced and the vacation drawing to a close
..." [The Adventure of the "Gloria Scott" (1893)]

"... the roar of London is ever in your ears, and the fret and irritation for ever tries your
system; so much so that the [summer] season, that is, the only part of London life supposed
enjoyable, no sooner begins than people begin to lay their plans for its end and
out-of-towning. In August you go because others go, because all the world seems breaking
up and off for the holidays, and you feel in disgrace and punishment if you don't go too. To
say the truth, the houses get hotter and hotter, till the very walls feel warmed through; the
blaze of sunshine makes the walls look more dingy, the chimneys smell, the papered grates
and tinselled shavings look shabby, and everybody feels tired of everybody else and
everything about them. If any one stays behind it is so well known to be no matter of
preference when all London is painting, white-washing, and doing up, that it seems
positively against your respectability; so much so, that some who find it convenient to go
rather late or to return rather early are weak enough to keep their front blinds down or
shutters shut, and live and look out on the mews' [stable-yards'] side! In short,
out-of-towning is a point in which you are hardly a free agent. Your servants look for your
going out of town, and some bargain for it at hiring, part because Tea-kettle Thomas and
Susan want the change, and others for the range and riot of your house when you are gone.
A friend in —— Gardens, where there is a fine common garden behind the house, says that
all August and September there is a perfect saturnalia of cooks and charwomen and their
friends aping their mistresses—rather a loud imitation—playing croquet, giving tea and gin
parties, dancing, screaming, shouting, laughing, and making summer life hideous." [Life in

"the Carlton Club"

Were the London clubs mentioned in the Holmes Canon made up or real?

"He was a member of the Baldwin, the Cavendish, and the Bagatelle card clubs. It was
shown that, after dinner on the day of his death, he had played a rubber of whist at the
latter club." [The Adventure of the Empty House (1903)]

"He trusts, therefore, that Mr. Holmes will make every effort to grant this interview, and
that he will confirm it over the telephone to the Carlton Club." [The Adventure of the
Illustrious Client (1924)]

At least one of these clubs was real, the Carlton Club.

"Here is a sketch from the window at White's. He is also a member of the Senior and the
Carlton, but he is seldom seen at either. He prefers the view from White's, and he prefers
the men he meets there, and he likes the chattiness of that famous club." [Thumbnail
Studies in the London Streets]

This is also interesting for mentioning "the view from White's," which corresponds with
the statement in "The Greek Interpreter" (1893):

"The two sat down together in the bow-window of the [Diogenes] club. 'To anyone who
wishes to study mankind this is the spot,' said Mycroft. 'Look at the magnificent types!
Look at these two men who are coming towards us, for example.' "

Of course not everyone looking at people in the streets through the window of a London
club would have had as noble a character as Mycroft's.

"A wicked old character is represented in the initial to this paper. He is a gay old
bachelor, of disgraceful habits and pursuits—a course old villain without a trace of
gentlemanly, or even manly, feeling about him. He stands at his club-window by day,
leering at every respectable woman who passes him, in a manner that would insure him a
hearty kicking were he not the enfeebled, palsied old thing he is." [Thumbnail Studies in
the London Streets]

the move to 221B Baker Street

In "The Adventure of the Dancing Men" (1903), a married couple had met in a
boarding-house in London:

"Last year I came up to London for the Jubilee, and I stopped at a boardinghouse in
Russell Square, because Parker, the vicar of our parish, was staying in it. There was an
American young lady there—Patrick was the name—Elsie Patrick. In some way we
became friends, until before my month was up I was as much in love as man could be. We
were quietly married at the registry office, and we returned to Norfolk a wedded couple."

In "The Valley of Fear" (1914-1915), another married couple had met in a boarding-house
in London:

"There is one other point," said Inspector MacDonald. "You met Mr. Douglas in a
boarding house in London, did you not, and became engaged to him there?"

"A favorite resort of the homeless are boarding-houses. Of these establishments there
are hundreds in London—from those devoted to the entertainment of minor City clerks,
rigorously 'engaged during the day,' to those which—one is almost led to suppose—nobody
under the rank of a baronet is received, and even then not without a reference as to
respectability on the part of a peer. But most of these houses have one or two features in
common. There is always a large admixture of people who go there for the sake of society;
and of this number a considerable proportion is sure to consist of widows or spinsters of
extremely marriageable tendencies. The result is that, unless the residents be very
numerous, individual freedom is lost, and, instead of living an independent life as at an
hotel, the members of a 'circle' find themselves surrounded by such amenities as may be
supposed to belong a rather large and singularly disunited family. A great many marriages,
however, are made in these establishments, and it is not on record that they turn out
otherwise then well. It must be admitted, too, that men go there to find wives as well as
women to find husbands, so that the arrangement thus far is fair on both sides. But I have
been informed by men who are not among the latter number, that it is found difficult
sometimes to get the fact generally understood. The consequent mistakes of course lead
to confusion, and the result is the occassional retirement of determined bachelors into
more private life." [Outsiders of Society and Their Homes in London]

Were Sherlock Holmes's places of abode prior to 221B Baker Street in boarding-houses?

"When I first came up to London I had rooms in Montague Street, just round the corner
from the British Museum, and there I waited, filling in my too abundant leisure time by
studying all those branches of science which might make me more efficient. Now and
again cases came in my way, principally through the introduction of old fellow-students,
for during my last years at the university there was a good deal of talk there about
myself and my methods." [The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual (1893)]

The phrase "when I first came up to London I had rooms in Montague Street" implies
that he was no longer living there when he met Dr. Watson. He may have been moving
from one boarding-house to another to avoid "spinsters of extremely marriageable
tendencies" whom he would have found threatening to the unique profession he was
pursuing. Could it be that to escape such attentions Sherlock Holmes sought another
man "to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found"? [A Study in Scarlet