Chapter 3 Two Deductive Method
According to the arrangement of Holmes, we met again the next day, and went to look at the house at 221 B Baker Street, which he had talked about in the previous meeting.The house consisted of two comfortable bedrooms, and a large and airy sitting-room, pleasantly furnished, with two large windows, so that it was very light and bright.In every way, these rooms are very satisfactory.After we sublet, the rent will be more appropriate.So we sold it on the spot and rented it out immediately.That night, I packed my bags and moved in from the apartment.Next morning Holmes followed suit with some trunks and traveling bags.We unpacked and furnished and kept busy for a day or two.After everything had been arranged as well as possible, we gradually settled down and became acquainted with this new environment.
To be honest, Holmes is not a difficult person to get along with.He was quiet, and his habits were regular.I rarely go to bed after ten o'clock every night.In the morning, he always finished his breakfast and went out before I got up.Sometimes he spent whole days in the laboratory, or in the dissecting room; occasionally he went on foot to distant places, which seemed to be the slums of the City of London.When he is happy to work, no one can match his exuberant energy; but often there will be an opposite force, lying on the sofa in the living room all day, from morning to night, almost all the time. She didn't say a word, she didn't move.Whenever this happens, I always see such a dazed look in his eyes.If it weren't for his rigorous and restrained life, I would really suspect that he has an addiction to narcotics.
As the weeks passed, my interest in him as a person and my curiosity about his purpose in life grew.His appearance and appearance are enough to attract attention at first sight.He was more than six feet tall, with an unusually slender body, which made him appear slender; his eyes were piercing (except when he was dazed); He is a very persistent person.Although his hands were speckled with ink and chemicals, his movements were unusually skillful and careful.Because when he was fiddling with those delicate and fragile laboratory instruments, I often watched him from the sidelines.
If I admit that Holmes was a man who greatly aroused my curiosity, and that I was now and then trying to break through his wall of reticence which never spoke of himself, the reader may think me an incurably troubled man.But before you jump to such conclusions, please consider how empty my life is; how few things can attract my attention in this life.My health does not permit me to go outside unless the weather is particularly fine; at the same time, I have few friends to visit to break up my monotonous routine.Under these circumstances, I naturally took great interest in the little secret surrounding my companion, and spent a great part of my time trying to unravel it.
He is not studying medicine.In response to one of my questions, he himself confirmed that Stanford was correct on this point.He does not appear to be studying any discipline for a degree in science, nor does he appear to be taking any other general route that would enable him to enter academia.However, his enthusiasm for some research work is astonishing; in some strange fields of knowledge, his knowledge is extremely profound, so he often speaks amazingly.Surely no one would work so hard to acquire such exact knowledge if it were not for some definite purpose.Because people who are aimless and read everything, their knowledge is difficult to be very superb.No one would want to spend so much energy on so many little details unless it is for some good reason.
His poor knowledge is as startling as his rich.He knew next to nothing about modern literature, philosophy and politics.When I was citing the article, he asked me stupidly who Carlyle was and what he had done.What surprised me the most was: I accidentally discovered that he was completely puzzled by Copernican's theory and the composition of the solar system.It is beyond my comprehension that an educated man in this nineteenth century should not know how the earth goes round the sun.
Seeing my surprise, he smiled and said, "You seem to be surprised. Even if I understand this, I will try my best to forget it."
"Forget it!"
He explained: "You know, I think the human brain is like a small empty attic, and some furniture should be selectively packed in it. Only a fool would treat all kinds of junk that he came across. In this way, the knowledge that is useful to him is squeezed out; or, at most, it is mixed with many other things. Therefore, it is difficult to access it. So a man who knows how to work is indeed very careful when he chooses what to put into his little attic mind. He has nothing but useful tools for his work. Bring it in, and these tools are all there and organized. If you think that the walls of this small attic are elastic and can expand and contract at will, you are wrong. Please believe me, one day, when you add new knowledge When you do this, you will forget what you were familiar with before. So the most important thing is not to let some useless knowledge crowd out the useful ones."
I argued, "But, that's a problem with the solar system!"
He interrupted me impatiently: "What does it matter to me? You say we go around the sun, but even if we go around the moon, what does it matter to me or to my work?" Woolen cloth?"
When I was almost on the verge of asking him what his job was, I could tell from his manner that the question might displease him.I therefore considered our short conversation, and tried to draw some inferential clues from it.He said that he was unwilling to pursue knowledge that had nothing to do with what he was studying, so all the knowledge he had was of course useful to him.I listed in my mind the subjects that he knew very deeply one by one, and wrote them down with a pencil.After reading it, I couldn't help laughing.It turned out to be like this:
Sherlock Holmes' Scope of Knowledge:
1. Literary knowledge - none.
2. Philosophical knowledge - none.
3. Knowledge of astronomy - none.
4. Political science knowledge - superficial.
5. Botanical knowledge--Not comprehensive, but well-known about acanthus and opium.Has a general knowledge of poisons and nothing about practical horticulture.
6. Geological knowledge--practical, but limited.But he can distinguish different soil qualities at a glance.He had shown me, on his return from a walk, the spots of mud which had been spattered on his trousers, and was able, by their color and firmness, to show where in London it had been splashed.
7. Chemical knowledge - profound.
8. Knowledge of anatomy—accurate, but unsystematic.
9. Thriller literature - very extensive, he seems to know the details of all the horrors that have occurred in the past century.
10. I play the violin very well.
11. Good at using sticks and swords.
12. He has sufficient practical knowledge of English law.
I wrote these notes and was disappointed.I threw it on the fire and said to myself, "If I try to connect all these skills to find a trade that requires them all, I can't figure out what the old man is. If you are doing something, then I might as well give up this attempt immediately."
I remember mentioning his ability to play the violin earlier.He played the violin very well, but like his other talents, there was something eccentric about him.I know he can play some pieces, and some very difficult ones.For, at my request, he had played me some of Mendelssohn's short songs and some of his favourites.But when he was alone, he seldom played any decent music or familiar tunes.At dusk, he leaned back in the armchair, closed his eyes, and casually played the violin lying flat on his lap.Sometimes the sound of the piano is high-pitched and melancholy, and sometimes weird and cheerful.Obviously, these sounds reflect a certain trend of thought that dominated him at the time, but whether these tunes have contributed to this trend of thought in him, or just a whim, I cannot say for sure.I was very impatient with his piercing solos; and if he hadn't often followed them up with some of my favorite pieces, as a small compensation for my patience, I would have jumped into a frenzy.
For the first week or two, no one came to visit us.I used to think that my partner was like me, lonely and friendless.I soon discovered, however, that he had many acquaintances, and from very different classes of society.Among them was a man with a yellow complexion, deer-headed mouse eyes, and a pair of black eyes.Introduced by Holmes, I know his name is Mr. Lestrade.This man comes three or four times a week.A fashionable young girl came one morning and sat there for more than half an hour before leaving.In the afternoon, another gray-haired, ragged guest, who looked very much like a Jewish peddler, appeared very nervous, followed by a shabby old woman.Another time a gray-haired gentleman called on my companion; another time a train waiter in a velveteen livery came to see him.Whenever these strange guests appeared, Sherlock Holmes always asked him to use the sitting-room, and I was obliged to retreat to my bedroom.He often apologized to me for the inconvenience he caused me."I had to use this living room as an office," he said, "and these people are my customers." This time, I found another good opportunity to ask him a direct question, but, just to be cautious, I He didn't force him to tell me the truth.I thought then that he must have some great reason for not talking about his occupation.However, he soon took the initiative to talk about this issue, breaking my original idea.
I remember very well that it was the 4th of March, and I rose earlier than usual; I found that Holmes had not finished his breakfast.The landlady was always aware of my late rise, so there was no place for me at the table, nor was my coffee ready.In a fit of unreasonable exasperation, I rang the bell at once, and told the landlady briefly that I had breakfast ready.So I took a magazine from the table and while away the waiting time, leafed through it, while my companion munched on his bread in silence.There was an article in a magazine with a penciled line under the headline, so I automatically read that first.
The title of the article seems to be exaggerated, what is called "Treasures of Life".This article attempts to explain: a good observer, if he observes precisely and systematically the things he comes into contact with, how much he will gain.I think this article stands out, although it has its shrewdness and originality, it is also absurd; in theory, it is rigorous and compact; but in conclusion, as far as I can see, it is far-fetched and exaggerated.The author claims that from the momentary expression of a person's face, every twitch of a muscle and every turn of an eye, one can infer what is going on in a person's innermost thoughts.According to the author, "cheating" is impossible for a person trained in observation and analysis.His conclusions are as accurate as Euclid's theorems.And these conclusions, in the eyes of some laymen, are indeed astonishing. Before they understand the various steps by which he came to such conclusions, they will really regard him as a divine man who does not know the prophet.
The author said: "A logician does not need to see or hear of the Atlantic Ocean or Niagara Falls, he can deduce its possible existence from a drop of water, so the whole life is a huge chain, only need to see a link in it , the whole chain can be deduced. The science of deduction and analysis, like other arts, can only be mastered after long and patient study; , before proceeding to study the extremely difficult spiritual and psychological aspects of things, one might as well begin by mastering the more obvious ones. For example, when you meet a person, you can recognize the history and occupation of the person at a glance. Such Exercise may seem childish, but it sharpens one's powers of observation and teaches one where to look and what to look at. A man's fingernails, sleeves, boots and The knee part of the trousers, the callus between the thumb and forefinger, the facial expression, the cuff of the shirt, etc., can clearly reveal his occupation from any of the above-mentioned points. It is almost unimaginable for the investigators of the case to suddenly understand."
When I read this, I couldn't help throwing the magazine on the table and exclaiming: "What a load of nonsense! I have never seen such a boring article in my life."
"Which article?" asked Holmes.
"Well, that's the article." I said as I sat down to breakfast, pointing to the article with my little spoon, "I think you've read it, because you've got a pencil under it. I don't deny it." The article is beautifully written, but I can't help but be offended when I read it. Evidently, it's the plausible theory of some well-fed idler sitting in his study behind closed doors. Not at all practical. I'd like to try and put him in a third-class compartment on the Underground and make him tell the professions of his fellow passengers. I'd bet him a thousand to one All bets are fine."
"Then you lose," said Holmes serenely. "I wrote that."
"It's you!"
"Yes, I have a special talent for both observation and reasoning. The theories I have proposed in this article, which may seem ridiculous to you, are actually very practical, so practical that even I That's what got me my cheese and my bread."
"How do you live on it?" I couldn't help asking.
"Well, I have my own trade. I think I'm the only one in the whole world who does it. I'm a 'consulting detective', and perhaps you can understand what it is. In the city of London, There are many official detectives and private detectives. These people come to me when they are in trouble, and I try to put them on the right track. They give me all the evidence, and generally I can rely on my knowledge of criminal history. Knowledge, correct their mistakes. Criminal acts have their very similarities, if you can know the details of a thousand cases, but you can't explain the thousand and first case, that is Strange thing. Lestrade is a well-known detective. He's been in the dark lately in a forgery case, and that's why he came to me."
"What about the others?"
"Mostly they are referred by private investigators who have troubles and need guidance. I listen carefully to their facts and they take mine; so the fee is in my pocket gone."
I said, "Do you mean to say that other people can't solve the problem even though they have seen the details with their own eyes, but you can explain some difficult problems without leaving your home?"
"Exactly. Because I have such an ability to analyze things with intuition. Occasionally, I will encounter a slightly complicated case, so I have to run around and investigate it myself. You know, I have many special If you apply this knowledge to the case, you will be able to solve the problem. Although the deduction rules mentioned in that article have aroused your ridicule, they are of incomparable value to me in practical work. Observation is second nature to me. When we first met, I told you you were from Afghanistan, and you seemed surprised."
"No problem, someone must have told you."
"Nothing like that. I knew right then and there that you were from Afghanistan. From long habit, a series of thoughts flew through my mind, so that I didn't notice it when I came to my conclusion. The steps taken to reach a conclusion. However, there are certain steps in between. In your case, my reasoning process is this: 'This gentleman has the demeanor of a medical worker, but is He was a military doctor, then. He had just returned from the tropics, for he had a dark complexion, but it was not his original color, judging from the black and white skin on his wrists. He had a haggard face, which It clearly shows that he has just recovered from a long illness and has gone through hardships. His left arm was injured, and it is still a little stiff and inconvenient to move. Let me ask, a British military doctor has experienced hardships in tropical places and has suffered an arm injury. Can this be Where? Only in Afghanistan, of course.' This train of thoughts lasted less than a second, so you were surprised when I blurted out that you were from Afghanistan."
I smiled and said: "From your explanation, this matter is quite simple. You remind me of the detective character in the works. I really can't think of such a character except in novels. "
Holmes rose and lit his pipe.He said: "You must think that comparing me with Dupin is a compliment. But, in my opinion, Dupin is a very insignificant fellow. He was silent for a quarter of an hour before suddenly telling his friend what was on his mind. It is too contrived and superficial. True, he has some analytical genius, but he is by no means the extraordinary man that Poe imagined him to be."
I asked, "Have you read Gapolio? What's your opinion of the character Le Gauc? Is he a detective?"
Holmes snorted contemptuously.He said in a foul voice: "Le Gauc is a useless fool. There is only one thing worth mentioning about him, and that is his energy. That book just bored me. Its subject is only about how To identify unknown criminals. I can solve such problems in twenty-four hours. But Legauc took about six months. With that long time, I can really write a book for detectives Textbooks, teaching them what to avoid."
I was irritated to hear him speak of such worthlessness of two persons whom I admired.I went to the window and looked at the busy street.I said to myself, "This man may be very clever, but he is too proud."
He complained dissatisfied and said: "There have been no crimes these days, and no criminals have been found. People in our business are really useless. I know that my talent is enough to make me famous. From ancient times to the present. No one has ever been as gifted in the detection of crimes as I have been with such exquisite research. But what happened? There were no crimes to investigate, at best simple and childish crimes, with obvious motives, Even the personnel of the police can see through it at a glance."
I was still angry at his brazen talk.I think it's best to change the subject.
"I don't know what this man is looking for?" I said, pointing to a burly, modestly dressed man.He was walking slowly across the street, looking anxiously for the house number.He held a large blue envelope in his hand, clearly a messenger.
"Do you mean the retired Sergeant of the Marine Corps?" said Holmes.
I thought to myself: "He's bragging again. He knows I can't verify whether his guess is correct."
The thought hadn't left my mind until the man we were watching ran across the street quickly after seeing our house number.There was only a quick knock on the door, someone downstairs was talking in a low voice, and then there were heavy footsteps on the stairs.
As soon as the man entered the room, he handed the letter to my friend."This is a letter to Mr. Holmes," said he.
This was a good opportunity to dampen Holmes' arrogance.He was talking nonsense just now, and he never expected to have the current step.I tried to use a gentle voice and said: "Young man, what is your occupation?"
"I'm a servant, sir," answered the man gruffly, "and my uniform has been mended."
"What did you do?" I asked him, casting a malicious glance at my companion.
"Sergeant, sir, I served in the Royal Marines in the Light Infantry. No reply, sir? Well, sir."
He touched his heels, raised his hands in salute, and walked out.
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