Thursday, January 23, 2025

His Human Love For Admiration

 

A flush of colour sprang to Holmes's pale cheeks, and he bowed to us like the master dramatist who receives the homage of his audience.  It was at such moments that for an instant he ceased to be a reasoning machine and betrayed his human love for admiration and applause.  The same singularly proud and reserved nature which turned away with disdain from popular notoriety was capable of being moved to its depth by spontaneous wonder and praise from a friend.--Dr. Watson, "The Adventure of the Six Napoleons"

Even though I've been reading it for twenty years,  I'm still interested when I read near the end of SIXN of Holmes's capability to be moved by praise from a friend. Watson goes so far as to say Holmes is not quite the reasoning machine we think he is; in fact, Holmes is human enough to have "a human love for admiration and applause." I like it when Holmes lets the more vulnerable parts of his humanity be on display. I can relate to the rarely seen vulnerable parts of his personality more than I can relate to the "reasoning machine."  I would like to be more of a reasoning machine, a machine without need for admiration, applause or praise. Sadly, I am also betrayed by my human love for admiration and applause.

The need for praise is something I think about often and I try to push back against it. The thoughtful Scott Monty once posted a quote from Epicteus  I can't quite get out of my head:

If you are ever tempted to look for outside approval, realize that you have compromised your own integrity. If you need a witness, be your own. 
I believe Holmes understood the power of being his own witness, the power of being centered in his thinking, the power of not needing to be understood; he knew how to function from a position of self-management, for better or for worse. He might have had a human love for admiration but he didn't have a need for it. How else could he say:

I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to under-estimate oneself is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one's own powers.
How freeing it must be to not feel the need for external praise. The love for admiration and praise is especially in my thoughts this week, several days on from having received Doylean Honors in Fiction for my book, The Genius of the Place. The time I spent writing the book was important to me and I am delighted others found meaning in the work and enjoyed reading it. I think every writer wants their work to be read and acknowledged. I am also delighted to receive public praise  for the book. However, I don't want to fall into the trap of thinking the work and therefore me only have value if praised. I don't want to be lusting after praise.

I use the word lusting because a part of a poem from Wendell Berry also lives in my head, and it makes itself known quite often:

...To the sky, to the wind, then,
and to the faithful trees, I confess
my sins: that I have not been happy
enough, considering my good luck;
have listened to too much noise;
have been in attentive to wonders;
have lusted after praise...

I don't think Holmes lusted after praise but he allowed himself to like it from time to time. I hope to be the same way someday. Today is not that day but I'll keep trying. Meanwhile, I'm damn well happy to have that little certificate. Ha! I am human after all.


Wednesday, January 1, 2025

The Congenial Surroundings of Baker Street

 

My friend's temper had not improved since he had been deprived of the congenial surroundings of Baker Street. Without his scrap-books, his chemicals, and his homely untidiness, he was an uncomfortable man. -- Dr. John Watson about Sherlock Holmes, "The Adventure of the Three Students."

Ah, yes: the congenial surroundings of Baker Street, the nice suite at 221B.    Watson dates his statement above as 1895 so he and Holmes had been friends and companions for about fourteen years at that point.  I wonder when 221B Baker Street  stopped being just agreeable rooms and became home. Because, really, that is the gist of Watson's statement: Holmes is uncomfortable because he is not at home. I'm sure Watson's companionship made the temporary lodgings in the great University town more agreeable than they might have been otherwise but still Holmes was not in Baker Street where he obviously preferred to be.

It is interesting to me that North American English most often uses "homely" to mean unattractive in appearance, but, in British use, it most often refers to the cozy, the comfortable, and the unpretentious. I like to think 221B was cozy, comfortable and unpretentious after more than a decade of housing Sherlock Holmes, at times with and at times without Dr. Watson.  

While Watson was writing of Sherlock Holmes's actual  rooms, I can certainly relate to the sentiment  because my own version of the "congenial surroundings of Baker Street" is very important to my comfort, happiness and temperament. My version is mostly made of books about 221B Baker Street, its inhabitants, and the Literary Agent serving their interests. I do not feel at home anywhere but here, among these many books and papers.

Holmes liked his "homely untidiness" and I like my homely books. And while I'm fortunate to own a few books some consider to be less common and a little more expensive-ish than many others, the ones which mean the most to me are  run of the mill, probably in the homes of many, many people. It hardly matters how ordinary they may be; all that matters to me is that in their company is where my spirit feels the most comfortable, and has for almost twenty years.

Like all things, I know this comfort will pass. I don't know when but in the meanwhile, I intend to cherish it and these congenial surroundings. I know whatever is next will have its own comforts, too, although I can't imagine yet what they will be. After all, Sherlock Holmes eventually left the congenial surroundings of Baker Street and found a new life in his lonely house in Sussex. I always note: he writes the house is lonely; he does not say he is lonely. I think that perhaps his congenial surroundings of Baker Street taught him how to recreate the feeling elsewhere.  Maybe he can show me the way when my change comes.