I was going to write a blog post Sherlock Holmes @ 50 meeting in Minneapolis MN during July 2024. But really, I instantly saw SO MANY people sharing their experiences that I felt I couldn't add a great deal. What I decided to do instead in this long post is to discuss the topic of my talk at the meeting, and the subsequent article.
Some key points do need to be made about Sherlock Holmes @ 50. Summary: This meeting put professional organizations to shame. The structure of the meeting was wonderful, zero hiccups with IT, plenty of seating and food, and plenty of time to interact with others. Huge credit to Richard Sveum the Conference Chairman, Timothy Johnson who curates the UMN collection, and all the committee members.
The conference was organized by the Norwegian Explorers scion in partnership with the UMN libraries, and they do so every three years. 200 people descended on Minneapolis for the conference, which ran from Friday July 26 in the Givens Suite of the Andersen Library, with The Friends of the Sherlock Holmes Collections Annual Meeting held on late Friday afternoon, presentations and a banquet on the Saturday, and concluded on Sunday, July 28. In amongst all of that, there were tables selling books, art, and other goodies.
Before I go on I need to add a couple of my favorite photos of the time in MN:
At the meeting, I presented a new talk on an area I'd been researching for quite a while. Originally titled 'Phosphorus in the Hound of the Baskervilles', it addressed the questions: Why was phosphorus used? Was there a historical precedent for using phosphorus to glow? Was it practical and safe to do so?
Rather than provide a long summary, it seems I'd be better served simply sharing a recording. Unfortunately the talk in MN was not available - you had to be there.
BUT last month (Nov 2024) I presented a similar talk (in fact, with some information added) to the Sydney Passengers as the invited speaker at their virtual meeting. EVERYONE SHOULD JOIN - wonderful scion, and a wonderful journal. So, here is the presentation, thankfully recorded and available to all - starts at 14 min 45 sec:
While creating the talk, I also submitted an article form to the Baker Street Journal, and the article was published in the Autumn 2024 issue.
First, if possible you should subscribe to the Baker Street Journal - it's the Nature journal of the Sherlockian world. As part of this post, I'm including my original submitted draft, which is admittedly much longer than the final published article, which benefited greatly from the editorial guidance of Dan Andriacco. Dan also suggested modifying the title from my very plain descriptive title to the exciting 'Phosphorus and the Making of a Hellhound'.
One more point on the project - where did the idea come from? I'd been thinking about an overview of phosphorus, because I could not find any articles that addressed the topic to my satisfaction. I separately had prepared a talk about Australian influences in the canon, and as part of this sought true photographs of convicts. I cam across photographs of Tasmania convicts that some believe to be taken by Thomas Nevin. In tangentially reading about Nevin's life, I read the remarkable statement that he was arrested at one point 'on the charge that Nevin was seen pretending to be the ghost who had been terrorising the women of Hobart'. That perpetrator was using phosphorus to create a glow, and so one piece of Sherlockian research opened up the door to another!
The draft submitted article with references is provided below.
Phosphorus in the Hound of the Baskervilles
Matthew D. Hall
Introduction
I placed my hand upon the glowing muzzle, and as I held them up my own fingers smouldered and gleamed in the darkness.
“Phosphorus,” I said.
“A cunning preparation of it,” said Holmes.
A great deal of analysis and contemplation on the inspirations for plot elements of HOUN has been published since the story was first serialized in The Strand Magazine from 1901-2. Generally absent in Sherlockian studies are the potential origins for using a luminous agent on a sentient being to create a hoax spectre. Conan Doyle was a supreme aggregator of story elements. If daubing phosphorus on a person or animal is effective for striking fear, were there real or fictional uses of this approach that Conan Doyle could draw on? Is the sight of a large dog wandering about the moor casting off a luminescent glow an adequately horrifying sight? Does the application of phosphorus to a hound pass the test as a device to render it as appearing spectral?
On phosphorus and its luminescent properties
The few papers that exist on the viability of phosphorus being employed by Stapleton largely raise objections to the idea. A wide-ranging discussion of “some chemical problems in the canon” by Donald Redmond in 1964 asked “How could the hound be smeared with a phosphorous preparation which was not rapidly poisonous?”, and posited that as barium sulphide (BaS) is luminescent (a material that releases light) and relatively non-toxic, this must have been the material used on the hound {1}. Redmond concludes that a barium salt both resolves the toxicologic concerns of phosphorus use and accounts for Holmes' bisulfate of baryta studies in A Case of Identify. In 1966 Bedford and Dettman made the argument that phosphorus was indeed the agent used, but with a qualification {2}. It was again argued that the use of phosphorus was problematic, because 1) it has a very distinctive odour of garlic, 2) it causes extremely painful, long-lasting, and poisonous burns, and 3) it is extremely poisonous when taken internally. Furthermore, they contested that Stapleton did not have the scientific nous to utilize a barium salt and could not identify an alternative element to phosphorus that could be used, and argued that as Watson described phosphorus “upon the muzzle” of the dog he must have been referring to a guard covering the mouth of the dog, and rather than application directly to the fur of the animal, voiding their toxicologic concerns. Finally, Anthony Dayan published a discussion in Cutaneous and Ocular Toxicology (2008) whimsically titled “Hot Dog? Toxicological concerns and the Hound of the Baskervilles” {3}. Dayan postulates that white phosphorus (vide infra) poses an extreme risk of spontaneous combustion, and more critically that phosphorus causes significant toxicity when ingested, whereas the dog employed by Stapleton did not display symptoms of toxicity. Dayan proposes that Watson and Holmes were wrong, and in conceiving the plot Conan Doyle may have been invoking the widely known phenomenon that radioactive salts mixed with barium salts can emit light.
Pure elemental phosphorus (P) exists in multiple forms called allotropes, each differentiated by the way the P atoms connect together at a molecular level, and each allotrope has different physical and chemical properties. Perhaps the best known example of allotropy is elemental carbon (C), that commonly exists in two pure forms: graphite (useful) and diamond (desirable, particularly as a carbuncle). The three common allotropes of P are named white, red, and black phosphorus. Only white phosphorus is capable of producing a luminous glow.
The discovery of phosphorus points to the Houndian property for which we associate it: its glow. Phosphorus was first serendipitously produced by the German alchemist Hennig Brand (c1630 - c1692/1710). Brand was seeking to discover the philosopher's stone that could transmute material to gold, and boiled down vast quantities of urine (over 1,000 gallons) and baked the syrupy residue at high temperature in a furnace. The intense heat Brand applied degraded biological molecules and the liberated white waxy phosphorus produced an intense glow. This led to the name given to this new substance from the Greek words for 'light' ('phos') and 'bringing' or 'bearer' ('-phoros'). The drama of Brand's discovery is portrayed in Joseph Wright's painting 'The Alchemist Discovering Phosphorus' (Figure 1) {4}. Brand initially kept his method a secret, but it was ultimately sold, disseminated through the scientific community, and replicated by many {5}.
Figure 1. An alchemist in his study, discovering phosphorus; a young man and a boy in the background. Mezzotint by W. Pether, 1775, after J. Wright of Derby, 1771. Wellcome Collection. Public Domain Mark. Source: Wellcome Collection.
The Anglo-Dutch scientist William Y-worth (or Yarworth, died 1715) described Brand's replicated method for isolating pure phosphorous in 1692, and his own “observations concerning it” {6}. Y-worth's description of solid phosphorus holds true today:
“it must always be kept in Water, for the Air sets it on fire. The thick Liquor, if rubbed upon the Hands, Cloaths, or Hair, they will appear in the dark, as if all in fire, but will not burn... If you write upon the Palm of your Hand, or upon Paper with the said Gum, what ever you write will appear all on fire, and the Letters may be read a long time after ; but you must have a great care, that you do it softly, and to put it into Water, as soon as you have done, for if it happen to fire 'twill burn the place most dreadfully.' Sacrificing nothing for the sake of his curiosity, Y-worth shared that: 'If the Privy Parts be therewith rubb'd, they will be inflamed and burning for a good while after.”
The emission of light from a substance is generally termed luminescence, and when that light arises because of a chemical reaction it is called chemiluminescence. The light emitted from phosphorous is a result the chemical reaction of P with oxygen (O2) in air called an oxidation reaction, that produces phosphorus oxide (e.g. P4O6), heat, and a blue-green light. White phosphorus is barely soluble in water and consequently solid P can be stored in a jar of water away from air safely. Once removed from water, the pure solid will begin to glow as it reacts with oxygen. Phosphorus can be dissolved in a range of other solvents including oils and organic solvents. The implication here is that a solution of oily phosphorus can be spread or smeared onto a surface easily by dissolving it in a solvent, where it can then be exposed to air producing light.
Nature has co-opted chemiluminescent reactions into biology, and various organisms have evolved enzymes that can catalyze reactions producing light called bioluminescence. Examples of organisms include sea creatures such as plankton, jellyfish (including the lion's mane!) and deep-sea fish, and terrestrial examples include the firefly beetle, mushrooms, and glowworms. Conan Doyle noted in 'The Evidence for Fairies' that they "...are visible by night as well as by day, and show small lights about the same size as glow-worms." {7}. No mammals are known to produce bioluminescence, and so any canine observed to be glowing must either be chemically enhanced, or a genuine spectral hound.
Phosphorus and its domestic uses
What was the preparation of phosphorus used? By the early eighteenth century, phosphorous was being manufactured and was commercially available. Through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries P was produced to create a range of products, and uses included preparations of elemental phosphorus as rodenticide. Phosphorus could be acquired and kept in the home in Victorian times. For example, in 1890 Australian newspapers carried a section on 'Recipes'. Alongside instructions for “Nice Plum Cake” and “Ginger Beer” was the method for creating phosphorus paste for destroying rats and mice (Figure 2) {8}. Similar methods can be found in UK papers as early as 1853 when the Wiltshire County Mirror reported its method in the Agriculture and Rural Economy section {9}.
Figure 2. An 1890 example of instructions for creating phosphorus paste.
Inevitably, access to poisonous substances can facilitate tragedy. In 1854, newspapers carried a sad report of a verdict of suicide against 22-year-old Eliza Tippett in Prestolee, Lancashire, who admitted before dying "At Halshaw Moor she called upon Mr. Harrison, druggist, and purchased a pot of phosphorus paste - a mixture of lard and phosphorus used to poison mice with" {10}.
The luminous nature of phosphorus also resulted in scientific exploration at home. In 1886 the Kapunda Herald (Western Australia) ran a Boys' Column section with a list of “Experiments by Chemistry, Fireworks, &c.” {11}. Number 38 provided a straightforward method for dissolving phosphorus in ether, and invoking Y-worth's observation two centuries earlier stated that “if the hands and face be rubbed with this solution, which is perfectly harmless, the operator will seem on fire, and in the dark would pass for a respectable ghost”.
Figure 3. An 1886 example of instructions for applying phosphorus to the skin from the Kapunda Herald (Australia).
With this knowledge of phosphorus pastes and solutions that are safe to handle (but not ingest) disseminated and in the hands of both children and adults, did people attempt to “pass for a respectable ghost”? And is a covering of phosphorus in the dark effective, i.e. terrifying? Evaluation of newspapers in England, Australia and New Zealand show that the answers are yes, and yes.
Ghost hoaxing in the Victorian age
The practice of 'ghost hoaxing' developed during the 19th century. Academic studies on its origins point to the growth of spiritualism and a fascination with the supernatural, the cultural history of costume and caper in British village life (e.g. 'mumming'), and the legends of hauntings and ghosts carried down through generations. These elements combined to both inspire the emerging genres of ghost and suspense stories through the Victorian era, and stimulate the practice of hoaxing. Hoaxers would dress in costumes elaborate or simple, and adorned accoutrements from hats and streamers to props such as coffin lids. Motivations ranged from 'pranking' to those with criminal motives. The first significant case was that of 'spring-heeled Jack' in London from 1837 onwards, described as tall and thin with physical features including a terrifying appearance, clawed hands, glowing eyes, a black cloak, breathing blue or white flames. An in-depth analysis showed that newspaper reports popularized this new paranormal legend, and the costume (and sometimes the assaults) were emulated {12}. From these original hauntings emerged a range of ghost hoaxers in Britain and the colonies. A study of 'playing the ghost' in Australia describes the prolific range of ghostly characters frightening citizens, and notes that while some were criminally motivated, many simply sought the 'joy of a successful hoax' {13}.
A significant number of news accounts directly reference the use of phosphorus to create a spectral appearance, sometimes alone, but often in combination with a costume in order to scare people, and these “ghosts” caused alarm, fear, inconvenience, and frustration in the communities they were reported in. As early as 1867 the Tavistock Gazette (Devon, England) suggested that “the application of phosphorus.... by some mischievous inhabitant of the neighbourhood” may be responsible for the excitement surrounding a sighted ghost in Woburn-square, Bloomsbury, London {14}. Most UK reports of false ghosts using phosphorus appear in ACD's homeland of Scotland. The Helensburgh News (Scotland) reported in 1881 that “a dreadful apparition in white, with face and hands gleaming like phosphorus” and “flashing its phosphoric hands” was appearing to locals at night. A pattern of behavior emerges, with the spectre primarily showing itself to women and children, for whom the spectacle induced considerable distress, and as a result “old ladies barricade their house at night... servant girls faint... children won't go upstairs in the dark”. Employing a Sherlock-like logic, the newspaper encouraged citizens, “especially the women”, to keep in mind that “it is impossible a ghost can exist if it does not succeed in creating fear. Say to yourselves this object is so much white cloth, phosphorus, springs, paint, and folly, and face the spectre, seize his sheet, and you will see, instead of a fear-inspiring ghost, a discomfited fool” {15}. The experience in Helensburgh was not unique. In 1883 the Evening Gazette (Aberdeen, Scotland) reported on the Dundee Ghost showing itself “chiefly to young women, girls, and children, several of whom have suffered severely from the shock to their nervous system” {16}. Despite the nuisance caused over several months by this phosphorus-aided ghost, the culprit William Anderson fell back on the defence of overly zealous revelry and was simply admonished and dismissed by the judge. In 1900 an event of Wodehousian proportions was reported when the son of “a Dundee gentleman” had, for a wager, made a tour of Perthshire adorned as “one from the nether regions”, and at Meigle “a girl who went to pull down the blind has died from the shock she received on seeing at the window the apparition, with the face shining with phosphorus” {17}.
Australian newspapers carried florid stories of local color and nuisance crime that easily made the pages in the relatively small colonial towns. The earliest verified event appeared in the convict town of Hobart in 1880, unfolding across a remarkable set of reports over two months during the early winter. The first report in the Hobart Town Herald is a brief report of annoyance that “some person has been playing the ghost” among ruined buildings and a church {18}. Consternation quickly developed as the ghost persisted, and after a few weeks the same paper complained that “unless the police put a stop to this supernatural visitor, there will be some bad work, assault and battery, murder or suicide” {19}. Four weeks into the haunting, The Mercury “wish{ed} to know where the fun is” as a frightened young girl fell down in a faint and was found insensible, and a resident of High Street in Hobart shot at the ghost and a call was made for families to report on anyone who returned home with a gunshot wound {20}. The events darkened a few days later when a servant girl turned to find “some one draped in white with a blaze of fire on his chest (phosphorus, no doubt)” and the “fellow tried to pass a handkerchief over her face” {21}, and activities ceased without capture or retribution {22}.
Between 1880 and 1901 at least ten more newspaper reports across Australian colonies can be found where the use of phosphorus is directly implicated in ghost hoaxing, ranging from the hilarious to the dangerous. In 1887 a cyclist smeared his bicycle with phosphorus and rode it down the street “to see how it looked”. Hearing screams of young girls, an old Cornish farmer rushed outside to “'settle the ghost” but froze in his tracks at the sight of the apparition approaching on wheels and was struck by it {23}. In Castle Hill (Sydney) in 1888 a surveyor conceived a clever trick; he attached solid phosphorus to a long piece of string and submerged it in the creek. From time to time at night he pulled the long string, raising the phosphorus from the water and creating an intense light, and many came from surrounds to see the spectre appearing and disappearing over the water in the remote bushland {24}. In Ballarat a ghost dressed in a white smock, with a coffin lid six feet long on his back and phosphorus smeared on his face was found chasing a young woman. He was tackled by an old miner and in the scuffle the ghost produced a knife and stabbed his tackler in the arm before escaping {25}.
It is curious that ghost sightings in newspapers after 1902 do not appear to refer to the Hound story, despite the famous centrality of phosphorus in the plot. By 1904 another Ballarat ghost was described as a ghost “adorned with the stereotyped phosphorus and crossbones” {26}. Persistent underneath the mirth and nuisance-making is a dark undercurrent of predation of women inherent in the utilization of phosphorus. Reports of genuine terror and shock of those targeted adds authenticity to the likelihood that the sight of the hound coated in phosphorus would certainly strike terror in one observing it. The story of the old Cornishman demonstrates that a man can be affected as Sir Charles Baskerville was. Yet another Ballarat phosphoric ghost in 1913 met an old male dairy farmer who collapsed in fear and was later found and revived (the ghost was later found, stripped, and flagellated) {27}.
The case for phosphorus
It is possible through newspapers and scientific conversations that Conan Doyle would be aware of phosphorus, and he may have even received a direct demonstration at university. In Memories and Adventures, Conan Doyle related that while sailing to West Africa in 1881 in rough seas, the waves “were phosphorescent at night, so that flames of liquid fire came coursing down the decks” {28}. Such a striking sight of bioluminescence must surely have stayed in Conan Doyle's mind palace, waiting to be employed in the appropriate story.
Objections to the use of phosphorus have been based on arguments around its impracticality, either because of chemical reactivity or toxicity. Individuals charging around at night with phosphorus smeared on their clothing and skin demonstrate that the use of appropriately formulated phosphorus was straightforward. It is unfortunate for Holmes that the hound did not make contact with Sir Charles Baskerville or Selden the criminal during its pursuits, as the transfer of glowing material to the victim or ground would have accelerated the solution of Stapleton's plot. Holmes was 'prepared for a hound, but not for such a creature as this'. We also have tentative confirmation in the story about where Stapleton created his 'cunning preparation': “There is an old tin mine on an island in the heart of the mire. It was there that he kept his hound and there also he had made preparations so that he might have a refuge". The phosphorus was confirmed to be a paste stored in a tin, rather than elemental phosphorus stored in water.
It has been argued that the acute toxicity of phosphorus prevents its use on the hound. This toxicity by oral ingestion is certainly observed in canines {29}, and Agatha Christie used this toxicity and luminescence to great effect as the culprit poison in Dumb Witness {30}. Topical application does not cause acute toxicity, and skin burns are only caused by a solid piece of P as it reacts and heats - a thin spread allows heat to dissipate, and burning does not occur. As such, the application of phosphorus preparations to a dog's fur appears very feasible, and relatively safe. The description of the hound by Watson suggests the head was covered in the substance: “Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame”. This description is surely overly dramatic. After all, Watson was absolutely struck with horror and possibly maximizing theatrics in his story-telling. The statement of glow on the muzzle has been interpreted as evidence that phosphorus must have entered the mouth of the hound, causing toxicity and death. We have evidence this must not have been the case, for when the hound leapt on Sir Henry, it worried at his throat. If the hound was indeed tearing, gnawing, or dragging its teeth, his neck and collar would have been glowing from transferred phosphorus, but no mention is made of it. Even if some toxicity was caused by a liberal application of phosphorus it is not relevant. After all, the dog died (of a form of lead poisoning), so we cannot know if phosphorus caused illness to the dog!
The evidence presented here allows the search for luminescent alternatives to phosphorus to be set aside. Watson and Holmes were correct in concluding that it was 'phosphorus' and 'a cunning preparation'. Holmes after all was an experienced chemist, and would have been only too pleased to contradict Watson on a matter of chemistry.
References
1. D.A. Redmond, “Some Chemical Problems in the Canon”, Baker Street Journal, Vol. 14, No. 3 (1964), p. 145.
2. Michael Bedford and Bruce Dettman, “A Cunning Preparation”, Baker Street Journal, Vol. 16, No. 4 (1966), p. 231.
3. Anthony D. Dayan, “Hot dog? Toxicological concerns and The Hound of the Baskervilles” in Cutaneous and Ocular Toxicology, Vol. 27 (2008), p. 61.
4. Mezzotint by W. Pether, 1775, after J. Wright of Derby, 1771, Wellcome Collection, UK.
5. Dan Egan, The Devil's Element: Phosphorus and a World Out of Balance, New York: W. W. Norton & Co, 2023.
6. William Y-worth, Chymicus Rationalis: or, the Fundamental Grounds of the Chemical Art Rationally Stated and Deemonstrated, London: Thomas Salusbury, 1692.
7. Arthur Conan Doyle, “The Evidence for Fairies” The Strand Magazine, Vol. 61 (1921), p. 199.
8. “Recipes”, Tungamah and Lake Rowan Express and St. James Gazette (Victoria Australia), 13 Mar 1890, p. S2.
9. “Phosphorus Paste for Destroying Vermin”, Wiltshire County Mirror (Wiltshire, England), 1 Mar 1853, p. 3.
10. “Suicide – Felo de se”, Express (London, England), 27 May 1854, p. 3.
11. “Boys Column, Experiments by Chemistry, Fireworks, &c.”, Kapunda Herald (South Australia), 23 Jul 1886, p. 6.
12. Mike Dash, “Spring-heeled Jack: To Victorian Bugaboo From Suburban Ghost”, Fortean Studies, London: John Brown Publishing (1996).
13. David Waldron, “Playing the ghost: ghost hoaxing and supernaturalism in late nineteenth-century Victoria”, Folklore, Vol. 127, No. 1 (2016), p. 71.
14. “A Ghost in a London Square”, Tavistock Gazette (Devonshire, England), 7 June 1867, p. 6.
15. “The Ghost in Helensburgh”, Helensburgh News (Scotland), 22 Dec 1881, p. 2.
16. “A Dundee Ghost Seized”, Evening Gazette (Aberdeen, Scotland), 19 Feb 1883, p. 4.
17. “Ghost Scare in East Perthshire”, The Scotsman (Edinburgh, Scotland), 3 Dec 1900, p. 9.
18. “A Ghost”, The Hobart Town Herald (Tasmania), 26 Oct 1880, p. 3.
19. “Insanity and the Ghost”, The Hobart Herald (Tasmania), 6 Nov 1880, p. 2.
20. “The Ghost Again”, The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania), 22 Nov 1880, p. 2.
21. “The Ghost”, The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania), 30 Nov 1880, p. 2.
22. “The Ghost Again”, The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania), 21 Dec 1880, p. 2.
23. “Queer Freak of a Cyclist”, Glen Innes Examiner and General Advertiser (New South Wales, Australia), 16 Aug 1887, p. 3.
24. “The ‘Ghost’ Laid”, The Cumberland Mercury (Parramatta, Australia), 18 Jan 1888, p. 2.
25. “Stabbed by a Ghost”, Zeehan and Dundas Herald (Tasmania), 15 Jun 1895, p. 3.
26. “Fight With a “Ghost”, The Argus (Melbourne, Australia), 14 Jul 1904, p. 6.
27. “A Ballarat “Ghost””, The Albury Banner and Wodonga Express (New South Wales, Australia), 16 May 1913, p. 32.
28. Arthur Conan Doyle, Memories and Adventures, London: Hodder & Stoughton Ltd., 1924
29. “Poisoning Dogs”, The Queenslander (Brisbane, Australia), 1 Sep 1894, p. 429.
30. Agatha Christie, Dumb Witness, UK: Collins Crime Club ,1937.
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