My Sherlockian Family Tree by Alan Rettig
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
My Sherlockian Family Tree by Alan Rettig The Red Circle of Washington, March 14, 2014 I came to Sherlock Holmes early. My favorite uncle gave me his copy of the Canon when I was in sixth or seventh grade. What else should I have expected from an amateur violinist? Professionally, Uncle George taught engineering at Stevens Institute of Technology in New Jersey. He was an acknowledged authority on Newton's Principia and the history of applied mechanics. I remember that his marginal notes on the pages of "The Engineer's Thumb" had a number of unkind observations about Watson's meager understanding of things mechanical. He also had some choice remarks about Professor Moriarty in "The Final Problem," pointing out indignantly that the binomial theorem speaks quite eloquently for itself, thank you very much. Never mind, I devoured the sixty stories and never looked back. I came to genealogy much, much later. Over lunch several years ago with my friend Richard Smith, he told me of the exhaustive family research he and his wife have done. He was a volunteer in the genealogy room at a local library and he offered to give me a tutorial if I was interested. I reasoned that if a guy named Richard Smith could research his family successfully, anybody could. Again I was hooked, and again I haven't looked back. It took me about two years to research and document my mother's family, and it was a most rewarding project. The database that forms the core of my quest contains 874 names, and I can see my relationship to each of these ancestors with the click of a mouse. The roots trace back a full ten centuries to my 26th great grandfather, William the Conqueror, and the seven English 2 kings who succeeded him. It took a combination of luck, determination, and help from accommodating friends, librarians and researchers to get back that far. But I seized my thread and followed it, until it led me after 26 generations to that French upstart who carried the day at Hastings. I was certainly surprised to discover that, like John Clay in "The Red- Headed League," I'm descended from royalty. But I was even more amazed to find that again and again my family's history intersects with Sherlock Holmes and his adventures. Discovering, researching and documenting these Canonical crossroads became my personal "grand game," one which I would like to share with you. 1. The Red King Vincent Starrett said that when it comes to Sherlock Holmes, "it is always eighteen ninety-five," but the Canon gives us historical footnotes that take us back many more centuries. The very earliest is in The Valley of Fear, where we learn that the estate upon which the Manor House of Birlstone stood was granted to Hugo de Capus by "The Red King," William II. And it is here that we find my oldest connection to the Canon, dating back to the eleventh century. William II was my 25th great-grand uncle, the third son of William the Conqueror. As Watson points out, Birlstone traced its founding to the time of the first Crusade, which William undertook in 1095 at the request of Pope Urban II, and resulted in capturing Jerusalem from the Turks. The Red King ruled from 1087 to 1100, was hated by his foes and was anything but beloved by those he governed. According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, he was “hateful to almost all his people and odious to God.” Bellicose and ruthless, he spent most of his time grabbing land, extorting money and putting down rebellions. He died in 1100 after a hunting "accident" in the New Forest. 3 In May of 2009 I found myself rumbling through that same New Forest on a beautifully restored vintage country bus. Our convivial group from the Sherlock Holmes Society of London was bound for the Hampshire village of Minstead to lay a wreath at the grave of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle during the sesquicentennial of his birth. Shortly before reaching Minstead we stopped at a clearing in the forest and visited the marker that commemorates William's hunting misadventure. The official story is that the arrow fired by Sir Walter Tyrrell ricocheted off a tree that stood at the site of the marker, then somehow found its way into the Red King's chest. But the then newly-elected chairman of the London Sherlockians, barrister Jonathan McCafferty, could not conceal his amusement at this fanciful explanation. The learned Jonathan stood beside the marker and succinctly argued his brief for assassination: "Brother Henry wanted to be king. What more do you need to know?" Many historians agree with Jonathan, believing that the arrow took a straight path and was fired at the behest of Henry. And so it came to pass that within hours brother Henry was indeed the king. Henry I was also my 25th great grandfather, and was something of a peacemaker, at least compared to his departed brother. As for us pilgrims, we re-boarded our bus and proceeded to Minstead where we paid our respects to Sir Arthur. 2. Australia Early in my search, as the family tree began to spread its branches, I transplanted it to cyberspace. Soon, a surprising e-mail arrived from Adelaide, Australia. It was from a woman named Margaret McDonald, who introduced 4 herself as a longtime volunteer with the South Australia Genealogy and Heraldry Society. My online tree had caught Margaret's attention. She'd zeroed in on my second great grandfather, William Mill, who was born in the little mining village of Illogan in Cornwall, England in 1825. I knew that William was a tin miner, that he married my second great grandmother Jane Harris in 1848 and that they had two children. But in 1856 William disappeared from Illogan, leaving his wife and kids behind, and I'd been unable to pick up his trail. Many men left the Cornish mines around that time because mineral prices had slumped and they were forced to find work abroad. I had assumed that William came to America like some of my other ancestors, but I couldn't find him. Margaret set me straight. William never came to America. Instead, he boarded the clipper ship "Queen of the Seas," and 140 stomach-churning days later arrived at Melbourne's Port Philip Bay on January 28, 1857. He spent the rest of his life in Australia and the Pacific Island of New Caledonia working as a miner and a mine manager. And in addition to being my second great grandfather, William Mill is the great grandfather of Margaret Joyce Mill McDonald of suburban Adelaide. Margaret is my second cousin once removed. Margaret has traced William's mining career from his arrival in Australia in 1857 until his death in 1893 from--what else?--congestion of the lungs. For his first decade there, he labored in the mines near Melbourne, specifically at a place called Ballarat. Ballarat! The word fairly jumped off the screen as I read Margaret's account and remembered that a shipment of newly-mined gold in a wagon driven by Charles McCarthy was waylaid and stolen outside Ballarat in a murderous attack by the notorious John Turner, a.k.a. "Black Jack of Ballarat." This vile crime set in motion the chain of events that would end decades later with Sherlock Holmes solving "The Boscombe Valley Mystery." 5 Baring-Gould sets the dates of "The Boscombe Valley Mystery" as June 8 and 9, 1889. But we need no guesswork or analysis to determine when the original fatal ambush took place so many years before. Watson records Black Jack's exact words at the start of his confession: "It was in the early 'sixties at the diggings." And it was in the early 'sixties that my ancestor William Mill was doing the digging, right there in Ballarat. Did William know Black Jack Turner? Perhaps he did. After all, Turner tells us that he was working his own claim before he "took to the bush" as a criminal. It's reasonable to imagine that their paths crossed at some point. But there can be no doubt that William knew of Black Jack, since the gold he was working so hard to mine was routinely being liberated by the infamous Ballarat Gang. Years later it would fall to Sherlock Holmes to see that Charles McCarthy's innocent son was vindicated in the matter of his father's death, and to be assured that the guilty Black Jack of Ballarat would soon face ultimate justice. My cousin Margaret has lived in Adelaide all her life, and calls herself "an old chook." She married Dean McDonald in 1958 and they have three children. I have a newly-discovered cousin, and another branch on my Sherlockian family tree. 3. The Two Charles Henrys Whenever a Sherlockian sees the names "Charles" and "Henry" side-by- side, The Hound of the Baskervilles naturally springs to mind. In the story of that most notorious Canonical canine, it was the death of Sir Charles Baskerville that brought his nephew Sir Henry back to England to claim the family seat at Baskerville Hall. Holmes and Watson then took on the task of ensuring that Henry would not meet the same fate as his uncle. 6 Since I claim not one but two Charles Henrys as ancestors, they must have a place on my Sherlockian tree, the more so because the two men are not uncle and nephew, nor do they even come from the same branch of my mother's family.