Lounging about his sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2019

I was listening to Stephen Fry’s narration of “The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb,” when Watson finds Holmes lounging about his sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The Times and smoking his before-breakfast pipe.

But what’s an agony column? A simple Google search gives this definition:

a column in a newspaper or magazine offering advice on personal problems to readers who write in.

Sherlock Holmes reads the advice column? Well, not so fast. Wikipedia briefly notes that it can refer to a column of a newspaper that contains advertisements of missing relatives and friends. I had no idea such a thing existed, but I can certainly see why that would draw the attention of the famous consulting detective.

The agony column did in fact originate with The Times. I found a collection of columns from 1800-1870:

Agony Column

I suppose a modern Holmes would check the missed connections on Craig’s List.

Comments

  1. Neovictorian says:

    I remember wondering what this was the first time I read the story in “The Complete Sherlock Holmes” and going to look it up…only there was no internet. I found out about the advice column and settled on that, but your sample makes a lot more sense.

  2. Bruce says:

    I liked in Tramp Royale when O Scar is sitting around reading the personals column. Good way to start a picaresque story.

  3. Neovictorian says:

    Bruce, I think you mean Glory Road.

  4. Isegoria says:

    Yeah, it’s Glory Road that has Gordon (later “Oscar”) reading an ad that asks, “Are you a coward?”

  5. Kirk says:

    Bruce, aren’t you thinking of Glory Road?

  6. Graham says:

    In British slang, possibly even today, the female writer of an advice column is called an “agony aunt”.

  7. Isegoria says:

    I found the passage where Gordon mentions his reading material:

    I lay in the sun and was happy and my only luxury was a deposit box with American Express and the Paris edition of the N.Y. Herald Tribune and The Stars & Stripes. These I would glance over to see how the Powers-that-be were mismanaging the world, then look for what was new in the unWar I had just been let out of (usually no mention, although we had been told that we were “saving civilization”), then get down to important matters, i.e., news of the Irish Sweepstakes, plus the possibility that The Stars & Stripes might announce that it had all been a hideous dream and I was entitled to educational benefits after all.

    Then came crossword puzzles and “Personal” ads. I always read “Personals”; they are a naked look into private lives. Things like: M.L. phone R.S. before noon. Money. Makes you wonder who did what to whom, and who got paid?

    That certainly sounds like Holmes — and Gordon explicitly mentions Holmes later, when he describes his own thirst for adventure:

    I wanted the hurtling moons of Barsoom. I wanted Storisende and Poictesme, and Holmes shaking me awake to tell me, “The game’s Afoot!”

    He returns to the personals later and finds the ad:

    I refolded the paper to the “Personals” column.

    They were pretty good. Besides the usual offers of psychic readings and how to learn yoga and the veiled messages from one set of initials to another there were several that were novel. Such as—

    Reward!! Are you contemplating suicide? Assign to me the lease on your apartment and I will make your last days lavish. Box 323, H-T

    Or: Hindu gentleman, non-vegetarian, wishes to meet cultured European, African, or Asian lady owning sports car. Object: improving international relations. Box 107

    How do you do that in a sports car?

    One was ominous—Hermaphrodites of the World, Arise! you have nothing to lose but your chains. Tel. Opéra 59-09

    The next one started:

    ARE YOU A COWARD?

    Well, yes, certainly. If possible. If allowed a free choice. I read on:

    ARE YOU A COWARD? This is not for you. We badly need a brave man. He must be 23 to 25 years old, in perfect health, at least six feet tall, weigh about 190 pounds, fluent English with some French, proficient with all weapons, some knowledge of engineering and mathematics essential, willing to travel, no family or emotional ties, indomitably courageous and handsome of face and frame. Permanent employment, very high pay, glorious adventure, great danger. You must apply in person, 17, rue Dante, Nice, 2me étage, appt. D.

  8. Isegoria says:

    This is reminiscent of Shackleton’s famous (apocryphal) ad:

    Men wanted for hazardous journey. Low wages, bitter cold, long hours of complete darkness. Safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in event of success.

  9. Bruce says:

    Yes, I meant Glory Road. Oops.

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