An Inspiration of Geniuses

As of right now, and Sue Perkins aside, I have two keen interests. On the face of it they have much in common. My “studies” (for want of a far far far less pretentious word) into the mind, memory and psychology have led me to a book about the thought processes of Leonardo da Vinci. By carefully studying over seven thousand pages of notes that Leonardo left (unsorted) when he died, the author has mapped out how the man credited with being the greatest genius who ever lived’s mind worked.

The greatest genius who never lived – the singular Mr Sherlock Holmes – is my other passion-de-jour. From Jeremy Brett to the classic texts to online resources and freshly written tales penned by fanatics I find much to adore in the Great Detective.

Two geniuses (genii?) with colossal mental powers but whose outlook could not have been different. The very first of the seven principles which the da Vinci book expounds is curiosity. Learning for its own sake. The acquisition of knowledge for no other reason than that you want to. Holmes on the other hand had a very different belief as this extract from the very first Holmes story – A Study in Scarlet – illustrates.

His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary literature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know next to nothing. Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who he might be and what he had done. My surprise reached a climax, however, when I found incidentally that he was ignorant of the Copernican Theory and of the composition of the Solar System. That any civilized human being in this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earth travelled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it.

"You appear to be astonished," he said, smiling at my expression of surprise. "Now that I do know it I shall do my best to forget it."

"To forget it!"

"You see," he explained, "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."

"But the Solar System!" I protested.

"What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently; "you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work."

Two conflicting theories. Two beliefs which cannot be mixed. Two principles which are diametrically opposed. Is the collection of knowledge for its own sake a worthwhile occupation or should one become a master of that which is relevant and ignore all that is not? This latter belief seems to have underpinned (unknowingly) most of my life. Watson goes on to describe Holmes’ fields of knowledge thus.

1. Knowledge of Literature. -- Nil.

2. Philosophy. -- Nil.

3. Astronomy. -- Nil.

4. Politics. -- Feeble.

5. Botany. -- Variable. Well up in belladonna, opium, and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening.

6. Geology. -- Practical, but limited. Tells at a glance different soils from each other. After walks has shown me splashes upon his trousers, and told me by their colour and consistence in what part of London he had received them.

7. Chemistry. -- Profound.

8. Anatomy. -- Accurate, but unsystematic.

9. Sensational Literature. -- Immense. He appears to know every detail of every horror perpetrated in the century.

10. Plays the violin well.

11. Is an expert singlestick player, boxer, and swordsman.

12. Has a good practical knowledge of British law.

Rather against my better judgement I shall do likewise and shame myself before My Readers.

1. Knowledge of Literature. – Nil.

2. Philosophy. – Nil.

3. Astronomy. – Nil.

4. Politics. – Feeble.

Well it’s quite easy so far. Copying and pasting only counts as two stages for those who lack automatic fingers. I have all but given up on the news – catching bits and bobs from the BBC website but no real knowledge of the petty squabbles and shameless trash which make up modern “news”.

5. Popular music – Nil

6. Indeed, popular culture in general – Almost nil (Vampire Slayers excepted)

7. Technology – Significant but patchy

8. Women – Nil

9. The outside world – Negligible (some knowledge of shopping)

10. Unfashionable television – Immense.

11. Unfashionable pseudo-sporting events – Considerable.

12. Personality disorders – Vast (mainly experiential)

And so we come, in true essay fashion (and like the modern essay it contains a large percentage of material written by someone else and simply copied into place), to the conclusion. How I can marry up the seemingly opposite Holmsian and da Vincian concepts which started this missive.

I must be curious like Leonardo and seek as much knowledge as I can because I have not yet found the single subject which, as crime did for Holmes, will make me admired by Popes, Princes and Prime Ministers. Cast the net wide and you will eventually find gold.

Or something.

Cross “epithet writer” off my list of career possibilities.