Hypnotic Bedtime Story: Sherlock Holmes, A Scandal in Bohemia
51:07 Share

Hi, I'm Jessica Porter and welcome back to Sleep Magic, a podcast where I help you find the magic of your own mind, helping you to sleep better and live better. Thank you everyone for being here, for listening, spreading the word, subscribing. Recent reviews have reminded me of how important sleep is to all of us. Sweet, sweet sleep.

So this is for everyone out there going through something hard or just managing the daily stuff for whom this relaxation is helping. And I'm hearing from a lot of you and I really, really appreciate it. Now, remember, you're the ones doing it. I'm just giving the direction. So here's to you. Thank you. Thank you. Before we get started, let's hear a quick word from our sponsors who make this free content possible.

Hey everyone, it's me, Jessica. I'm here to extend a warm welcome to any new listeners we might have here. This is where you can come after a long day, get a little selfish and relax. I'm also excited to let you know that we're offering a special one-month free trial of Sleep Magic Premium to celebrate our new listeners and thank those of you who've been with us for a while.

If you're new here, Sleep Magic Premium is our exclusive feed where you can experience ad-free listening, two bonus episodes per month, and the extended version of our monthly mailbag episode where I answer your questions.

Or at least I try to. Plus, you'll have access to our huge vault of premium episodes that I've created over the last two and a half years. They include solution-focused pieces like addressing loneliness, making peace with change. There's a full-length body scan in there, an eight-hour episode, and the complete collection of my Get Sleepy series. And it doesn't take much. For about the price of...

one mochaccino or a single gallon of gas, depending on where you live, or just a decent sandwich, you can upgrade your sleep magic experience. Imagine falling asleep without interruptions and 50% more monthly content than what's available on the regular feed. I hope you'll take advantage of this free trial.

And hopefully you'll realize that investing in Sleep Magic Premium is really investing in yourself, your sleep, your health, your peace of mind. I mean, come on. Can a mochaccino do all that? Start your subscription today for a free four-week trial and you can cancel anytime if you're not happy with it.

If you're listening to this on Apple Podcasts, you can get this offer in just two taps. Or if you're listening on other podcast players, go to the Supercast link in the show notes. This offer ends August 19th. I'll see you over there at Sleep Magic Premium. Tonight, A Scandal in Bohemia by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I search regularly for books in the public domain, and I just noticed that the entire collection of Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle were made available last year. Yay! Although at first I was thinking, is this sleeping material? But upon doing some reading, I think it's perfect. Now, a little about Doyle before we go on. First of all, apparently his last name was not Conan Doyle, just Doyle. Thanks, Wikipedia.

Second, he was a real Renaissance man. Born in Scotland, he became a medical doctor, but he wasn't particularly successful in his private practice. And having been a writer most of his life, he committed to that craft and went on to become one of the most successful writers of his time. He was also a gifted athlete, an avid student of architecture and spiritualism.

He was the father of five, but none of his children had kids themselves, so his writing is truly his legacy. The character of Sherlock Holmes was based on a teacher he had at university, Joseph Bell, while Dr. Watson could channel Doyle's medical knowledge. I will be reading tonight from the first short story in his first collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, published in 1892.

But I think it's also important to mention that I played Sherlock Holmes in third grade. I'm not sure if anyone here saw that. But it was quite a performance in the music room of my elementary school. So I'd like to give a shout out to my co-star, Heather Doiley, who played Watson, and who Google tells me went on to earn an actual degree in medicine, among many other degrees.

Well done, my dear Watson. Now, I will not annoy any British listeners by attempting a British accent for the main characters, but you will hear my high school German coming through. You're welcome. As always, we start with some hypnosis and then just let the words and the world that he creates take us deeper and deeper. So get yourself into a safe and comfortable position and let's begin.

Allow your eyes to close easily and gently and just bring your awareness to your breathing. It's so nice to allow the awareness to finally slow down. By allowing your awareness to slow down and focus, it becomes more powerful. Your awareness is such an amazing thing. It's like the laser beam of your consciousness as a human.

and you bring your power to everything you focus on. So now as your focus comes to your breath, slowing down, coming home, relaxing, you begin to nourish yourself, bringing your consciousness back home to yourself. You've had a nice long day bringing your energy to the world. So now you bring it home to you at night. What a lovely balance.

So now I'd like you to bring your awareness up into your eyelids. Imagine that your eyelids are getting heavy and sleepy and relaxed. As you imagine your eyelids are becoming heavy, they are becoming heavy. Good. Now I'd like you to accept the suggestion that your eyelids are so relaxed that they simply will not open. And in a moment I'm going to ask you to test your eyes to make sure they won't open. And this is a game. We're playing pretend.

So as you accept the suggestion that your eyelids are so relaxed they won't open, now I'd like you to wiggle your eyebrows. Just give them a little tug as your eyes remain closed. Look, I can't open my eyes. Now this amazing relaxation around your eyes is the same relaxation you will soon have throughout your entire body as it begins to seep into your eyes and into your head. Just imagine that relaxation moving

taking over your entire brain. It's like a warm, melty syrup of relaxation moving through an ear brain. So your brain is sort of soaking in relaxation and it makes your head feel heavy. And it's nice to let your head feel heavy. As you imagine that relaxation in your eyelids pouring down now, down your nose and your cheeks

through your jaw, your face becoming so relaxed and that feels nice. As you imagine warm waves of relaxation lapping up against the beach of your mind, feel those warm waves of relaxation lapping up against the beach of your mind. This whole mental tension disappears. Good. And you find yourself going deeper

and deeper. The muscles of your arms getting heavy on the bed. The muscles of your legs getting heavy on the bed. And the relaxation up in your brain moving down into your neck and your chest. This warm lovely syrup of relaxation is moving inside of you now in your chest cavity.

It's soft and warm and comfortable, allowing your heart and lungs to soften and relax. And any emotional tension that may have built up over the day is dissolving, dissolving as the relaxation pours down your middle torso now, moving down deep into your belly. And your whole belly is relaxing on the bed.

your pelvis feeling heavy, heavy, heavy. The muscles of your lower back feeling soft. The muscles of your hips and buttocks relaxing. And any muscles you may hold unconsciously in your belly letting go. And as your arms become even heavier and your legs become even heavier. As your body is relaxing, your mind is relaxing.

And as your mind is relaxing, your body is relaxing. As you bring your awareness now to any sounds going on around you, allow those sounds to take you deeper and deeper. And as you hear the sound of my voice, it's also taking you deeper and deeper. And at a certain point, you'll just let go of the sound of my voice, taking yourself on your own inner experience.

Going deeper and deeper. A scandal in Bohemia? Part 1. To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes, she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly,

were abhorrent to his cold, precise, but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen. But as a lover, he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a jibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer,

excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results: grit in a sensitive instrument.

or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory. I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness

and the home-centered interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books.

and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues

and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings, of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland.

Beyond these signs of activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion. One night, it was on the 20th of March, 1888, I was returning from a journey to a patient, for I had now returned to civil practice, when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered door,

which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing and with the dark incidents of the study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind.

He was pacing the room, swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem.

I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own. His manner was not effusive, it seldom was, but he was glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene on the counter.

Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular, introspective fashion. "'Wedlock suits you,' he remarked. "'I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.' "'Seven?' I answered. "'Indeed. I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice, again, I observe, you did not tell me that you intended to go into harness.'

"'Then how do you know?' "'I see it. I deduce it. How do I know that you've been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?' "'My dear Holmes,' said I, "'this is too much. You would certainly have been burned had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess. But as I have changed my clothes, I can't imagine how you deduce it.'

As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible and my wife has given her notice, but there again, I fail to see how you work it out. He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together. It is simplicity itself, said he. My eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts.

Obviously they had been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather and that you had a particularly malignant boot-splitting specimen of the London Slavey.

As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my room smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger and a bulge on the right side of his top hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull indeed if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession. I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of deduction."

"'When I hear you give your reasons,' I remarked, "'the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple "'that I could easily do it myself, "'though at each successive instance of your reasoning "'I am baffled until you explain your process. "'And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.' "'Quite so,' he answered, lighting a cigarette "'and throwing himself down into an armchair. "'You see, but you do not observe.'

The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room. Frequently? How often? Well, some hundreds of times. Then, how many are there? How many? I don't know. Quite so, you have not observed. And yet, you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are 17 steps, because I have both seen and observed.

"By the way, since you're so interested in these little problems, and since you're good enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper, which had been lying open upon the table. "It came by the last post," said he. "Read it aloud." The note was undated and without either signature or address. "There will call upon you tonight at a quarter to eight o'clock," it said.

"A gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask.

"This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do you imagine that it means?" "I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly, one begins to twist facts to suit theories instead of theories to suit facts." "But the note itself, what do you deduce from it?" I carefully examined the writing and the paper upon which it was written.

The man who wrote it was presumably well-to-do, I remarked, endeavoring to imitate my companion's processes. Such paper could not have been bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff. Peculiar, that is the very word, said Holmes. It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light. I did so, and saw a large E.

with a small G and a P, and a large G with a small T, woven into the texture of the paper. "'What do you make of that?' asked Holmes. "'The name of the maker, no doubt, or his monogram, rather?' "'Not at all. The G with a small T stands for Gesellschaft, which is the German for company. It is a company contraction like our Coe. P, of course, stands for Papier.'

Now for the EG, let us glance at our continental gazetteer. He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. Eglonitz, here we are. Egria. It is in a German-speaking country in Bohemia, not far from Karlsbad. Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein and for its numerous glass factories and paper mills. My boy, what do you make of that?

His eyes sparkled and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette. "The paper was made in Bohemia?" I said. "Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you know the peculiar construction of the sentence, 'This account of you we have from all quarters received'?" "A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs."

It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I'm not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts. As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hooves and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled. "'A pair by the sound,' he said.'

"'Yes,' he continued, glancing out the window. "'A nice little brome and a pair of beauties. "'A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. "'There's money in this case, Watson, if there's nothing else. "'I think I had better go, Holmes. "'No, not a bit, doctor. "'Stay where you are. "'I'm lost without my Boswell, and this promises to be interesting. "'It would be a pity to miss it. "'But your client—' "'Never mind him.'

I may want your help and so may he. Here he comes. Sit down on that armchair, doctor, and give us your best attention." A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and authoritative tap. "Come in," said Holmes. A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules.

His dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-colored silk and secured to the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming barrel.

Boots, which extended halfway up his calves and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence, which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, which he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones.

a black vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of his face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick hanging lip and a long straight chin, suggestive of resolution, pushed to the length of obstinacy. "'You had my note?' he asked with a deep, harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent."

I told you that I would call." He looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address. "Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honor to address? You may address me as the Count von Kram, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honor and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance.

If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone." I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. "It is both or none," said he. "You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me." The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. "Then I must begin," said he, "by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years. At the end of that time the matter will be of no importance.

At present, it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history. I promise, said Holmes, and I. You will excuse this mask, continued our strange visitor. The august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own. I am aware of it, said Holmes dryly.

The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to avenge what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Olmstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia. I am also aware of that, murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes.

Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client. If your majesty would condescend to state your case, he remarked, I should be better able to advise you.

The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. "'You are right,' he cried. "'I am the king. Why should I attempt to conceal it?' "'Why indeed,' murmured Holmes."

Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismund von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Castle Feldstein and Hereditary King of Bohemia. "But you can understand," said our strange visitor, sitting down once more and passing his hand over his high, white forehead, "you can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person.

It's a matter of us so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you." "Then pray consult," said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. "The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress Irene Adler,

"'The name is no doubt familiar to you. Kindly look her up in my index, doctor,' murmured Holmes without opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information."

In this case, I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff commander who had written a monograph on the deep-sea fishes. "'Let me see,' said Holmes. "'Hmm. Born in New Jersey in the year 1858?'

Contralto? Hmm, La Scala? Hmm, prima donna imperial opera of Warsaw? Yes, retired from operatic stage, huh? Living in London? Quite so. Your majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back? Precisely so. But how? Was there a secret marriage? None. No legal papers or certificates?

None. Then I fail to follow, Your Majesty. If this young person should produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity? There is the writing. Poo-poo forgery. My private notepaper. Stolen. My own seal. Imitated. My photograph. But we will both in the photograph. Oh dear, that is very bad. Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion.

"'I was mad. Insane. "'You have compromised yourself seriously. "'I was only crown prince then. "'I was young. I am but 30 now. "'It must be recovered. "'We have tried and failed. "'Your Majesty must pay. "'It must be bought. "'She will not sell. "'Stolen then?'

"'Five attempts have been made. "'Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. "'Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. "'Twice she has been waylaid. "'There has been no result. "'No sign of it? "'Absolutely none,' Holmes laughed. "'It is quite a pretty little problem,' said he. "'But a very serious one to me,' returned the king reproachfully. "'Very, indeed.'

And what does she propose to do with the photograph? To ruin me. But how? I am about to be married. So I have heard. To Clotilde Lothman von Sachse-Menningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end. And Irene Adler?

threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women and the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go. None. You are sure that she has not sent it yet? I am sure. And why?"

because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday. Oh, then we have three days yet, said Holmes with a yawn. That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present? Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of Count von Kram. Then I will drop you a line to let you know how we progress."

"'Pres du so. I shall be all anxiety.' "'Then, as money?' "'You have carte blanche.' "'Absolutely.' "'I tell you that I would give you one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph. And for present expenses?' The king took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table. "'Zer are three hundred pounds in gold, and seven hundred in notes,' he said.'

Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his notebook and handed it to him. "'And Mademoiselle's address?' he asked. "'Is Blayenny Lodge, Salpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood?' Holmes took a note of it. "'One other question,' he said. "'Was the photograph a cabinet?' "'It was.' "'Then good night, Your Majesty. "'And I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you. "'And good night, Watson,' he added. As the wheels of the Royal Brum rolled down the street,

If you would be good enough to call tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock, I should like to chat this little matter over with you.