Motifs for Murder

By Delphine Boswell

No, the title is not a typo, and motifs was not meant to be motives.

If you had asked me, “What is a motif?” twenty-five years ago, I would have had no idea. After earning a master’s degree in Rhetoric and Composition, teaching college and university students, and receiving a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing, I shout out not only the definition but also the importance of motifs in mysteries.

Of course, the definition of a motif, or at least mine, is: a literary device that uses repetition of a key word, phrase, symbol, color, or image to emphasize a subtle meaning. A motif also helps to develop the overall theme of the written work.

In my work in progress, one of my motifs is dead black crows. Some see crows—more than two are called a murder—as a message or prediction of sadness, danger, and even death to come. Further employing crows as a motif also helps to emphasize my overall theme of good versus evil and, more specifically, that even the most righteous can fall from a pedestal of grace into the darkness of sin.

But what exactly is the etymology of the word motif? Interestingly, the origin of the word dates back to the 14th century when the word in Old French meant to “drive,” and in Medieval Latin meant “to move.” Similarly, today, motifs are used to drive or move the theme along.

The use of motifs in mystery novels serve this very purpose, and in fact, Edgar Allan Poe, considered to be the father of detective fiction, used such common motifs as death, fear or terror, and madness in several of his short stories.

In the Sherlock Holmes canon, written by Arthur Conan Doyle, he creates such themes as cunning and cleverness, justice and judgment, and society and class, to name a few. He uses such symbols as Toby the dog to represent devotedness and faithfulness, a coronet as a tool to represent greed and hidden worth, and exotic animals to represent the dark, threatening, and poisonous nature of Dr. Roylott in “The Adventure of the Speckled Band.”

Agatha Christie used a rhyming verse of then there were none, well as dreams and hallucinations, as motifs in her novel “And Then There Were None.”

Motifs can be used in character development. If a character is depressed, the description of her clothes as being heavy and black can convey her mood. If a character is arrogant and haughty, the writer might choose to use the motif of mirrors or the repeated phrase mirror, mirror on the wall. The continual wailing of a baby can foster grief, suffering, and pain. 

Motifs can also be implemented to create a mood. A foreboding tone might use motifs such as heavy drapery, dusty furniture, or squeaky floors. On the other hand, a joyous mood could be represented by gnomes appearing in a sitting room or in a garden. A threatening mood might be depicted by thunderstorms, lightening, and thunder.

Another place to incorporate motif is in setting. Rain might imply treacherous conditions or uncontrollable circumstances. Some motifs to describe an isolated setting are weeds, dead flowers, or a howling coyote. A hospital’s motifs are squeaky oxfords, medicinal smells, or overhead public announcements.

In the above examples of characterization, mood development, or setting creation, you probably noticed that motifs are often examples of sensory language, such as sight, sound, and smell. What categorizes them as motifs is the frequent use of them in a written work.

Another literary term known as a tag also becomes a motif if used often. An example of this is a tapping cane, a pipe’s scent, or a twitching eye. Not only are these words used to describe or to set apart one character from another, but they also could imply nervous habits, anxious traits, or restlessness if used as motifs.

In my opinion, this literary device is often neglected in mystery novels. The importance of red herrings, misdirection, and cliffhangers, for example, are a must, but don’t discount the use of motif to reinforce your theme, add depth and meaning for the reader, and contribute a subtle ambiance to the plot.

The Real Professor Moriarty

By Bradley Harper

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Professor Moriarty

Batman has the Joker, Superman battles Lex Luthor, and Sherlock Holmes faced Professor Moriarty. A hero is often defined by their nemesis, the villain who is their equal in every way and who, given one or two different choices in their life, could have been the hero.

During a transatlantic crossing, Arthur Conan Doyle fell into conversation with William Pinkerton and first heard of the real “Napoleon of Crime,” Adam Worth, though he bore many names during his life. Worth was a German American who fought briefly for the Union Army during the Civil War, faked his death during the second Battle of Bull Run, and for the remainder of the war enlisted in one regiment after another, pocketing the enlistment bonus of $1,000, then deserting to enlist into another regiment.

Once the war ended, he initially turned to pickpocketing and became quite accomplished. Not lacking in ambition, however, he soon branched out to bank robbery and became so successful he began planning and bankrolling the robberies himself. After breaking into a Boston bank from an adjoining shop, however (which calls to mind the plot of The Red-Headed League), and stealing cash and securities valued at $200,000, he fled to England with the Pinkertons in hot pursuit. 

Adam Worth

Worth adopted the name Henry J. Raymond, settled in London, and lived a lavish lifestyle which included running a string of racehorses and sailing in his steam yacht. His home became the meeting place of the leading thieves of America and Europe and a clearing house, or “receiver,” for most of the big robberies in Europe. In the latter 70s, and all during the 80s, one major theft followed another that implicated Adam Worth, but his involvement could never be proven.

Worth’s greatest crime was the theft of Thomas Gainsborough's painting of Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, painted in the mid-1780s. It had been stolen before, but resurfaced in the 1830s and, after passing through various owners, was purchased in 1876 for 10,000 guineas by art dealer William Agnew. Agnew put it on display in his gallery, from where Worth and his henchmen stole it on the night of Thursday, the 25th of May 1876.

Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire

When Worth saw the painting, he fell in love with it and decided to use it to bail an associate out of jail.  He intended to either sell the portrait or use it to force the owners of the gallery from which it had been stolen to pay the bail for his colleague. 

But the prisoner was released before Worth had a chance to contact the gallery, and Worth was left holding a portrait too well known to sell and that he wanted to keep for himself anyway. At the time, nobody knew who had taken the picture, though rumors pointed the finger at Worth. In 1892, he was arrested in Belgium for a botched robbery and sentenced to seven years hard labor.  While in prison, he was approached with offers of freedom if he would return the Gainsborough, but he always denied any knowledge of the painting. 

In 1899 after being released from prison, broken in health and penniless, Worth contacted William Pinkerton, agreeing to meet with him in America to discuss the disposition of the portrait, and ultimately it was returned for $25,000. When the picture was put up for sale in London shortly thereafter, J. P. Morgan purchased it for $150,000.  In 1994 it was purchased by the llth Duke of Devonshire and Georgiana now resides "at home" in the Chatsworth House collection.

After his return to England, Worth lived a quiet life with his two children until his death in 1902.  Unlike Holmes' Moriarty, Worth was completely opposed to violence. William Pinkerton described Worth in a posthumous pamphlet (Adam Worth, alias ‘Little Adam’, 1904) 

In all his criminal career, and all the various crimes he committed, ... he was always proud of the fact that he never committed a robbery where the use of firearms had to be resorted to, nor had he ever escaped, or attempted to escape from custody by force or jeopardizing the life of an official, claiming that a man with brains had no right to carry firearms, that there was always a way, and a better way, by the quick exercise of the brain.

Whether Worth was the model for Moriarty, it is clear that he was, like Doyle's creation, a master criminal sitting at the center of a web of crime in London.  Unlike Moriarty, he spent time in prison and was loyal to friends.  As Pinkerton comments in his pamphlet, "this man was the most remarkable criminal of them all."

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Bradley Harper is a retired US Army Colonel and pathologist who has performed over two-hundred autopsies and some twenty forensic death investigations. A life-long fan of Sherlock Holmes, he did intensive research for his debut novel, A Knife in the Fog, which involved a young Doctor Conan Doyle in the hunt for Jack the Ripper, including a trip to London’s East End with noted Jack the Ripper historian Richard Jones. Harper’s first novel was published in October 2018 and was a finalist for a 2019 Edgar Award by the Mystery Writers of America for Best First Novel by an American Author and is a Recommended Read by the Arthur Conan Doyle Estate.

Knife went on to win Killer Nashville’s 2019 Silver Falchion as Best Mystery. The audio book, narrated by former Royal Shakespearean actor Matthew Lloyd Davies, won Audiofile Magazine’s 2019 Earphone award for Best Mystery and Suspense. The book is also available in Japan via Hayakawa Publishing.

His second novel, Queen’s Gambit, involving a fictional assassination attempt on Queen Victoria, Won Killer Nashville’s 2020 Silver Falchion Award twice, once for Best Suspense, and again as Book of the Year.