by Неизвестный
*Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, in England.
*First of several references in his letters to a hitherto unsuspected dispute over money with the Doyles in London (‘Mrs James’ presumably his Aunt Jane, Mrs James Doyle).
;Rhoda Broughton (a niece of Sheridan Le Fanu) was popular for her strongly psychological stories with female protagonists.
*The College of Physicians and Surgeons of Glasgow.
3
The Struggling Doctor
(1882-1884)
It is a wonderful thing to have a house of your own
for the first time, however humble it may be.
—A. CONAN DOYLE, MEMORIES AND ADVENTURES
George Budd, a year ahead of Conan Doyle at Edinburgh, and from a medical family, was a fierce player on the rugby field. Calling Budd ‘Cullingworth’ in Memories and Adventures (and in The Stark Munro Letters), Conan Doyle noted his ‘bulldog jaw, bloodshot deep-set eyes, over-hanging brows, and yellowish hair as stiff as wire which spurted up above his brows’.
‘He was born for trouble and adventure,’ Conan Doyle continued, but ‘for some reason he took a fancy to me.’ Budd had a paranoid streak, was given to brawls, ran off with and married an underaged ward of Chancery, and in his initial practice in Bristol, lived beyond his means. He ran out on his debts there and set up a new practice in Plymouth. And after Conan Doyle returned from Africa, Budd wired him to join what he described as a colossal success.
‘A second even more explosive telegram upbraided me for delay and guaranteed me £300 the first year,’ said Conan Doyle. ‘This looked like business, so off I went’—against his mother’s advice. In Plymouth he discovered that Budd, ‘half genius and half quack, had founded a practice worth several thousand pounds’. That it conformed little to the ethics of medicine did not escape his notice, though; Memories and Adventures and The Stark Munro Letters describe Budd’s methods vividly. Writing to Dr Hoare, who also doubted Budd, Conan Doyle assured him of the practice’s success in glowing terms.
to Dr Reginald Ratcliff Hoare
6 ELLIOT TERRACE, THE HOE, PLYMOUTH, JUNE 1882
We have both been misjudging Budd in accusing him of romancing. His income may not be exactly 3000, but it certainly cannot be very far off it. He has, as I think I told you, an extraordinary manner, unlike any man that ever was born, and is uncommonly clever too, treating all his cases in an entirely original manner. He managed when he came first to get a few cases which had been discharged from the Infirmary as incurable, and managed to make good jobs of them all; this got into the papers and began to attract people. Then the other medicals began to get jealous; Budd has always had a curious objection to putting his name in the Directory. These fellows noticed the omission and at once published a report that he was an American herbalist. Budd of course at once responded by a notice in the papers that he would show any man his diplomas who called between certain hours—from that day to this his surgery has been crammed. This place is his private residence now & all the business is done at Durnford Street. I know how the thing is done now as I was along there this morning. He went at eleven, and there were three very large waiting rooms chock full of patients—these patients each had a ticket with the number of his turn to see Budd upon it. If any man wanted to go out of his turn he had to pay 10/6, when he had the privilege of passing over the heads of all the people before him. The first seven people who came up to see him this morning all paid their 10/6. Budd says he will be busy with the rest until 6 o’clock tonight taking shillings and half crowns as hard as he can go. Then he comes home to dinner and is free for the remainder of the evening. He does absolutely no work upon either Saturday or Sunday so that he has an uncommonly easy time. Mrs Budd, a pretty slim little girl, does all the dispensing (and very well too). His idea for me now is that we should join and charge families 2 guineas a year for all medical expenses. He says he could get 15000 families to join giving £30,000 per annum, but it strikes me as being rather thin, though really after his extraordinary success hitherto it is hard to say what is possible and what is not.
A letter to his mother was even more effusive:
to Mary Doyle PLYMOUTH, JUNE 1882
You are no doubt anxious to hear how I am getting on. My plate is up—Dr Conan Doyle—surgeon—and very well it looks. I hope now that I may clear more. The first week [was] eight shillings—the next twenty—the third twenty five. This week I am afraid will be a little less. However on the whole it increases, and it is very good for a beginner. I have the use of Budd’s horse and trap which is an advantage. I am keeping steadily out of debt, at present I only owe for my plate & midwifery cards. You must remember that if anything happened to Budd, (which God forbid) I should come in for a very good thing. In any case I hope before September to be doing well enough to start a house of my own, and to that end will save every penny I can. There is a fine opening here, a great many medical men have died lately and the survivors are awful duffers.
When shall I marry and who? I shall not meet anyone here, that is certain.
Conan Doyle’s ‘professional manners were very unexciting after [Budd’s] flamboyant efforts, which I could not imitate even if I would,’ he said. The Mam was appalled nonetheless; ‘her family pride had been aroused’. But Conan Doyle ‘admired [Budd’s] strong qualities and enjoyed his company and the extraordinary situations which arose from any association with him’—and ‘this resistance upon my part, and my defence of my friend, annoyed my mother the more, and she wrote me several letters of remonstrance which certainly dealt rather faithfully with his character as it appeared to her.’
Then one day, six weeks into their association, the mercurial Dr Budd informed Conan Doyle that he was hurting the practice and must go. It was a considerable shock to the younger man, but Budd offered to send £1 a week until he found his feet somewhere else. If his mother had taken a dim view of the association with Budd, the arrangement’s collapse apparently brought fresh recriminations.
to Mary Doyle PLYMOUTH
Many thanks for your letters. Why are they all in such a dismal & lachrymose strain. Just at the time when I need a little cheering & encouragement taking my first unaided step into the world with no other aim than to carve out a fortune for yourself and me you do nothing but depress & discourage me. I am beginning to positively dread the sight of an Edinburgh postmark. Write something cheery, like a good little woman, and don’t be always in the dolefuls or we shall set you to revise the Hebrew text of the burial service, or some other congenial occupation. You won’t be so much in the blues about me this time twelve months I warrant. If anyone ought to be dismal it is I who have nothing to look forward to but hard fare and loneliness and an empty house for some weeks or months to come—never a man wanted cheering more. I hardly closed an eye last night planning & scheming.
There is something to be said for your locum tenens idea—Still you must remember that Doctors rarely take holidays longer than a fortnight (in my experience). That would mean six guineas to me from which the fare one way is to be deducted. Then the chances are that a fortnight or more would elapse before another situation could be got. Competition as you and I know is pretty brisk, and by that time how much of my little sum would be left. No, I am going to take the plunge and start in Portsmouth if your report which I expect today corresponds with my own idea of the size of the place. Now don’t try to dissuade me any more but rather devote that wonderful head of yours to the question of ways and means. Budd volunteers to pay my passage there, and to find me a pound a week until I earn more than that. This I refused at first, but since reading your letter I shall accept it but only as a loan. I intend to stay for a week in lodgings there during which time I shall pitch upon a house (about £35 a year—central situation not among shops or in too busy a street—corner if possible). I shall then give the Landlord a bundle of references and enter into possession & put the plates up. I have two plates printed—one announcing that the poor may consult me free during
certain hours in the week—an excellent dodge. My furnishing will consist of a cheap bed and pair of blankets & crockery set—a table and two chairs for the Consulting room and a bench with a couple more chairs for the waiting room. I shall keep no servant but buy a kettle and an egg pot and have a small dinner at some eatinghouse. I can get long credit for drugs and bottles at the company in London that supplies Budd. If I can only get the right sort of house I’ll make a thousand a year within three years or I’m very much mistaken. I have been other men’s servant too long—I believe it has an injurious effect upon a man’s character and I am tired of it. I want you by hook or crook to raise five pounds & send it down by return. I hope it will be the last money you will ever send me—certainly it will repay you well. By return, mind. I shall reckon upon it.
I have made it up with Elmore (who is very much better, almost well). I wrote asking how she was & got a very penitent letter back. Poor lass, I think she is really fond of me. She would advance me a hundred or so if I would take it—which I won’t. I shall marry her if I succeed in P.
Goodbye, darling, don’t be frightened. I’ll let you have a bulletin every day or so.
Now that he was back in the good graces of Elmore Weldon, Conan Doyle began once again to contemplate marriage; but the course of true love would not run smooth.
Conan Doyle took a steamer to Portsmouth, and rented a house in its Southsea suburb. For a companion he tried to persuade his mother to send his fourteen-year-old sister Connie to him; when his mother dismissed it as no situation for so young a girl, he pleaded for his even younger brother Innes, instead. ‘Yours Cheerfully,’ he signed his first letter home from Southsea.
to Mary Doyle SOUTHSEA, JUNE 1882
Just a line to say that I move into my house tomorrow, No 1, Bush Villas Elm Grove. I am wedged in between a church and a hotel, so I act as a sort of a buffer. I have, though I say it managed the whole business exceedingly well. There is nothing I put my mind to do that I have not done most completely. I have a few shillings left to live on and have put £5 by for the rent. My furniture is A1. Let me know when Connie comes. Any old carpeting or oil cloth most acceptable.
[P.S.] Dont be afraid of my starving the young lady. She shall be keeper of the privy purse and monarch of all she surveys.
to Mary Doyle SOUTHSEA, JUNE 1882
Since I can’t get Conny send down Duff. I shall at once put him in buttons when he arrives if I can raise the capital. I might pass him for my eldest son but it would never do to acknowledge such a youngster as a brother—however he and I will arrange that matter between us. Never mind the remainder of D’s quarter—I’ll guarantee to teach him more in a day than ever he will learn at school—for we will have to be in the house together all day. Send down with him a pair of blankets & as many books & odds & ends as you can spare. Anything that will do for an ornament for the mantelpiece would be acceptable. Send him on Tuesday without fail. Never mind the clothes. I’ll manage to rig him out. Let me know what train to expect him by.
When I said I did not want the money I did not say so petulantly. I know you would help me if you could for any success will be yours. Lord knows I am as poor as Job but have a wealth of youth and pluck, so can manage to dispense with help. As for a few shillings to cover Duff’s grub I hope by the end of July that I won’t feel that expense.
What do those people in L mean by not paying—they must have received the money by this time. If the thing is legally ours we must simply demand the coin. In your next to A. A. say that unless it is paid you will put the matter in my hands as the male of the family—I’d soon get it out of them.* I have developed extraordinary business capacities lately, and my energy has electrified landladies, salesmen, house agents & everybody else.
I had a turn up with a tinker in the main street of the town on Coronation night and milled him to the delight of an enthusiastic mob. He had been kicking his wife, and caught me one on the throat when I interfered. It was a splendid advertisement for me. I reckon him to have been my first patient.
Adieu—dont disappoint me on Tuesday. I shall be very lonely in the big empty house until he comes.
to Mary Doyle SOUTHSEA, JUNE 1882
Your letter came on Saturday with the key & 10/ which was very welcome. I shall struggle along somehow. The great thing is to scrape the rent together. I have £5 laid by towards it. I really hardly know myself how I have managed it. I had 15/6 deducted from it as I lost a week, but then there are taxes. I hope by the time you get this Duff will be ready to come. The box has not turned up yet, but I shall go round to the station tonight & have a look—I shall sleep in my ulster until you send down the blankets. Have got my furniture into the C.R. [Consulting Room] and it looks very well indeed. That landlady charged me 9d each for breakfasts and teas— while I fondly imagined she would only charge for the tea, milk &c expended. I could have lived like a prince by taking all my food out instead of half starving myself.
My plate is just being put up now. I am as pleased as ever with the location of the house & am confident of success. There is not room enough for lodgings to say nothing of the look of the thing. I have Hall—Consulting Room & Waiting Room on ground floor—above are Surgery and Sitting Room—and then there are two bedrooms up on the top.
He was barely installed when Budd struck again, writing to reveal that he had been reading the Mam’s letters in Plymouth all along, and refusing now to send the £1 a week he’d promised. He had only waited to spring his trap for Conan Doyle—who had defended Budd in his replies to his mother—to commit himself financially in Portsmouth beyond his ability once Budd’s help was withdrawn. Budd had been ‘scheming my ruin,’ he realized, ‘which would be nothing financially, since I had nothing to lose, but would be much both to my mother and me if it touched my honour.’
to Mary Doyle SOUTHSEA, JUNE 1882
I got this promising epistle this morning—Serve me right for not being more careful in tearing up my letters.*
As you know I was never in any way disloyal to our friendship, however if he chooses to cut the rope, let it go. I wrote him a short note to that effect saying that the less dealings we had, to quote his words, the better. However we must look at the question now from a practical rather than a sentimental point of view. It was he, as you know, who persuaded me to launch out for myself—about the only piece of good advice he ever gave me—and he promised to advance me £1 a week—which as I knew I could live on about 6/ made me feel pretty confident of keeping things going. This of course has come to an end (I have only had one pound from him since I have been here which I shall return when I can—and two he gave me at the start). Well we must face the new situation—come what may I am going to stick here which I am more convinced than ever will turn out well. I have £11 laid by and untouchable. I have half a crown or so in my pocket and provisions for a couple of days in the house. I have two magazine articles ready to start and several in my head at which I will work hard.
The question is under these circumstances should Innes come. On the one hand he would be of infinite service in cheering me and above all in opening the door—for a doctor loses prestige in the eyes of his patients, I fear, when he has admitted them. On the other how can I be sure of doing my duty by the lad and always finding him plenty—which I could have relied upon in the other case. This is for you to decide. I need hardly say his not coming will be a great disappointment.
Conan Doyle’s medical credentials and experience were limited, he was without friends in Portsmouth, and could expect little help from home. But he had youth, pluck, and the possibility of adding to his income through writing, and was determined to make a go of both, despite the obstacles. And in the end Innes came, and together they faced the difficulties of getting along with few resources. For the next several years the elder and younger brothers lived together in Southsea in a relationship that, to judge from its treatment in Conan Doyle’s later autobiographical novel The Stark Munro Letters, likely influenced the relationship betw
een Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson in Baker Street.
to Mary Doyle SOUTHSEA, JUNE OR JULY 1882
I was awfully disappointed at Innes’s nonappearance. Do send him before the end of the week. You know I will look after him and find him vegetables and plenty of food. I cannot settle down until someone comes. I’ll find him anything which you may not have time to prepare. As to the carpet it is very kind of you indeed. If it will delay Innes however never mind it. The room is 14 ft 9 in by 13.6. The walls are light green (painted). He shall have the best of fresh air, and plenty of it. This is a far healthier town than Edinburgh. Our deathrate is only 13.
Have just opened the box and never was more astonished in my life. You have certainly set me up like a prince. You would be astonished if you could see my C.R. now. It looks awfully well. You have done splendidly. The Arctic things were especially useful.
Just send Innes down as quick as you can. I have done one or two things of late for you so just do this one for me.
I have a wonderful story on hand ‘The Winning Shot’ about mesmerism and murder & chemical magnetism and a man’s eating his own ears because he was hungry. I have half a mind to try Blackwood again—there is nothing like perseverance—James Payn had 22 contributions refused in one year and now he is facile princeps. I have one called ‘Remembrances of a Veteran’ sent to Belgravia but have not heard from them. I have written nothing else but what you know. That ‘Derby Sweepstakes’ seems to be a general favourite. You never let me know what you think of my things or give me any criticism except in the vaguest way.