Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters

by Неизвестный

  ‘I loathe Casement’s crime,’ he said of his treason, but ‘it is not in Imperial interests that he should be made a martyr… That is what he very earnestly desires.’ In the end Casement was hanged at Pentonville Prison on August 13, 1916. To the end Conan Doyle maintained that Casement had been ‘a fine man afflicted with mania’.

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, AUGUST 29, 1916

  The Minister wanted me to go around the Munitions works and write them up. I said there were difficulties in the way but that when I had had a short rest I would let him know my decision.

  I am thinking of bringing my history out in three volumes, 1914, 1915, 1916. In that case one could come out at once, and two before long.

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, OCTOBER 4, 1916

  If it would help you when you are ready to come over I would motor to West Grinstead and fetch you for it would save you a weary journey. You will let me know. I have unhappily to be away from home, I fear, a good deal in the immediate future as I have an accumulation of London things, & the Munition People want me to write up their works.

  [P.S.] I was reviewed at 3 Bridges. It was a fine sight, 5000 men & very well they looked.

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, NOVEMBER 1916

  I lecture today at Folkestone, Monday Brixton, Wednesday Liverpool, Thursday Chester, Friday Leicester. Then I lecture here on Monday following. After that I shall settle down to get the first volume of my history out. The War Office & General French both want me to do it. That will be a night & day job for two months. But it will be here or in London.*

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, DECEMBER 20, 1916

  I send you five pounds, dear one, to buy some Xmas comfort and also a pound for the kind Lizzie who looks after you so well.

  Edinburgh University has asked me if I would stand. I agreed. There may be some hitch so don’t reckon on it too much. I should only do it for the war, as it would dislocate my life very much. But my knowledge of affairs may be of use in the war. I wont be sorry however if it does not come off.

  At the time Edinburgh and St Andrews Universities were an independent constituency represented in the House of Commons. Conan Doyle had no regrets when, a few days later, circumstances changed, and he could withdraw. He had no taste for political campaigns after his earlier ones, and increasingly pondered a different kind of crusade—on behalf of Spiritualism, the belief in the ability of the living to communicate with dead souls through a human conduit, or ‘medium’.

  As the war dragged on, and Britain’s losses mounted, Conan Doyle found his thoughts returning to this subject again and again, especially as his concerns for his own family deepened. ‘K has gone back,’ he told Innes when Kingsley had returned to duty after the first of the year. ‘A fine lad and destined for something if he lives. I never feel I know him in the heart, he lives behind a very tight mask and all his real interests and thoughts are concealed from me. But I am sure they are good. His one fault is his extreme secretiveness.’

  His mother’s age and fragile health also weighed on Conan Doyle’s mind. ‘The dear Mam looks to me as if she were very frail,’ he told Innes. ‘She is happy and bright but I should not at any time be surprised to hear that she had some sort of stroke… May the end when it comes be swift and painless.’

  In the early months of 1917 Conan Doyle continued toiling over his history of the war and related concerns, even pressing his ideas about body armour on Lloyd George, now the prime minister, at a private breakfast in Downing Street. Interests dating from before the war still made inroads upon his time as well. For many years he had campaigned to reform Britain’s ‘obsolete divorce laws’, becoming president of the Divorce Law Reform Union in 1909, and making speeches on the subject throughout the war years.

  Conan Doyle was also going public with his convictions about Spiritualism. In March, he addressed a meeting of the London Spiritualist Alliance, and in July, sprang to the defence of the physicist and fellow Spiritualist Sir Oliver Lodge, in the pages of The Strand Magazine. ‘It is treacherous and difficult ground,’ he wrote of the quest for evidence of psychic knowledge,

  where fraud lurks and self-deception is possible and falsehood from the other side is not unknown. There are setbacks and disappointments for every investigator. But if one picks one’s path one can win through and reach the reward beyond—a reward which includes great spiritual peace, an absence of fear in death, and an abiding consolation in the death of those whom we love.

  To Innes, he put it in personal terms: ‘On the face of it if one is comfy in one’s creed one has no need to change,’ he acknowledged, ‘but if I had allowed myself to be comfy as a Catholic, all of you would probably still be in that frowsy atmosphere.’*

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, LATE JANUARY OR FEBRUARY 1917

  K has been ordered out after all & goes on Friday. Tomorrow he comes here. Well, he is in Gods hands & at least he has escaped the worst of the winter. I write history all day which accounts for my bad correspondence. Jean has been fearfully busy on the Cottage & has got it all beautiful for Feb 6 when Innes may come. I shall go to France about Feb 12 as Sir Douglas Haig wants me over some matter of the history. It will only be a day or two.

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, MAY 9, 1917

  Kingsley is in the front line but is kept at regimental H.Q. as bombing officer. However that means he is well to the front. I get the most cheery letters but I am naturally very anxious. I do not fear death for the boy, for since I became a convinced Spiritualist death became rather an unnecessary thing, but I fear pain or mutilation very greatly. However, all things are ordained.

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM

  I have been a bad correspondent but what with drilling, signalling and history I have very little time over. I have only once been in town since you left us—for a few hours for a Tuck meeting. Your visit was a very great pleasure to us and a sweet remembrance. I get on well with the history and Innes heard from the headquarter people that it was ‘astonishingly accurate’—so much so that they wont let me publish it, which is hard lines.

  More change was afoot as the Mam, now in her 80th year, moved from Masongill to Bowshott Cottage, near West Grinstead Park in Surrey, where the Hornungs lived. The reasons for the move are not known, nor is it clear why she chose to gravitate towards her daughter rather than her wealthy and accommodating son, though the frantic pace of his life may have been a factor, as may have Connie’s loss in the war of her only child.

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, JUNE 10, 1917

  It is strange that I should have gone so near to Masongill the moment you came near to us. Whenever the petrol law is relaxed and I can use the motor I will come over & have a look at you.

  My second volume should be out next week and I hope will prove to be a worthy successor. I have virgin ground for it is the first connected account of Ypres II and of Loos. No one can ever know the difficulties overcome in getting the material. You will find that I have got Leslie’s name into it. I only wish I could have got Oscar’s as well.* I quote from one of his letters. I think Connie would like to realise how great was the crisis in May which he helped to meet. Never did England need help more and he was in the most hard pressed point.

  Getting the material was only one of the problems involved in doing his history; permission to use it was another, often greater one, with censors’ excision of information threatening to damage the project beyond repair. At one point in 1915, after more bad news from censors, Conan Doyle had written to Greenhough Smith at The Strand:

  The enclosed seems to shut us down, and is depressing. How would it do to print the next chapter after Loos, which has not been harmed much by the Censor, and then stop before the Somme, or would you rather stop with Loos. I am absolutely in your hands. I agree with you that it is intolerable to go on as at present, or rather one might just carry on at present but the extinction of Divisions is a final blow.

  But there was a happy ending:

  to H. Greenhaugh Smith WINDLESHAM, JANUARY 1916
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  I rejoiced greatly when I got your message for I do not see why they should ever hold us up now. It should go through with few if any changes.

  I cant imagine the effect of it. It is certainly a most singular situation for by the queer working of Fate I have certainly made a scoop not merely of a battle but of the whole of the greatest campaign Britain ever fought. The question is will people realise this, or will they confuse it with ‘Times’ histories & catchpenny nonsense of that kind. If they really do recognise it then the Strand should sell like a special Edition. But we must not hope too much.

  I’ve got it done now up to the end of Loos—and my Loos information is the fullest of all—so there is no possible fear of running short of copy. I’ll ask you to put a few officers who have helped me on your free list.

  It is very good of you to send me my mss. without raising the legal question. They may mean something to my lads in the future.* My big lad is in the Hampshires & yearning for the fray. I wish to God they would let the Volunteers go. I believe we should do right well—indeed that we hold in our ranks some of the best material in England.

  And there were times when Conan Doyle understood why clearance for publication was not as forthcoming as the Strand’s schedule might wish; for as he told Greenhough Smith at a critical moment in 1915, ‘When the fate of the world is in the balance they have not much time to devote to our small affairs.’

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM

  Of course we should like to spend the night, but this first time we shall have to return as we hope to bring Dennis who might be kidnapped from school one day but not two. Then we shall come again. I want to get my London lecture over next Sunday & then I shall get over—probably about Thursday or Friday—which would suit you best? I am dreadfully busy & without Wood would be overwhelmed.

  The strain was taking its toll on him. In July, his old friend Dr Malcolm Morris sent him a warning about it. ‘I am going to venture to exceed my rights as a friend,’ Morris told him. ‘I want to ask you to carefully consider whether it is wise to lead this dual life which you are leading at the present time. You are obviously tired and worn out, and I would suggest to you to consider whether it is not due to the fact that you are doing both physical and mental work at the same time. We are neither of us as young as we were when we first met in Berlin, and since that time you have done overwhelming work and you are feeling the strain of it. I would suggest to you that you give up the volunteering, as that is what is putting extra weight on the strain.’

  Conan Doyle did not give up his volunteer service, but he did cut back on other activities for a while. ‘I have recently done a series of war lectures but my Doctor stopped me because I got some heart failure,’ he told a correspondent the following week. ‘I think it is not serious but none the less I must not start it again for some time.’

  Some members of the family were alarmed by his interest in Spiritualism. One was his sister Ida, who argued against his newfound faith in it, but failed to change his thinking.

  to Ida Foley WINDLESHAM, AUGUST 1917

  Your views about the spirit land seem to me a little unreasonable. If Percy were called away which God forbid, you would not complain that he was ‘hanging about clamouring to communicate with earth’ merely because he wished to assure you that all was well with him. When people first pass over they have the desire, but after a little, and especially if they find no corresponding desire in those who are left behind, it soon passes. Miss [Ames?] (Julia) when she died thought a bureau of communication most pressing, but after 15 years she wrote to say that she had exaggerated the necessity and that not one out of a million spirits ever thought of this world at all.

  I am sorry you dont like the prospect but what you or I may like has really nothing to do with the matter. We dont like some of the conditions down here. But if you try to define what would satisfy you you find it very difficult. In [illegible] we dont carry on our weaknesses we are not the same people & so it is practical extinction. I may be very limited but I can imagine nothing more beautiful & satisfying than the life beyond as drawn by many who have experienced it. We carry on our wisdom our knowledge, our art, literature, music, architecture, but all with a far wider sweep. Our bodies are at their best. We are free from physical pain. The place is beautiful. What is there so dreadfully depressing in all this.

  The fact is that people read Raymond who have read little else of psychic matter, and so they have nothing by which to compare & modify it.* It seems crude because they take it crudely, on some items like the whisky paragraph, as if forces which can make anything could not make whisky. It is said half in jest by R[aymond], but to read the comments one would think the life beyond is drinking whisky!

  Cheer up, its not so very bad!

  to Ida Foley WINDLESHAM

  My dearest girl,

  Not a bit cross! But an accumulation of bile may have slipped over—not meant for you. You see every ignoramus (I am alluding to a number of printed criticisms) seems to think himself at liberty to make hoity toity, de haut en bas criticisms of this great man who has worked for 25 years at this subject with all his power of scientific analysis, and has for the moment shaken his whole professional position by his brave frankness. I know by personal experience how honest his mind is & how slow to accept evidence unless he has very good reason. All the detail about the next world he gives as ‘non evidential’. It is only when he gets to photos & things of that sort that he calls it evidence. But the mingled folly and ignorance of the reviews which I have seen exceed belief. So that was what was on my nerves when I wrote to you. I wish you would read Barrett’s ‘Threshold of the Unseen’ because then you would get a general view of the subject & not a particular instance.

  Yes, one does get dogmatic but it is different from religious dogmatism, because it is founded upon concrete facts and the inevitable inferences. If a scientist says that white light really does break into a spectrum, he says it positively & brooks no contradiction from one who has not tested it. That is more the kind of thing. It would be positive assertion, but not quite religious dogmatism. Your remarks seemed to me intolerant so that must excuse me, but I never get cross over such things.

  Despite Conan Doyle’s conviction that death was not the end, the fate of his son in France was greatly on his mind. Kingsley wrote frequently, the sort of ‘cheery letters’ Conan Doyle had mentioned to the Mam in May, ‘but I am naturally very anxious,’ he said.

  from Kingsley Conan Doyle BRITISH LINES IN FRANCE, AUGUST 7, 1917

  The rain has ceased at last, and once more the real summer weather helped our work.

  I enjoyed my time with Maj Prichard tremendously.* He gave me a report far beyond any deserts. I am glad in a way to be on this new subject, for now that open warfare is all the rage observation is the subject of the future—new and almost untouched at any rate in this division. I can’t say that I have any great leaning towards sniping but I hope we shall be able to carry it through. Just at present I believe I am to take a brigade course of sniping and observation. I am now Battalion Intelligence Officer, Bombing Officer. So much for news of my present prospects. It really was ripping being with Maj Prichard. Everyone who comes in contact with him I feel sure feels refreshed by his personality.

  The men are in grand form out here Daddy, their faith in victory never wavers for a moment. I fear people at home will make things seem more difficult so many of the troubles at home seem so utterly selfish and self centred. Lloyd George is indeed grand. How can we expect to win the greatest war in history without really feeling it. I don’t know if it is true but I feel that we only start to bear what France has borne for a year or more. I hope the French hold firm—their soldiers are grand—I have seen a good many lately indeed I feel that the necessity for religion and love in life is greater now than ever.

  from Kingsley Conan Doyle IN FRANCE, AUGUST 23, 1917

  The course in observation is going forward with a will. The fellows seem very keen and so they ought to
be for if they do their work the Boche will never retreat to his winter quarters without considerable loss.

  Extraordinary storms we are getting now—violent wind after a calm and pleasant afternoon and then torrential rain for an hour or so and a clear sky follows the whole show. Like enormous and very violent April showers. I fear it will make life in the line rather wretched—you know—one sticks and slips at every step—clothes are constantly damp. But of course if we have an uncomfortable time it must be proper hell for the Boche for he has no decent trench system.

  The regiment go near the line tonight and go in very soon for over a week—far the best system if only the weather is moderately good.

  Good news helped Conan Doyle carry on with his own activities, despite their demands upon his health and energy:

  to Mary Doyle WINDLESHAM, SEPTEMBER 21, 1917

  All goes well with us. I think I am the better for the rest tho’ I don’t rest easily. It is always a conscious effort.

  I travel to Bradford on Oct 6th, address a religious meeting on Sunday Oct 7th (Influence of Spiritualism upon Religion). Speak at Manchester on Divorce on Oct 8th, then back to Crowboro’. My big Spiritual meeting is in London Oct 25.

  from Kingsley Conan Doyle IN FRANCE, OCTOBER 6, 1917

  Just a line today—a day of fighting—and glorious work. I went round and saw our boys this morning—as I walked down the road and about the place they shouted cheerie [sic] good mornings from their shell holes and fresh dug trenches—the Hampshires particularly cheerie. The position was uncertain on our left and I was able to go round and find out where the line was. The colonel I saw wounded but would not leave his post. My observer wounded but would not go down came back again during the battle. My N.C.O. observer this morning said if there was nothing to do this evening might he go to the Bn and make an extra rifle with the Bn. This is true every word. [Illegible] is safe and all is well. I was v happy to be able to get that news for the C.O. The Brigadier is going strong—all is well dear Daddy you must not be anxious for me. Soon we shall be back now in rest.