View source for A Duet with an Occasional Chorus (ACD Journal Vol. 9)


''A Duet with an Occasional Chorus [Vol. 9]'' is an article written by [[Barbara Roden]] published in the [[A.C.D. - The Journal of The Arthur Conan Doyle Society]] (Vol. 9, 1999).

This editorial reflects on the sale of [[Arthur Conan Doyle|Conan Doyle]]'s manuscript of [[Charles Augustus Milverton]] and argues that original [[Sherlock Holmes]] manuscripts are both literary artefacts and highly charged collector's objects. It also defends facsimiles as a practical way to share access to the creative process, while regretting that soaring prices may put such material beyond the reach of public institutions.


== Article ==
[[File:Acd-society-journal-1999-vol9-p178-a-duet.jpg|thumb|250px|right|[[A.C.D. - The Journal of The Arthur Conan Doyle Society]] (Vol. 9, 1999, p. 178)]]
[[File:Acd-society-journal-1999-vol9-p179-a-duet.jpg|thumb|250px|right|[[A.C.D. - The Journal of The Arthur Conan Doyle Society]] (Vol. 9, 1999, p. 179)]]
[[File:Acd-society-journal-1999-vol9-p180-a-duet.jpg|thumb|250px|right|[[A.C.D. - The Journal of The Arthur Conan Doyle Society]] (Vol. 9, 1999, p. 180)]]

The news that a Sherlockian manuscript sold recently at auction for US$220,000 was almost enough to send me scurrying to the garage in search of whatever treasures might be lurking. I know that somewhere in there lies the original manuscript of a one-act play, [[The Secret of Sherlock Holmes (play 1977)|The Secret of Sherlock Holmes]], written by one Barbara Hacock, aged thirteen, and staged (for two performances only) at Emily Carr Middle School in Ottawa in early 1977 (thus proving that I beat [[Jeremy Paul]] to the title by some years). However, the manuscript which sold for such an amazing sum (its catalogue estimate was $75,000-95,000) was [[Arthur Conan Doyle]]'s original handwritten manuscript for '[[Charles Augustus Milverton]]', and I don't somehow think that my play is quite in the same league. It's typed, not handwritten, for a start. 

Seriously, though (and when the discussion turns to these sorts of sums of money, seriousness is definitely required): hands up everyone reading this who, with a spare $220,000 or so on their hands, would think, 'Hey, I'll buy thirty pages of someone else's handwriting. This, after all, is what the manuscript boils down to in a cold, hard analysis. Yet it is so much more than that. It is not just a copy of '[[Charles Augustus Milverton]]' — which most people with an interest in [[Arthur Conan Doyle|Conan Doyle]] and [[Sherlock Holmes|Holmes]] probably have at least three versions of anyway it is the copy: the original text, written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle|ACD]], bearing all the hallmarks of his composition. Short of standing over an author's shoulder while he is physically writing a story, an original manuscript is the closest we can ever get to the process of creating a work of fiction. 

Yet even then, this manuscript is so much more. The Sherlockian canon is one of the best-loved bodies of fiction in the world. Assuming that every manuscript for every story remained intact, there would only be sixty of them available to be owned; and we know that not every manuscript survives, while others have disappeared, whence we know not. The purchase of a manuscript for one of the [[Sherlock Holmes|Holmes]] stories is the purchase of part of a myth; and what [[Sherlock Holmes]] enthusiast would not want to do that, availability of funds and suitable manuscript permitting? 

The reality, of course, is that for most of us, the closest we shall ever come to owning a [[Sherlock Holmes|Holmes]] manuscript is to purchase a facsimile of one of the three which have been made available for purchase ('[[The Priory School]]', '[[The Dying Detective]]', and '[[The Lion's Mane]]'). And I would wager that for most of us, this is the closest we would ever want to get to owning an original manuscript of a [[Sherlock Holmes|Holmes]] story, with all the concomitant insurance and storage and tax headaches implicit in owning such a valuable item. Owning a facsimile has practical benefits, as well. If you need to consult it, then there's no hesitation in pulling the volume off the shelf and actually reading it, using it, secure in the knowledge that it will stand up to such treatment. And while it is to be hoped that no one would be so unfortunate as to spill coffee (or tea or whatever) on a facsimile, at least you won't run the risk of giving yourself a heart attack should the unthinkable happen. 

I mentioned earlier that owning a manuscript is, in a way, like watching that work come to life. One is privy to all the author's changes of thought during the course of composition, and can speculate as to why such and such was altered, or this character's name was changed halfway through the text. Facsimiles are a way to share this process with others; people who have not the funds to buy an original, or who don't live near a public library or museum where originals are on display or can be consulted. There are those who would argue that the availability of facsimiles devalues the original; the argument being that with several hundred copies of a manuscript available, there will be unwillingness on the part of prospective purchasers to spend a large sum of money on the original. This argument seems to equate an original manuscript as being little better than a facsimile: a bit more flimsy, perhaps, but not much different. Anyone who has even a passing knowledge of collectors, however, will realise the fallacy of this line of reasoning. For collectors, only the original will do. A collector of Sherlockian artwork was asked why he collected the things he did, and his answer was illuminating. 'Partly because then no one else can have them,' he replied, and it's as good an answer as any. If you own the original manuscript of '[[Charles Augustus Milverton]]', then you can rest content in the knowledge that no one else in the world does, and that no else can own it unless or until you decide to sell. Whether there are ten or ten thousand facsimiles of it available is of no consequence. The original is in your safety deposit box (or wherever); all the others are merely pretenders to the throne. 

But should the original be allowed to be in your safety deposit box? While many collectors are generous in the extreme with their possessions, allowing interested parties free access (within limits, of course) and making their treasures available, others prefer to keep their acquisitions very much to themselves. That is the prerogative of ownership: if you've spent a large sum of money acquiring a rare piece, then you are entitled to do with it as you please. But it does seem a shame when items disappear into the hands of private collectors rather than to public institutions to which anyone can gain access; and if prices like the one realised by '[[Charles Augustus Milverton|Milverton]]' are to become the norm for Sherlockian manuscripts, then very few public institutions will be able to afford even to take part in the bidding process, much less be successful. 

There may be a solution, however. Rather than concentrate on major Sherlockian manuscripts, such as those written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle|Conan Doyle]], perhaps interested parties with smaller budgets should consider more modest purchases to begin or augment their collections of Sherlockiana. What am I bid on the author's manuscript copy of [[The Secret of Sherlock Holmes (play 1977)|The Secret of Sherlock Holmes]]? And if you give me a few minutes. I'm sure I can come up with more... 

Barbara Roden








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