A. Conan Doyle is Here
A. Conan Doyle is Here is an article published in The World, New York on 3 october 1894.
A. Conan Doyle is Here
And He Declares He Did Not Come Discover Sherlock Holmes Alive and Hearty.
HE'S HERE TO LECTURE ON HIMSELF.
A Good Fellow, a Big Fellow, a Doctor Who Fell to Writing While Waiting for Patients.
Sherlock Holmes, the detective par excellence of the nineteenth century, is really, actually dead! There are a great many persons in this country, and more in England, who have been in doubt about this. Of course, in the last published chronicle concerning Sherlock Holmes, it was made known that he had slipped from the brink of a precipice in the embrace of an arch villain, but it was, at the same time, made known that there was deep water at the foot of the precipice. So there has always been a doubt whether the great detective was drowned or made his escape.
A. Conan Doyle, with an unlighted cigar between his teeth and his round, sunburnt face Illuminated by a genial smile, yesterday assured a World reporter that Sherlock Holmes did not escape by means of a passing vessel, and that he — A. Conan Doyle — had not come to America to discover Holmes alive on this side of the Atlantic.
The famous novelist reached these shores for the first time at 8 o'clock yesterday morning on the steamer Elbe, and was landed at Hoboken. He stands about 6 feet 2 inches, has broad shoulders, keen eyes and the jolliest, most jovial voice and manner imaginable. He was met by Major Pond and several other friends, to and at the request of Mr. Appleton was "put up" at the Aldine Club, where he will stay during his sojourn in New York. He ta accompanied by his younger brother, John F. J. Hay Doyle, who is a subaltern In the Royal Artillery, and he has left behind at his country place at Norwood, just outside of London, a wife and two children, a girl and a boy, aged respectively five and two years, and named Mary Louise and Kingsley. The fact that his wife's ill health made it impossible for him to bring her with him also, he declares, makes It Impossible for him to remain in the United States longer than ten weeks.
"But,"
said he, in a hearty voice, "I mean to see all I can in that time, though I pledge you my word I'll not venture to write any 'Impressions' afterwards. What I have seen I like immensely. Never saw such an atmosphere before. You can see twenty miles further here than you can in England, and your city looks all so bright and fresh. I'm pleased and no mistake. I've already been down to Wall street and up to the top of The World building. I like to see things from a good height. No (laughingly), nobody knew me, I went up to the top of your building, looked around and went down again without speaking to a soul. Great country, this, and I expect to have a great time. Only sorry I couldn't bring the whole family. Don't expect to do any work here beyond lecturing. I will probably lecture about forty times, going as far west as Chicago and as far east as Boston. Of course, I know lots of your writers by reputation, but I've never met many of them. Met Bret Harte once, at dinner, but have never had the good fortune to run across Mark Twain, Think Miss Wilkins is a genius. I'd read all her short stories, but didn't think she was equal to such a work as 'Pembroke.' I tell you it will live in literature. I'd like to meet her, Major Pond says I've got to lecture about myself and my own books. I'd rather lecture on George Meredith or somebody else, but the Major says it won't do, and I'm bound to follow what he wants. Yes; I'm a doctor. Practised about eight years, and hoped to become a specialist in the treatment of the eye and ear, but the stories I wrote while waiting for patients seemed to go, and I got into another profession, don't you see, by accident. Been writing now ever since I was eighteen and now I'm thirty-four."
All this information was not imparted in an egotistical way, but was drawn forth by questions from a man who is seemingly brimful of good nature and overflowing with animal spirits. Dr. Doyle is a great cricketer, golf and football player. His brother says he writes all his stories and novels in "little tu'-penny school books," and that his sister copies them on the typewriter. He works only in the mornings and devotes the afternoons to athletic sports.
His first lecture will be given in this city on Oct. 10.
