Dr. A. Conan Doyle (article 20 may 1894)
Dr. A. Conan Doyle is an article written by Robert Barr published in The Detroit Free Press on 20 may 1894.
Dr. A. Conan Doyle
By Robert Barr.
The other week a London newspaper set itself to find out what the people of the metropolis were reading in the way of books, and among the five authors most widely read by all classes appears the name of Dr. Doyle. He may therefore be regarded as having reached the top of the tree as far as the English reading public is concerned, and as the other four competitors are mostly dead, Conan Doyle, who is still a young man, occupies a most enviable position among the literary men of the world.
In writing about him for an American paper, I may as well confess that it is not Doyle's getting on in the world that constitutes in my eyes his great attraction, nor even the personal charm of the man, which makes a friend of anyone who comes in contact with him, but the fact that he is the leader of what may be termed a new school of English literary men-men who have broader and more tolerant views regarding foreign countries than those writers who have been their predecessors. The English literary man has heretofore been a singularly narrow-minded, bigoted person, who never could see much good outside the narrow speck of earth surrounded by exceedingly salt water on which he had been born. As I have often maintained, there are to-day among the older living men only two, so far as I am aware, who have ever been able to write with common fairness about a foreign country, namely, Prof. Bryce about America, and Philip Gilbert Hamerton about France.
The United States has had much to stand from the literary men of England. The trouble is that these writers have not for years correctly represented public opinion in England regarding the United States, for there is throughout England the most friendly feeling toward America. England to-day would stand more from the United States than she would stand from any other country in the world, and it is not because she is afraid, for England is not a nation of cowards any more than America is. The question of fear does not come in on either side, so it is all the more honorable that these two great countries show such an object lesson to the world as has been shown by the Bering Sea commission, settling their disputes by arbitration as gentlemen should, and not flying to their guns like savages.
The first time I saw the name of A. Conan Doyle, except on the title page of a book, was at the bottom of a letter in a London newspaper calling attention to a paragraph in the issue of the day before, in which an injustice had been done to the United States. He gave the correct details about the matter in question, and concluded with a few words deploring the readiness of the press to cast aspersions on a friendly country on insufficient information. This, let me say, was a mighty courageous thing for a young author to do, for the press of London is powerful. However, I am pleased to be able to add that the press is also just, and the author did not suffer by jumping into the ring. The paper, in an editorial paragraph, took back what it said make a mistake. These opinion-givers whom and apologized in a dignified manner. The providence has so generously provided for next time I saw his name it was connected the benefit of authors are the editors of with a eulogy of a young American (the late Mr. Wolcott Balestier), whose untimely death all who had the privilege of knowing him have never ceased to regret. Dr. Doyle, in a most sympathetic and touching article, expressed his conviction that if Mr. Balestier had lived he would have made for himself a great name in literature. Since then, many a time with tongue or pen, Dr. Doyle has been before the public as the champion of America, doing whatever he could to promote a feeling of friendship between the two great English speaking nations of the world.
I will give an instance here that Dr. Doyle himself has perhaps forgotten, which will show the large-hearted manner of man he is, better than any assertion of that fact by myself would indicate. I persuaded him to abandon the plan, which seemed to me most Utopian, fitted for the golden age but entirely unsuited for this every-day world of ours. Dr. Doyle lives in a charming residence at Norwood near the Crystal Palace. He told me he had got five other friends, all having attractive homes, to join in with his plan. He proposed that each should give up an afternoon and evening a week to entertaining Americans who happened to be in London, but who had no personal acquaintances in the big city. He said that there must be dozens of business over for lonely Americans pleasure staying at the great hotels without Injun." a soul to speak to, who would enjoy coming to the suburbs and having a nice social evening with a little music, conversation, billiards, or a game of cards, etc. His idea I was to make them feel that they were not strangers in a strange land but among friends.
Dr. Doyle had a card printed with the days of the week on it, and connected with each day the name and residence of a man who would that afternoon and evening be at home to any American who might call. If I remember rightly, Doyle himself was down for Tuesday. These cards were to be framed and put up in all the London hotels frequented by Americans, and each of the six men in different parts of London were to keep open house as far as Americans were concerned. I had much difficulty in getting Dr. Doyle to believe that there were objectionable people even in America, and that the people who would come were not at all likely to be those a man would care to have in his house, while the nice people would not come, feeling that they would be intruding in the sacred precincts of a family circle. I have always felt that Dr. Doyle looked upon me as a recreant American for going so emphatically against his scheme, but, impractical as the plan was, it is lovely to think that there lives a man in this selfish world generous enough to formulate it.
Dr. Doyle is a hard worker and had to go through the usual routine in getting his first book published. Luckily it was an immediate success and so he was not called upon again to pass through the experience in getting a MS. placed with a publisher, He told me once that the MS. of "Micah Clark" came back to him so often and was at last so tattered that he would gladly have sold it for fifty cents. Yet it has since brought in its thousands to both author and publisher, and is still one of the best selling historical novels in the market.
What a world of encouragement an incident like this has for a still struggling, unknown young author, wherever he happens to be Doyle works hard, as I have said, and consequently has much time for play. He is an enthusiastic golfer, and almost every afternoon finds him on the links about half a mile from his South London residence.
In stature Dr. Doyle is as nearly as possible a giant. I never look up at him without thinking what a merciful dispensation of providence it is that makes such a man of the most peaceful and good-natured disposition. If he were a combative man I would not like to live in his neighborhood.
I have never heard him say anything but good of his fellow-creatures, and more especially of his fellow-authors. I would say that he has helped many a lame dog over a literary stile did I not fear that by saying so I might bring down on his head MSS. from all over the country with a request to read them, give an opinion and find a publisher. Of all the drawbacks of a literary life, this is the most terrible. Andrew Lang has frequently cursed in choice language this unsought burden that is placed on a well-known man's shoulders and he has been quite justified in cursing, even though he used no swear words.
If any man or woman thinks of sending a MS. to an author for opinion, let him or her pause before putting on the stamps and reflect that no opinion is necessary. If you do such a thing, you have. neither brains nor mercy, therefore your MS. is no good. Take that opinion for granted and so save your stamps.
It is such a futile, idiotic thing to do! God has placed upon this earth a number of useful men for the very purpose of giving opinions of MSS., so why send them to anyone else? These opinions are given for nothing, and the men who give them must put their whole minds to the work, for their living depends on it. They make mistakes, of course, and are always making them, being human, but that is nothing. Keep on till you find the opinion-giver who does not papers and magazines and the publishers of books. Send MSS. to them, but for any sake leave the overworked author alone.
Dr. Doyle has in his veins Scotch, Irish and English blood, so there is no man with a better claim to be representative of these little islands. He comes of a talented family. His father was an artist of great merit and even genius, whose works, however, never brought him the fame he was entitled to. His uncle, Dicky Doyle, was more fortunate and had both the talent and the fame. He was, as everybody knows, the designer of the world-renowned cover of Punch.
Mr. Doyle's stories have been extensively pirated in America, before the passing of the copyright act, but that fact, although it resulted in a large financial loss to him, never seemed to embitter him in the least, and I have actually heard him put in a good word for the pirates in a company of authors, who were speaking about them in language that was painful and free. He has never been in America, although he takes a great interest in the history of the country, especially that part which deals with the early settlement and the Indians. Those who read his "Refugees" will see that he has studied the subject and when he reaches the United States next fall let us hope that if he meets an aborigine, the two will appreciate each other, for in every sense of the word, Conan Doyle is a "Big Injun."
