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| Sir Arthur Conan Doyle |
As I had my customary toast to Arthur Conan Doyle today in remembrance of his death ninety-three years ago, I did the silly thing that I often do on July 7: I compared what I am doing to what he was doing at my age. The good Sir Arthur and I were born 100 years (plus a couple of months) apart so my knowing his age at a point in time is fairly easy math for me. He was 64 years old in July 1923 and in the last decade of his life. (I think about that, too, hoping that this is not my last decade.)
As always, anything I'm doing pales in comparison to what he was doing at my age. He spent that last decade doing what he always did: writing, campaigning on someone's behalf and carrying the Spiritualist message to the world. If I remember correctly he traveled in America in 2023. His life is so often a blur when I try to remember beyond his early years. He always did so much. Even when I can't agree with what he did I'm still in awe of his ability to be so alive, so involved, and so caring in many ways.
I do not say he is "the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known" but he is on my list. I'm grateful to spend part of my life engrossed in his life and work.
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[When I first tried writing fiction about Doyle, I made a little playlet about the day Arthur Conan Doyle died for a book for Doyle's Rotary Coffin. I've attached it below.]
SOME COMMON THREAD
A play in one scene
CHARACTERS
PHINEAS— Lilliputian-sized elfin creature. Very formally dressed. Fussily and excessively respectable.
ALVISS—Lilliputian-sized elfin creature. Dressed in pajamas.
Bemused and emotive.
SETTING/TIME
A comfortable tiny sitting room situated inside a mouse hole in the attic of Windlesham Manor, Crowborough, East Sussex. Afternoon tea-time. July 7, 1930
SCENE ONE
(ALVISS is sitting in an easy chair, in pajamas and robe,
with a glass of wine. A carafe sits on an ottoman to his right. PHINEAS enters
the room, with notes and pencil in hand, drops a small bag by the door.)
ALVISS: I thought you
were never coming back. Tea-time is a good half hour gone. I started without
you.
PHINEAS: Tea? Looks more like Tokay. The time got away from me. There is so much activity in the house. I needed to take notes.
ALVISS: Yes, Tokay. Seemed
appropriate. As our friend said. (Lifts
the glass in a mock toast and continues in an exaggerated stage voice.)
“’Another glass, Watson,’ said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended the bottle of
Imperial Tokay.” (Sips at his wine
and then sighs heavily.) Why the
notes? The gent is dead. Therefore, Holmes and all the others are dead. Makes
me wish I had helped him with his ridiculous British Campaign in France and
Flanders.
PHINEAS: (Removes nonexistent lint from his coat, sits in the other easy chair, smooths his trousers, and accepts a glass of wine from ALVISS.)
Your Brobdingnagian-sized efforts with The Great Boer War,
and, indeed, with Holmes himself, earned you the right of a Lilliputian-sized
effort with that hopeless Flanders debacle.
ALVISS: Oh, Phineas. You always come back to Swift. Always. (Lifts the glass in a mock toast again.) I can’t hold it against you. It was a good run with Swift. We were inspired with that one. One of the highlights of our long career. (He sighs heavily again.) The gent is dead. I know he never rose to the revered strata of some of our more…um…shall we say illustrious clients…but he has been good fun to work with. And we’ve been very comfortable here these few years, especially since we moved from the hut to the house. I was cold every seemingly endless day we toiled with Chaucer.
ALVISS: (Stands, holds up an imaginary book, speaks in a deep, slightly mocking theatrical voice.) “No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action.”
PHINEAS: (Laughs again.) How do you remember all the text? What is that, Boscombe Valley? Our little Adventures certainly changed the gent’s life. Despite his prodigious output, he needed income. Working with an underfunded client is so vexing. (Goes to the door and brings the bag to the ottoman.) Here, I’ve brought some brown bread and butter. I tried for something more but the infernal dog interfered. Dogs! They always know we are here. I enjoyed suggesting ways for the gent to knock them off: poison, a stinging jellyfish, dispatching by gun fire. Those were delicious, as I hope this bread will be.
(They take some bread each, refill their glasses, and sit in the armchairs.)
ALVISS: You really shouldn’t be too hard on old Paddy. Despite being the girl’s dog, he is fond of
the gent. The dog will be sad. He hasn’t
chased us in years, and he rarely disturbs us here. Remember that awful Crab in
Shakespeare’s company. (Shudders.) The old bard has certainly become our
most illustrious and long read client to date.
I hardly expected it. I wonder if
any of the gent’s works will survive the test of human time and
imagination. I suspect Holmes
might. He is, apparently, much admired.
This bread is good. I wonder what we will eat with the new host.
(Each stare wistfully into space, chewing silently, lost in thought.)
PHINEAS: Wherever we go, I hope the host is as receptive as the gent. I’ve become quite accustomed to having my ideas accepted without question as his own. I never want another one like that Bulwer-Lytton—he wouldn’t listen to anything. Remember his “It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—” and onto the other forty-six words of that ridiculous opening sentence. (Voice rises stridently.) The only time we’ve ever had to leave early. Our history is storied—if you’ll pardon the pun—and there we were. Out! The first time in a thousand years of work as humans measure it. Shameful.
ALVISS: Phineas, please. Let’s not go over it again. I wouldn’t be surprised if the name of our
new host arrives today. It seldom takes
long for the light to appear. Let’s hope we get to stay in the British
Isles. Can you imagine if we had to go
to America?
PHINEAS: No, no, no.
I wouldn’t stand for it. (Sniffs.) They hardly have the history
or talent for the likes of us.
ALVISS: I don’t know. I can’t imagine it. Did you hear anything interesting when you were out today?
PHINEAS: Oh, yes! (Gathers his notes.) His last words were to the lady, of course. He said, “You are wonderful.” He did love the lady. I immediately thought we should construct a proper death for Holmes—not that silly thing the gent did when we were feverish—but a proper send off. I can hear him saying those exact words to Watson. Can you imagine it?
ALVISS: Yes, I can. Our Dr. Watson. I’m going to miss him too.
(A ray of light suddenly appears in the room, exploding into tiny stars which then meld into one floating piece of parchment. PHINEAS and ALVISS stand, take a deep breath.)
PHINEAS: It is here! Now! Already! Hurry! Read it!
ALVISS: Yes, yes. Oh, where are my glasses?! (ALVISS fumbles with a pince nez for a few seconds, finally resting it on his face.) I have it. I don’t know exactly how to say this name. I will spell it for you: T-O-L-K-I-E-N.
THE END
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