The stories about Sherlock Holmes are an example of literary genius, the English writer P. G. Wodehouse believed: “You re-read them again and again, knowing them by heart, knowing how they will begin, how the plot will develop and, of course, how they will end . That is genius.”
When I was about ten or twelve years old, of course, I did not yet know this definition of Wodehouse and did not know that Arthur Conan Doyle was a genius. Nor did I think about how much Conan Doyle had already done for me then. If I didn’t know almost by heart the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, it would have been difficult for me in the pioneer camp: I didn’t smoke, didn’t go in for sports, but I already knew a little English. In short, I was a child who was literally asking for the role of an object of ridicule, and, as I now understand, only the evening ritual, when I retold The Hound of the Baskervilles or The Motley Ribbon in pitch darkness and perfect silence, did not turn my stay in the camp into real pain.
The stories about Sherlock Holmes, in fact, introduced me to Conan Doyle. A person who, in fact, simply could not exist – his views were so, formally, contradictory. He was a patriot, an imperialist, a conservative. Indignant at the fact that during the war with the Boers the whole world turned against the British, he wrote a brilliant pamphlet “The War in South Africa: Its Cause and Course”, for which, they say, he was knighted. And yet, when it came to who to protect and whom to help, among those for whom he stood up were the “immoral” Oscar Wilde, and the Jew Oscar Slater, and the Indian George Edalji, and an old friend convicted of treason Doyle, Irish writer and diplomat Roger Casement. Because if Doyle had an idol, then his name was Justice.
If he had a second idol, his name was Accuracy. Accuracy is not so much in relation to facts as in relation to the atmosphere. “Rodney Stone” could have been, many argued, written by a professional boxer. “Gerdlestone Trading House” – a man who spent a lot of time on the stock exchange, and the memoirs of Brigadier Gerard, of course, a historian, a specialist in the era of the Napoleonic Wars. And I don’t remember a single Conan Doyle character right now who would allow himself to go with the flow. Holmes challenges criminals. Professor Challenger – to the usual ideas about the world. Thomas Dimsdale from the novel Girdlestone Trading House – to the circumstances and intrigues of those who are stronger and richer than him. Doyle was very worried that various “little things”, such as stories about Sherlock Holmes, distracted him from writing much more significant works. Perhaps that is how it was. Perhaps he was not very happy that he was everywhere and always perceived precisely as the creator of Sherlock Holmes. But it seems to me that he was worried in vain: the one who fell in love with Holmes will sooner or later read everything written by his creator.
His dates
- May 22, 1859 In Edinburgh, the third child, Arthur Ignatius Conan, was born in the family of the artist Charles Altamont Doyle. There were 10 children in the family.
- 1881 After graduating from the medical faculty, he enters as a doctor on the Mayumba steamship.
- 1885 Defense of the dissertation “Tesa dorsalis”; marries Louise Hawkin.
- 1887 First story about Holmes, A Study in Scarlet.
- 1890 Receives a diploma in ophthalmology in Vienna; opens a medical practice in London. Publishes the novel The White Squad.
- 1900 Volunteered for the Boer War.
- 1902 Knighted.
- 1906 After the death of his first wife and mother of his children, Doyle marries Jean Elizabeth Leckie.
- 1912 The first novel about Professor Challenger is The Lost World.
- 1930 The last book, Edge of the Unknown, is published. On July 7, he dies at his home in East Sussex from a heart attack.
NIKOLAI ZUBOV, journalist, head of the foreign information department of the Kommersant Publishing House.
His view of the world
“You squeeze the tender hand that is threaded through yours, you decide to take a gloved hand, you absurdly long goodbye for the night in the shadow of the door. How innocent, how interesting, love begins to try to open its wings … “
“However, the risk, young man, is the whole point of life. This is the only thing worth living for. We all lead a too soft, dull and comfortable existence.
“Nature is the true revelation of God to man. A green meadow nearby is that soulful page where you will read everything you need to know.”
“I am like an old golf ball that has been stripped of its white paint a long time ago. Life can take its toll, but it won’t leave any mark on me.”
“Men must perform feats”
“That is the essence of my ideal, that he himself goes towards a feat. No obstacles will stop him. I have not yet found such a hero, but I see him as alive. Yes, man is the creator of his own glory. Men should perform feats, and women should reward heroes with love. Remember that young Frenchman who went up in a hot air balloon a few days ago. A hurricane was raging that morning, but the rise was announced in advance, and there was no way he wanted to delay it. In a day, the balloon was carried one and a half thousand miles, somewhere in the very center of Russia, where this daredevil landed. That’s the kind of person I’m talking about. Think of the woman who loves him. What, perhaps, it arouses envy in others! Let them envy me, too, that my husband is a hero!
“I would do the same for you!”
“Just for me?” No, that won’t do! You must go on a feat because you cannot otherwise, because such is your nature, because the masculine principle in you requires its expression. For example, you wrote about the explosion at the coal mine in Vigan. And why didn’t you go down there yourself and help people who were suffocating from suffocating gas?
— I went down.
“You didn’t say anything about it.
— What’s so special about it?
– I did not know that. She looked at me with interest. – A brave deed!
“There was nothing else for me to do. If you want to write a good essay, you have to visit the scene yourself.
What a prosaic motive! It ruins all the romance. But still, I am very glad that you went down into the mine. I could not help but kiss the hand that was extended to me – there was so much grace and dignity in this movement.
A. K. Doyle “The Lost World” (Eksmo, 2011).