A very clever way to build a personal library

After producing the string of articles inspired by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little book of essays Through The Magic Door, I started reading his autobiographical work Memories and Adventures in the hope of finding more material suitable for highlighting on here. 

I found an amusing little anecdote about someone who devised a clever way to build a book collection:

“...young lady...had a large amount of guile underlying her simplicity. Writing from Warsaw, she stated that she had been bedridden for two years, and that my novels had been her only, etc., etc. So touched was I by this flattering statement that I at once prepared an autographed parcel of them to complete the fair invalid’s collection. By good luck, however, I met a brother author on the same day to whom I recounted the touching incident. With a cynical smile, he drew an identical letter from his pocket. His novels had also been for two years her only, etc., etc. I do not know how many more the lady had written to; but if, as I imagine, her correspondence had extended to several countries, she must have amassed a rather interesting library.“

Although I can't help admiring her ingenuity, I also feel disgusted with the effrontery of this brazen scrounger when I remember that as a student Conan Doyle had often gone without food to buy books for his collection. 

I wonder if she ever got anything out of John Buchan and Rudyard Kipling!  

Conan Doyle with some of his legitimately-acquired books circa 1890:

Two quotations about mediocrity

This post contains a small amount of commentary on two short quotations that highlight a very big topic. 

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said something in The Valley of Fear that has been very widely quoted:

“Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius...”

This seems at first sight to be spot on, but it needs to be qualified and expanded.

It is very true that many people can't evaluate or even see people who are far above or ahead of them; it does indeed often take one to know one!

What Conan Doyle doesn't mention however is that some people who are nothing special do know - or sense - talent - or even genius - when they see it, and they may try to discourage, sabotage or even destroy it!

Someone who is only a below-average performer at something or who knows only a little about a subject can often see very clearly that other people are much better at it than they are or know much more about it than they do. They may acknowledge and show respect for this, or they may feel envious, diminshed and resentful.

This is from Robert A. Heinlein's science fiction novel for younger readers Have Space Suit—Will Travel:

“Some people insist that 'mediocre' is better than 'best.' They delight in clipping wings because they themselves can't fly. They despise brains because they have none.”

This too is very true: some people do indeed try to cut others down to size; I have seen and experienced this for myself. The tall poppy syndrome comes to mind here, as do the crabs in the bucket who try to drag down a fellow crab that wants to climb up and escape.

Fear, negativity, envy and spite are often behind such mean-spirited behaviour. Rafael Sabatini's proposition that equality is a by-product of envy is relevant here, and so are these words from Kathleen Raine's autobiography Farewell Happy Fields:

“…winged souls are more often dragged down by the commonplace herd, who, ignorant of the use of wings, clip them and forbid their flight, than the wingless injured by the escape of the winged ones…Who, among the vulgar, heeds the misery of imagination hampered and thwarted?…”

There is more to come about all this.

A last look through Conan Doyle's Magic Door

The final article in the series inspired by Through the Magic Door, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little volume of 12 essays about books, writers and reading, has been outstanding for some time now. 

The last in a string of book-inspired posts is often the most difficult to produce; it isn't easy to let a good book go! Then there is the uncomfortable feeling that some key commentary-inspiring material might have been overlooked, which means retaining the book on standby for just one more trawl-through when time permits.

I now feel that enough is enough; at long last the time has come to call it a day. I have made a final journey through the Magic Door for the purpose of producing just one more article, and I found a little more interesting material to highlight.

Tales of some tubs
As previously mentioned, Conan Doyle describes the tempting tub of bargain books that stood outside the door of a bookshop that he used to pass on the way to buy his lunch;  each time he went to get something to eat, he had to decide between spending his budgeted threepence on food or doing without and buying a book for the same amount of money instead. 

He twice mentions Jonathan Swift's satirical work A Tale of a Tub; this was one of the cheap treasures that he found when digging in the tub!

This reminds me of a similar scene in Dion Fortune's Goat-Foot God. A twopenny bargain bin that stands outside a bookshop tempts a passer-by into looking for gold among the gravel. He finds a good book that 'by chance' was put in the bin by mistake. When he goes inside to pay, a whole new life opens up to him.

Macaulay's Essays
Conan Doyle says that Macaulay's Essays opened up a new world to him. He describes how much this book meant to him:

“If I had to choose the one book out of all that line from which I have had most pleasure and most profit, I should point to yonder stained copy of Macaulay's "Essays." It seems entwined into my whole life as I look backwards. It was my comrade in my student days, it has been with me on the sweltering Gold Coast, and it formed part of my humble kit when I went a-whaling in the Arctic. Honest Scotch harpooners have addled their brains over it, and you may still see the grease stains where the second engineer grappled with Frederick the Great. Tattered and dirty and worn, no gilt-edged morocco-bound volume could ever take its place for me.“

This reminds me of Alan Quatermain and his copy of the Ingoldsby Legends that accompanied him everywhere.

Books versus real life in Conan Doyle's Magic Door

This is another article in the series about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little volume of essays on books, reading and associated topics Through the Magic Door. 

This post was inspired by the following passage, which appears just after the invitation to enter the magic world of books:

“No matter what mood a man may be in, when once he has passed through the magic door he can summon the world’s greatest to sympathize with him in it. If he be thoughtful, here are the kings of thought. If he be dreamy, here are the masters of fancy. Or is it amusement that he lacks? He can signal to any one of the world’s great story-tellers, and out comes the dead man and holds him enthralled by the hour.

The dead are such good company that one may come to think too little of the living. It is a real and a pressing danger with many of us, that we should never find our own thoughts and our own souls, but be ever obsessed by the dead. Yet second-hand romance and second-hand emotion are surely better than the dull, soul-killing monotony which life brings to most of the human race. But best of all when the dead man’s wisdom and the dead man’s example give us guidance and strength and in the living of our own strenuous days.“

Conan Doyle makes some good points here; they are best dealt with individually.

Getting whatever you want whenever you want it
The first few lines above provide a good explanation of why so many people like to read. A library is like a menu for the mind; they can get on demand whatever 'food' they feel in the mood for. Too much choice can be a problem though! 

I have often asked myself what type of reading material I am in the mood for. Do I feel like reading something light and amusing? Do I want to be inspired, informed or entertained? Perhaps some familiar comfort food would be best – or maybe I should try something new for a change. Sometimes I read to lift my mood: I may select an uplifting book to counter-balance the effects of reading a very depressing one. 

Books are better than life
Conan Doyle is right when he says that dead people can be better company than the living.

What we get from books may indeed seem more appealing and rewarding than what we are getting from real life. This applies to both the people in our lives and the life that we are leading.

Inspiration and creativity in Conan Doyle's Magic Door

This is yet another article in the series inspired by Through the Magic Door, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little volume of essays about books, reading and associated topics.

This post highlights two propositions that Conan Doyle makes about inspiration and creative people: he suggests that inspiration comes from outside and that creative people are often frail and die young.  

It also mentions a few other writers in connection with these topics. 

Inspiration comes from outside
Conan Doyle says this about the source of inspiration:

“...the feeling which every writer of imaginative work must have, that his supreme work comes to him in some strange way from without, and that he is only the medium for placing it upon the paper...Is it possible that we are indeed but conduit pipes from the infinite reservoir of the unknown? Certainly it is always our best work which leaves the least sense of personal effort.”

That last sentence is often very true. Rudyard Kipling said something similar when he gave his Daemon credit for assisting and inspiring him in his work: he said that the writing he did under this influence was 'frictionless'. 

Conan Doyle's mention of a conduit pipe reminds me of another of Rudyard Kipling's Daemon-related images: he likens the end of a good run of genuine, friction-free creativity to “the water-hammer click of a tap turned off.”

Many other writers have speculated about where their inspiration might come from. 

Robert Louis Stevenson for example said that it came from vivid dreams caused by the Brownies!

Frances Hodgson Burnett thought of herself as just the custodian rather than the originator of her gift. So where did this gift come from then?

Maybe some fiction writers really do channel or download their works and ideas from somewhere.

Oscar Wilde's interesting words about the colour green

The many occurrences of the colour green in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's essay collection Through the Magic Door  inspired an investigation into green references and connections in Conan Doyle's life and works.

I came across an interesting statement about the colour green by the poet and playwright Oscar Wilde along the way. His words have inspired yet another article about this colour. 

Oscar Wilde on the colour green 
As mentioned in the article about Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes and the colour green, Oscar Wilde, who incidentally often wore a green carnation, wrote an essay called Pen, Pencil, And Poison - A Study In Green about an art critic who was a secret poisoner. 

The artist, author and suspected serial killer in question was Thomas Griffiths Wainewright, who was mentioned by Conan Doyle in a Sherlock Holmes story and was a friend of Charles Lamb.

Wilde's descriptions of the man, his life and his crimes are mostly irrelevant here, but as a matter of interest Wainewright spent his boyhood at Turnham Green, he was educated at the Greenwich Academy, and he later had a pomona-green chair in his library.

Wilde's essay contains these thought-provoking words about Wainewright and the colour green:

“He had that curious love of green, which in individuals is always the sign of a subtle artistic temperament, and in nations is said to denote a laxity, if not a decadence of morals.“

Green has always been my favourite colour. Why is this curious? I like the idea of the artistic temperament though! 

Two green-loving peoples
When it comes to the love of green in nations, Wilde is probably referring to various Islamic countries and what is now the Irish Republic. Both Muslims and Irish Catholics favour the colour green, and Conan Doyle, who like Wilde was an Irishman, was well aware of this.

In Conan Doyle's Green Flag, Arab tribesmen capture the Irish regimental flag. One of their sheikhs says that by its colour it might well belong to the people of the true faith - i.e. Islam.

Rudyard Kipling and some green connections

Posts about Rudyard Kipling and Arthur Conan Doyle are very popular, so I am always looking for inspiration for more articles. 

After writing about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes and the colour green, I decided to investigate occurrences of this colour in the life and works of Rudyard Kipling. 

I didn't find anything amazing, but some connections are worth mentioning. The people and places that Kipling has in common with Conan Doyle are particularly interesting.

Roger Lancelyn Green
Writer Roger Lancelyn Green (1918 – 1987) was the father of Richard Lancelyn Green, the previously mentioned authority on Conan Doyle and Sherlock Holmes. He was editor of the Kipling Journal and wrote and edited books about Kipling: 

The school in Green Road
When Rudyard Kipling was staying in the House of Desolation in Southsea, he attended what he called 'a terrible little day-school'. 

Roger Lancelyn Green identified the school as Hope House in  Green Road, the same road that Conan Doyle's house stood opposite. Conan Doyle's younger brother Innes later came to live at this house and became a pupil at Hope House school. 

The Green, Rottingdean
Conan Doyle lived in Bush Villas, Elm Grove, Southsea; Rudyard Kipling stayed with his family at The Elms, The Green, Rottingdean near Brighton for a few years. The large garden and grounds of this house have been preserved, and as Kipling Gardens are now open to the public:

Greenhow Hill

Greenhow Hill is a village in North Yorkshire.

Rudyard Kipling's short story On Greenhow Hill was first published in Harper’s Magazine in 1890. It also appeared in Life's Handicap, a collection of Kipling's stories. 

What makes the story of additional interest is that Conan Doyle's editor at the Strand Magazine was Herbert Greenhough Smith; by coincidence the name Greenhough is derived from Greenhow Hill.

Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes and the colour green

While trawling through Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's essay collection Through the Magic Door, I noticed that he mentions the colour green many times. 

This gave me the idea of looking for occurrences of this colour in Conan Doyle's life. I found more green connections than I was expecting, including some for Sherlock Holmes, and have summarised my findings here. The people, places and other items in the list may not seem particularly significant, but they certainly are interesting. 

Could it be more than just coincidence that some of Conan Doyle's work was probably inspired well before it started by someone called Green, was definitely documented long after after it ended by another person with the name of Green, and during the productivity period in the middle was edited by a man with Green in his name and published by a company with Green in its name?

Anna Katharine Green: the inspirer

Anna Katharine Green (1846 – 1935) was an American writer of pioneering detective fiction. She invented many standard features of the modern detective story; she has been called the mother of the detective novel. Her first, and best-selling, book The Leavenworth Case appeared around nine years before the first Sherlock Holmes story was published. She is believed to have inspired Conan Doyle, who was a fan of hers and corresponded with her.

Mystery writer Patricia Meredith has written and spoken about this connection:

Richard Lancelyn Green: the documenter
Richard Lancelyn Green (1953 - 2004) was considered to be the world's foremost scholar and leading authority on the topics of Sherlock Holmes and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He collected much material and produced extensive notes for a three-volume biography of Conan Doyle, but died in mysterious circumstances before it was finished.

He collected and introduced some Sherlock Holmes tribute stories: 

Conan Doyle's Magic Door and the 'eat or buy books' dilemma

I find much of the material in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's little book of essays Through the Magic Door either very interesting or rather boring. 

When it comes to the material of interest, Conan Doyle's story of his close escape from being accused of plagiarism is fascinating not only in its own right but also because something similar happened to Rudyard Kipling. 

It is much the same where another of Conan Doyle's anecdotes is concerned: his account of having to choose between eating and buying books reminds me of other people who had this or a similar dilemma. 

His unexpected views on public libraries versus the ownership of books also inspire some commentary.

Conan Doyle's 'eat or read' dilemma
In Through the Magic Door, Conan Doyle introduces the books in his library to an imaginary visitor. One set is of particular interest:

“You see the line of old, brown volumes at the bottom? Every one of those represents a lunch. They were bought in my student days, when times were not too affluent. Threepence was my modest allowance for my midday sandwich and glass of beer; but, as luck would have it, my way to the classes led past the most fascinating bookshop in the world. Outside the door of it stood a large tub filled with an ever-changing litter of tattered books, with a card above which announced that any volume therein could be purchased for the identical sum which I carried in my pocket.

As I approached it a combat ever raged betwixt the hunger of a youthful body and that of an inquiring and omnivorous mind. Five times out of six the animal won. But when the mental prevailed, then there was an entrancing five minutes' digging among out-of-date almanacs, volumes of Scotch theology, and tables of logarithms, until one found something which made it all worth while.”

Conan Doyle goes on to describe some of his treasured volumes, the literary gold that he prospected for in the bookseller's old threepenny tub and went without lunch to buy.

Incidentally, Conan Doyle's threepenny sandwich and glass of beer made a better lunch than J. B. Priestley's twopenny bag of stale buns!

Conan Doyle's Magic Door and the amazing Kipling coincidence

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Rudyard Kipling have appeared in many posts on here, both separately and together.

These posts attract large numbers of readers. The article about Conan Doyle, Kipling and the Isle of Wight has, rather surprisingly, recently reached the top ten in terms of the number of viewings.

Another article lists some more common elements in the lives of these two great writers. That article was created some years ago; I have since learned of something else that Conan Doyle and Kipling had in common.

The first article inspired by Conan Doyle's Through the Magic Door, which I discovered only recently, introduces the book and lists a few minor topics and references that appear in both his book and my articles. 

This article features a fascinating story that Conan Doyle has to tell about a reputation-saving 'coincidence'. This incident in his life is of interest not only for its own sake but also because Rudyard Kipling had a very similar experience.

More about the Magic Door
While Through the Magic Door contains some relevant and quotable material, Conan Doyle is verbose – he says himself that he indulges in didactic talk and long digressions - his language is rather old-fashioned and much of his commentary doesn't hold my attention.

I said this about Joyce Collin-Smith's book Call No Man Master:

“...her work has a...duality: it is both very interesting and very boring. Some of the content fascinates me and resonates very strongly while some of it means very little so I skip over it.“

I feel much the same about Through the Magic Door!

While I am not for example particularly interested in the lives and works of many of the 18th and 19th century writers Conan Doyle thinks very highly of, some of the other material definitely gets my attention.

For me, one of the most riveting parts of the book is where Conan Doyle tells of his narrow escape from being accused of plagiarism. This story is all the more interesting because it closely matches a story told by Rudyard Kipling.

Conan Doyle's Magic Door: great minds think alike!

This article might never have existed if I hadn't decided at the last minute to 'pull' the article about books, reading and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in favour of one about Jonathan Stroud's Lockwood & Co. books, which was next in the queue and all ready to go.

The Conan Doyle article was originally scheduled to be published on April 7th, but I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable because two of the quotations in it had no source. They are widely attributed to Conan Doyle, but without any indication of where they originally came from.

I had a strong feeling that I should dig deeper to find the origin of these quotations: it just didn't seem right to release the article before I had done all that I could to find the sources.

I guessed that they might have come from Conan Doyle's letters, but eventually found them in Through the Magic Door (1907), a collection of essays about books, writers and reading. 

I thought that this title was a good coincidence: the Magic Door leads to a world of books, and I had said in the Conan Doyle books and reading article that my first books had magical titles and opened a door to new worlds.

I took a very quick look at Through the Magic Door; I saw immediately that it contained enough coincidences, references to familiar topics and other relevant material to inspire at least one article. Some of the content would have been suitable for the books and reading article, but I decided to publish this in its original form after just adding the quotations' source and to forget the Magic Door until I had finished some work in progress.

Ever since I read that dropping existing activities when something new and exciting comes along is a sign of emotional immaturity, I have been trying not to do this!

I wanted to give Through the Magic Door my undivided attention, which meant first getting some outstanding work out of the way. I returned to the book after completing a few half-finished articles; this post is the result of giving it a much closer look.

Something about Through the Magic Door
The Magic Door is a portal to another world, one that is entered by reading. Conan Doyle gives a tour of his library to an imaginary visitor; he introduces his favourite books and authors and gives his views on many of them. Some of his comments and references stand out because they are similar to material in various articles on here, including the Conan Doyle books and reading one.  

This is quite a coincidence considering that not only had I not read Through the Magic Door until after I had posted the material that we have in common, I had never even heard of it!

Books, reading, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

There are many references to books and reading on here, not to mention a whole string of articles about public libraries. 

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has also appeared in many articles. I want to highlight a few quotations of his about books and reading that I came across recently.

The first quotation, which is from Conan Doyle's Through the Magic Door, speaks for itself; it says it all:

“...that love of books...is among the choicest gifts of the gods.”

Many people who are great readers would agree with this.

Sherlock Holmes says this about himself in The Adventure of the Lion's Mane:

“I am an omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.” 

I too am an avid reader who sometimes remembers small details, even from books that I may not have read for decades. Many of the 'trifles' I recalled from the distant past have appeared in or even inspired various articles.

Another quotation from Conan Doyle's Through the Magic Door comes very close to home:

“It is a great thing to start life with a small number of really good books which are your very own.”

While I will never forget the debt that I owe to public libraries, it really was great to have a small collection of my own books from an early age. 

A last look at Walter de la Mare's Return

Walter de la Mare suggests several possible futures for Arthur Lawford, the main character in his horror story The Return. The ghost of the wicked Frenchman who is possessing him could slip away and he could be his old self again, free from the malign influence; his wife's circle of friends could declare him hopelessly insane and have him put away; he might leave his family entirely and go off somewhere else; he might even die, perhaps by his own hand.

The final outcome is unclear; the story ends suddenly without Arthur Lawford's fate being spelled out. However, there is still some miscellaneous material to comment on.

Arthur Lawford attacks a fat man 

There isn't much humour in The Return, but I was amused by one passage. When Mrs Lawford calls in a very fat friend of hers called Mr Danton, the French ghost attacks him through Arthur and makes some contemptuous and offensive remarks:

“Danton at heart was always an incorrigible sceptic. Aren’t you, T. D.? You pride your dear old brawn on it in secret?...Firm, unctuous, subtle, scepticism; and to that end your body flourishes. You were born fat; you became fat; and fat, my dear Danton, has been deliberately thrust on you—in layers! Lampreys! You’ll perish of surfeit some day, of sheer Dantonism. And fat, postmortem, Danton. Oh, what a basting’s there!”

The ghost of the Frenchman sometimes recedes leaving Arthur almost his old self, but the mischievous, saturnine, vindictive Nicholas Sabathier is definitely in the ascendant here. 

Other interpretations of the strange symptoms

It is possible that Arthur Lawford's  bizarre  behaviour was originally caused by a subconscious attempt to break out of his unsatisfactory life, the old 'deadly round'; 'Nicholas Sabathier the dark Adventurer' could be Arthur's shadow self, displaying all his repressed qualities and saying things that Arthur would not normally permit himself to say. 

A last look at May Sinclair's Flaw in the Crystal

This article highlights some unconvincing elements in May Sinclair's The Flaw in the Crystal and lists some similarities between The Parasite by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and May Sinclair's novella. These similarities and some other connections I noticed make the effort needed to decode the obscurities in The Flaw in the Crystal seem worthwhile. 

First, two extracts that seem significant to me:

Playing the 'as if' game

There is no humour in The Flaw in the Crystal, but I find this passage where Milly Powell writes to Agatha about her husband Harding both interesting and amusing:

“She wrote as if it was Agatha's fault that he had become dependent; as if Agatha had nothing, had nobody in the world to think of but Harding; as if nobody, as if nothing in the world beside Harding mattered. And Agatha found herself resenting Milly's view. As if to her anything in the world mattered beside Rodney Lanyon.“

Off-the-mark, 'as if' messages are a special interest of mine. It was an unexpected treat to come across such a good specimen in a story written in 1912. 

It is a pity that the whole story is not written in the  straightforward style that we see in this passage.

Intention is everything 

Just as many other people involved with unseen influences have done, Agatha Verrall realises that there is a dimension where thoughts have power. There, the wish or intention to do something is at least as effective as actually doing it in the real world:

“...that world where to think was to will, and to will was to create.“

“For thought went wider and deeper than any deed; it was of the very order of the Powers intangible wherewith she had worked. Why, thoughts unborn and shapeless, that ran under the threshold and hid there, counted more in that world where It, the Unuttered, the Hidden and the Secret, reigned.”

Despite what Agatha Verrall believes, this dimension, this world, is not necessarily a good place and the Powers that can be contacted there are not necessarily benevolent.

Psychic powers in May Sinclair's Flaw in the Crystal: Part IV

I find some elements of the plot of May Sinclair's novella The Flaw in the Crystal contrived and confusing. 

The final resolution of Agatha Verrall's dilemma in particular seems unconvincing and unsatisfactory. She finds a solution to her difficulties that leaves some questions unanswered and some issues unaddressed.

Agatha Verrall's dilemma

We left Agatha Verrall in a situation where she is damned if she uses her gift to heal people remotely and damned if she doesn't.

Taking away people's suffering means becoming possessed by her subjects' former mental states: the psychic connection is a two-way street. The links that she creates between herself and her subjects may be also be cross-contaminated such that one subject can get at another.  

Cutting ties with people who have been healed means that their mental anguish returns. This entails watching them suffer and coming under both internal and external pressure to resume the healing. 

It would be an ideal solution to this predicament if Agatha could only use her Power without anyone involved experiencing any unpleasant side-effects.

This is much easier said than done, but Agatha eventually finds the way. Things get worse before they get better though.

Agatha Verrall cuts the tie with Harding Powell

Agatha Verral decides that saving Rodney Lanyon is more important than anything else. This entails sacrificing Harding Powell's health by cutting the tie that binds him to her. 

Harding puts up a big fight, hanging on desperately and tearing down the psychic walls she builds as fast as she can build them, but eventually with help from the Power she loosens his hold, casts him out and escapes from his malign influence.

Harding reverts to his former state. Poor Milly is distraught again and begs for the help that she knows Agatha can give. 

Agatha Verrall sees the light 

Agatha has always had the conviction that the Power she taps is benevolent. So, if it is so high, holy, sacred and pure, how can something like this awful mess happen? Why has her gift brought so much suffering to people?

Psychic powers in May Sinclair's Flaw in the Crystal: Part III

Just as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Parasite does, May Sinclair's novella The Flaw in the Crystal shows how dangerous playing around with occult forces can be for everyone involved. It is not just evil witches such as Helen Penclosa who end up in big trouble: after Agatha Verrall heals two of her friends using a pschic gift that she doesn't fully understand, things start to get unbalanced and out of control. She soon finds herself in a horrible mess of her own making.

May Sinclair gives a very detailed account of what happens next; she also has a lot to say about the Power that operates through Agatha. It is quite a challenge to identify the key points!

The regression of Rodney Lanyon

Agatha Verrall does not see her friend Rodney Lanyon for some weeks. She hears from him that his wife Bella is still well, so she assumes that he is too because he was only ever ill because of Bella. 

Agatha has been using her gift to keep him away; she has removed his strong inclination for her company. This is another unwise decision: she now feels a longing for his company! Something similar to the conservation of energy is involved here: the feelings that she took away from Rodney are now hers.

These feelings become so persistent amd so unbearable that she cuts the thread that connects her to Rodney. She hears from him again: Bella is still well, but he has has gone back to where he was before Agatha started to heal him:

“She might have known it. She had in fact known. Having once held him, and having healed him, she had no right—as long as the Power consented to work through her—she had no right to let him go.“

But what right did she have to hang on to him? 

Psychic powers in May Sinclair's Flaw in the Crystal: Part II

Agatha Verrall, the main character in May Sinclair's novella The Flaw in the Crystal, discovers that she has a psychic gift: she can improve the mental states of both herself and other people by tapping into an internal power source. 

As often happens, this activity starts well but ends badly. As we have seen from what happens to Austin Gilroy in Arthur Conan Doyle's The Parasite, even actions taken with good intentions sometimes backfire on the originator. 

Rodney's Lanyon's recovery

The first recipient of Agatha's healing attempts is her friend Rodney Lanyon. He is in a terrible state because of the effect his disturbed wife Bella has on him. Not only does he improve out of all recognition after Agatha's secret interventions, Bella incidentally becomes much better too.

Agatha is delighted to hear from Rodney about this unexpected development:

“It was another instance of the astounding and mysterious way it worked. She must have got at Bella somehow in getting at him. She saw now no end to the possibilities of the thing. There wasn't anything so wonderful in making him what, after all, he was; but if...Bella...had been, even for a week, a perfect angel, it had made her what she was not and never had been.“

The future may seem bright, but what looks like the start of something big at the time often turns out to have been as good as it gets. This was the high point in Agatha Verrall's career as a healer.

The arrival of some more friends

Agatha Verrall has come to live in a remote place, one that Rodney can easily get to, so that she can concentrate on using her gift to heal him to the exclusion of everything else. 

Agatha has told two of her friends, the Powells, that she moved to the area for her health. What a tangled web we weave...

Psychic powers in May Sinclair's Flaw in the Crystal: Part I

I recently came across a horror story by the neglected novelist May Sinclair that immediately reminded me of one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's horror stories, a story that has been featured in a whole series of articles on here.  

The Flaw in the Crystal, which was first published in 1912, will probably not inspire quite so many articles as The Parasite did, but it has some material that is worth quoting. As is often the case, it is mainly the metaphysical elements and some connections I noticed that inspire commentary.

Both novellas feature a woman who uses supernatural methods to influence people, however May Sinclair's Agatha Verrall is very different from Conan Doyle's evil witch Helen Penclosa in that she tries to use her powers ethically and for the good of others.

Agatha Verrall's gift

Agatha Verrall has a psychic gift: she can affect people remotely by concentrating her mind on them. She discovered this gift accidentally and uses it deliberately.

Agatha uses her gift to heal people telepathically. Her friend Rodney Lanyon is her first subject. He has a troublesome, demanding wife, a 'mass of furious and malignant nerves' who often drives him to breaking point. As a sanity-saving exercise he regularly escapes to Agatha's house, which he sees as his refuge, his place of peace. 

Although Agatha loves Rodney, she refrains from using her gift to make him come to visit her but uses it – without his knowledge - to make him well when he comes of his own free will.

Some writers with Celtic connections

The starting point for this article was a line in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novella The Parasite, which has been the subject of many articles.

Austin Gilroy thinks that the witch Helen Penclosa got her hooks deep into him because of his Celtic origin and that his colleague Charles Sadler got off lightly because of his phlegmatic Saxon temperament.

This made me wonder if people of Celtic origin really are more open to unseen influences than those of other ancestries. I have Irish connections on one side and Scottish on the other, so this topic is of great interest to me.

I remembered that some of the writers featured or mentioned in this blog had Cornish, Irish, Scottish or Welsh connections; I decided to do a quick investigation and list any more people on here who are known or appear to be of Celtic descent on one or both sides.

People of interest with Celtic connections
Conan Doyle may have been born in Edinburgh, but he had Irish Catholic parents.

Joan Aiken’s Canadian-born mother was a MacDonald, which suggests Scottish ancestors.

J. M. Barrie was a Scotsman.

Enid Blyton had an Irish grandmother on her father’s side.

Angela Brazil had a Scottish grandfather on her mother’s side.

The Brontës had an Irish father and a Cornish mother.

John Buchan was a Scotsman.

Taylor Caldwell was of Scottish origin on both sides. She was descended from the MacGregor clan on her mother’s side.

James Cameron has remote Scottish connections.

Andrew Carnegie, whose public libraries have inspired many writers, was a Scotsman.

The family of Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) had some Irish connections.

Eoin Colfer is Irish.

Marie Corelli’s real father was almost certainly the Scottish poet Charles Mackay.

Cults, occultists and Stella Gibbons: Part VI

This is yet another article in the series inspired by Stella Gibbons’s novel The Shadow of a Sorcerer.

Even though this book has already generated a lot of material, there are still a few more connections to be made, a few more ideas to be explored and a few more familiar scenarios to be described.

Esmé Scarron: energy vampire

It is not just Scarron’s victims who become cold, pale, tired and drained.

Stella Gibbons tells us that Scarron becomes cold and pale after expending energy cursing the group of young soldiers who made fun of him. Just like Helen Penclosa in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s story The Parasite, he has temporarily used up all his resources.

He soon recovers and returns to normal after holding Meg’s hand for a short time.

He has to live off other people: no wonder he cannot bear to be alone; no wonder he fills his house with ‘friends’ and followers. Perhaps the extra work this involves is why his subordinates always look sulky!

Providential interventions

The above reference to Conan Doyle’s story has reminded me of another connection:

The anonymous traveller who delays Esmé Scarron reminds me of the talkative vicar in The Parasite who makes Agatha late for her meeting with Austin Gilroy.

She thought that the vicar would never go, but he is her unwitting saviour: by preventing her from going to Gilroy, he saves her from having acid thrown over her. His intervention was providential.