Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and facing the truth

There is a price for everything, and dealing in the truth is no exception. One of the articles about Upton Sinclair covers some aspects of this, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle too had something to say on the subject of facing up to the truth.

In Conan Doyle's horror story The Parasite, Austin Gilroy says something that is worth highlighting:

“At least, I have shown that my devotion to science is greater than to my own personal consistency. The eating of our own words is the greatest sacrifice which truth ever requires of us.”

Some sacrifices can be very painful indeed. People who put respect for the truth above all else need great courage and endurance as it often involves dealing with very unwelcome, unpalatable, horrific and agonising even, information, insights, implications and conclusions.

Conan Doyle knew how much courage it can take for someone to align themselves with objective, unvarnished truths by discarding ignorance, illusions and wrong ideas.

Sherlock Holmes says this in Laurie R. King's tribute novel The Beekeeper's Apprentice:

“...there is no treachery in the truth. There may be pain, but to face honestly all possible conclusions formed by a set of facts is the noblest route possible for a human being.”

This quotation is often attributed to Conan Doyle, but no source is given. I couldn't find it in the Sherlock Holmes Complete Collection. Whatever the origin, it is very true; it deserves to be better known.

Another look at Beverley Nichols's witch Miss Smith

Miss Smith, the cruel and evil witch with a very deceptive appearance, is a character in Beverley Nichols's Woodland Trilogy and its sequel. She first appeared on here in the article about three fictional modern-day witches and has been referred to in a few other articles. 

I read the four books one last time before donating them, and I found some more material to comment on. 

The Tree That Sat Down (1945), The Stream That Stood Still (1948), The Mountain of Magic (1950) and The Wickedest Witch in the World (1971) are intended for readers of 9 years and upwards. The younger readers will concentrate on the story and enjoy reading about the talking animals and the adventures of the children; I am interested in the incidental references to evil and the characteristics of witches. 

I would not have noticed such things when I first read the stories as I was very young at the time, but now they are the main attraction. They provide yet more independent support for ideas mentioned in many other articles.

Good and evil
The Tree That Sat Down, the first book of the Woodland Trilogy, has something to say about good and evil:

“Evil is a very powerful force; there is only one force more powerful, which is Good. Evil is infectious; it spreads itself far and wide. If there is anything evil at large, all the other evil things know it by instinct; they rejoice and grow strong.”

“Miss Smith shivered and felt quite sick; real goodness always had that effect on her.”

Goodness and evil often do attract like and repel their opposite.

“Miss Smith...felt somebody coming, somebody very good, somebody so good that he might do her a lot of harm. She must go quickly, before it was too late.”

Miss Smith is very wary of anyone who isn't evil. 

Some characteristics of witches
Witches dislike  inquisitive people; they live in fear that their crimes and their deficiencies and differences from normal people will be exposed. They are always on the alert for threats. 

They can sometimes get themselves off the hook by improvising cover stories and casting spells to distract and silence people, but they are not always able to raise the necessary power and they just dig themselves in deeper in the long run.

Jean Rhys and her witchlike personality

Just as psychological black magic is a major topic in this blog, so are witches, fictional or otherwise, unconscious or otherwise.

Carole Angier's biography Jean Rhys: Life and Work, which is generating a whole string of articles, contains material that suggests that Jean Rhys was witchlike in many ways. This material includes the devastating effect that she had on people close to her and her attitude, behaviour and experiences throughout her life. 

It was interesting to learn that in later years she became completely bent over, like an old witch in a fairytale.

This picture makes her look rather sinister:

A witch for a neighbour
Jean Rhys said herself that her neighbours in Holt in Norfolk called her crazy and a witch, and that her neighbours in the Devon village of Cheriton Fitzpaine also called her a witch. She said that one of these neighbours was a witch herself, and that there was black magic in the village!

The evil witch in action
Carole Angier tells us that in later life Jean Rhys had dreadful moods in which she became sinister, witchlike and cruel. As mentioned in the article about Diana Wynne Jones's evil witch Aunt Maria, in one of these episodes Jean terrified her nurse/assistant by locking the door to prevent escape. Carole Angier uses an interesting expression when recounting this incident:

“Janet had 'never been so frightened', 'she'd never wanted to get out of anywhere more'. As though by black magic, Jean had transferred her own worst feelings of terror and entrapment to another person. She had made someone suffer like her.” 

Cults and the inversion of values

This article contains two examples of people who neglected or abandoned personal responsibilities in favour of working for the cause. Both cases involve the same, Catholicism-based, cult. 

The material is based on posts on the old Conservative Conspiracy Forum; it consists of extracts that I found online and comments that I made at the time together with a few afterthoughts.

Abandoning the sick and dying
“...I slowly realized that behavior opposite to my natural self was the most rewarded....When I as a devoted physician would leave my duties for a weekend, to cook for 80 people on a weekend meeting, that seemed to be the ultimate proof of my trust in the voice of Jesus in our midst. 

When I left a dear person who was dying and I had promised to assist, to help out practically in the movement and that person died when I was absent, that was the proof of my love for the forsaken Jesus.”

This is very horrific indeed, all the more as Christians are enjoined to heal the sick and comfort the dying.  Where are the Christian values of love and compassion here? 

The worst aspect is that not only are members encouraged or ordered to perform such actions, they are commended for it. They are told that it shows how superior and committed they are; it really shows how far under the evil influences they are. 

Neglecting children 
“We missed our son's confirmation, left a teenager for 3 weeks alone while we went to school in Rome because we were told it was the will of God. We missed so many family events and were told that 'we had to leave the family in order to follow God. We would find them again in Heaven.'”

This is typical of many cults. It confirms what I have seen and experienced for myself: “We must make sacrifices.”

The great and positive influence of Everyman's Library

While working on articles about Stella Gibbons's romance My American and the life of the novelist May Sinclair recently, I came across some references to Everyman's Library. 

The first was in J. B. Priestley's introduction to his novel Angel Pavement, which I suggested was the inspiration for My American; the second was in some online information about May Sinclair: she wrote introductions for the Everyman editions of the Brontë sisters' works.

J. B. Priestley: from Everyman reader to Everyman writer
J. B. Priestley is yet another voracious reader who later became a writer. This is an extract from his introduction to the Everyman's Library edition of his novel Angel Pavement:

“It was when I was in my middle teens that I began buying books...I had very little money indeed, and the problem was, how to buy books out of it? I managed this chiefly by economising on my lunches. In a shop in the covered market you could buy a bag of stale buns for tuppence...Out of what I saved, I bought books, and most of these books belonged to the old shilling Everyman series. I have some of them, chiefly the green volumes of the poets, to this day. 

No bits of silver ever bought more enduring enchantment. I wish it were possible to go back to that youth from the office, as he stands looking at the Everyman volumes in Mr. Power's bookstall in the Bradford market, to whisper to him that the day will come when he will write a novel that will find its way into Everyman’s Library...”

One shilling was the official price, so one brand-new volume cost the equivalent of six bags of stale buns!  

Louisa M. Alcott, Jane Eyre and the public library

These words about Jean Rhys and L. M. Montgomery also apply to Louisa M. Alcott:

“...great readers and had access to a public library when young. As girls they read Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre, which made a big impression on them and later influenced their writing.”

Unlike some of the other writers mentioned on here, Louisa M. Alcott was encouraged to read. As a girl, she 'lived in books'. Jane Eyre, which was first published in 1847 when she was 14 years old, was one of her favourite novels. She was inspired by the Brontë sisters' lives and achievements. 

She wrote this in her journal just after reading Mrs Gaskell's Life of Charlotte Brontë:

“Read Charlotte Brontë’s life. A very interesting, but sad one. So full of talent; and after working long, just as success, love, and happiness come, she dies. Wonder if I shall ever be famous for people to care to read my story and struggles. I can’t be a C.B., but I may do a little something yet.” 

From the journal entry dated June, 1857

Louisa M. Alcott and the Concord Free Public Library
Louisa M. Alcott had access to private libraries as a girl. She may have made use of public libraries too: her father Bronson certainly did. I am not sure when her involvement with the Concord Free Public Library started, but she is mentioned in connection with book censorship early in 1885:

“As the home of Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and the Alcotts, the very name of Concord, Massachussetts, connotes sophisticated literary dissent. Yet a month after the publication of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, the committee in charge of Concord's public library voted to remove the book from its shelves, fearing that Huck Finn's irreverence would undermine the morals of young readers. In full agreement, Louisa May Alcott proposed a more radical ban: “If Mr. Clemens cannot think of something better to tell our pure-minded lads and lasses,” she advised, “he had best stop writing for them.” “

https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/cambridge-companion-to-mark-twain/banned-in-concord/6B50F2DD0F1276E8CB393B96DBDD4FC8

The Concord Free Public Library, which was opened in 1873, now holds a large collection of Alcott family material. It also contains a bust of  Louisa M. Alcott:

May Sinclair, Jean Rhys, L. M. Montgomery and the Brontës

After producing some articles about May Sinclair's novella The Flaw in the Crystal, I decided to investigate her background in the hope of finding some more material of interest. 

I found some very familiar biographical elements and other connections when reading about her life. I mentioned a blueprint for writers in an article in the Context and the Total Picture series; if I created a template for writers of interest, May Sinclair would tick many of the boxes.

I have seen, for example, the Celtic Connection in the biographies of many novelists, so it was no surprise to learn that May Sinclair had an Irish mother and a Scottish father.

It also came as no surprise when I found that she had some other things in common with Jean Rhys and L. M. Montgomery. May Sinclair too was interested in and inspired by the Brontës, whose works she may have first encountered in her father's private library rather than the local public library.

May Sinclair and Jean Rhys
May Sinclair was a very different person from Jean Rhys, but they had a few things in common:

They both wrote under assumed names. 

Both novelists lived for a while in Devon.

They both read voraciously as girls, partly for escape, and both later wrote Brontë-inspired books. 

They both had unsympathetic mothers who tried to force them to conform to the norm. They had some things to say about their childhood experiences that sound uncannily similar. 

Just as Jean Rhys's work is mostly autobiographical, so are some of May Sinclair's novels, Mary Olivier in particular. Mary Olivier's mother wants her to behave like a 'normal' girl:

“...you should try and behave a little more like other people.”

"You were different," she said. "You weren’t like any of the others. I was afraid of you.”