Arthur & George

impermissible: NO MOURNING . Sir Arthur had died happily; his family – with one exception – was resisting grief. The blinds were not drawn; there was no gloom. Who was he, then, to pronounce himself bereft? He wondered whether to express this quandary to Maud, who would be able to think more clearly about such matters; but judged it might seem egotistical. The dead man’s own modesty perhaps compelled a modesty of grief among those who had known him.
    Sir Arthur had been seventy-one. The obituaries were substantial and affectionate. George followed the news all week, and discovered to his slight discomfort that Maud’s
Herald
gave him rather more information than his own
Telegraph
. There was to be a GARDEN FUNERAL which was JUST A FAMILY FAREWELL . George wondered if he would be invited; he hoped that those who had celebrated Sir Arthur’s marriage might also be allowed to bear witness to his … he was going to say death, but the word was not in use at Crowborough. His passing over; his promotion, as some termed it. No, this was an inappropriate expectation – he was not in any sense a member of the family. Having settled the matter in his mind, George felt slightly piqued to discover from the next day’s paper that a crowd of three hundred would attend the funeral.
    Sir Arthur’s brother-in-law, the Revd Cyril Angell, who had buried the first Lady Conan Doyle and married the second one, took the service in the rose garden at Windlesham. He was assisted by the Revd C. Drayton Thomas. There was little black in the congregation; Jean wore a flowered summer dress. Sir Arthur was laid to rest near the garden hut which had served him so long as a study. Telegrams arrived from all over the world, and a special train had to be run to carry all the flowers. When laid out on the burial field, they looked, according to one witness, as if a fanciful Dutch garden had grown as high as a man’s head. Jean had ordered a headboard made of British oak, inscribed with the words BLADE STRAIGHT, STEEL TRUE. A sportsman and a chivalrous knight to the end.
    George felt that all had been done properly, if unconventionally; his benefactor had been honoured as he would have wished. But Friday’s
Daily Herald
announced that the story was not yet complete. CONAN DOYLE’S EMPTY CHAIR read the four-column headline, and beneath it an explanation which jumped from type-size to type-size. CLAIRVOYANT to attend GREAT MEETING . 6,000 Spiritualists at Memorial Meeting. WIFE’S WISH . Medium Who Will be Quite Frank.
    This public farewell would take place at the Albert Hall on Sunday July 13th 1930 at 7 p.m. The service was to be organized by Mr Frank Hawken, secretary of the Marylebone Spiritualist Association. Lady Conan Doyle, who would attend with other family members, said that she looked upon it as the last public demonstration she would attend with her husband. An empty chair would be placed on the stage to symbolize Sir Arthur’s presence, and she would sit to the left of it – the position she had occupied tirelessly over the last two decades.
    But there was more. Lady Conan Doyle had asked that there be a demonstration of clairvoyance in the course of the meeting. This would be performed by Mrs Estelle Roberts, who had always been Sir Arthur’s favourite medium. Mr Hawken favoured the
Herald
with an interview: ‘Whether Sir Arthur Conan Doyle will be able to demonstrate sufficiently yet awhile for a medium to describe him is problematical,’ he stated. ‘I should imagine that he would be quite capable of demonstrating already. He was quite prepared for his passing.’ Further: ‘If he did demonstrate it is doubtful whether the evidence would be accepted by the sceptics, but we who know Mrs Roberts as a medium would have no doubt on the matter at all. We know that if she cannot see him she will be quite frank about it.’ There was no mention here, George noted, of any threat from practical jokers.
    Maud watched her brother finish the story. ‘You will have to go,’ she said.
    ‘You think so?’
    ‘Definitely. He called you his friend. You must say your farewell, even if the circumstances are unusual. You had better go to the Marylebone Association for your ticket. This afternoon or tomorrow – otherwise you will be anxious.’
    It was strange, but agreeable, how decisive Maud could be. Whether at his desk or not, George was in the habit of chasing one argument after another before coming to a decision. Maud refused