W. R. Thompson: A Dickens Mystery
In a recent issue of Blackwood, Mr Andrew Lang returns to The Mystery of Edwin Drood question, reviewing the matter afresh with characteristic shrewdness and charm. One reason for writing the article seems to be that Mr Lang wishes to recant the opinion expressed in his "little book of 1905," viz. that Jasper failed in his attempt on Edwin Drood's life. This recantation, however, does not mean that Mr Lang has gone over to the other side—for, like Tariff Reform and Heredity, Dickens's unfinished story has given rise to opposing schools—but that he has abandoned hope of a solution. He has now "no theory as to how the novel would have been wound up," and believes that it "manifestly passes the wit of man to discover how the mystery would have been solved by its maker." Having lost hope in himself, Mr Lang naturally has little confidence in the other learned men, "Heads of Houses and Professors of Greek," who have written books and articles on the subject. So, in the most friendly and pleasant way, he advises them to return to the Homeric Question, on which the "purest bosh may be, and is, written by the gravest authorities." Here surely is candour worthy of Mrs Billickin herself. "I do not tell you that your bedroom floors is firm, for they are not. … Your slates are all a little loose at that elewation." One hopes that the "Heads of Houses," etc., arc not like Mr Honeythunder, who remarked once, frowningly, "A joke, sir, is wasted upon me."
We know from Forster what Dickens's plan of the story was before it was started, and there is nothing in the twenty-three chapters we possess inconsistent with that plan. Indeed it may be said that careful preparations are made for the carrying out of the plan, and, ere the fragment closes, the appearance of Datchery means that Jasper is to have the crime brought Home to him. Datchery has realised the significance of Durdles. It is quite true, of course, as Mr Lang says, that Dickens's method of novel writing being "hab nab at a venture," any one of a score of considerations might have led him to depart from his original plan. He might have restored the missing Drood, might have taken pity on Jasper as on a being possessed, might have whipt off Datchery's white wig, and revealed Edwin himself in the " idle buffer" who was never really idle, might even have made Neville Landless a quite uniquely subtle and brazen villain. When, having seen Datchery fall to "with a good appetite" at Mrs Tope's breakfast-table, we come upon those tragic asterisks that tell of the sudden quenching of a mighty genius, the whole world of conjecture is before us. Is it worth while setting out since the guide has fallen silent?
One feels that had the story been finished, both Durdles and the Deputy would have been "in" at the unravelling. Was not the Deputy himself something of a mystery? "Don't you go a-makin' my name public. When they says to me in the Lock-up, a-going to put me down in the book, ' What's your name ?' I says to them, ' Find out.' Likeways, when they says, ' What's your religion?' I says, ' Find out.' "And Durdles from the very first appears as a man not to be approached lightly, as Mr Sapsea can testify." You are my friend," said Mr Sapsea. "Don't you get into a bad habit of boasting," retorted Durdles. "It'll grow upon you. ... I don't like liberties." Further, Durdles is the man with the keys, and he is not happy when they are being handled and clinked by Jasper. On the night of the visit to the cathedral, the first thing he noted on awaking from the drugged sleep was that the key had dropped from his hand. Undoubtedly we are meant to regard Durdles as having the power of the keys. That peculiar malady of his, "Tombatism," by virtue of which he was on familiar terms with "the old 'uns," has a significance in relation to the clearing up of the mystery. With the two-foot rule and the hammer Durdles can tell where the dead lie in the cathedral. "Durdles comes by his knowledge through grubbing deep for it, and having it up by the roots when it don't want to come." Surely the care expended on Durdles, on his foot-rule, his hammer, and keys, is inconsistent with a merely hidden and not murdered Drood. Dickens could treat his plots with royal indifference, but nothing could exceed the tenacity with which he clung to his odd characters. It is difficult to get away from Durdles's own statement: "Everybody knows where to find Durdles when he is wanted," and to doubt that when he was finally wanted he was able to produce the key. "'Why, Durdles,' exclaimed Jasper, 'you are undermined with pockets.' 'And I carries weight in 'em too, Mr Jasper. Feel those,' producing two other large keys."
"There remains," says Mr Lang, "the great puzzle, who was Datchery? Nobody can tell." Professor Jackson's theory, following that of Mr Cumming Walters, that Datchery was Helena Landless in disguise, is described by Mr Lang as incredible. Edith Dombey, as Mr Chesterton says, might as well impersonate Major Bagstock; yes, and it might be added, Miss Twinkleton the Flying Waiter. The present writer has not gone through the literature of the subject, but wonders if any one has suggested that Bazzard was Datchery? Certainly, from the time Datchery appears in Cloisterham, Bazzard is seen no more in Mr Grewgious's office in Staple Inn. And Mr Grewgious's allusion to his absence is peculiar. There is a casualness about it quite absent from his ordinary references to Bazzard, of whom he stood somewhat in awe. " In fact he is off duty, here, just at present, and a firm downstairs lend me a substitute." "But," he adds, "it would be extremely difficult to replace Mr Bazzard." Now we know that Mr Grewgious more than suspected Jasper, and Mr Grewgious is one of those characters who, in a Dickens story, are never wrong. Their instincts are never at fault, for the simple reason that they are the instincts of good and true men. Grewgious is the faithful, romantic sort whom Dickens loves to exalt. His goodness is not mere simplicity, but real insight. As is well-known, he was an "Angular" man, and so likely to err in dealing with "globular" topics. But that was just his modest self-estimate. As a matter of fact, his method of handling affairs was distinguished by nothing so much as its "globular" quality; he could see all round a subject better than most. Now it is quite possible that Bazzard — though, according to Mr Grewgious, an "Angular" clerk — had also "globular" gifts, and that, as Datchery, he found scope for these in Cloisterham. <...>
There is one point of light — Datchery was not Mrs Billickin in disguise. That lady's candour makes the very thought of such a thing impossible. "' Can we see the rooms,' asked Mr Grewgious. 'Mr Grewgious, you can,' replied Mrs Billickin. 'I will not disguise it from you, sir, you can.'" In any case, Mrs Billickin was physically unfit for Datchery's task. For this we have her own word — " I was put in youth to a very genteel boarding-school, and a poorness of blood flowed from the table which has run through my life."