First published in "The Dickensian", Vol. 2 (1906), p. 13

Most of the possible theories regarding the mystery of Datchery have already been the subjects of exhaustive examination, and in one or two cases startling results have been achieved; but, so far, not one has met the gratifying reward of universal acceptance, nor is it very likely that such recognition will be the solutionist's happy lot.

The most elementary explanation of Datchery is what we may call the Professional Detective theory. This suggestion, in relation to the work of an artist of Dickens's quality, is but empty air, and unworthy of serious thought. If Datchery's crop of white hair be a wig — and we are forced so to conclude — the idea of disguise is admitted into the question, and the theory is at once destroyed. If we deny the wig, greater difficulties arise, for we have to explain what Forster meant by the Datchery "assumption," and why Dickens surrounded the Buffer with mystery, and made such pointed references to his hatless head of hair.

A more widely accepted interpretation of the author's meaning is that Bazzard is the man; but Mr. Grewgious's clerk, notwithstanding his tragedy and his mysterious absence from Staple Inn, has been conclusively ruled out of court for many reasons.

Grewgious himself has had his supporters, but this theory is, in our opinion, the most impossible of all. Physically considered, his case vanishes into thin air. From other standpoints it is also very unsatisfactory.

There now remain as historical candidates but two characters, Drood and Helena Landless, for the supposition of a personage wholly new to the story is artistically inadmissible. Into the relative merits of Edwin and the young Cingalese girl we need not inquire, since they have of late been much before the public, and have already received attention in the pages of this journal.

Mr. Datchery's movements and bearing on his introduction to the reader are apparently those of a man who has been informed of the personages and localities involved in his inquiry, but who has never before been in personal contact with either. Thus, on being directed to Mrs. Tope's, he becomes bewildered, and boggles about the cathedral tower "with a general impression on his mind that Mrs. Tope's is somewhere very near it." Deputy escorts him for a distance, and points out an arched passage. "That's Tope's?" queries the Buffer. "Yer lie," answers the gamin, "that's Jarsper's." "Indeed?" says Datchery, with a second look of some interest. He takes the first opportunity of interviewing Jasper, and by refusing to leave the latter's presence before Mr. Sapsea show that he does not fear to expose himself to the choirmaster's keenest scrutiny. All this seems to argue that he really is a stranger to Cloisterham and its inhabitants, but there is no doubt that he has a firm grasp of the "Worshipful the Mayor's" pet frailty, and makes use of that important knowledge to gain his ends.

Let us scrutinize this mysterious person ourselves, and see how far the portrait Dickens presented has its counterpart in the picture we desire to superimpose. It may be taken for granted that, whoever Mr. Datchery may be he is fully aware of the extreme danger of the task he has set himself, and it follows that he is not devoid of physical courage. It is even more clear that he is courteous in bearing, and at his ease in society. His age is left to be assumed, for he is always written of as a "single," and never as an "old" buffer; while the phrase "living on his means" is insisted on with peculiar emphasis.

He is described as having "a military air," and it may be that this characteristic is the explanation of Mr. Sapsea's three queries as to his profession: but another and more subtle reason is at least possible Army, navy, and diplomacy are the guesses made. Is there something in Mr. Datchery's face which suggests foreign service of some kind? Mr. Sapsea is hardly keen observer enough to so emphatically read what was, after all, only "something" of a military air. The point is worth noting, and we shall explain its application immediately.

In the chapter preceding that of Mr. Datchery's arrival, another "stranger" is introduced to the reader. A stranger who is first discovered in a situation dangerous to life and limb, but who occupies it with cool unconcern.

"A handsome gentleman with a young face, but with an older figure in its robustness and its breadth of shoulder, so extremely sunburnt that the contrast between his brown visage and the white forehead shaded out of doors by his hat "was almost ludicrous." I beg your pardon," says this personage, addressing Landless with the identical form of words which Datchery uses in opening conversation with Jasper, and in a whimsical manner he introduces himself as "the beans." His object in seeking friendship with Neville is a kindly and thoughtful one; but he courteously apologizes for the liberty, explaining that he is always afraid of inconveniencing busy men, "being an idle man." This last phrase might almost be an echo of Mr. Datchery's "idle buffer living on his means." Lieutenant Tartar — there is the reason to withhold the name — also lives upon his means, having retired from the Navy in order that he might succeed to his uncle's fortune. Note the whimsical manner of this breezy character, which has "a touch of merry earnestness that makes it doubly whimsical," and compare it with the precisely similar style of Datchery. Mr. Proctor thought he could detect a resemblance between Drood and Datchery in this respect. How much greater is the similarity if for Edwin we substitute Tartar! No character in the book is at all comparable to the Buffer, excepting the Lieutenant, and in that single instance the likeness is surprising.

There is a strange paragraph at the end of the seventeenth chapter of the novel, following Tartar's disappearance below.

Mr. Grewgious — mysteriously introduced — is pictured for a moment at his solitary watch, his gaze wandering to the stars, "as if he would have read in them something that was hidden from him." This dark fragment receives a brilliant flash of illumination by the light of the present theory. So regarded, it is a truly Dickensian touch. Otherwise, it is inscrutable.

We now come to the eighteenth chapter. At what period in the story does Datchery make his first appearance? We are not told exactly, and the opening phrase, "At about this time," is in itself suspicious. From the first chapter onward to this point it is possible to trace an unbroken sequence of events: from the nineteenth chapter to the conclusion of the work the orderly narrative may be continued. We can even connect the chapters on either side of the Buffer's "busy afternoon," but the events of that same afternoon are entirely detached from their surroundings, and their situation cannot be accurately determined.

We have, therefore, some ground for assuming that Dickens, at this part of his story, availed himself of the licence, not infrequent in fiction, of temporarily abandoning the strictly chronological order. It is not until Chapter XXI, and "a day or so" after his introduction to Neville, that Tartar is taken into full confidence regarding Jasper. His offer of the use of his rooms is speedily followed by a promise to call openly upon Neville, with the object of drawing the prowling rascal; but the further progress of the story might possibly have revealed that Tartar's use for this purpose suggested to Grewgious a development leading to the Datchery assumption. The Lieutenant was not personally acquainted with Jasper, but disguise might be considered necessary, for Tartar's movements at Staple Inn had no doubt come under the watcher's observation.

Of the Navy man's fitness for the work in hand there can be no doubt. He was unoccupied, was powerful, reliable, determined, courageous. He had saved Crisparkle's life. Was he to be the chief protector of Rosa, with whom he had so rapidly fallen in love? At least, a strong incentive is apparent.

Crisparkle could very easily put him in possession of useful facts regarding the localities and personages of Cloisterham, and very likely it would be suggested that Mrs. Tope's was a convenient lodging to make his headquarters, since he would there have Jasper constantly under his eye. He would be told that Tope's was near the cathedral, and Jasper's gatehouse would, perhaps, be described; but further direction on the spot might well be necessary to an absolute stranger. To inquire for Tope's directly was out of the question, and Datchery's "Anything cathedrally now?" is a clever way of suggesting to the Crozier waiter what he really wants without awakening curiosity.

The interview with the opium woman probably contains the key to the enigma, if we only knew where to look for it. Datchery is here more vividly presented than elsewhere, and various solutionists have professed to find in these passages important reasons for their contentions.

A seafaring man who, probably, has visited Eastern ports, may reasonably be supposed to know something of opium-smoking and its effects. Datchery has, perhaps, noted its traces in Jasper. Now, when Puffer makes her agitated appearance, he says "Halloa!" in a low voice, presumably wondering what there is unusual about her. His sudden start when, later, she confesses to the habit, may be taken as the firing of his train of thought.

It is a point worth noting that, prior to this, Mr. Datchery walks at the old woman's side, with his hands clasped behind him — "as the wont of such buffers is," explains Dickens, or, we suggest, as is the want of the naval officer when pacing the quarter-deck.

"Been here before, my good woman?"

"Once in all my life."

"Ay Ay!" comments the Buffer, unconsciously employing a truly nautical expression.

After the interview he turns homeward pondering.

"As mariners approaching an iron-bound coast may look along the beams of the warning light to the haven lying beyond it that may never be reached, so Mr. Datchery's wistful gaze is directed to this beacon, and beyond."

Read and compare with this what is said of Tartar as he and Rosa enter his chambers at Staple Inn.

"Rosa thought... that his far-seeing eyes looked as if they had been used to watch danger afar off, and to watch it without flinching, drawing nearer and nearer."

The parallel is complete.