I am unfortunately not acquainted with much that has been written about Edwin Drood, for the story was so painfully associated with my father’s death and the sorrow of that time that after first reading it I could never bear to look into the book again till about two months ago, when I found myself obliged to do so; and then my thoughts flew back to the last occasion when my father mentioned it in my hearing.
. . . . .
There is one other fact connected with my father and Edwin Drood that I think my readers would like to know, and I must be forgiven if I again speak from my own experience in order to relate it. Upon reading the book once more, as I have already told, after an interval of a great number of years, the story took such entire possession of me that for a long time I could think of nothing else; and one day, my aunt, Miss Hogarth, being with me, I asked her if she knew anything more definite than I did as to how the ending was to be brought about. For I should explain that when my father was unusually reticent we seldom, if ever, attempted to break his silence by remarks or hints that might lead him to suppose that we were anxious to learn what he had no doubt good reasons for desiring to keep from us. And we made it a point of honour among ourselves never, in talking to him on the subject of Edwin Drood, to show the impatience we naturally felt to arrive at the end of so engrossing a tale.
My aunt said that she knew absolutely nothing, but she told me that shortly before my father’s death, and after he had been speaking of some difficulty he was in with his work, without explaining what it was, she found it impossible to refrain from asking him, ‘I hope you haven’t really killed poor Edwin Drood?’ To which he gravely replied, ‘I call my book the Mystery, not the History, of Edwin Drood.’ And that was all he would answer. My aunt could not make out from the reply, or from his manner of giving it, whether he wished to convey that the Mystery was to remain a mystery for ever, or if he desired gently to remind her that he would not disclose his secret until the proper time arrived for telling it. But I think his words are so suggestive, and may carry with them so much meaning, that I offer them now, with my aunt’s permission, to those who take a delight in trying to unravel the impenetrable secrets of a story that has within its sadly shortened pages a most curious fascination, and is ‘gifted with invincible force to hold and drag.’
THE TESTIMONY OF CHARLES DICKENS THE YOUNGER
I have quoted from Madame Perugini’s statement the words: ‘We know also that my elder brother Charles positively declared that he had heard from his father’s lips that Edwin Drood was dead.’ I proceed to corroborate the statement by giving here a brief account of the play by Joseph Hatton and Charles Dickens.
The importance of this play as a witness to Dickens’s intentions is shown in an article by Joseph Hatton which appeared in the People on 19th November 1905. Mr. Hatton explains that about the year 1880, in a conversation, he sketched out his idea of the play up to the crucial point. Dickens had a play in his mind when he wrote the story, and it was said that he had thought of Dion Boucicault as his collaborator in his work for the stage. After the death of Dickens, Boucicault had a mind to write the play and invent his own conclusion to the story, but afterwards gave it up. Mr. Hatton, in a conversation with Mr. Luke Fildes, saw Dickens’s possible conclusion, but did not attempt to gather up the broken threads. ‘Consulting his son, Charles, to whom I offered my sketch, I found that his father had revealed to him sufficient of the plot to clearly indicate how the story was to end. We agreed to write the play. Much of the son’s version of the finale was proved by the instructions which the author had given to the illustrator in regard to certain of the unpublished and unwritten chapters. And so Dickens the younger and I fell to work and wrote the play of Edwin Drood for the Princess’s Theatre.’ He goes on to explain that the piece was cast, and a great point made of the authoritative conclusion of the story, thus clearing up something of the mystery which was part of its title. But Mr. Harry Jackson, the stage manager, did not like the play, and it was left unacted. Years after, Dickens had a hope that Mr. Willard would undertake the play, but this expectation was not fulfilled. Dickens consoled himself by saying that next to the pleasure of having a good play acted was the pleasure of writing it, and for the rest he took the incident as one of the ‘little ironies’ of his life.
The play as it lies before me is in four Acts. The first is made up of conversations between the Landlesses, Mrs. Crisparkle, Septimus Crisparkle, Rosa and Edwin. These are practically repeated from the book. Grewgious and Jasper then come on the scene, the novel being closely followed in their conversation. The second Act is made up of conversations also mainly reproduced from the book between Helena and Rosa, Jasper and Crisparkle. Grewgious comes on in the second Scene where Edwin and Rosa decide to be brother and sister. There follow in the third Scene the talks between Jasper and Durdles. Edwin talks to the opium woman, and Jasper appears with the scarf on his arm. So far there is practically nothing that is not taken directly from Dickens. The third Act opens with a conversation between Septimus and Mrs. Crisparkle as to the guilt of Landless. Helena and Neville appear protesting innocence. Grewgious tells Jasper about the breaking of the engagement between Edwin and Rosa. Jasper makes love to Rosa. In the concluding Act the scene is laid in the opium den in London: ‘Dark, poverty-stricken. Fourpost bedstead, chair, table, candlestick, set well down so as to allow good space for vision later on, light up a little, when Opium Sal lights candle shortly after Jasper’s entrance. For details see Fildes’s picture in book. Opium Sal discovered moving about in a witch-like kind of way.’ Jasper enters and tells Sal that a man followed him to the door. She lights the opium pipe for him, and then questions him.
He says at last: ‘Hush! the journey’s made! It’s over!’
Sal. Is it over so soon?
Jasper. I must sleep that vision off. It is the poorest of all. No struggle, no consciousness of peril, no entreaty, and yet I never saw that before!
Sal. See what, deary?
Jasper. Look at it! Look what a poor miserable thing it is! That must be real. It’s over.
(He has accompanied this incoherence with some wild unmeaning gestures; but they trail off into the progressive inaction of stupor, and he lies like a log upon the bed. The Woman attempts to rouse him as before, but finding him past rousing for the time, she slowly gets upon her feet with an air of disappointment, flicks his face with her hand savagely, and then flings a rug over Jasper.)
(Both Sal and Jasper now being perfectly quiet, the back of scene is illuminated, showing the scene exactly as at end of Act II. The candle is out in the Opium Den, leaving front part of stage dark. The brightest light in vision is from Jasper’s window, leaving other parts of scene slightly in shadow but sufficiently light for action to be seen. It is to be carefully noted that all the persons on in the Vision Scene should wear list shoes, so that they make no noise in moving about, and that the Stage Manager should insist upon perfect quiet behind the stage and at the wings. The actors, too, speak in rather a measured, monotonous tone. Crowd later on in Vision to be grouped and drilled from this point of view.)
(The Scene being well open, there is a flash of lightning, and a peal of thunder, followed after a short pause by a burst of merry laughter from Jasper’s room, the voices of Drood and Neville being audible. They come down to door, Jasper with them, without his hat.)
Edwin, Jasper, and Neville are talking. Edwin says he will walk with Neville as far as the river and have a look at the storm. Neville and Jasper exchange good-nights, and Edwin says: ‘Don’t go to bed, Jack, I won’t be long.’
(Jasper in response waves hand. Pause. Then re-enters house, closes door. Goes upstairs. Puts light out, and is seen for a moment at window. Flash of lightning, peal of thunder. Pause. Jasper comes out with hat on head, the black silk scarf on arm. Comes out cautiously, closing door after him and looks round, and warily goes to crypt; finds door locked and takes key from his pocket with which he opens it, and pushes door wide open. Creeps off in the direction Neville and Edwin have gone. Pause. Weak flash of lightning and peal of thunder. Jasper returns crouching, and hides within shadow of wall. Re-enter Edwin Drood from where exit was made. He looks up at Jasper’s window.)
Ah, too bad; he has gone to bed and has put his light out.
(Jasper rushes upon Edwin from behind, seizes him, whips scarf, which he has previously been twisting into rope-like shape, round his head and neck, and proceeds to strangle him. There is a fierce struggle for a few seconds. Nearly on the point of death, Edwin gets free of Jasper, sees his assailant, and thinks Jasper is there to help him.)
Edwin. Jack! Jack! Save me! They are killing me! (Flings himself into Jasper’s arms.)
Jasper. Save you, yes!
(Deliberately tightens scarf, strikes Edwin, and kills him. Flash of lightning and peal of thunder, as Edwin falls lifeless at Jasper’s feet. Pause.)
Jasper (a little overcome physically, and jerking out his sentences gasping, but with intense ferocity). You poor fool. You’ll boast no more. (Spurning body with his foot.) Ah! ah! ah! (Laughs wildly.) He’s gone. The fellow-traveller has gone for ever, gone down, into the everlasting abyss! Hush! (Listens.) Durdles? No, opium mixed with his liquor keeps that other fool quiet. (Listens again, and looks cautiously round—distant low-moaning peal of thunder.) Only the storm wearing itself out! Ah! ah! ah! (Looking at body.) You’ve seen the last of the storm, weak, self-satisfied fool! Come (wildly seizing the body, and dragging it towards crypt), come—to your marriage bed (drags body). Come—to sleep with Death!
(Exit with body into crypt.)
(Slow music. Short pause. Re-enter Jasper from crypt, and as he does so gauze clouds begin to darken scene. Jasper locks crypt, puts key in his pocket, crosses, crouching and creeping, looking behind him fearfully, and enters his own house, with flash of lightning, peal of thunder, the very last of the storm. By this time gauze clouds nearly darken the scene. Double on bed moves. Opium Sal rises restlessly, once more leans over bed, and begins to talk while the actor representing Jasper returns to his place on bed.)
Sal. Troubled dreams, deary! Troubled dreams. Have you been taking the journey again? Was it pleasant, and what did you do to fellow-traveller, eh?
Jasper (speaking in a dreamy way). That’s how the journey was made—that’s how I like to make it. But there’s something more. I never saw that before; what is it? (Fearfully, falls asleep again.)
(Sal wearily resumes her attitude of rest with her arms on bed, and the Vision Scene goes on. Durdles appears beckoning off, unlocks crypt and enters. As he does so Grewgious and Rosa come on from direction indicated by Durdles’s beckoning, all the others in scene coming from the same place. Rosa clings to her guardian’s arm. They stop in centre of stage opposite crypt, looking towards door. Neville and Helena follow. They join Grewgious and Rosa. Crisparkle and Opium Sal’s Double come on. Opium Sal’s Double is pointing towards Rosa and others, and Crisparkle joins the group. The Double now stands near wing and beckons off. Townspeople come on and make group, Double at their head, she pointing towards crypt; they all look in that direction. Durdles comes to door, beckons Grewgious, who goes in after Durdles to crypt. Groups now move a step or two nearer to entrance of crypt. Slight pause. Rosa clings to Helena; Neville in dumb show whispers anxiously to Helena and Rosa, as if to reassure and comfort them. Helena stands proudly but anxious; Rosa droopingly.)
Grew. (standing just outside crypt door, and addressing himself to Crisparkle). Keep the women back; this is no place for them. Edwin Drood has been foully murdered!
(Sensation in crowd, not indicated by noise, but dumb show. Rosa staggers. Neville catches her in his arms. Jasper moves and groans in his sleep. Durdles comes out of crypt, plucks Grewgious by the sleeve, and holds up Jasper’s long black scarf.)
Cris. Jasper’s scarf!
(Jasper again groans on bed.)
Where is Jasper?
(Goes to door of Jasper’s house and knocks. This knocking must be made right at back of stage.)
Grew. It is no good knocking there. The murderer of Edwin Drood will be found in London!
(Sensation as before in crowd. Crisparkle still knocks, and between knocks faint rapping is heard at door of opium den, and Jasper tosses about on bed, then starts up with a cry, the Vision disappearing the moment he stands on the floor.)
Jasper (starting as if at what he has seen). No, no. It’s a lie!
(Knocking at opium den door becomes louder.)
(Turning to Sal, who is now at other end of room.) What’s that?
Sal. They wants to come in.
Jasper. Who wants to come in?
(Knocking is louder and louder.)
Jasper. The police! Damnation! The man who followed me here to-night! Then it’s all true. Durdles has found the body in spite of all my precautions, and I am lost. (Rushes wildly about room.) Is there no escape? Where’s the window?
Sal. There ain’t no winder, deary.
Jasper. Then I’m trapped like a wolf in a cage. You filthy hag, this is your doing.
(Seizes candlestick on stool to strike her; she crouches down. Knocking at door now so fierce as to arrest his attention, and he turns towards it, weapon in his hand.)
(Voice at door. Open in the Queen’s name!)
(Jasper drops stool or whatever he has seized upon to attack Sal with, staggers back, tears open his shirt-sleeve, where a small phial is seen fastened to left wrist, drags it from his wrist and holds it convulsively in right hand, as door is violently burst open.)
(Enter Inspector of Police, handcuffs in hand, Durdles, Neville, Crisparkle, and Grewgious.)
Grew. (to Officer, pointing to Jasper). There is your prisoner.
Jasper. Never! Do you think I was not prepared for this always! (Takes poison, and flings phial down.) Now I defy you! Hush! I did kill him! Ha! ha! The fellow-traveller! Yes. For love. For a mad wild passion. Killed him as I would have killed you and you—as I would have swept you all from the path that led to her. Ha! ha! what fools you were not to see it, not to see my love, how it burned, how it consumed me. She knew it! Rosa knew it. (Then speaking as though none but he and Rosa were present.) Rosa! Rosa! My Rosa! Come! You must! You shall! (Wildly.) Back! Back! She’s mine I tell you! (Passes hand over eyes, and staggers, then once more half realises the situation.) What’s that? (Looks round, and sees Neville.) You here! You who think to reap the harvest for which I have sold my soul to hell! Vile wretch! I’ll kill you!
(Rushes to Neville, who stands forward. In act of raising arm to strike him, Jasper is seized with death spasm, trembles, shudders, and, flinging up arms, falls dead. Picture: Opium Sal crouching still in fear, Officer, Grewgious, Durdles, Neville, and Crisparkle near the body.)
END OF DRAMA