There is something more attractive about this theory, and it has been very well argued by Mr. G. F. Gadd in the Dickensian, vol. ii. p. 13. Mr. Gadd uses the argument ‘with a second look of some interest,’ as showing Datchery’s ignorance of Cloisterham. He quotes Tartar’s phrase ‘being an idle man,’ as corresponding with the ‘idle buffer living on his means.’ He suggests that Dickens at this point of his story avails himself of the licence not unfrequent in fiction of temporarily abandoning the strictly chronological order. He suggests that Tartar as a seafaring man might know something of opium smoking, and compares the wistful gaze directed to this beacon and beyond, to what is said about Tartar as he and Rosa entered 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.’
But, as Dr. Jackson points out, Tartar has his duties assigned to him. He has to watch over Neville and see him almost daily. Again, Tartar does not know about Cloisterham and the Drood mystery what Datchery knows and needs to know. ‘Thirdly, I doubt whether the cheery, straightforward, simple-minded Tartar is capable of Datchery’s versatility, subtlety, and address.’ To this I add that Tartar’s heart is not engaged in the business as Helena’s is. Also what need is there for his disguise? He has never been in Cloisterham, and nobody there knows him.
For these reasons we conclude that Helena and no other is Datchery. I have taken no account of the theory that Datchery is an unknown person. An unknown person could not possess the necessary qualities of heart.
CHAPTER VIII—HOW WAS ‘EDWIN DROOD’ TO END?
How Edwin Drood was to end is a problem which can only be solved to a certain extent. We find we are left in the middle, and as much mystery remains as fully justifies the title. We do not know the precise manner in which the murder was accomplished. In particular, we are left ignorant as to the way in which the crime is to be brought home to the victim. We cannot define the relations of the opium woman to Drood and Jasper and the Landlesses. We do not know the history of Jasper’s early years. We can do no more than speculate, and the speculations must be confined within strict limits. The first question is, whether Dickens himself knew how he was going to extricate and complete his narrative.
Scott has left us the astonishing statement [184] that ‘I have generally written to the middle of one of these novels without having the least idea how it was to end.’ Mr. Skene, a true friend of Sir Walter Scott, tells us [185] that when Scott described to him the scheme which he had formed for Anne of Geierstein, he suggested to him that he might with advantage connect the history of René, king of Provence, in which subject Skene had special means of helping him. Scott accepted the suggestion, ‘and the whole dénouement of the story of Anne of Geierstein was changed, and the Provence part woven into it, in the form in which it ultimately came forth.’
Was Dickens in the same case when death interrupted him in his work?
Was this an ‘apoplectic’ novel?
Scott speaks frankly of Count Robert of Paris and Castle Dangerous being his ‘apoplectic books.’ Does Edwin Drood bear the same relation to the body of Dickens’s work as Count Robert of Paris and Castle Dangerous bear to the Waverley Novels? Mr. Lang, whose views on this subject varied much, in one of his later writings takes the view that Dickens was deeply embarrassed. He says: ‘It is melancholy to think of this great and terribly overtasked genius tormented by fears that were only too real.’ He finds the story wandering on, living from hand to mouth, full of absurdities. He thinks that Dickens was very capable of changing his original purpose, and saving the life of Edwin.
There is no doubt that Dickens was puzzled about the order of his chapters. Forster tells us that Dickens ‘became a little nervous about the course of the tale from a fear that he might have plunged too soon into the incidents leading on to the catastrophe such as the Datchery assumption (a misgiving he had certainly expressed to his sister-in-law).’ I have already expressed agreement with Dr. Jackson in his plan for renumbering the chapters. Unless this plan is adopted there is chronological confusion. Also there is no doubt that Dickens had been working under terrific strain. But the testimony of those who knew him best is that his faculties were never brighter and stronger than they were in his last months.