'_I did think of you_,' _Rosa told him_; '_but Minor Canon Corner was so near him_-'

'_I understand_. _It was quite natural_.'

'_Have you settled_,' _asked Rosa_, _appealing to them both_, '_what is to be done for Helena and her brother_?'

'_Why really_,' _said Mr. Crisparkle_, '_I am in great perplexity_.

_If even Mr. Grewgious_, _whose head is much longer than mine_, _and who is a whole night's cogitation in advance of me_, _is undecided_, _what must I be_!'

_Am I agreed with generally in the views I take_?'

'_I entirely coincide with them_,' _said Mr. Crisparkle_, _who had been very attentive_.

'_As I have no doubt I should_,' _added Mr. Tartar_, _smiling_, '_if I understood them_.'

'_Fair and softly_, _sir_,' _said Mr. Grewgious_; '_we shall fully confide in you directly_, _if you will favour us with your permission_.'

_I begin to understand to what you tend_,' _said __Mr. Crisparkle_, '_and highly approve of your caution_.'

'_I needn't repeat that I know nothing yet of the why and wherefore_,' _said Mr. Tartar_; '_but I also understand to what you tend_, _so let me say at once that my chambers are freely at your disposal_.'

THE Ma.n.u.sCRIPT

I make also a few notes based on a careful examination of the ma.n.u.script.

Certain pa.s.sages are rewritten, and the result pasted over the original page. These pa.s.sages have been noted. Also certain sentences have been altered in form, sometimes by the subst.i.tution of one word for another, and sometimes by the addition of words. It is not necessary to give every example, but a few may be noted.

Towards the end of the second chapter the pa.s.sage beginning 'I have been taking opium for a pain,' including the long paragraph which follows, has been entirely rewritten and pasted on.

In the description of the Landlesses in chapter vi. d.i.c.kens made certain changes. As the sentence stands now it reads as follows: 'An unusually handsome lithe young fellow, and an unusually handsome lithe girl; much alike; both very dark, and very rich in colour; she of almost the gipsy type; something untamed about them both; a certain air upon them of hunter and huntress; yet withal a certain air of being the objects of the chase, rather than the followers.'

As originally written it read thus: 'A handsome young fellow, and a handsome girl; both dark and rich in colour; she quite gipsy like; something untamed about them both; a certain air upon them of hunter and huntress; yet a certain air of being the objects of the chase, rather than the followers.'

In chapter vii., where Neville is speaking of his sister, as we have the pa.s.sage it reads: 'In a last word of reference to my sister, sir (we are twin children), you ought to know, to her honour, that nothing in our misery ever subdued her, though it often cowed me. When we ran away from it (we ran away four times in six years, to be soon brought back and cruelly punished), the flight was always of her planning and leading.

Each time she dressed as a boy, and showed the daring of a man. I take it we were seven years old when we first decamped; but I remember, when I lost the pocket-knife with which she was to have cut her hair short, how desperately she tried to tear it out, or bite it off.'

The original version ran thus: 'In reference to my sister, sir (we are twin children), you ought to know, to her honour, that nothing in our misery ever cowed her, though it often cowed me. When we ran away from it (we ran away four times in five years, to be very soon brought back and punished), the flight was always of her planning. Each time she dressed as a boy, and showed the daring of a man. I take it we were eight years old when we first decamped; but I remember, when I lost the pocket-knife with which she was to have cut her hair short, that she tried to tear it out, or bite it off.'

At the beginning of chapter xviii. we read of the stranger in Cloisterham: 'Being b.u.t.toned up in a tightish blue surtout.' This was originally: 'Being dressed in a tightish blue surtout.' A little further on in the same paragraph we have: 'He stood with his back to the empty fireplace.' d.i.c.kens originally wrote: 'He stood with his back to the fireplace.' In the next paragraph 'His shock of white hair' was originally 'His shock of long white hair.'

In the same chapter, when Datchery and the boy are standing looking at Jasper's rooms we have the following sentence: '"Indeed?" said Mr.

Datchery, with a second look of some interest.' This was originally written: '"Indeed?" said Mr. Datchery, with an appearance of interest.'

In the final proofs this pa.s.sage was entirely struck out. On the next page we have this sentence: 'Mr. Datchery, taking off his hat to give that shock of white hair of his another shake, seemed quite resigned, and betook himself whither he had been directed.' The original version ran thus: 'Mr. Datchery, taking off his hat and giving his shock of white hair another shake, was quite resigned, and betook himself whither he had been directed.'

A little further on in the same chapter, when Datchery first goes into Jasper's room we have: '"I beg pardon," said Mr. Datchery, making a leg with his hat under his arm.' This was originally written, "I beg pardon," said Mr. Datchery, hat in hand.'

In the last paragraph of this chapter we have: 'Said Mr. Datchery to himself that night, as he looked at his white hair in the gas-lighted looking-gla.s.s over the coffee-room chimney-piece at the Crozier, and shook it out: "For a single buffer, of an easy temper, living idly on his means, I have had a rather busy afternoon!"' This was originally written: 'Said Mr. Datchery to himself that night as he looked at his white hair in the gas-lighted looking-gla.s.s over the coffee-room chimney-piece at the Crozier: "Well, for a single buffer of an easy temper, living idly on his means, I have had rather a busy afternoon!"'

In chapter xx., when Grewgious is talking about Bazzard we have the following: '"No, he goes his way, after office hours. In fact, he is off duty here, altogether, just at present; and a firm downstairs, with which I have business relations, lend me a subst.i.tute. But it would be extremely difficult to replace Mr. Bazzard."' Originally d.i.c.kens wrote: '"No, he goes his ways after office hours. In fact, he is off duty at present; and a firm downstairs with which I have business relations, lend me a subst.i.tute. But it would be difficult to replace Mr. Bazzard."'

Chapter xxii. is much corrected, and the whole of the second paragraph is rewritten and pasted on. Chapter xxiii. is also a good deal corrected.

Near the beginning we have the following: 'The Cathedral doors have closed for the night; and the Choir-master, on a short leave of absence for two or three services, sets his face towards London.' This was originally written: 'The Cathedral doors have closed for the night; and the Choir-master, on leave of absence for a few days, sets his face towards London.'

The pa.s.sage beginning: 'But she goes no further away from it than the chair upon the hearth,' and the next two paragraphs are entirely rewritten and pasted on, and the following sentences are cancelled: '"So far I might a'most as well have never found out how to set you talking,"

is her commentary. "You are too sleepy to talk too plain. You hold your secrets right you do!"' A little further on we have: '"Halloa!" he cries in a low voice, seeing her brought to a standstill: "who are you looking for?"' This was originally '"Halloa!" cries this gentleman, "who are you looking for?"'

On the next page we have: 'With his uncovered gray hair blowing about.'

d.i.c.kens originally wrote: 'With his gray hair blowing about.'

On the same page, when Datchery and the opium woman are talking together d.i.c.kens puts in the following sentence about opium as an afterthought: '"And it's like a human creetur so far, that you always hear what can be said against it, but seldom what can be said in its praise."'

A little further on we have: 'Mr. Datchery stops in his counting, finds he has counted wrong, shakes his money together, and begins again.'

Originally we had: 'Mr. Datchery stops in his counting, finds he has counted wrong, and begins again.' Very near the end of this chapter we have: 'At length he rises, throws open the door of a corner cupboard, and refers to a few uncouth chalked strokes on its inner side.' d.i.c.kens first wrote: 'At length he rises, throws open the door of a corner cupboard, and refers to a few chalked strokes on its inner side.'

CHAPTER II-EXTERNAL TESTIMONIES

We now proceed to give such external testimony as exists of the plans and intentions of d.i.c.kens. The chief authority is, of course, the _Life_ by Forster. We have in addition the testimony of Madame Perugini, whose first husband, Charles Allston Collins, designed the wrapper. To this we add the testimony of Charles d.i.c.kens the younger as conveyed to his sister. Through the kindness of Miss Bessie Hatton I have been able to read the text of the unacted play written by Joseph Hatton and Charles d.i.c.kens the younger on _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_. We have also the important letter of Sir Luke Fildes, who was chosen by d.i.c.kens to ill.u.s.trate the story. It seems essential to any complete consideration of the subject that these testimonies should be given in full, and this is the more necessary because some of them are now not readily at hand.

JOHN FORSTER'S TESTIMONY

d.i.c.kens in 1868 had been alarming his friends and exhausting himself by his public Readings. When he was in America on his last Reading tour he had made a profit of about 20,000. He entered into an agreement with Messrs. Chappell to give a final course of Readings in this country, from which he expected to receive an additional 13,000. The strain of his work in America had manifestly told upon him. 'There was manifest abatement of his natural force, the elasticity of bearing was impaired, and the wonderful brightness of eye was dimmed at times.' Unfavourable and alarming symptoms of nerve mischief were also noted, but he drew lavishly on his reserve strength, and thinking that a new excitement was needed he chose the _Oliver Twist_ murder, one of the most trying of his public recitals. He suffered 'thirty thousand shocks to the nerves'

going to Edinburgh. His Readings and his journeyings exacted from him the most terrible physical exertion, but no warnings could arrest his course till his physicians peremptorily ordered him to desist. Even then, however, he resumed his Readings at a later date.

In this condition of mental and bodily fatigue d.i.c.kens began his last book. I print almost in full the relative pa.s.sages from Forster.

The last book undertaken by d.i.c.kens was to be published in ill.u.s.trated monthly numbers, of the old form, but to close with the twelfth. It closed, unfinished, with the sixth number, which was itself underwritten by two pages.

His first fancy for the tale was expressed in a letter in the middle of July. 'What should you think of the idea of a story beginning in this way?-Two people, boy and girl, or very young, going apart from one another, pledged to be married after many years-at the end of the book. The interest to arise out of the tracing of their separate ways, and the impossibility of telling what will be done with that impending fate.' This was laid aside; but it left a marked trace on the story as afterwards designed, in the position of Edwin Drood and his betrothed.

I first heard of the later design in a letter dated 'Friday, the 6th of August 1869,' in which, after speaking, with the usual unstinted praise he bestowed always on what moved him in others, of a little tale he had received for his journal, he spoke of the change that had occurred to him for the new tale by himself. 'I laid aside the fancy I told you of, and have a very curious and new idea for my new story.

Not a communicable idea (or the interest of the book would be gone), but a very strong one, though difficult to work.' The story, I learnt immediately afterward, was to be that of the murder of a nephew by his uncle; the originality of which was to consist in the review of the murderer's career by himself at the close, when its temptations were to be dwelt upon as if, not he, the culprit, but some other man, were the tempted. The last chapters were to be written in the condemned cell, to which his wickedness, all elaborately elicited from him as if told of another, had brought him.

Discovery by the murderer of the utter needlessness of the murder for its object, was to follow hard upon commission of the deed; but all discovery of the murderer was to be baffled till towards the close, when, by means of a gold ring which had resisted the corrosive effects of the lime into which he had thrown the body, not only the person murdered was to be identified, but the locality of the crime and the man who committed it. So much was told to me before any of the book was written; and it will be recollected that the ring, taken by Drood to be given to his betrothed only if their engagement went on, was brought away with him from their last interview. Rosa was to marry Tartar, and Crisparkle the sister of Landless, who was himself, I think, to have perished in a.s.sisting Tartar finally to unmask and seize the murderer.

Nothing had been written, however, of the main parts of the design excepting what is found in the published numbers; there was no hint or preparation for the sequel in any notes of chapters in advance; and there remained not even what he had himself so sadly written of the book by Thackeray also interrupted by death. The evidence of matured designs never to be accomplished, intentions planned never to be executed, roads of thought marked out never to be traversed, goals shining in the distance never to be reached, was wanting here. It was all a blank. Enough had been completed nevertheless to give promise of a much greater book than its immediate predecessor. 'I hope his book is finished,' wrote Longfellow, when the news of his death was flashed to America. 'It is certainly one of his most beautiful works, if not the most beautiful of all. It would be too sad to think the pen had fallen from his hand, and left it incomplete.' Some of its characters are touched with subtlety, and in its descriptions his imaginative power was at its best. Not a line was wanting to the reality, in the most minute local detail, of places the most widely contrasted; and we saw with equal vividness the lazy cathedral town and the lurid opium-eater's den. Something like the old lightness and buoyancy of animal spirits gave a new freshness to the humour; the scenes of the child-heroine and her luckless betrothed had both novelty and nicety of character in them; and Mr. Grewgious in chambers with his clerk and the two waiters, the conceited fool Sapsea, and the bl.u.s.tering philanthropist Honeythunder, were first-rate comedy. Miss Twinkleton was of the family of Miss La Creevy; and the lodging-house keeper, Miss Billickin, though she gave Miss Twinkleton but a sorry account of her blood, had that of Mrs. Todgers in her veins. 'I was put in early life to a very genteel boarding-school, the mistress being no less a lady than yourself, of about your own age, or it may be some years younger, and a poorness of blood flowed from the table which has run through my life.' Was ever anything better said of a school-fare of starved gentility?

The last page of _Edwin Drood_ was written in the chalet in the afternoon of his last day of consciousness; and I have thought there might be some interest in a facsimile of the greater part of this final page of ma.n.u.script that ever came from his hand, at which he had worked unusually late in order to finish the chapter. It has very much the character, in its excessive care of correction and interlineation, of all his later ma.n.u.scripts; and in order that comparison may be made with his earlier and easier method, I place beside it a portion of a page of the original of _Oliver Twist_. His greater pains and elaboration of writing, it may be mentioned, become first very obvious in the later parts of _Martin Chuzzlewit_; but not the least remarkable feature in all his ma.n.u.scripts is the accuracy with which the portions of each representing the several numbers are exactly adjusted to the s.p.a.ce the printer has to fill. Whether without erasure or so interlined as to be illegible, nothing is wanting, and there is nothing in excess. So a.s.sured had the habit become, that we have seen him remarking upon an instance the other way, in _Our Mutual Friend_, as not having happened to him for thirty years. Certainly the exceptions had been few and unimportant; but _Edwin Drood_ more startlingly showed him how unsettled the habit he most prized had become, in the clashing of old and new pursuits.