THE DEBATE ON THE ‘MYSTERY NUMBER’ does not proceed in quite so orderly a fashion as one might have hoped: the three investigators back from Cloisterham deliver their reports amidst a babble of eager guesses from those who have already started to discuss Chapter Fifteen and puzzled questions from those who are behind in the reading. Glasnost, as Magistrate Porfiry puts it, has not reached the conference-hall. In short, reader, we are faced with the kind of play that a sports commentator could only describe as rough and scrappy, and the referee himself, Wilmot, seems not to know what to make of it.
Bucket comes forward and, taking the pass from Sally, who intervened to save Ned after she’d got Jasper’s secret out of him, states his intention of arresting or at least detaining the latter. But he is tackled by Toad, who says that the woman from the opium-den misunderstood Jasper: Ned, the unknown youth whose name she has heard so often on her client’s lips during his opium fits, is not the man that the aforesaid client – i.e. Jasper – was planning, in his aforesaid fits, to strangle and throw from the top of the tower, but, rather, the man he was planning to save by throwing someone else off the tower.
Archer keeps this idea rolling, but it is sent flying by Popeau, who says scornfully, Oh yes? then how do you explain, my good man, that the name uttered by Jasper has always been that of his nephew and never that of some mysterious other?
Maybe because he didn’t know him, says Maigret, stepping in, and possibly even now he doesn’t know him, because if Neville . . .
Pooh! Popeau hacks him down, and this foul earns a stern rebuke from the referee. Dupin, backed up by Cuff, takes advantage of this to change the subject: it is his opinion that in Act II, Scene 1 of Macbeth there is something curiously similar to . . .
Similar to the title of Chapter Fourteen, Loredana shouts from the bench, eager to make an impression on the referee but forgetting that the witch’s words (‘When shall we three meet again?’) open Act I and not Act II. Besides, as Wilmot points out to her with some embarrassment, every commentator has noticed the quotation from Macbeth but no one has ever found anything in it that throws light on the mystery.
None the less, the young lady has done well to draw attention to the title, Poirot puts in gallantly, for the title may possibly hold a deeper clue. Besides, I imagine that my colleague Dupin . . .
It is significant, says Dupin, on the ball as ever, that Dickens specially marked the ‘mystery number’, the novel’s crucial chapter, with the first line from Macbeth. But it is not the line itself that intrigues me; it is, rather, the tragic theme of a murder committed reluctantly by a husband acting on the instructions of his wife.
Now Sergeant Cuff, who was on the spot and overheard the end of the dialogue between the Landless twins, maintains, swerving in nimbly, that that exchange can undoubtedly be interpreted as the prelude to a murder committed reluctantly by a brother acting on the instructions of his sister. But I leave it to my friend Dupin to show . . .
But the pass is intercepted by the colonel of the Carabinieri, who kicks the argument far from the area, observing that Neville must be in possession of a valid passport, given that he comes from abroad. Or are we to assume, he asks, that he destroyed it along with his other papers?
The question is ridiculed by the incorrigible Popeau, but not by Wilmot, who sees the point: What actual data do we have on the identity of the twins, apart from those given by the unreliable Honeythunder and the twins’ own account of themselves? We do not even know that they are brother and sister, since they are not identical.
Then P. Petrovich comes into play, citing the reverse case of Alexei and Nelly in The Insulted and the Injured, which gives rise to a whole series of doubts (MARLOWE: Who is the sacristan in fact? WOLFE: How do we know that Jasper and Drood are really uncle and nephew?), and this discussion finishes off the pitch.
The throw-in is taken by Father Brown, who passes to Cuff, who passes to Dupin, who takes up the matter of the ‘similarities’ between the Drood case and the story of Macbeth. Macbeth, like Neville, he argues, after various attempts to draw back, allows himself to be persuaded by his companion (who previously called upon the spirits to ‘unsex’ herfn1 to perform ‘this night’s great business’); and in horror at the crime he is about to commit, he observes that tonight ‘Nature seems dead.’ Similarly, in the MED, when Helena finally persuades him to perform ‘this night’s great business’, Neville remarks, ‘What a strange dead weight there is in the air!’ And in both cases, concludes Dupin, shooting for the goal, there is such a violent storm during the night that the chimneys are blown down into the streets.fn2
‘Goal! We’ve won! . . .’ Toad shouts wildly, feeling sure that Dupin’s conclusion, which Cuff set up for him, puts the score definitely in Jasper’s favour. But not everybody is in agreement, beginning with the referee. A brawl ensues . . .
(Brawling noises, followed by muttering into the microphone, then sudden interruption of the transmission.)
We interrupt this live broadcast in order to assess the state of play from a safe distance, and to supply the reader also with a more ordered if somewhat telegraphic account of the final score.
WILMOT: Interesting analogies with Macbeth, but possibly pure coincidence. MED teeming with Shakespearian allusions and derivations of all kinds: e.g. violent scene where Jasper avows to Rosa monstrous love, curiously similar to Hamlet, Act III, Scene i, where pale prince denies to Ophelia his love with threats & outbursts. Is Jasper pursuing same aim: make her believe him mad?
MAIGRET: Don’t know. Previous commentary?
WILMOT, hesitantly: Yes, eminent Jasperian defender alluded to yesterday. But would prefer not to influence course of inquiry.
TOAD: Was eminent defender accuser of alleged twins?
WILMOT: No, as I already said, no one suspected twins before Sergeant Cuff.
TOAD, Shakespearian: Hail, brave sergeant!fn3
POIROT: Particularly interesting, Cuff’s observation re author’s reluctance to show us Helena again with Rosa.
CUFF: And with Neville! Note how brother, from moment of arrest to final departure destination unknown, never once shown talking to sister.
POPEAU: Maybe they quarrelled?
POIROT: Maybe author, at this point, cannot have them talk without showing his hand!
CUFF: Exactly. Their dialogue ante factum already seems forced, unconvincing, despite novelist’s devilish cunning; how can he make them talk post factum if guilty? Equally difficult, dialogue of Helena and Rosa. Rosa would wonder how Helena can be so sure of her brother’s innocence, given his violent character. Much simpler for author to insert into Grewgious/Jasper scene assurance of Miss Landless’s ‘Defiance of all suspicion and unbounded faith in her brother’.
LOREDANA, greatly struck by Cuff’s argument: Why did the eminent Jasperian defender not note this, Dr Wilmot?
WILMOT: Signorina, I would prefer not . . .
CUFF: In the remaining instalments there will be no more direct Helena/Rosa or Helena/Neville conversations.
WILMOT: Both right and wrong. I say no more, in order not to influence course of inquiry.
LOREDANA, losing patience: Fred!
(Some hasty coughing, some open grinning. Wilmot adjusts tie with Oxbridgian aplomb.)
P. PETROVICH: Jasper’s being reduced to a ‘heap of torn and miry clothes’ on learning of his nephew’s broken engagement. Only one explanation: culprit horror-struck by the pointlessness of his wicked deed. I appreciate chairman’s reluctance to interfere, but wish to know: did Eminent Jasperian Defender find any other explanation?
WILMOT: Yes. He gives a fairly plausible reason why the uncle was so disheartened.
FATHER BROWN: I challenge anyone, defender or not, to explain: 1) The uncle, so anxious about his nephew’s safety, waits till dawn before starting his search. 2) Crisparkle doesn’t wait for Neville’s return from the ‘reconciliation’, but goes to bed and so doesn’t know when Neville returns. 3) The first interrogation of Neville is over in an instant, after which the Reverend finds (by mesmerism?) the watch at the Weir, and the shirt-pin at the bottom of the river (!!!); then takes his charge to the Mayor for another interrogation (which nota bene the novelist doesn’t show; then declares himself ‘entirely satisfied of his perfect innocence’. In short, 4) Helena, Rosa, the Reverend, all have no doubt of Neville’s innocence despite everything; including Grewgious, who saw the sister briefly but never the brother, even from a distance. Come, come! Much too strange! No verisimilitude! I begin to ask myself if the author is able to produce a solution of any kind.
TOAD, disheartened: Oh dear!
HOLMES, spectral: Alive, he would have been able.
FATHER BROWN, ignoring interruptions: With Dr Wilmot’s permission, I would like to convey an opinion expressed by my – um – earthly creator.
WILMOT: Go ahead, Father.
FATHER BROWN: As judge in the fictitious trial of Jasper,fn4 G. K. Chesterton declared it was impossible to deduce, from the MED, anyone’s guilt or innocence, not even whether Drood was alive or dead, because of all the incongruencies and contradictions within the text itself. G. B. Shaw, as jury foreman in this trial, did not hesitate to dismiss the novel on literary grounds, as well, calling it the ‘gesture by a man who was already three-quarters dead’.
P. PETROVICH: Objection! I refuse to recognise any authority in Mr Shaw, who was interested only in the ‘social’ aspect of Dickens’s work. Disappointed by the lack of that element in this final novel, Shaw could not appreciate its artistic merits.
COLONEL: Absolutely right.
P. PETROVICH: Thank you. With regard to its artistic merits, allow me to give you poet H. W. Longfellow’s (1807–82) opinion. He said: ‘MED is one of Dickens’s most beautiful works, even though incomplete.’ Something more than the gesture of a man three-quarters dead, then! You need only consider such characters of Durdles, Twinkleton, Grewgious, Bazzard, and the opium-den woman, to recognise the mark of a genius of English fiction! You need only consider The Tilted Wagon and its moist baby with one red sock!
Shouts of ‘Hear hear!’ and ‘Bravo!’ Many cluster round P. Petrovich to congratulate him personally, and Father Brown now approaches to express complete agreement. ‘I quoted Shaw’s opinion for the sake of impartiality,’ he assures him, ‘but don’t share it at all!’
Both men small and round, both untidily dressed, both profoundly religious, both lively and agile despite short legs and arms, they warmly shake hands under Poirot’s curious gaze. Poirot is struck by doubt (as Holmes and Dupin immediately deduce from his expression): Is such a close resemblance due purely to chance? Could Chesterton, Poirot wonders, have modelled his famous detective on the St. Petersburg investigator?
Let the reader decide for himself, because Poirot is now immersed in the following thoughts: 1) Dickens deliberately patterned the MED after the best-seller by his former friend and new rival, Wilkie Collins. 2) His aim, according to Forster, was to show the readers how he could ‘do it better’. But 3) Dickens lacked experience and probably the ability to write a real detective plot; so 4) his ambitious plan may have backfired, causing the structural weaknesses noted by Father Brown’s ‘father’, despite the MED’s high artistic level. 5) The key to the mystery remains opium, which means the Jekyllian solution is inescapable. 6) The evidence gathered by Scotland Yard against the suspicious twins raises questions but has no significance, being purely circumstantial and unsupported by anything else.
So we keep going round and round. This is the opinion also of Maigret, Wolfe, Thorndyke, and even the Latinist from Juan-les-Pins, who wandered into the Dickens Room by mistake on his way back from the toilet. Marlowe and Archer, meanwhile, are pointedly uninterested and sneer at Loredana, who is absorbed in the contemplation of her Fred. Fred (Wilmot) proposes everyone adjourn for lunch, but return at 1500 hours promptly for imprinting and discussion of the August number.
However, as everyone knows or should know, man proposes and technicians dispose. Here comes a technician now, to announce that because of technical difficulties imprinting will not be possible until 1600 hours, but the August number can be imprinted immediately if all agree. Not all agree; many would like to get the MED out of their head for at least a couple of hours. On the other hand, the July number has been discussed exhaustively, and the questions multiply, and time presses. Wilmot calls for a show of hands, and the motion for immediate imprinting wins, so the next number follows.
fn1 Dupin reminds his colleagues of how Helena furiously tore out her own hair in her attempt to ‘unsex’ herself.
fn2 Macbeth, II, iii: ‘Our chimneys were blown down’; MED, XIV: ‘Chimneys topple in the streets.’
fn3 See Macbeth, I, ii.
fn4 The Trial of John Jasper, stenographic account edited by the Dickens Fellowship, London, 1914.