ACCORDING to my theory, which mainly rests on the unmistakable evidence
of the cover drawn by Collins under Dickens’s directions, all “ends
well.” Jasper comes to the grief he deserves: Helena, after her period
of mourning for Neville, marries Crisparkle: Rosa weds her mariner.
Edwin, at twenty-one, is not heart-broken, but, a greatly improved
character, takes, to quote his own words, “a sensible interest in works
of engineering skill, especially when they are to change the whole
condition of an undeveloped country”—Egypt.
These conclusions are inevitable unless we either suppose Dickens to have
arranged a disappointment for his readers in the _tableau_ of Jasper and
Drood, in the vault, on the cover, or can persuade ourselves that not
Drood, but some other young man, is revealed by the light of Jasper’s
lantern. Now, the young man is very like Drood, and very unlike the dark
fierce Helena Landless: disguised as Drood, this time, not as Datchery.
All the difficulty as to why Drood, if he escaped alive, did not at once
openly denounce Jasper, is removed when we remember, as Mr. Archer and I
have independently pointed out, that Drood, when attacked by Jasper, was
(like Durdles in the “unaccountable expedition”) stupefied by drugs, and
so had no valid evidence against his uncle. Whether science is
acquainted with the drugs necessary for such purposes is another
question. They are always kept in stock by starving and venal
apothecaries in fiction and the drama, and are a recognized convention of
romance.
So ends our unfolding of the Mystery of Edwin Drood.
* * * * *