The Reverend Septimus Crisparkle (Septimus, because six little brother Crisparkles before him went out, one by one, as they were born, like six weak little rushlights, as they were lighted), having broken the thin morning ice near Cloisterham Weir with his amiable head, much to the invigoration of his frame, was now assisting his circulation by boxing at a looking-glass with great science and prowess. A fresh and healthy portrait the looking- glass presented of the Reverend Septimus, feinting and dodging with the utmost artfulness, and hitting out from the shoulder with the utmost straightness, while his radiant features teemed with innocence, and soft-hearted benevolence beamed from his boxing-gloves.

It was scarcely breakfast-time yet, for Mrs. Crisparkle — mother, not wife of the Reverend Septimus — was only just down, and waiting for the urn. Indeed, the Reverend Septimus left off at this very moment to take the pretty old lady's entering face between his boxing-gloves and kiss it. Having done so with tenderness, the Reverend Septimus turned to again, countering with his left, and putting in his right, in a tremendous manner.

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In my previous article I’ve tried to affirm a direct link and succession between two novels of the classic English literature of the XIX century: The Warden by Anthony Trollope and The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens. I asserted and still hold to that opinion, that the unfinished, but yet one of the greatest works of the master novelist (‘the incomparable one’) is nothing but a genius parody of the Trollope’s first novel, which is far from perfect, the novel, in which the beginner novelist, already acrimonious and arrogant, dared satirize the mentor of English Literature as Mr. Popular Sentiment. I also asserted—now I’m even more confident regarding this theory—that Charles Dickens’s novel is also full of much more delicate and detailed counter parodies of Anthony Trollope. These parodies could be only understood by his offender, but might have remained unnoticed by the rest of readers. At least three of the minor characters—the Verger of Cloisterham Cathedral Mr. Tope, having very poor understanding of grammar; ‘poplar Author’ Anthony Durdles, a stonemason and a hard drinker; and especially Bazzard, the unsuccessful playwright—have much of the features so common to Anthony Trollope during different stages of his life, the coincidence that barely could be accidental. I’d like to go even further by making a statement that might appear unexpected or even dangerous to some of you:

Trollope’s The Warden is the key to unlock The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens, and the comparison of two novels might help to unravel the mystery behind the detective story, that has considered ‘unsolvable’ for more than 140 years.

The evidence of this statement is way too big to be explained in the context of one single article, but I hope each of you will have enough facts as you reach the end for the article to solve the mystery by yourself. Let’s start with the very beginning, let’s find out, who the prototype of Minor Canon Septimus Crisparkle, the key character of the Dickens’s novel was. I partly gave the answer to this question in the previous chapter of my investigation, by introducing Robert Whiston, who was one of the six Canons of Rochester Cathedral in the 40s of the XIX century. He was also the headmaster of the King’s School. We can see a link between the name of his position ‘headmaster’ and the last name Hardhead or ‘a hard principle’. Canon Whiston was really excessively hard and severe to our justification, his teaching ways and discipline were in the tradition of the Middle Ages—in other words, he could easily birch a boy in his classroom. One of his former students, Edwin Arnold (Edwin!), a well-known poet and journalist of the century, published an article in Daily Telegraph describing The Rev. Whiston walking along the rows of students with a birch in his hand, ready to punish anyone for a prank or idleness by whipping them badly on calves, thus poor boys had to protect themselves by placing old newspapers and folded copybooks under the tights. Nevertheless, according to the same journalist, The Rev. Whiston was held in love and respect for his authority, for he was no only strict, but also just and fair, and never punished anyone without a reason and tend to forgive a mistake if possible.

Crisparkle’s whole biography was based on real life events of The Rev. Whiston. Robert Whiston was born in 1808, meaning he was 35 years old by 1842 (The year of Drood’s disappearance). His parents had a large family, just like Septimus, who was the seventh child. Robert studied in Cambridge, at The College of the Holy and Undivided Trinity in the late 20s, he was passionate about boxing—and probably could have been nicknamed as ‘Frosty-faced Fogo’ just like Crisparkle (note: 1830 was the last year of Jack Fogo’s professional career in boxing). Whiston met young John Lloyd Allan during his college years, their friendship—just like the friendship of Crisparkle and Tartar—was to be resumed years later, when John was appointed under-master at The King’s School in 1842-43s. Robert Whiston was the headmaster at the Rochester and Chatham Classical and Mathematical School by the time he became a priest and a Minor Canon at Rochester Cathedral in 1840—the same fashion Crisparkle was engaged in teaching activity before he met Drood, and then just like Whiston he became a Minor Canon of Cloisterham promoted by a patron. Minor Canon Row was given him as a lodging, it’s better known as ‘The house of Septimus Crisparkle’ now. The Rev. Crisparkle lived alone with his old mother; The Rev. Whiston was also single by 1842, it’s remarkable that his future wife’s name was Ellen, with the last name Lloyd (but not Landless), she was John’s sister.

The Mystery of Edwin Drood might give an impression, that the clergy of Cloisterham Cathedral only consisted of The Dean and Crisparkle himself, since no other character appears throughout the novel, except for Mr. Tope maybe. However the reality was different: there were five other Canons in Rochester Cathedral—The Rev. and Hon. Frederick Hotham, Dr Matthew Irving, Dr John Griffith, Dr Edward Hawkins, and the Archdeacon, Dr Walker King, who were obliged to provide Church Services three times a day during two months each year, while the rest ten months should be spent in a cottage outside Rochester. Robert Whiston was too poor to afford a cottage, therefore he had to spend the whole year in his narrow lodging at Minor Canon Row. Thus, he was able to take part in any services he wished. This part-time position gave him the opportunity to combine his work as a Canon with the headmaster position—he earned additional 150 Pounds as the headmaster of the King’s School.

An educated man with good physique, pleasant voice, full of enthusiasm, who likes sport, and just like Crisparkle 'was a firm believer in games, in exercise of all kinds, in fresh air and in cold bath,' a man of strong believes, handsome and kind-hearted, who had a good reputation both as a teacher and a priest—that was exactly the person, in the eyes of the clergy, worthy of being the headmaster of a boys’ school. And that man, I would add, was worthy of becoming the prototype of a protagonist of Charles Dickens’s novel—a character, who is ready to fight for the reputation and well-being of his scholars against Cathedral Chapter, the authority and even the philanthropist machine. The Rev. Whiston proved it in reality by standing for the scholars of his school, while The Rev. Crisparkle proved the same as a character of a novel, protecting Neville Landless, who fell into disfavour with all.

The details of the confrontation between The Rev. Whiston and the English Church have very little to do with the novel The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Of course, that confrontation is interesting, but as a separate issue to a narrow circle of experts. Let’s not be distracted and get more information about the actual process of the Church services, and who was in charge of those singings—a Church singer, a Choirmaster, or a Precentor or whatever you call it.

Here is the first surprise, Minor Canon had to act as a Church Singer himself, instead of Canon Precentor (from Latin ‘the first singer’). Canon Precentor — is the second position of authority after The Dean within a religious hierarchy, and Precentor was allowed to conduct Church services himself, i.e. to replace The Dean during sickness or absence for any other reason. The main professional requirement for Canons was a strong and pleasant voice, that’s it. ‘WHEN THE WICKED MAN…’ — was supposed to sing Minor Canon Crisparkle, but not John Jasper. Well, according to the novel The Rev. Septimus possessed those musical abilities: he delivers himself in musical rhythm singing some melodic roulades in Chapter II — ‘Tell me, shep-herds, te-e-ell me; tell me-e-e, have you seen…’ The Rev. Canon Whiston also had a pretty good voice, as it was confirmed by his contemporaries.

Succentor (from Latin ‘under-singer’) — or the assistant to Precentor is the third position of authority in the hierarchy. Succentor just like Precentor were both attributed to the clergy, in other words — again not the case with John Jasper, considering that the Succentor position wasn’t even listed in Rochester Cathedral.

Then who Jasper really was? He probably was a lay clerk, or a vicarius. Lay clerks were not related to the clergy, they were only professional singers in English cathedrals, who usually worked for half a Canons’ salary. Lay clerks rehearse psalms and other religious songs with choristers, rewrite and distribute sheet music and sometimes do accounting for the choir, but you can’t call them either Precentors or conductors or regents — that would be too much of a flattery, for those positions were reserved exclusively for Canons.

However, Dickens never refers to John Jasper as ‘a lay clerk’, he rather calls him ‘a choirmaster’. Nevertheless, readers might get the impression that John Jasper was within the religious hierarchy, being equal with Canon Crisparkle, and even superior to him when it came to music skills. Probably, Dickens did it on purpose, that impression was necessary, in order to construct an antagonist who was equal in powers with Crisparkle, the protagonist of the novel—in other words, speaking romantic language, to contrast a White Knight with a Dark Knight.

Good is said to be exposed in its fight against Evil, and Virtue is better shadowed by Vice. We might assume that Jasper and Crisparkle made together the Unity of Light and Darkness, just like Yin Yang, or even like Lucifer and Zebaoth, fighting over the souls of humanity—in our case, Neville Landless: the first tries to ruin him, while the second tries to save. However, the most amazing thing is, that Dickens picked up Trollope’s protagonist (The Rev. Canon Precentor Harding) to recreate him as the antagonist of his novel. The battle of two Septimus — such an amusing confrontation it is.

Indeed, The Rev. Canon Harding has so many similarities with Choirmaster Jasper, it is so obvious, that anyone would see the succession after reading The Warden while having the Droods’ story in mind.

Of course, they were totally different in appearance from each other—Canon, an elderly man and Jasper, a pretty young choirmaster, though they both wore black, exactly what a clergyman is supposed to wear. However, Trollope mentioned in the novel, that The Rev. Canon Harding also wore a black neck-handkerchief, which ‘somewhat scandalised some of his more hyperclerical brethren.’ And choirmaster Jasper, as we remember, also had a black scarf of strong close-woven silk, which also didn’t remain unnoticed by congregation.

The Rev. Harding, according to Trollope, adores his younger daughter Eleanor, whom she sometimes lovingly calls Nelly. Choirmaster Jasper also loves his nephew Edwin endlessly, whom he also tenderly calls Ned. Mr. Harding improves the musicality of the cathedral choir, Jasper does the same at his Cathedral.

The Rev. Harding — is an exceptional musician, who occasionally plays violoncello to his noble audience. He was in the habit of waving his hands in the air, as if playing imaginary instruments in the moments of worry or anxiety. Choirmaster Jasper — is also a great musician, he amazes the audience playing the piano masterly at ‘Alternate Musical Wednesdays.’ In the moment of stress, for example, when his student Rosa suddenly breaks into a burst of tears in the middle of a song, he, just like Harding, continues playing in his mind with his fingers poising above the keys in the air.

Harding’s young daughter Eleanor is in love with a handsome young man called John Bold, whom the elderly Canon also sympathizes. Jasper’s nephew Edwin is also in love with a charming young lady Rosa Bud, whereas his own uncle also lusts secretly for his young fiancee. John Bold has a negative attitude towards The Rev. Harding and eventually breaks up with his daughter Eleanor. The same here, Rosa Bud both hates and fears Choirmaster Jasper and terminates her betrothal with his nephew Edwin.

And lastly, their lodging are identical, as if they were copied one from the other: they both live close to Cathedral with a river flowing around. The London road crosses the river by a pretty one-arched bridge. Canon Harding’s house is located further from the bridge, beyond a ‘ponderous gateway under a heavy stone arch’, while Jasper has a similar stone gatehouse with an ‘arched thoroughfare passing.’

In conclusion, after summing up all those coincidental matches one might assume, that Dickens simply picked up some of Trollope’s characters improving them and assigning them to different roles, working out more fascinating, illustrative and sophisticated plot for his novel.

Was it possible for Anthony Trollope not to read Charles Dickens’s latest novel, the author whom he unwillingly had to admit to be the most loved and popular author of England? Of course not. Was it possible for Anthony Trollope not to recognize in The Mystery of Edwin Drood the plot of his own novel The Warden, which had been so magically metamorphosed; his own characters in Dickens’s novel; and ‘the second-rate characters’ to be the impersonations of his own lifetime? Well, not really. He surely expected that reply, after he had satirized the local master of words so fiercely—not only expected but was longing for that reply during these fifteen years! Would Anthony Trollope share this unpleasant discovery with public in his Autobiography six years later or with anyone particular? He wouldn’t—not even for all the Tea in China!

But let’s cease talking about Trollope and get back to discussion of his actual work. Chapter XI of The Warden, the key chapter of the novel is called ‘Iphigenia’ in honour of Agamemnon’s daughter in Greek Mythology. In this Chapter The Rev. Canon Harding’s daughter Eleanor just like Iphigenia decides to sacrifice herself for a villain John Bold, unable to torment her father’s suffering caused by libellous pamphlets and feuilletons published by her beloved ‘fighter for the truth’. She thinks by doing this she could make John feel ashamed of disgracing his own father-in-law! Not to be mentioned, the story, constructed in the tradition of the best romances, pays Eleanor back for her selflessness—John Bold confesses his love to Eleanor following with endless tears and vows on both sides. The contemporary Iphigenia does not sacrifice anything, but instead is accepted with love and appreciation.

However, in the original Ancient Greek story, Iphigenia did not want to sacrifice herself for the well-being of her father. It was father Agamemnon who decides to sacrifice his own daughter to Artemis, as demanded by Calchas the soothsayer, in a return for a tailwind for his ships to sail safely to Troy. Agamemnon fools his wife Clytemnestra into bringing Iphigenia to Aulis by sending a letter to Clytemnestra telling her that Iphigenia will be married to Achilles.

There are various legends of Iphigenia with different endings, very similar to the story of Edwin Drood. According to one legend, Iphigenia is successfully sacrificed by her father, while according to another legend—a deer is put in Iphigenia’s place as the poor lass is about to be slain, then she is transferred to Tauris with the help of Artemis. Of course there is such a ‘deer’ for substitute in The Mystery of Edwin Drood (the one that was stoned by Deputy in Chapter XVIII). I’ve read so many times theories about Jasper taking the corpse of that ‘deer’, who died so timely, instead of his nephew into the Droods’ crypt, but you must admit, that such kind of solutions are very unlike to the genius of Dickens.

Dickens skilfully adapted Trollope’s idea of Eleanor Harding’s sacrifice into the detective plot of his novel. But how sacrifice is possible, if there is a criminal component in the story, and the question is: Dead or Alive? Self-sacrifice plus death equals suicide.

Consider Edwin Drood’s suicide! What a preposterous idea! Edwin did not have a single reason for committing a suicide. Yes, he was rejected by a woman, but already had another in his mind. He had neither shame, no fear, nor any other negative feelings. His future well-being was secured by his father’s wealth. As for Jasper, Edwin had no idea that his opium-smoking uncle was going to murder him!

Exactly—to murder, to sacrifice someone for one’s own profit! Jasper is just like Agamemnon! Jasper is mentioned unambiguously as a murderer in Dickens’s notes to the novel, and it was even obvious from the plot, that Jasper was planning something evil against his ‘tenderly loved’ nephew. Is it possible to combine both murder and suicide in one story?!

Quite simple, the same solution we could find in so many other detective stories—a murderer fakes his victim’s suicide in order to remain beyond suspicion. It was not Edwin who committed a suicide, but Jasper who faked Edwin’s suicide.

And now think, what a suicide might it be, and how Jasper might fake it in order to ‘come out at last’, as it was written in the notes to the novel—think and you will reveal the real purpose of Mrs. Sapsea’s monument, why Edwin’s pocket watch was found on the Weir, the reason behind Jasper’s hatred to Neville Landless, where Edwin disappears and much more. Anthony Trollope’s novel is the key to unlock the Mysteries of The Drood family, as if it was Mrs. Sapsea’s monument. Behold, and you will find a pile of quicklime, Mrs. Bud’s betrothal ring and even the black scarf of the murderer-choirmaster in the shadows of the monument!

I don’t want to spoil the pleasure of solving the mystery, so I’ll leave it to you. Thus, you may join the threads of the story and find that ultimate solution, earthly and unromantic, but yet so very simple. Today is August’ 14th 2014. Solution was found on May’ 6 th, which I further put into an exhaustive script on June’ 1st. The Script was approved by another Droodian and even put on stage. The solution is going to be revealed for public at the First ever held Drood Conference in London on September’ 20 th. Also will be posted on my website.

See you there and Happy revelations!

Translated by Lucius Tellus