The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Lanyon’s and Jekyll’s written testimonials form a single unit as the two documents that Utterson reads upon arriving home. We read them along with Utterson, thus learning the truth at the same time Utterson does. This highlights the mystery genre of the novel and Stevenson’s innovative structuring of the book resembles a puzzle or a detective’s casebook. It features not only direct action and dialogue, but also written confessions, eyewitness accounts, and “obliquely recorded incidents” (135). Like a detective, the reader must put these “clues” together to form a coherent whole.

It is fitting that Lanyon and Jekyll both contribute testimonials, since these two men are the central intellectual characters of the story. Both are scientists and men of learning, but their outlook is starkly different. Lanyon is a traditional scientist of the Age of Enlightenment, believing in logic and the deductive method. Jekyll believes that science should go beyond rationalism and logical deduction and make a leap into fantasy, the “mystic” and “transcendental” (111). Jekyll/Hyde believes he has triumphed over Lanyon’s narrow-minded vision of scientific possibility, but this leap of scientific discovery ends up destroying him. His potion is like the Tree of Knowledge in Genesis or like Pandora’s box. Once tasted, its effects cannot be undone. 

In his essay on the novel (Pages 19-45), Vladimir Nabokov emphasizes that it is not the case, as popularly imagined, that Jekyll is pure good and Hyde pure evil. Rather, Jekyll already has a mixture of good and evil within him. By drinking the potion, Jekyll gives Hyde, his evil side, free rein. Before he becomes Hyde, Jekyll’s life is predominantly and to all outward appearances a good one. This is due mainly to his strong moral effort. Jekyll was worked hard to live a “life of effort, virtue and control” (114). He is filled with a desire toward the “furtherance of knowledge” and the “relief of sorrow and suffering” (111) through science. Ironically, this desire for human betterment leads to a great evil in the creation of Hyde. Stevenson suggests that goodwill can have evil effects if not channeled properly. More specifically, evil should not be subdued nor given a separate existence.

For the most part, Stevenson does not reveal any details about Hyde’s misdeeds. Instead, he has Jekyll primly describe them as “undignified” (117), or use such poetic phrases as “drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another” (117). If Hyde’s actions are sexual or even sadistic in nature, Victorian standards of decency would have prohibited Stevenson’s discussing them outright. Outside of the trampling and the murder, we are left to guess what his adventures consist of. However, this veil of mystery is arguably more effective, forcing readers to exercise their imaginations.

When Hyde comes into being, he is markedly shorter than Jekyll. This reflects the fact that Jekyll’s evil side is less developed than his good side. Hyde’s shortness also illustrates the idea that evil stunts or distorts human nature; evil makes man less than he could be. Evil is ultimately parasitical on the good; it cannot have a really independent existence, just as Hyde was born out of Jekyll instead of vice versa. Thus, Hyde’s short size compared to Jekyll symbolizes his weak, dependent nature.

Hyde also inspires a strange revulsion in people which they can’t explain solely with reference to his physical appearance. Enfield puts it this way:

He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong

with his appearance…I never saw a man I so disliked,

and yet I scarce know why…he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn’t specify the point. He’s an extraordinary looking man, and yet I really can name nothing out of the way. No, sir; I can make no hand of it; I can’t describe him (53).

Jekyll explains that the disgust Hyde exudes is due to the fact that, unlike most human beings, he is pure evil with no redeeming qualities. Yet Jekyll at first rejoices in the very singlemindedness of Hyde’s persona; unlike Jekyll, Hyde is comfortable in his own skin and is not troubled by a pull between good and evil. When Jekyll first sees his alter ego in the mirror, he seems “natural and human” (114) and he welcomes him as part of himself. The change “braced and delighted me like wine” (113).

In becoming Hyde, Jekyll finds himself in a unique situation in human history. He can slip in and out of various personas. In a sense, he “doesn’t exist,” has no stable identity (116). He can do whatever he wants and evade the consequences by assuming his other persona.

After Hyde murders Carew, Jekyll thinks the danger and temptation are past. He becomes complacent: “I sat in the sun on a bench; the animal within me licking the chops of memory; the spiritual side a little drowsed, promising subsequent penitence, but not yet moved to begin” (124). Evil is still lurking in Jekyll’s heart, and this is why he involuntarily turns back into Hyde. Stevenson illustrates how evil, if indulged, can become an automatic habit. Hyde becomes stronger and stronger the more freedom he is given: “The powers of Hyde seemed to have grown with the sickliness of Jekyll. And certainly the hate that now divided them was equal on each side” (127). It is clear that one of the personas—Jekyll or Hyde—must die; and that with his death, the other must die as well.