FREE ESSAY ON DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde 
In Robert Louis Stevenson's famous novel about dual identity, Dr. Henry Jekyll, an
affluent surgeon, creates a potion by which he can transform into Edward Hyde, the
physical manifestation of his evil side. After many months of thrilling nighttime
criminal escapades through the streets of London, his antics under the cloak of Hyde get
him in trouble when he slays prominent public figure Danvers Carew. Jekyll is so shocked
by this deed of evil that he decides an end will be put to his transformations, a science
he calls transcendental medicine. Much to his alarm, Jekyll finds that he now turns into
Hyde without his wanting it, undeniably a side effect of the drug. After locking himself
into his cabinet, in order to facilitate his use of the drug in case of spontaneous
transformations, his concerned butler Poole alerts good friend Gabriel Utterson, a
lawyer. Together, they break into the cabinet, only to find they body of Hyde, lifeless
on the floor. The pair finds an envelope addressed to Utterson which shall supposedly
explain why they cannot find the body of Henry Jekyll. The book finishes with the letter
Jekyll wrote for Utterson being presented to us as though he is reading it. Utterson is
to rejoin Poole in the house at the stroke of midnight, no later, in order to call the
police and inform them of the murder. We will start the chapter three weeks after the
discovery of the corps. Note: I have tried to make the style of writing alike to Mr.
Stevenson's as much as possible.
__________________________________________________________ The Incident of Mr. Enfield
and Mr. Utterson Mr. Utterson, the lawyer, was not a man of weak stomach, but even his
strength had restrictions. Although he was an individual of strict self-control, he did
approve a known patience for others; an ability he had come by due to a singular
resurfacing thread that seemed to wind it's way through his life: he repeatedly had the
luck (or misfortune, as one may see it) to be the last good influence in the lives of
moribund men. And so, it seemed, that the thread had reappeared in his life by way of the
troubling matter of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and that it was choking the willpower right
out of poor Mr. Utterson. Now insipid and tired, Gabriel had turned to his darling gin in
an effort to stifle the snake like thread of depression, the obstacle between him and a
return to his standard way of life. One of the elements of said typical lifestyle was Mr.
Utterson's weekly ramble through the streets of London with his good friend Richard
Enfield. It was the first time in three weeks that the two friends had performed the
ritual: their languor a direct consequence of the terrible goings on at 119 Dublin
Street. As neither of the two gentlemen was in great haste to set foot in a spot anywhere
near the scene of the crime, the usual area of their strolls, there was no great effort
put forth by either side of the partnership to keep their weekly custom in check. As they
walked through a narrow by street neither uttered a word, but both all but expected the
awfully dense fog of London folklore to role in at any moment, however for now at least,
the sky remained clear. It was an unusually crisp April evening; conducive to any number
of ailments and illnesses, especially if one should happen to possess a weakened spirit.
"Are you quit all right?" questioned Mr. Enfield. "That sounded like a nasty sort of
cough, what!" "Oh, quite all right Richard," returned Mr. Utterson. "I've just been
feeling the effects of a bit of the grippe since this whole mess has come out. I'm afraid
it has brought out the worst in me, Dick. It seems I haven't been getting my forty winks
lately." "Bloody awful tragedy, that," continued Enfield. "Such a good-hearted man, Dr.
Jekyll. Oh, I fear we've gone and done it, now Gabriel. Our infamous pact lies in ruins"
he lamented. Although he gave it a good try, Mr. Enfield could not hide his
disappointment in himself for diminishing his honour in such a way. Utterson could surely
be forgiven, he thought, what in his weakened state, but he could surely not be shown the
same exoneration. Utterson understood his friend perfectly, as usual, and did the best he
could to comfort him; "But I do suppose that forever is a terribly long time not to speak
about such a shocking revelation. Yes, it's decidedly much to long of a spell." Utterson
smiled knowingly at Enfield, and, amazed at his friends' intuition, Enfield decided he as
well, although usually so austere, would match his friends' gesture. And so, they
wandered off together down the streets of London. "Gabriel," proclaimed Enfield as he
turned to his old friend, "we must make a pact here and now to decree that we will not
allow what happened to our dear ones happen to us. I am proposing," pronounced Enfield
with a sparkle in his eye, "that we watch over each other so that we may one day, in
however distant a reality, be sipping burgundy in each others' company, and not in bitter
solitude." Utterson looked his friend squarely in the eye, and as the London fog rolled
in, he said: "I'll shake hands on that Richard. I've lost too many friends in this
lifetime. Now lets have that burgundy."