The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson - E-Book

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde E-Book

Robert Louis Stevenson

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Beschreibung

Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic novella paints a dark and complex tale about the duality of man’s nature. The story explores this contrast of human character through the strange case of Dr. Jekyll. A kind scientist by day, Jekyll discovers a way to transform into the form of Mr. Hyde by night. With a personality who carries all the hidden evil traits Jekyll disdains, Mr. Hyde becomes more difficult to control just as he perpetrates darker and more vicious deeds. Anticipating modern psychology, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a brilliant original study of man’s dual nature—as well as an immortal tale of suspense and terror. The book was an immediate success and remains one of Stevenson’s best-selling works.

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Robert Louis Stevenson

ISBN: 9788834161838
This ebook was created with StreetLib Writehttps://writeapp.io

Table of contents

STORY OF THE DOOR

SEARCH FOR MR. HYDE

DR. JEKYLL WAS QUITE AT EASE

THE CAREW MURDER CASE

INCIDENT OF THE LETTER

INCIDENT OF DR. LANYON

INCIDENT AT THE WINDOW

THE LAST NIGHT

DR. LANYON’S NARRATIVE

HENRY JEKYLL’S FULL STATEMENT OF THE CASE

By

Robert Louis Stevenson

Table of Contents

STORY OF THE DOOR

SEARCH FOR MR. HYDE

DR. JEKYLL WAS QUITE AT EASE

THE CAREW MURDER CASE

INCIDENT OF THE LETTER

INCIDENT OF DR. LANYON

INCIDENT AT THE WINDOW

THE LAST NIGHT

DR. LANYON’S NARRATIVE

HENRY JEKYLL’S FULL STATEMENT OF THE CASE

STORY OF THE DOOR

Mr. Utterson the lawyer was a man of a rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed in discourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary and yet somehow lovable. At friendly meetings, and when the wine was to his taste, something eminently human beaconed from his eye; something indeed which never found its way into his talk, but which spoke not only in these silent symbols of the after-dinner face, but more often and loudly in the acts of his life. He was austere with himself; drank gin when he was alone, to mortify a taste for vintages; and though he enjoyed the theatre, had not crossed the doors of one for twenty years. But he had an approved tolerance for others; sometimes wondering, almost with envy, at the high pressure of spirits involved in their misdeeds; and in any extremity inclined to help rather than to reprove. “I incline to Cain’s heresy,” he used to say quaintly: “I let my brother go to the devil in his own way.” In this character, it was frequently his fortune to be the last reputable acquaintance and the last good influence in the lives of downgoing men. And to such as these, so long as they came about his chambers, he never marked a shade of change in his demeanour.

No doubt the feat was easy to Mr. Utterson; for he was undemonstrative at the best, and even his friendship seemed to be founded in a similar catholicity of good-nature. It is the mark of a modest man to accept his friendly circle ready-made from the hands of opportunity; and that was the lawyer’s way. His friends were those of his own blood or those whom he had known the longest; his affections, like ivy, were the growth of time, they implied no aptness in the object. Hence, no doubt the bond that united him to Mr. Richard Enfield, his distant kinsman, the well-known man about town. It was a nut to crack for many, what these two could see in each other, or what subject they could find in common. It was reported by those who encountered them in their Sunday walks, that they said nothing, looked singularly dull and would hail with obvious relief the appearance of a friend. For all that, the two men put the greatest store by these excursions, counted them the chief jewel of each week, and not only set aside occasions of pleasure, but even resisted the calls of business, that they might enjoy them uninterrupted.

It chanced on one of these rambles that their way led them down a by-street in a busy quarter of London. The street was small and what is called quiet, but it drove a thriving trade on the weekdays. The inhabitants were all doing well, it seemed and all emulously hoping to do better still, and laying out the surplus of their grains in coquetry; so that the shop fronts stood along that thoroughfare with an air of invitation, like rows of smiling saleswomen. Even on Sunday, when it veiled its more florid charms and lay comparatively empty of passage, the street shone out in contrast to its dingy neighbourhood, like a fire in a forest; and with its freshly painted shutters, well-polished brasses, and general cleanliness and gaiety of note, instantly caught and pleased the eye of the passenger.

Two doors from one corner, on the left hand going east the line was broken by the entry of a court; and just at that point a certain sinister block of building thrust forward its gable on the street. It was two storeys high; showed no window, nothing but a door on the lower storey and a blind forehead of discoloured wall on the upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged and sordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker, was blistered and distained. Tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels; children kept shop upon the steps; the schoolboy had tried his knife on the mouldings; and for close on a generation, no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages.

Mr. Enfield and the lawyer were on the other side of the by-street; but when they came abreast of the entry, the former lifted up his cane and pointed.

“ Did you ever remark that door?” he asked; and when his companion had replied in the affirmative, “It is connected in my mind,” added he, “with a very odd story.”

“ Indeed?” said Mr. Utterson, with a slight change of voice, “and what was that?”