Dr. Lanyon’s Account

On the ninth of January, now four days ago, I received by the evening delivery a registered envelope, addressed in the hand of my colleague and old school companion, Henry Jekyll. I was a good deal surprised by this; for we were by no means in the habit of correspondence; I had seen the man, dined with him, indeed, the night before; and I could imagine nothing in our intercourse that should justify formality of registration. The contents increased my wonder; for this is how the letter ran:

On January ninth, four days ago, I received a registered envelope in the evening mail. The address was in the handwriting of Henry Jekyll, my colleague and old school friend. I was quite surprised, because we were not at all in the habit of writing to each other. I had seen him, and in fact dined with him, just the night before. And I could think of nothing in our dealings that would call for the formality of registered mail. The contents surprised me even more, for the letter read as follows:

“10th December, 18—.

“10th December, 18xx.

“Dear Lanyon,—You are one of my oldest friends; and although we may have differed at times on scientific questions, I cannot remember, at least on my side, any break in our affection. There was never a day when, if you had said to me, ‘Jekyll, my life, my honour, my reason, depend upon you,’ I would not have sacrificed my left hand to help you. Lanyon, my life, my honour, my reason, are all at your mercy; if you fail me to-night, I am lost. You might suppose, after this preface, that I am going to ask you for something dishonourable to grant. Judge for yourself.

“Dear Lanyon, you are one of my oldest friends. Although we have sometimes disagreed on scientific questions, I cannot remember any break in our friendship, at least on my side. If you had ever said, ‘Jekyll, my life, my honour, my sanity depend on you,’ I would have helped you. I would have sacrificed my left hand to do so. Lanyon, my life, my honour, my sanity are all at your mercy. If you fail me tonight, I am lost. After this introduction, you might think I am about to ask you to do something dishonourable. Judge for yourself.

“I want you to postpone all other engagements for to-night—ay, even if you were summoned to the bedside of an emperor; to take a cab, unless your carriage should be actually at the door; and with this letter in your hand for consultation, to drive straight to my house. Poole, my butler, has his orders; you will find him waiting your arrival with a locksmith. The door of my cabinet is then to be forced; and you are to go in alone; to open the glazed press (letter E) on the left hand, breaking the lock if it be shut; and to draw out, with all its contents as they stand, the fourth drawer from the top or (which is the same thing) the third from the bottom. In my extreme distress of mind, I have a morbid fear of misdirecting you; but even if I am in error, you may know the right drawer by its contents: some powders, a phial and a paper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry back with you to Cavendish Square exactly as it stands.

“I want you to put off all other engagements tonight, even if you are called to an emperor’s bedside. Take a cab, unless your carriage is already at the door. Keep this letter in your hand for reference, and go straight to my house. Poole, my butler, has his instructions. You will find him waiting for you with a locksmith. Have the door to my private study forced open. Then go in alone and open the glass-fronted cabinet (marked E) on the left. Break the lock if the cabinet is locked. Pull out, with all its contents exactly as they are, the fourth drawer from the top. That is also the third drawer from the bottom. In my extreme distress, I have an unhealthy fear of giving you the wrong directions. But even if I am mistaken, you can recognize the right drawer by its contents: some powders, a small bottle and a paper notebook. I beg you to take this drawer back with you to Cavendish Square, exactly as it is.

“That is the first part of the service: now for the second. You should be back, if you set out at once on the receipt of this, long before midnight; but I will leave you that amount of margin, not only in the fear of one of those obstacles that can neither be prevented nor foreseen, but because an hour when your servants are in bed is to be preferred for what will then remain to do. At midnight, then, I have to ask you to be alone in your consulting room, to admit with your own hand into the house a man who will present himself in my name, and to place in his hands the drawer that you will have brought with you from my cabinet. Then you will have played your part and earned my gratitude completely. Five minutes afterwards, if you insist upon an explanation, you will have understood that these arrangements are of capital importance; and that by the neglect of one of them, fantastic as they must appear, you might have charged your conscience with my death or the shipwreck of my reason.

“That is the first part of the task. Now for the second. If you leave as soon as you receive this letter, you should be back long before midnight. But I will give you until midnight, partly because I fear obstacles no one can prevent or foresee. Also, for what remains to be done, a time when your servants are in bed is preferable. At midnight, then, I ask you to be alone in your consulting room. A man will arrive in my name. Let him into the house yourself. Then give him the drawer you will have brought from my cabinet. You will then have done your part and fully earned my gratitude. Five minutes later, if you insist on an explanation, you will understand how vital these arrangements are. Strange as these arrangements must seem, neglecting even one could leave you responsible for my death or the loss of my sanity.”

“Confident as I am that you will not trifle with this appeal, my heart sinks and my hand trembles at the bare thought of such a possibility. Think of me at this hour, in a strange place, labouring under a blackness of distress that no fancy can exaggerate, and yet well aware that, if you will but punctually serve me, my troubles will roll away like a story that is told. Serve me, my dear Lanyon and save

“I am confident you will take this appeal seriously. Yet my heart sinks and my hand trembles at the mere thought that you might not. Think of me now, in an unfamiliar place, suffering such dark despair that no imagination could exaggerate it. Yet I know that if you help me at the appointed time, my troubles will vanish like a finished story. Help me, my dear Lanyon and save

“Your friend,

“Your friend,

“H.J.

“H.J.

Upon the reading of this letter, I made sure my colleague was insane; but till that was proved beyond the possibility of doubt, I felt bound to do as he requested. The less I understood of this farrago, the less I was in a position to judge of its importance; and an appeal so worded could not be set aside without a grave responsibility. I rose accordingly from table, got into a hansom, and drove straight to Jekyll’s house. The butler was awaiting my arrival; he had received by the same post as mine a registered letter of instruction, and had sent at once for a locksmith and a carpenter. The tradesmen came while we were yet speaking; and we moved in a body to old Dr. Denman’s surgical theatre, from which (as you are doubtless aware) Jekyll’s private cabinet is most conveniently entered. The door was very strong, the lock excellent; the carpenter avowed he would have great trouble and have to do much damage, if force were to be used; and the locksmith was near despair. But this last was a handy fellow, and after two hour’s work, the door stood open. The press marked E was unlocked; and I took out the drawer, had it filled up with straw and tied in a sheet, and returned with it to Cavendish Square.

After reading the letter, I was certain my colleague was insane. But until his insanity was proved beyond any doubt, I felt obliged to do as he asked. The less I understood of this jumble, the less I could judge its importance. And I could not dismiss an appeal worded like this without taking on a grave responsibility. So I rose from the table, took a horse-drawn cab, and went straight to Jekyll’s house. The butler was waiting for me. He had received a registered letter of instructions in the same mail delivery as mine. He had immediately sent for a locksmith and a carpenter. The tradesmen arrived while we were still talking. We all went together to old Dr. Denman’s operating theatre. As you doubtless know, the most convenient entrance to Jekyll’s private study is through that room. The door was very strong, and the lock was excellent. The carpenter declared that forcing the door would be very difficult and would cause considerable damage. The locksmith was almost in despair. But the locksmith was a resourceful fellow, and after two hours of work, the door stood open. The cupboard marked E was unlocked. I took out the drawer and had it packed with straw and wrapped and tied in a sheet. Then I returned with the drawer to Cavendish Square.

Here I proceeded to examine its contents. The powders were neatly enough made up, but not with the nicety of the dispensing chemist; so that it was plain they were of Jekyll’s private manufacture; and when I opened one of the wrappers I found what seemed to me a simple crystalline salt of a white colour. The phial, to which I next turned my attention, might have been about half full of a blood-red liquor, which was highly pungent to the sense of smell and seemed to me to contain phosphorus and some volatile ether. At the other ingredients I could make no guess. The book was an ordinary version book and contained little but a series of dates. These covered a period of many years, but I observed that the entries ceased nearly a year ago and quite abruptly. Here and there a brief remark was appended to a date, usually no more than a single word: “double” occurring perhaps six times in a total of several hundred entries; and once very early in the list and followed by several marks of exclamation, “total failure!!!” All this, though it whetted my curiosity, told me little that was definite. Here were a phial of some salt, and the record of a series of experiments that had led (like too many of Jekyll’s investigations) to no end of practical usefulness. How could the presence of these articles in my house affect either the honour, the sanity, or the life of my flighty colleague? If his messenger could go to one place, why could he not go to another? And even granting some impediment, why was this gentleman to be received by me in secret? The more I reflected the more convinced I grew that I was dealing with a case of cerebral disease; and though I dismissed my servants to bed, I loaded an old revolver, that I might be found in some posture of self-defence.

I then examined the contents. The powders were neatly packaged, but not with a pharmacist’s precision. So they were clearly Jekyll’s own work. When I opened one of the wrappers, I found what seemed to be a simple white crystalline salt. Next I turned to the small bottle. It might have been about half full of a blood-red liquid with a very sharp smell. The liquid seemed to contain phosphorus and some volatile ether. I could not guess at the other ingredients. The book was an ordinary exercise book and contained little besides a series of dates. The dates covered many years, but I noticed that the entries had stopped quite abruptly nearly a year ago. Here and there, a date had a brief note beside it, usually just one word. “double” appeared perhaps six times among several hundred entries. Once, very early in the list, I found “total failure!!!” Although all this sharpened my curiosity, it told me little for certain. Here were a small bottle, some salt, and a record of experiments that had produced nothing of practical use. Like too many of Jekyll’s investigations, these experiments had served no useful purpose. How could having these things in my house affect my erratic colleague’s honour, sanity, or life? If his messenger could go to one place, why could he not go to another? And even if something prevented that, why was I to receive this gentleman in secret? The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I was dealing with a brain disorder. Although I sent my servants to bed, I loaded an old revolver so I would be ready to defend myself.

Twelve o’clock had scarce rung out over London, ere the knocker sounded very gently on the door. I went myself at the summons, and found a small man crouching against the pillars of the portico.

Twelve o’clock had barely finished ringing out over London when the door knocker sounded very softly. I went to the door myself and found a small man crouching against the pillars of the covered entrance.

“Are you come from Dr. Jekyll?” I asked.

“Have you come from Dr. Jekyll?” I asked.

He told me “yes” by a constrained gesture; and when I had bidden him enter, he did not obey me without a searching backward glance into the darkness of the square. There was a policeman not far off, advancing with his bull’s eye open; and at the sight, I thought my visitor started and made greater haste.

He answered “yes” with a stiff gesture. I invited him in, but before entering, he looked searchingly back into the dark square. A policeman was approaching nearby with his lantern shining. At the sight, I thought my visitor flinched and hurried inside.

These particulars struck me, I confess, disagreeably; and as I followed him into the bright light of the consulting room, I kept my hand ready on my weapon. Here, at last, I had a chance of clearly seeing him. I had never set eyes on him before, so much was certain. He was small, as I have said; I was struck besides with the shocking expression of his face, with his remarkable combination of great muscular activity and great apparent debility of constitution, and—last but not least—with the odd, subjective disturbance caused by his neighbourhood. This bore some resemblance to incipient rigour, and was accompanied by a marked sinking of the pulse. At the time, I set it down to some idiosyncratic, personal distaste, and merely wondered at the acuteness of the symptoms; but I have since had reason to believe the cause to lie much deeper in the nature of man, and to turn on some nobler hinge than the principle of hatred.

I admit that these details made me uneasy. As I followed him into the brightly lit consulting room, I kept my hand ready on my weapon. At last, I could see him clearly. One thing was certain: I had never seen him before. He was small, as I have said. I was also struck by the shocking expression on his face. He combined remarkable muscular energy with what appeared to be a very weak constitution. Last but not least, I felt a strange disturbance within myself simply from being near him. The sensation was something like the onset of shivering, accompanied by a marked weakening of my pulse. At the time, I blamed my reaction on some peculiar personal dislike. I merely wondered why the symptoms were so intense. But I have since had reason to believe the cause lies much deeper in human nature. I have also had reason to believe the reaction springs from something nobler than hatred.

This person (who had thus, from the first moment of his entrance, struck in me what I can only describe as a disgustful curiosity) was dressed in a fashion that would have made an ordinary person laughable; his clothes, that is to say, although they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement—the trousers hanging on his legs and rolled up to keep them from the ground, the waist of the coat below his haunches, and the collar sprawling wide upon his shoulders. Strange to relate, this ludicrous accoutrement was far from moving me to laughter. Rather, as there was something abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me—something seizing, surprising and revolting—this fresh disparity seemed but to fit in with and to reinforce it; so that to my interest in the man’s nature and character, there was added a curiosity as to his origin, his life, his fortune and status in the world.

From the moment he entered, this person had stirred in me what I can only describe as disgusted curiosity. His clothes would have made an ordinary person look ridiculous. Although made from fine fabric in subdued colors, they were far too large for him in every way. His trousers hung loosely around his legs and were rolled up to keep them off the ground. The waist of his coat fell below his hips, and its collar spread wide across his shoulders. Strangely enough, this ridiculous outfit did not make me laugh at all. Instead, there was something unnatural and malformed in the very nature of the creature facing me. Something about him gripped my attention, startled me, and filled me with disgust. So the mismatch between his clothes and his body only seemed to fit and strengthen that impression. My interest in the man's nature and character grew to include curiosity about his origins and his life. I also wondered about his wealth and his position in the world.

These observations, though they have taken so great a space to be set down in, were yet the work of a few seconds. My visitor was, indeed, on fire with sombre excitement.

Although these observations have taken so much space to write down, I made them in just a few seconds. My visitor was indeed burning with dark excitement.

“Have you got it?” he cried. “Have you got it?” And so lively was his impatience that he even laid his hand upon my arm and sought to shake me.

“Have you got it?” he cried. “Have you got it?” He was so impatient that he even put his hand on my arm and tried to shake me.

I put him back, conscious at his touch of a certain icy pang along my blood. “Come, sir,” said I. “You forget that I have not yet the pleasure of your acquaintance. Be seated, if you please.” And I showed him an example, and sat down myself in my customary seat and with as fair an imitation of my ordinary manner to a patient, as the lateness of the hour, the nature of my preoccupations, and the horror I had of my visitor, would suffer me to muster.

I pushed him back, feeling an icy stab in my blood at his touch. “Come, sir,” I said. “You forget that I haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting you. Please sit down.” I set an example by sitting down in my usual chair. I tried to act as I normally would with a patient, as far as I could manage. But the late hour, the thoughts weighing on my mind, and my horror of my visitor made that difficult.

“I beg your pardon, Dr. Lanyon,” he replied civilly enough. “What you say is very well founded; and my impatience has shown its heels to my politeness. I come here at the instance of your colleague, Dr. Henry Jekyll, on a piece of business of some moment; and I understood...” He paused and put his hand to his throat, and I could see, in spite of his collected manner, that he was wrestling against the approaches of the hysteria—“I understood, a drawer...”

“I beg your pardon, Dr. Lanyon,” he replied politely enough. “You’re quite right, and I’ve let my impatience get ahead of my manners. I’ve come at the request of your colleague, Dr. Henry Jekyll, on some important business. And I understood...” He paused and put his hand to his throat. Despite his calm manner, I could see he was struggling to keep from becoming hysterical. “I understood, a drawer...”

But here I took pity on my visitor’s suspense, and some perhaps on my own growing curiosity.

But at this point, I took pity on my visitor as he waited anxiously. Perhaps I also took a little pity on my own growing curiosity.

“There it is, sir,” said I, pointing to the drawer, where it lay on the floor behind a table and still covered with the sheet.

“There it is, sir,” I said, pointing to the drawer. It lay on the floor behind a table, still covered with the sheet.

He sprang to it, and then paused, and laid his hand upon his heart; I could hear his teeth grate with the convulsive action of his jaws; and his face was so ghastly to see that I grew alarmed both for his life and reason.

He leaped toward it, then stopped and placed his hand over his heart. I could hear his teeth grinding as his jaws clenched uncontrollably. His face looked so ghastly that I feared for both his life and his sanity.

“Compose yourself,” said I.

“Calm yourself,” I said.

He turned a dreadful smile to me, and as if with the decision of despair, plucked away the sheet. At sight of the contents, he uttered one loud sob of such immense relief that I sat petrified. And the next moment, in a voice that was already fairly well under control, “Have you a graduated glass?” he asked.

He gave me a dreadful smile and, as if acting out of desperate resolve, pulled away the sheet. At the sight of the contents, he let out one loud sob of such immense relief that I froze. The next moment, in a voice already fairly well under control, he asked, “Do you have a measuring glass?”

I rose from my place with something of an effort and gave him what he asked.

I stood up with some effort and gave him what he asked for.

He thanked me with a smiling nod, measured out a few minims of the red tincture and added one of the powders. The mixture, which was at first of a reddish hue, began, in proportion as the crystals melted, to brighten in colour, to effervesce audibly, and to throw off small fumes of vapour. Suddenly and at the same moment, the ebullition ceased and the compound changed to a dark purple, which faded again more slowly to a watery green. My visitor, who had watched these metamorphoses with a keen eye, smiled, set down the glass upon the table, and then turned and looked upon me with an air of scrutiny.

He thanked me with a smile and a nod, measured out a few drops of the red tincture, and added one of the powders. The mixture was reddish at first. As the crystals dissolved, its colour brightened, and it began to fizz audibly and give off small wisps of vapour. Suddenly, the bubbling stopped, and at that same moment the mixture turned dark purple. The purple then faded more slowly to a watery green. My visitor had watched these changes closely. He smiled, set the glass down on the table, then turned and looked at me searchingly.

“And now,” said he, “to settle what remains. Will you be wise? will you be guided? will you suffer me to take this glass in my hand and to go forth from your house without further parley? or has the greed of curiosity too much command of you? Think before you answer, for it shall be done as you decide. As you decide, you shall be left as you were before, and neither richer nor wiser, unless the sense of service rendered to a man in mortal distress may be counted as a kind of riches of the soul. Or, if you shall so prefer to choose, a new province of knowledge and new avenues to fame and power shall be laid open to you, here, in this room, upon the instant; and your sight shall be blasted by a prodigy to stagger the unbelief of Satan.”

“And now,” he said, “to settle what remains. Will you be sensible? Will you let me guide you? Will you let me take this glass and leave your house without further discussion? Or does your hunger for knowledge have too much power over you? Think before you answer, because I will do as you decide. Depending on your choice, you will remain as you were, neither richer nor wiser. Unless, of course, helping a man in desperate danger may count as a kind of wealth for the soul. Or, if you choose otherwise, a new field of knowledge will open before you. New paths to fame and power will open too, here in this room, at this very moment. And you will be overwhelmed by the sight of a marvel that would shake even Satan’s disbelief.”

“Sir,” said I, affecting a coolness that I was far from truly possessing, “you speak enigmas, and you will perhaps not wonder that I hear you with no very strong impression of belief. But I have gone too far in the way of inexplicable services to pause before I see the end.”

“Sir,” I said, pretending to be far calmer than I really was, “you speak in riddles. Perhaps you won't be surprised that I find your words hard to believe. But I have already gone too far in doing these unexplained favors to stop before I see the outcome.”

“It is well,” replied my visitor. “Lanyon, you remember your vows: what follows is under the seal of our profession. And now, you who have so long been bound to the most narrow and material views, you who have denied the virtue of transcendental medicine, you who have derided your superiors—behold!”

“Very well,” replied my visitor. “Lanyon, remember your vows: what happens next must remain confidential under our professional oath. Now, you have long held the narrowest views, accepting only the physical world. You have denied the power of transcendental medicine. You have mocked those who know more than you. Now watch!”

He put the glass to his lips and drank at one gulp. A cry followed; he reeled, staggered, clutched at the table and held on, staring with injected eyes, gasping with open mouth; and as I looked there came, I thought, a change—he seemed to swell—his face became suddenly black and the features seemed to melt and alter—and the next moment, I had sprung to my feet and leaped back against the wall, my arms raised to shield me from that prodigy, my mind submerged in terror.

He raised the glass to his lips and drank it all in one gulp. He cried out, swayed, staggered, and grabbed the table, holding on tight. His eyes were bloodshot and staring, and he gasped with his mouth open. As I watched, I thought I saw a change. He seemed to swell. His face suddenly turned black, and his features seemed to melt and change shape. The next moment, I sprang to my feet and leaped back against the wall. I raised my arms to shield myself from that monstrous sight, my mind overwhelmed by terror.

“O God!” I screamed, and “O God!” again and again; for there before my eyes—pale and shaken, and half fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death—there stood Henry Jekyll!

“Oh God!” I screamed, and “Oh God!” again and again. For there before my eyes stood a man, pale and trembling, nearly fainting, reaching blindly ahead with his hands. He was like a man brought back from the dead. There stood Henry Jekyll!

What he told me in the next hour, I cannot bring my mind to set on paper. I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard, and my soul sickened at it; and yet now when that sight has faded from my eyes, I ask myself if I believe it, and I cannot answer. My life is shaken to its roots; sleep has left me; the deadliest terror sits by me at all hours of the day and night; and I feel that my days are numbered, and that I must die; and yet I shall die incredulous. As for the moral turpitude that man unveiled to me, even with tears of penitence, I cannot, even in memory, dwell on it without a start of horror. I will say but one thing, Utterson, and that (if you can bring your mind to credit it) will be more than enough. The creature who crept into my house that night was, on Jekyll’s own confession, known by the name of Hyde and hunted for in every corner of the land as the murderer of Carew.

I cannot bring myself to write down what he told me over the next hour. I saw what I saw, and I heard what I heard, and my soul was sickened. Yet now that the sight has faded from my eyes, I ask myself whether I believe it. I cannot answer. My life has been shaken to its core. I can no longer sleep. The most terrible fear stays with me at every hour of the day and night. I feel that my days are numbered and that I must die. Yet I will die still unable to believe what happened. As for the wickedness that man revealed to me, even as he wept with remorse, I cannot bear the memory. Even thinking about his wickedness makes me shudder with horror. I will say only one thing, Utterson. If you can bring yourself to believe it, that one thing will be more than enough. The creature who crept into my house that night was, by Jekyll’s own admission, known as Hyde. He was being hunted in every corner of the country as Carew’s murderer.

HASTIE LANYON.

HASTIE LANYON.