Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, and Robert Louis Stevenson’s Fixation with Moralistic Tales

What we today herald as literary “classics,” the fruits of a Christianized Western culture, offer us a creative approach to finding God in our lives and to cultivating virtue. They often present us with the struggle of good versus evil, or – at least – they borrow the imagery and symbolism of a vestigial Christianity.

Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, filled with episodes of tragedy and treasure, revenge and repentance, is ultimately a story about avoiding despair; the characters learn to rely on hope in the charity of men and hope in God’s Divine Providence. Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, as with so many of his writings, reveals the evils that avarice and egotism thrust onto impoverished communities; its protagonist must discover the joy of living for others. And A Picture of Dorian Gray, penned by Oscar Wilde, is a potent novel about morality – the possibilities of sin and salvation – brimming with other-worldly influences in the everyday existence of the titular character.

The essence of morality, an inescapable aspect of our existence, permeates these works in a conscious way. One of the great moralist storytellers of the 19^th century, Robert Louis Stevenson, conceived of many stories that fit in the vein of the “moral novel” or shorter works. It’s true that he wrote adventure tales too, like the swashbuckling classic Treasure Island, but his moralistic fiction continues to resonate on a deeply personal and spiritual level with modern readers.

To explore one such short story of Stevenson’s, I’d like to bring up St. Damien of Molokai, a selfless man who dedicated the last years of his life to serving those plagued by leprosy who were placed on the island of Molokai, quarantined away from the populace. Damien did this joyfully, and he eventually owed his worldly end to this disease. Becoming truly Christ-like, the priest not only served the lepers but became one himself, suffering their frailties and pains – just as Jesus suffered in the flesh as one of us.

Damien’s story penetrated society, inspiring both popular writers and writers who strived for sanctity. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s daughter, Rose Hawthorne Lathrop, was a skilled creative – writing poems, stories, and articles and proving herself equally adept at painting. Nevertheless, through a series of life events, she realized her true vocation was something more. Converting to Catholicism, she discovered the story of Fr. Damien, which inspired her to help show charity to those suffering from cancer. Rose became Mother Mary Alphonsa and founded the Dominican Order of St. Rose of Lima.¹ With a cause for her canonization underway, she’s now Servant of God Rose Hawthorne.

Damien’s example breathed new life, action, and direction into the Catholic Church. Furthermore, much of the public (at least around his time) noticed and respected the depth of charity and dedication with which he served. Another literary figure who had been swept up by the humanity and sanctity of Damien was Stevenson himself, who visited Molokai soon following the holy priest’s death. Stevenson publicly defended Damien’s honor and anticipated “the day when Damien of Molokai shall be named a Saint.”² Though not a Catholic, Stevenson obviously had a sense of reverence for what Damien gave his life to. It’s not uncanny then that Molokai appears in Stevenson’s short story “The Bottle Imp.” This is a tale about a man falling in love but, despite the joyful prospect of being married, is troubled because he possesses a little demon trapped inside a bottle who functions much like a genie in a lamp. The bottle can only be disposed of by being sold. Happiness in this tale is, to some extent, associated with holiness. Only after getting rid of evil – represented by the demon stuck in the bottle who can grant wishes – do the protagonists look forward to long-lasting peace and happiness.

In another of his short stories, “Markheim,” Stevenson portrays the title character as a man in dire straits who stoops to murder in the service of robbery. The cause, the protagonist would argue, comes out of extreme need. After killing a man, Markheim is confronted by a spiritual visitor whom he long considers to be the devil. This unexpected visitor talks in a smooth way, offering Markheim gifts and claiming to be his friend and suggesting that the maid – who is returning to her master’s house – can likewise be killed. The story instead ends with Markheim, now saddened by killing one man and grieved by all the sins of his past, repenting and surrendering himself to the maid. Though melodramatic, it emphasizes the natural human experience of guilt and portrays a triumph of the penitential attitude.

By far, the most significant and well-known of the moralistic tales penned by the Scottish author is The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. As G.K. Chesterton wrote, “The real stab of the story [Jekyll and Hyde] is not the discovery that one man is two men; but in the discovery that the two men are one man.”

In the chronological order of the novella-length story, the reader learns, along with Mr. Utterson, that this Mr. Hyde, who is a murderer and a fiend, is actually the embodiment of the evil harbored in the soul of his dear friend Dr. Henry Jekyll. What is at stake in Jekyll’s soul, the spiritual significance of the moral tale, reaches its climax in the last two chapters.

Here the reader learns of Dr. Lanyon’s horrifying encounter with the shape-shifting Hyde who lurks by night, and we read first-hand of Jekyll’s studies of the nature of good and evil and their cohabitation within the human individual. This “transcendental medicine” that Jekyll toys with is neither the life-giving procedures of Dr. Frankenstein nor the lesson in moral incompetence that we might argue Jurassic Park is. Nevertheless, the “mad scientist,” as it were, of this story likewise suffers from a megalomaniacal personality. His work is everything; he would like to make a name for himself. He has kept some of his unnamed vices at bay through temperance and by not over-indulging.

From the defects that he does list, Jekyll appears to suffer with self-conceit, ego, and ambition – at the root of which is pride. These are perhaps invisible sins. For instance, when dwelling on his works of charity, he is filled with thoughts of how he has done more than others and how he is better than others. At times, he muses over his own perceived self-righteousness. And when it comes to his work, he seeks public esteem over his discovery which will surely be recognized as a breakthrough whereby humanity shall reap mutual benefits.

In the early sections of his letter to his close friend Utterson, Dr. Jekyll lays out his beliefs regarding the human person and his potential for good and ill. He speaks of “man’s dual nature,” by which he refers to the individual as having two natures at odds. In the story, Jekyll holds that “man is not truly one, but truly two.” Hence, Dr. Jekyll versus Mr. Hyde. Here Stevenson branches off into a realm that is symbolic and metaphysical, as one is likely to do when speaking of matters of the soul.^*

Stevenson, writing through Jekyll’s final narration, speaks of “the perennial war among my members.” This smacks of what St. Paul says when he writes, “For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you would” (Galatians 5:17). There is a war that goes on within our own intellect and will, within the very confines of our soul. It’s those confines that Dr. Jekyll seeks to break down so that the good man and the evil man may go their separate ways and both be pleased by the actions following from their opposite natures.

Apart from the rather preternatural “science” going on in the story, what follows is a tragedy of extraordinary addiction. Jekyll describes the experience he felt after the first time he drinks his transformative potion as follows:

There was something strange in my sensations, something indescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a mill race in my fancy, a dissolution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul.³

If we continually give ourselves over to pleasure, we become dependent on things rather than on God. Not only do we become slaves to the things we seek, but we also become focused on the self and selfish desires. While God allows pleasure for our wellbeing, over-indulging in created things is not what God wants for us. If the lives of the saints (and Jesus’s own life and death) illustrate one common way of life, it’s that self-denial is crucial. St. Damien’s selflessness is a great reminder; in order to place ourselves at the service of others, we must often reject what we want to do. Our Lord Jesus Himself says, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24b).

Selflessness, rejecting pride and self-interests, is important to living a true Christian life. Jekyll easily falls victim to the self-absorption that his uncanny potion promises because he already had a high opinion of himself. As with the protagonist in Wilde’s A Picture of Dorian Gray, a mark of hedonism characterizes Hyde and, necessarily, Jekyll himself – who repeatedly consents to taking the drug that brings out Hyde. Then, under the semblance of this darker self, he can openly pursue pleasure and sin. As with Gollum’s association with the Ring in J.R.R. Tolkien’s famous mythos, Jekyll becomes an addict to the liberating sensations brought on by this drug. Each time he consents to taking it, he falls deeper into selfishness and sin (in the personification of Hyde), making it increasingly more difficult to turn back. He is enslaved to his desires. Tragically, Jekyll gives himself over to vice (Hyde) so much, that he learns he can no longer keep Hyde at bay, but that the hideous man has a will of his own which will not take into account the weakened will of Jekyll. The climax of the story shows a dangerous dimension of addiction and its possible effects.

Also noteworthy in the story is Hyde’s appearance. Anyone who lays eyes on the hunched figure tends to describe him as deformed. Mr. Utterson, before he learns everything, suggests that the “radiance of a foul soul…transfigures” this hunched man’s countenance. Indeed, he’s hit the nail on the head.

Beauty is an attribute long associated with those who are pure in heart and not only pure in body. The God-given beauty bestowed on Jekyll is misshapen in Hyde. This understanding of beauty owes much to the Christian tradition of spiritual beauty deriving from living in a state of grace and union with God. Hyde, based on his actions, neither has nor desires to have such intimacy with God. The imago Dei can either shine through us or, through our own sinful action or inaction, become obscured and deformed. One of St. Maximilian Kolbe‘s biographers describes these attributes perfectly:

Every man is an image of the living God, but only the saint appraises it, as a jeweler appraises a pearl. We have the terrible power to spit into the adorable Face, slap It, twist It into a caricature. The saint carries It as in a living monstrance.⁴

Jesus taught us that whatever we do to others, we do to Him also.⁵ What the Nazis did to others in their concentration camps certainly included slapping and spitting on the Divine Countenance in the faces of those they victimized. But at the same time, they were deforming the image of God within their own being, their cruelty twisting It into a caricature. Saints like Fr. Maximilian and Fr. Damien let the light of Christ shine forth through themselves as in a living monstrance. On the other hand, any sin, but especially grievous sin, distorts the divine Image in the soul of man, and this is what is at work in the man Hyde. His outward appearance points toward an inner reality – a “foul soul.”

In Jekyll’s narration, he must concede that these spiritual matters dealing with the inmost being of man are best left untampered with. By the end of the ordeal, it dawns on him that this was unnatural, if not immoral, behavior. But it should be clear from the reader’s perspective, as for Mr. Utterson, that the situation was one in which Jekyll gave himself over to evil and fell so deep into vice, that he could not, of his own accord, break free from it.

Jekyll and Hyde is telling, not so much in its premise as in its point. (The premise is alarming enough that it grabs our attention, seizes the imagination.) Where Dorian Gray’s face remained sublime and his portrait was warped into ugliness, Dr. Jekyll instead presents the face of man – with all his spiritual baggage – and Mr. Hyde is the face of sin, repulsive and grotesque. The more sin is welcomed freely into the soul, the more it tends to stay, becoming harder and harder to get rid of. It is an addiction, a habit to be broken. This most renowned of Stevenson’s stories of the macabre is a cautionary tale. It asks of us, “What do we give ourselves to? And are we better or worse off for it?”

Note: All Scripture quotes come from Catholic RSV Edition.

Endnotes:

1Fulton Oursler, Why I Know There Is a God (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1950), 85-99.

2Matthew Archbold, “The Strange Case of Robert Louis Stevenson and Rev. Dr. Hyde.” Accessed July 11, 2022. https://www.ncregister.com/blog/the-strange-case-of-robert-louis-stevenson-and-rev-dr-hyde.

*Catholicism informs the believer’s understanding of himself, revealing that the human individual is a perfect composite of body and soul fused together, making a complete and single whole – the whole human person. Since the Fall, people have been able to do good; although now they are plagued with temptation and concupiscence. In Stevenson’s fictional story, he extracts good and evil from the individual’s soul and turns them into two distinct persons, opposed yet linked together: Jekyll as the man that retains goodness (but shortcomings also), Hyde as the man bent solely on doing evil.

3Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Other Stories (USA: Barnes & Noble, Inc., 1995), 75.

4Maria Winowska, The Death Camp proved Him Real (Libertyville, IL: Prow Books / Franciscan Marytown Press, 1971), 13.

5See Matthew 24:40.