STORYOFTHEDOOR
Mr.
Uttersonthelawyerwasamanofaruggedcountenancethatwasneverlightedbyasmile;
cold,scantyandembarrassedindiscourse;
backwardinsentiment;
lean,long,dusty,drearyandyet
in qualche modo
somehowlovable.Atfriendlymeetings,andwhenthewinewastohistaste,somethingeminentlyhumanbeaconedfromhiseye;
somethingindeedwhichneverfounditswayintohistalk,butwhichspokenotonlyinthesesilentsymbolsoftheafter-dinnerface,butmoreoftenandloudlyintheactsofhislife.
Hewasausterewithhimself;
drankginwhenhewasalone,tomortifyatasteforvintages;
andthoughheenjoyedthetheatre,hadnotcrossedthedoorsofonefortwentyyears.
Buthehadanapprovedtoleranceforothers;
sometimeswondering,almostwithenvy,atthehigh
pressione
pressureofspiritsinvolvedintheirmisdeeds;andinanyextremityinclinedtohelpratherthantoreprove.
“IinclinetoCain’sheresy,”heusedtosayquaintly:
“Iletmybrothergotothe
diavolo
devilinhisownway.”Inthis
personaggio
character,itwasfrequentlyhisfortuna
fortunetobethelastreputableacquaintanceandthelastgoodinfluenceinthelivesofdowngoingmen.Andtosuchasthese,solongastheycameabouthischambers,henevermarkedashadeofchangeinhisdemeanour.
NodoubtthefeatwaseasytoMr.Utterson;
forhewasundemonstrativeatthebest,andevenhis
amicizia
friendshipseemedtobefoundedinasimile
similarcatholicityofgood-nature.Itisthemarkofamodestmantoaccepthis
amichevole
friendlycircleready-madefromthehandsofopportunity;andthatwasthelawyer’sway.
Hisfriendswerethoseofhisownbloodorthosewhomhehadknownthelongest;
hisaffections,likeivy,werethegrowthoftime,theyimpliednoaptnessintheobject.
Hence,nodoubtthe
legame
bondthatunitedhimtoMr.RichardEnfield,hisdistantkinsman,thewell-knownmanabouttown.Itwasanuttocrackformany,whatthesetwocouldseeineachother,orwhat
argomento
subjecttheycouldfindincomune
common.ItwasreportedbythosewhoencounteredthemintheirSundaywalks,thattheysaidnothing,lookedsingularlydullandwouldhailwith
evidente
obviousrelieftheappearanceofafriend.Forallthat,thetwomenputthe
più grande
greateststorebytheseexcursions,countedthemthechiefjewelofeachweek,andnotonlysetda parte
asideoccasionsofpleasure,butevenresistedthecallsofbusiness,thattheymightenjoythemuninterrupted.Itchancedononeoftheseramblesthattheirwayledthemdownaby-streetinabusy
quartiere
quarterofLondon.Thestreetwassmallandwhatiscalledquiet,butitdroveathrivingtradeontheweekdays.
Theinhabitantswerealldoingwell,itseemedandallemulouslyhopingtodobetterstill,andlayingoutthesurplusoftheirgrainsincoquetry;
sothattheshopfrontsstoodalongthatthoroughfarewithanairofinvitation,likerowsofsmilingsaleswomen.
Evenon
Domenica
Sunday,whenitveileditsmorefloridcharmsandlaycomparativelyemptyofpassage,thestreetbrillava
shoneoutincontrasttoitsdingyneighbourhood,likeafireinaforesta
forest;andwithitsfreshlypaintedshutters,well-polishedbrasses,andgeneralcleanlinessandgaietyof
nota
note,instantlycaughtandpleasedtheeyeofthepassenger.Twodoorsfromone
angolo
corner,onthelefthandgoingeastthelinewasbrokenbytheentryofacourt;andjustatthatpointacertainsinister
blocco
blockofbuildingthrustforwarditsgableonthestreet.Itwastwostoreyshigh;
showednowindow,nothingbutadooronthelowerstoreyandablindforeheadofdiscolouredwallontheupper;
andboreineveryfeature,themarksofprolongedandsordidnegligence.
Thedoor,whichwasequippedwithneither
campana
bellnorknocker,wasblisteredanddistained.Trampsslouchedintotherecessand
colpivano
struckmatchesonthepanels;childrenkeptshopuponthesteps;
theschoolboyhadtriedhisknifeonthemouldings;
andforcloseona
generazione
generation,noonehadappearedtodriveawaytheserandomvisitorsortorepairtheirravages.Mr.
Enfieldandthelawyerwereontheothersideoftheby-street;
butwhentheycameabreastoftheentry,the
primo
formerlifteduphiscaneandpointed.“Didyoueverremarkthatdoor?”
heasked;
andwhenhiscompanionhadrepliedintheaffirmative,“Itisconnectedinmymind,”
aggiunse
addedhe,“withaveryoddstory.”“Indeed?”
saidMr.Utterson,withaslightchangeofvoice,“andwhatwasthat?”
“Well,itwasthisway,”returnedMr.Enfield:
“Iwascominghomefromsomeplaceattheendoftheworld,aboutthreeo’clockofablack
invernale
wintermorning,andmywaylaythroughapartoftownwheretherewasliterallynothingtobeseenbutlamps.Streetafterstreetandallthefolksasleep—streetafterstreet,alllightedupasifforaprocessionandallasemptyasachurch—tillatlastIgotintothatstateofmindwhenamanlistensandlistensandbeginstolongforthe
vista
sightofapoliceman.Allatonce,Isawtwofigures:
onealittlemanwhowasstumpingalongeastwardatagoodwalk,andtheotheragirlofmaybeeightortenwhowasrunningashardasshewasabledownacrossstreet.
Well,sir,thetworanintooneanothernaturallyenoughatthecorner;
andthencamethe
orribile
horriblepartofthething;forthemantrampledcalmlyoverthechild’sbodyandleftherscreamingontheground.
Itsoundsnothingtohear,butitwashellishtosee.
Itwasn’tlikeaman;
itwaslikesome
dannato
damnedJuggernaut.Igaveafewhalloa,tooktomyheels,collaredmy
gentiluomo
gentleman,andbroughthimbacktowheretherewasalreadyquiteagroupabouttheurlava
screamingchild.Hewasperfectlycoolandmadenoresistance,butgavemeonelook,souglythatitbroughtoutthe
sudore
sweatonmelikerunning.Thepeoplewhohadturnedoutwerethegirl’sownfamily;
andprettysoon,thedoctor,forwhomshehadbeensentputinhisappearance.
Well,thechildwasnotmuchtheworse,morefrightened,accordingtothesawbones;
andthereyoumighthavesupposedwouldbeanendtoit.
Buttherewasonecuriouscircumstance.
Ihadtakenaloathingtomy
gentiluomo
gentlemanatfirstsight.Sohadthechild’sfamily,whichwasonly
naturale
natural.Butthedoctor’scasewaswhat
colpito
struckme.Hewasthe
solito
usualcutanddryapothecary,ofnoparticularageandcolour,withastrongEdinburghaccentandaboutasemotivo
emotionalasabagpipe.Well,sir,hewasliketherestofus;
everytimehelookedatmy
prigioniero
prisoner,Isawthatsawbonesturnsickandwhitewiththedesiderio
desiretokillhim.Iknewwhatwasinhismind,justasheknewwhatwasinmine;
andkillingbeingoutofthequestion,wedidthenextbest.
WetoldthemanwecouldandwouldmakesuchascandaloutofthisasshouldmakehisnamestinkfromoneendofLondontotheother.
Ifhehadanyfriendsorany
credito
credit,weundertookthatheshouldlosethem.Andallthetime,aswewerepitchingitinredhot,wewerekeepingthewomenoffhimasbestwecouldfortheywereaswildasharpies.
Ineversawa
cerchio
circleofsuchhatefulfaces;andtherewasthemaninthemiddle,withakindofblacksneeringcoolness—frightenedtoo,Icouldseethat—butcarryingitoff,sir,reallylikeSatan.
‘Ifyouchoosetomake
capitale
capitaloutofthisaccident,’saidhe,‘Iamnaturallyhelpless.No
gentiluomo
gentlemanbutwishestoavoidascene,’sayshe.‘Nameyourfigure.’Well,wescrewedhimuptoahundredpoundsforthechild’sfamily;
hewouldhave
chiaramente
clearlylikedtostickout;buttherewassomethingaboutthelotofusthatmeantmischief,andatlasthe
colpito
struck.Thenextthingwastogetthemoney;
andwheredoyouthinkhecarriedusbuttothatplacewiththedoor?—whippedoutakey,wentin,andpresentlycamebackwiththematteroftenpoundsingoldandachequeforthe
saldo
balanceonCoutts’s,drawnpayabletobearerandsignedwithanamethatIcan’tmention,thoughit’soneofthepointsofmystory,butitwasanameatleastverywellknownandoftenprinted.Thefigurewasstiff;
butthesignaturewasgoodformorethanthatifitwasonlygenuine.
Itookthelibertyofpointingouttomy
gentiluomo
gentlemanthatthewholebusinesslookedapocryphal,andthatamandoesnot,inreallife,walkintoacellardooratfourinthemorningandcomeoutwithanotherman’schequeforcloseuponahundredpounds.Buthewasquiteeasyandsneering.
‘Setyourmindatrest,’sayshe,‘Iwillstaywithyoutillthebanksopenandcashthechequemyself.’Soweallsetoff,thedoctor,andthechild’sfather,andourfriendandmyself,andpassedtherestofthenightinmychambers;
andnextday,whenwehadbreakfasted,wentinabodytothebank.
Igaveinthechequemyself,andsaidIhadeveryreasontobelieveitwasaforgery.
Notabitofit.
Thechequewasgenuine.”
“Tut-tut!”
saidMr.Utterson.
“IseeyoufeelasIdo,”saidMr.Enfield.
“Yes,it’sabadstory.
Formymanwasafellowthatnobodycouldhavetodowith,areallydamnableman;
andthepersonthatdrewthechequeisthevery
rosa
pinkoftheproprieties,celebratedtoo,and(whatmakesitworse)oneofyourfellowswhodowhattheycallgood.Blackmail,Isuppose;
anhonestmanpayingthroughthenoseforsomeofthecapersofhisyouth.
BlackMailHouseiswhatIcalltheplacewiththedoor,inconsequence.
Thougheventhat,youknow,isfarfromexplainingall,”he
aggiunto
added,andwiththewordsfellintoaveinofmusing.FromthishewasrecalledbyMr.Uttersonaskingrathersuddenly:
“Andyoudon’tknowifthedrawerofthechequelivesthere?”
“A
probabile
likelyplace,isn’tit?”returnedMr.Enfield.
“ButIhappentohavenoticedhisaddress;
helivesinsome
piazza
squareorother.”“Andyouneveraskedaboutthe—placewiththedoor?”
saidMr.Utterson.
“No,sir;
Ihadadelicacy,”wasthereply.
“Ifeelverystronglyaboutputtingquestions;
itpartakestoomuchofthe
stile
styleofthedayofjudgment.Youstartaquestion,andit’slikestartinga
pietra
stone.Yousitquietlyonthetopofa
collina
hill;andawaythestonegoes,startingothers;
andpresentlysomeblandold
uccello
bird(thelastyouwouldhavethoughtof)isknockedontheheadinhisownbackgiardino
gardenandthefamilyhavetochangetheirname.Nosir,Imakeitaruleofmine:
themoreitlookslikeQueerStreet,thelessIask.”
“Averygoodrule,too,”saidthelawyer.
“ButIhavestudiedtheplaceformyself,”continuedMr.Enfield.
“Itseemsscarcelyahouse.
Thereisnootherdoor,andnobodygoesinoroutofthatonebut,onceinagreatwhile,the
gentiluomo
gentlemanofmyadventure.Therearethreewindowslookingonthecourtonthefirstfloor;
nonebelow;
thewindowsarealwaysshutbutthey’reclean.
Andthenthereisachimneywhichisgenerallysmoking;
sosomebodymustlivethere.
Andyetit’snotsosure;
forthebuildingsaresopackedtogetheraboutthecourt,thatit’shardtosaywhereoneendsandanotherbegins.”
The
coppia
pairwalkedonagainforawhileinsilenzio
silence;andthen“Enfield,”saidMr.Utterson,“that’sagoodruleofyours.”
“Yes,Ithinkitis,”returnedEnfield.
“Butforallthat,”continuedthelawyer,“there’sonepointIwanttoask.
Iwanttoaskthenameofthatmanwhowalkedoverthechild.”
“Well,”saidMr.Enfield,“Ican’tseewhat
danno
harmitwoulddo.ItwasamanofthenameofHyde.”
“Hm,”saidMr.Utterson.
“Whatsortofamanishetosee?”
“Heisnoteasytodescribe.
Thereissomethingwrongwithhisappearance;
somethingdispleasing,somethingdown-rightdetestable.
IneversawamanIsodisliked,andyetIscarceknowwhy.
Hemustbedeformedsomewhere;
hegivesastrongfeelingofdeformity,
anche se
althoughIcouldn’tspecifythepoint.He’san
straordinario
extraordinarylookingman,andyetIreallycannamenothingoutoftheway.No,sir;
Icanmakenohandofit;
Ican’tdescribehim.
Andit’snotwantofmemory;
forIdeclareIcanseehimthismoment.”
Mr.
Uttersonagainwalkedsomewayin
silenzio
silenceandobviouslyunderapeso
weightofconsideration.“Youaresureheusedakey?”
heinquiredatlast.
“Mydearsir...”
beganEnfield,surprisedoutofhimself.
“Yes,Iknow,”saidUtterson;
“Iknowitmustseemstrange.
Thefactis,ifIdonotaskyouthenameoftheotherparty,itisbecauseIknowitalready.
Yousee,Richard,yourtalehasgonehome.
Ifyouhavebeeninexactinanypointyouhadbettercorrectit.”
“Ithinkyoumighthavewarnedme,”returnedtheotherwithatouchofsullenness.
“ButIhavebeenpedantically
esatto
exact,asyoucallit.Thefellowhadakey;
andwhat’smore,hehasitstill.
Isawhimuseitnotaweekago.”
Mr.
Uttersonsighed
profondamente
deeplybutsaidneveraword;andtheyoungmanpresentlyresumed.
“Hereisanother
lezione
lessontosaynothing,”saidhe.“Iamashamedofmylong
lingua
tongue.Letusmakeabargainnevertorefertothisagain.”
“Withallmyheart,”saidthelawyer.
SEARCHFORMR.HYDE
ThateveningMr.Uttersoncamehometohisbachelorhouseinsombrespiritsandsatdowntodinnerwithoutrelish.
Itwashiscustomofa
Domenica
Sunday,whenthismealwasover,tositclosebythefire,avolumeofsomedrydivinityonhisreadingscrivania
desk,untiltheclockoftheneighbouringchurchrangoutthehouroftwelve,whenhewouldgosoberlyandgratefullytobed.Onthisnighthowever,assoonastheclothwastakenaway,hetookupacandleandwentintohisbusinessroom.
Thereheopenedhissafe,tookfromthemostprivatepartofitadocumentendorsedontheenvelopeasDr.Jekyll’sWillandsatdownwithacloudedbrowtostudyitscontents.
Thewillwasholograph,forMr.Uttersonthoughhetookchargeofitnowthatitwasmade,had
rifiutato
refusedtolendtheleastassistanceinthemakingofit;itprovidednotonlythat,incaseofthedeceaseofHenryJekyll,M.D.,D.C.L.,L.L.D.,F.R.S.,etc.,allhispossessionsweretopassintothehandsofhis“friendandbenefactorEdwardHyde,”butthatincaseofDr.Jekyll’s“disappearanceorunexplainedabsenceforany
periodo
periodexceedingthreecalendarmonths,”thesaidEdwardHydeshouldstepintothesaidHenryJekyll’sshoeswithoutfurtherdelayandfreefromanyburthenorobligationoltre
beyondthepaymentofafewsmallsumstothemembersofthedoctor’shousehold.Thisdocumenthadlongbeenthelawyer’seyesore.
Itoffendedhimbothasalawyerandasa
amante
loverofthesaneandcustomarysidesoflife,towhomthefancifulwastheimmodest.AndhithertoitwashisignoranceofMr.Hydethathadswelledhisindignation;
now,byasuddenturn,itwashis
conoscenza
knowledge.Itwasalreadybadenoughwhenthenamewasbutanameofwhichhecouldlearnnomore.
Itwasworsewhenitbegantobeclotheduponwithdetestableattributes;
andoutoftheshifting,insubstantialmiststhathadsolongbaffledhiseye,thereleapedupthesudden,definitepresentmentofafiend.
“Ithoughtitwasmadness,”hesaid,ashereplacedtheobnoxiouspaperinthesafe,“andnowIbegintofearitisdisgrace.”
Withthatheblewouthiscandle,putonagreatcoat,andsetforthinthe
direzione
directionofCavendishSquare,thatcitadelofmedicina
medicine,wherehisfriend,thegreatDr.Lanyon,hadhishouseandriceveva
receivedhiscrowdingpatients.“Ifanyoneknows,itwillbeLanyon,”hehadthought.
Thesolemnbutlerknewandwelcomedhim;