By Sheridan Nelson
Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde begins with two men musing about the goings-on behind a door located on a by-street in London. Mr. Enfield recounts to his companion, Mr. Utterson, a particularly strange story about the resident who lives there – a man (who will later be revealed as Mr. Hyde) who calmly committed a violent crime against a child one night, and when accused, approached this very door, “whipped out a key, went in, and presently came back with the matter of ten pounds in gold and a cheque for the balance” (8). Enfield and Utterson exchange hypotheses about the origins of the hush money, and Enfield quips about the criminal using black mail to procure the sum. In this scene from the opening chapter, the two companions are not yet aware that this will be far from the last time that they talk about the man with a key to this door. The mention of this key is a significant detail, as the key serves as a prominent symbol of suspect autonomy and moral degradation throughout the story, providing insight into the novel’s representation of the few characters with whom it is associated: Mr. Hyde and a group of women from Soho.
Mr. Hyde is the only one with a key to the door mentioned in the opening chapter; in fact, he is (nearly) the only character who is explicitly described handling any kind of key at all. His key is mentioned ten times throughout the novel, appearing first when he tramples the child one night and appearing last when the key itself is trampled by Dr. Jekyll. The key is more than a homeowner’s accessory for Hyde, but a tangible tool of separation from all that is good and a symbol of his severance from society.
There is but only one other mention of keys than that of Hyde’s: the keys that belong to the women of Soho. After Sir Carew is murdered, Utterson journeys to “the dismal quarter of Soho,” which he describes being “like a district of some city in a nightmare” (22). Here he observes children in tattered clothing and “many women of many different nationalities passing out, key in hand, to have a morning glass” (22). Roger Luckhurst, editor of the novel’s Oxford edition, explains that “the key in hand signals that they are lower-class women, possibly prostitutes” (187). It seems, then, that there is a direct correlation between the nightmarish environment and the independent women roaming about the Soho streets. Luckhurst agrees, saying, “Carrying a key signals a suspicious independence; within ten years, the middle-class women dissidents who were discussed under the title ‘New Woman’ would adopt the key as a symbol of female autonomy” (187). It is noteworthy that it is not just any group of women who carry keys here, but a specific breed of women.
In this scene we see that these key-carrying women are distinctly othered in the narrator’s description and by Utterson’s gaze, and the included mention of the “many different nationalities” represented among the women hints at the extent of this alienation (38). The women’s appearance is markedly foreign, a physical feature shared by Hyde. Hyde is described as looking “pale and dwarfish,” giving the “impression of deformity without any nameable malformation” (15). This description provides no concrete details yet is intent on making it clear that Hyde looks different from the typical Londoner, and especially different from the moral and heroic protagonists in the novel. In this way, Stevenson attempts a specific goal by relying on an ambiguous description; it is important that the reader understands that Hyde looks strange, but it does not matter how the reader imagines his appearance in detail. Stevenson focuses his approach on convincing the reader that Hyde’s appearance is wrong without specifically explaining Hyde’s unique features. Utterson assists in this by going so far as to refer to Hyde’s figure as “hardly human” and appearing “something troglodytic” (16). Luckhurst cites the Oxford English Dictionary to explain that the origin of “troglodyte” signified “one of various races or tribes of men (chiefly ancient or prehistoric) inhabiting caves or dens,” though Victorian vernacular may have employed the word to refer to hermits who were “unacquainted with the affairs of the world” (186). Here there is a direct linkage between physical appearance and public positioning. Hyde and the women of Soho have foreign appearances and make others uneasy when they have the liberty of unrestricted mobility – in this case, via keys – between private and public spaces. Contrast the public perception of Hyde and the women of Soho with that of the protagonists of the novel. Jekyll, for example, speaks brazenly in his confession of his ability to “plod in the public eye with a load of genial respectability,” a status that he once felt so securely enveloped in that he calls it his “impenetrable mantle” (56). This corresponds with the reality that the alarming frequency of early deaths among Victorian prostitutes was routinely ignored by the public, while the death of the upper-class Carew is “resented as a public injury” (28).
The symbol of the key appears to be known by the story’s characters as well. In fact, the association of the key with immorality and “suspicious independence” is so strong that such an inference is taken as a serious accusation. Consider Utterson and Enfield’s exchange from the first chapter, wherein they ruminate on the significance of Hyde’s possession and use of the key. After Enfield relays the story of Hyde’s trampling of the child to Utterson, one of the first clarifying questions asked by Utterson, who is “obviously under a weight of consideration,” is, “You are sure he used a key?” (9). Enfield emphatically defends the legitimacy of his memory, stating, “The fellow had a key; and what’s more, he has it still. I saw him use it not a week ago” (10). Enfield and Utterson feel certain weightiness with the confirmation of this detail, as they share an understanding that this key is irrevocably damning. The possession of the key proves unfitting access to a carefully guarded space.
At the story’s climax, when Utterson is about to discover the truth about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, entrance through a locked door is most crucial. After hearing the weeping voice of Hyde coming from the other side of that door, Utterson and Jekyll’s servant Mr. Poole decide to forcibly break into the mysterious laboratory. The laboratory door is smashed rather than unlocked, providing a glaring contrast to Hyde’s dependence on the key. Utterson and Poole, whom the narrator calls “the besiegers,” choose to make “the lock burst in sunder” with an axe, thereby destroying the door altogether (41). By inverting this means of entrance, Utterson is presented as a heroic figure who solves the plot’s mystery. His forcible entry is lauded in this moment, highlighting him as an admirably strong and willful man.
The final mention of Hyde’s key is in Jekyll’s confession, when he describes crushing it under his heel after mistakenly believing that he can no longer transform into Hyde. Jekyll writes, “With what sincere renunciation I locked the door by which I had so often gone and come, and ground the key under my heel!” (61). Of course, this act is not necessary. Jekyll could just as well have disposed of the key or simply put it away and resolved not to use it again, but Stevenson chooses a visceral act to physically kill the key. As the terrorizing antagonist of the novel dies, this thing must die too. The moral statement that is demonstrated here echoes the Victorian values of Jekyll’s world. Gertrude Himmelfarb points out that “the Victorians put such a premium on the self – not only on self-help and self-interest, but also self-control, self-discipline, self-respect. A liberal society, they believed, required a moral citizenry.” Perhaps Jekyll is attempting to exert a final act of virtue in this reflection of the self by the destruction of the Other, Hyde. Paralleling Himmelfarb’s speculations, Jekyll’s smashing of the key signals that he is controlling his future behavior, disciplining himself for his past association with Hyde, and affirming a permanent respect for the character of Jekyll over the character of Hyde. Jekyll yearns to prove his loyalty to these cultural values that label him as a moral citizen of society, and so crushes the object that reveals his secret desire for untethered autonomy.
Works Cited
Himmelfarb, Gertrude. “From Victorian Virtues to Modern Values.” American Enterprise Institute, 13 Feb. 1995, http://www.aei.org/research-products/speech/from-victorian-virtues-to-modern-values/.
Stevenson, Robert Louis. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Other Tales. Edited by Roger Luckhurst, Oxford University Press, 2009.
The Gothic Novel 
