"There were two sides to every man, and it always..."
"No, no." Robert crumpled up the sheet of paper and cast it away.
"If it were present in the man from the first, based upon his particular nature, it should now manifest itself more openly than ever upon his very features, so that..."
One could not close the phrase there. No. Robert stifled a cough and reflected upon his musings. He'd come to California to convalesce, but also to study the peculiarities of both the American continent and the Mutation problem, such that it was.
As an ill man, he was by necessity a student of human nature. As a man of intelligence, his fascination with human character had led him to wish to fuse the two concepts into a tale which would explore the duality of man.
Each man, in Robert's estimation, was possessed of at least two minds. The first would have been civilized man. The one who practiced diplomacy, the cloak. The other was an animal, a mad brute who acted on base, selfish desires without hesitation. In society, the latter would be held in check by the former.
Robert held the belief that Mutations had been either gifted or cursed by their nature to wear the animal on the surface--to manifest it fully, physically, all the time. But not all of them were savage, not all of them of beastly appearance or disposition. What, then, to account for their--
No. What do I say next? I have left a sentence to hang over a precipice. The thought must be completed. What to say of Mutations?
"...so that a Mutation should be simpler to gauge than an ordinary man. Yet such was not the case with Doctor Jeckyll--"
Jeckyll must not be the principle character I introduce! No, no...there is always another character, one who introduces the tale. I shall call him Utterson.
And so Robert plunged headlong into his tale. Development of Jeckyll was not simple, and his quest to cure his mutation did not progress simply at all. Jeckyll was a man of stout principles and faith in the Lord, transformed against his will into the hulking Mister Hyde, a man who had nothing gentle about him and would rampage across London, inciting even the wrath of the British Armed Forces. He became sullen and withdrawn, given to locking himself in his laboratory for weeks on end. He told his friends that "You would not find me agreeable when I become agitated". The secret of Jeckyll's malediction was that he needed to find the peace inside of himself to bind the monster forever. For it was not force by which one stopped a hulking behemoth. Only soothing the nerves of the beast could stop it. That or suicide, and Jeckyll was loathe to take that route. And realistically so! Suicide was a sin, and martyrdom could be argued for, but not conclusively proved.
"It's bollocks. Such utter bollocks."
Robert put down his pen and rested his head in the crook of his arm. How best to detail the story and retain all of the important elements without resorting to sensationalism? Great big monsters fit for tales of suspense were not the stuff of respectable literature. And yet, he couldn't tear himself away from it.
"You still slaving over that Hyde story?" He jumped at the voice of his wife Fanny, who had apparently come upon him in a moment of deep reverie. When he finished coughing from the shock, he turned to her with dull eyes which veiled a torrent of emotions and said, "I've much of the idea conceived and more of it upon paper, but I have trouble reconciling the plot, the characters and the concepts I wish to convey. 'Twas a time me lot were easier than now, with ambitions beyond me ken."
Fanny knelt beside his chair and places her hand on his knee. She met his eyes with a delicate stare and said "Talk to me."
"It's these Mutations," he began. "They've opened a world to me, if only I could see it clearly. Things I've wished to speak of through allegory, they can be used to demonstrate literally.
"I set about to talk of the duality of man--good and evil contained within each of us, but a Mutation who appears evil can be good, can't he? Surely, though they wrought such chaos upon our Ambassador Pakenham is but a trifle; there are bad eggs of every stripe, nay?"
She gently stroked his leg. "My dear...I see you're becoming feverish, so I'll give it to you quickly. Don't try to stick to your original outline, or else you'll only disappoint yourself. Try on these musings you've just given me. Try something new."
He lit up, relaxed, and leaned forward to take her hand in both of his. His own hands were cold and clammy with sweat.
"As always, my love, you are my lighthouse, guiding my thoughts to shore."
They both smiled an infectious smile and kissed passionately until Robert needed to breathe. He was sick again, his chest inflamed and struggling to support him. His writing gave him the passion to press on, and so Fanny aided him to write long, and to write well.
Before she left him to his task, he found the gusto to throw his draft into the fire--as she probably knew he would. "So much for Jeckyll and Hyde," he proclaimed. "Time for something different."
"No, no." Robert crumpled up the sheet of paper and cast it away.
"If it were present in the man from the first, based upon his particular nature, it should now manifest itself more openly than ever upon his very features, so that..."
One could not close the phrase there. No. Robert stifled a cough and reflected upon his musings. He'd come to California to convalesce, but also to study the peculiarities of both the American continent and the Mutation problem, such that it was.
As an ill man, he was by necessity a student of human nature. As a man of intelligence, his fascination with human character had led him to wish to fuse the two concepts into a tale which would explore the duality of man.
Each man, in Robert's estimation, was possessed of at least two minds. The first would have been civilized man. The one who practiced diplomacy, the cloak. The other was an animal, a mad brute who acted on base, selfish desires without hesitation. In society, the latter would be held in check by the former.
Robert held the belief that Mutations had been either gifted or cursed by their nature to wear the animal on the surface--to manifest it fully, physically, all the time. But not all of them were savage, not all of them of beastly appearance or disposition. What, then, to account for their--
No. What do I say next? I have left a sentence to hang over a precipice. The thought must be completed. What to say of Mutations?
"...so that a Mutation should be simpler to gauge than an ordinary man. Yet such was not the case with Doctor Jeckyll--"
Jeckyll must not be the principle character I introduce! No, no...there is always another character, one who introduces the tale. I shall call him Utterson.
And so Robert plunged headlong into his tale. Development of Jeckyll was not simple, and his quest to cure his mutation did not progress simply at all. Jeckyll was a man of stout principles and faith in the Lord, transformed against his will into the hulking Mister Hyde, a man who had nothing gentle about him and would rampage across London, inciting even the wrath of the British Armed Forces. He became sullen and withdrawn, given to locking himself in his laboratory for weeks on end. He told his friends that "You would not find me agreeable when I become agitated". The secret of Jeckyll's malediction was that he needed to find the peace inside of himself to bind the monster forever. For it was not force by which one stopped a hulking behemoth. Only soothing the nerves of the beast could stop it. That or suicide, and Jeckyll was loathe to take that route. And realistically so! Suicide was a sin, and martyrdom could be argued for, but not conclusively proved.
"It's bollocks. Such utter bollocks."
Robert put down his pen and rested his head in the crook of his arm. How best to detail the story and retain all of the important elements without resorting to sensationalism? Great big monsters fit for tales of suspense were not the stuff of respectable literature. And yet, he couldn't tear himself away from it.
"You still slaving over that Hyde story?" He jumped at the voice of his wife Fanny, who had apparently come upon him in a moment of deep reverie. When he finished coughing from the shock, he turned to her with dull eyes which veiled a torrent of emotions and said, "I've much of the idea conceived and more of it upon paper, but I have trouble reconciling the plot, the characters and the concepts I wish to convey. 'Twas a time me lot were easier than now, with ambitions beyond me ken."
Fanny knelt beside his chair and places her hand on his knee. She met his eyes with a delicate stare and said "Talk to me."
"It's these Mutations," he began. "They've opened a world to me, if only I could see it clearly. Things I've wished to speak of through allegory, they can be used to demonstrate literally.
"I set about to talk of the duality of man--good and evil contained within each of us, but a Mutation who appears evil can be good, can't he? Surely, though they wrought such chaos upon our Ambassador Pakenham is but a trifle; there are bad eggs of every stripe, nay?"
She gently stroked his leg. "My dear...I see you're becoming feverish, so I'll give it to you quickly. Don't try to stick to your original outline, or else you'll only disappoint yourself. Try on these musings you've just given me. Try something new."
He lit up, relaxed, and leaned forward to take her hand in both of his. His own hands were cold and clammy with sweat.
"As always, my love, you are my lighthouse, guiding my thoughts to shore."
They both smiled an infectious smile and kissed passionately until Robert needed to breathe. He was sick again, his chest inflamed and struggling to support him. His writing gave him the passion to press on, and so Fanny aided him to write long, and to write well.
Before she left him to his task, he found the gusto to throw his draft into the fire--as she probably knew he would. "So much for Jeckyll and Hyde," he proclaimed. "Time for something different."
