Page numberings indicate that “A Human Bloodhound” was first written as a continuous, self-contained narrative which Twain deliberately disguised as an excerpt by using the subhead, “From my Abandoned Autobiography” and by preceding the first sentence with three dots.
At some time while he was writing the abortive story “Indiantown,” Twain decided to endow one of its characters, Orrin Lloyd Godkin, with a bloodhound-like sense of smell. He therefore decided to insert the matter of “A Human Bloodhound” at an appropriate point in “Indiantown.”1 So he rewrote some of the story originally told about Harbison, using Godkin's name,2 and at other points in the original manuscript he merely substituted Godkin's name for Harbison's. Eventually, however, he decided against including the insertion.3
Although this fragment was written a decade or so after [begin page 68] “Clairvoyant,”4 it has affiliations with the earlier composition. Both purport to be autobiographical, and the chief character in each has an unusual skill that brings him knowledge unavailable to other villagers. Both narrators are enabled to watch their heroes at close range and tell of the character's use, on several occasions, of his extraordinary powers. In both cases, as Paul Baender has noticed in writing about other works of the same period, “a character from outside a normal society is introduced to impart wisdom the society badly needs but cannot discover.”5 During the period when this fragment was being written, Mark Twain used the device most notably in successive versions of “The Mysterious Stranger,” in which Philip Traum and “44” became just such figures.6 These may well have seemed more satisfactory vehicles for such a character, since they enabled Clemens to develop some themes which were very important to him. Nevertheless in his burlesque on detective fiction, “A Double-Barrelled Detective Story,” finished shortly before 8 September 19017 and published in 1902, Twain gave Harbison-Godkin's bloodhound scent to Archy Stillman and made extensive use of it. The new story managed to be slightly better than the uncompleted “A Human Bloodhound.”
. . . But as I have shown, the account of him which my father left behind, deals with only one aspect of him, and merely broadly generalizes that, without going much into particulars. That was like my father.Ⓔexplanatory note He was alwaysⒶalteration in the MS more interested in reasoning out the origin of a curious thing than he was in playing and fussing with the thing itself. But to others the particulars in Harbison'sⒺexplanatory note case were the most interesting part. It was so with me,Ⓐalteration in the MS and that was natural, I being only a boy and not a philosopher; and it was so with the CorpseⒺexplanatory note and also with his brother the lawyer—his elder brother, I mean—Edward; for Alfred, the other one, as I have already indicated, was too sick a man in those days to care for earthly things of any kind. If any one in the village could be said to be intimate with Harbison, it was the CorpseⒶalteration in the MS; and next to him, Johnson. These two knew all about Harbison from his own lips; he talked with them pretty freely, althoughⒶalteration in the MS he was so reserved with the rest of the community. In turn they talked freely together about Harbison almost every day; and of course, situated as I was, I heard it all. And so in the course of time I came to know as much about [begin page 70] that human freak as there was to know. It gave him a tremendous interest in my eyes, and I used to stare at him with a fascinated gaze and an imagination surcharged with uncanny fancies as he passed by. The bigness of him, his breadthⒶalteration in the MS of shoulder, his slow and stately tread, his head bent in thought, his gloomy mien, the absence of the usual signs of age,—these things, assisted by his story, made him an impressive figure, and the three purple birthmarkⒶalteration in the MS stripes across his face gave him the air of looking through a grating and supplied a touch of weirdnessⒶemendation to the general effectⒶalteration in the MS which properly rounded it out and perfected it.
He was five or six years old before he found out that he was not as other children were. He was playing near a deserted house in a deserted field one day with some small comrades, in the summer gloaming, when a small creature raced past them and ran into the house. The startled children wondered what it was. He said it was a little cat. They said no, it might be a little dog, and it might be a little rabbit, it was too dark to tell. He said they were stupid—come, and he would show them the cat. So they entered the house and stood within the ruined door, but would venture no further, for the place was dark. He said, “I told you so—there she is, over there.”Ⓐemendation
“Where?”
“In the corner.”
“Do you see her?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Why, can't I smell her? Can't you?”
They laughed, and said he was a little fool; and they made so much fun of him that he was ashamed, and went and brought the cat, to establish his case. The childrenⒶalteration in the MS told the wonderful thing at home, and everybody came and tested him, and he was soon a much sought lion. This was pleasant enough for a time, but it presently became a distress and a bother; not to himself alone, but to his mother as well. He grew ashamed of being different from other children, and of being called a “dog-boy,” and the matter was a distress to his mother because she lived a secluded life and neither paid nor received visits, and did not wish to know any one. Exhibi- [begin page 71] tions of the boy's strange gift were stopped entirely, and by and by they ceased from being called for. After that, the young widow's peace was not disturbed again, and in time the lad's specialty dropped out of the people's talk and became a forgotten thing.
In his age Harbison did not make a secret of his gift, but it was not easy to get him toⒶalteration in the MS make idle exhibitions of itⒶalteration in the MS for the satisfaction of curiosity-mongers. He allowed Johnson and the Corpse to test him whenever they chose, in private, and so of course I had plenty of chances to be a witness. There was a strong feeling in the town against the Corpse on account of the new religion which he pretended to be getting up, and when the manuscript of his extravagant “Account of the Creation” was stolen it was Harbison who hunted the thief down and got it back. I was to blame for the theft, and was well scared when I missed the MS., for I had been often warned to put it away when I was called from my copying, but this time I didn't do it because I was only going across the street and expected to be back in a moment. But there was a street fight, and it lasted as much as ten minutes, and that was what made the trouble. I had left Johnson and the CorpseⒶalteration in the MS chatting in the front room, and of course they were a sufficient protection for the back one. Would have been, but for the fight. I was back from the fight a little before they were, and when I found the place empty and both doors standing open I was frightened. And cause enough, too. A glance into the back room realized that to me. My superiors arrived just then, and I told them what had happened, and I was almost crying. Of course the Corpse comforted me and said it wasn't any great matter, he could write it again and do it better this time—which was a lie, it made him sick and pale to think of that vast loss, but he was a good heart and couldn't bear to see anybody suffer if a lie could help him out any.
To make matters as bad as possible, Harbison was out of town and not expected back for a week, otherwise the thing would not have been so serious. But at this moment, when I was feeling my worst, Harbison stepped in. It was a great relief to us all. Harbison named the fifteen or twenty citizens who had been in the front room inⒶalteration in the MS the course of the day, then he went into the back room and [begin page 72] said only one person had been in there besides me. He named poor old deacon West! That was a thunder-clap out of a clear sky, for if there was a man in the town with a more honorable record than the deacon, he had not been discovered yet. I went along with Harbison, but Johnson and the Corpse didn't wish to go, and stayed behind.
The deacon was confused, and ostensibly indignant, but Harbison walked by him and into a bedroom, and went to the bed and said “it's about this bed somewhere; will you searchⒶalteration in the MS, deacon, or must I? Spare me that.”
So the deacon apologised, and got it out from between the ticks. He said he had done wrong, but not from a selfish motive; he had heard that it was a wicked book and would do harm if published, and he wanted to save the people from moral injury by destroying it; but he was willing to confess that he had done wrong, and he begged that for the sake of his previous good name we would not tell his sin. We promised, and that was the end of it.
When Harbison was tracking anything you would not know it by the look of him, for he walked erect and did not need to stoop down to get the scent. He knew the scent of every person in the town, and could go along the empty streets at midnight and name allⒶalteration in the MS the people who had gone about them during the day. Also, he not only knew an old scent from a new one, but he could name the age in hours. He would say “Mr. BlackⒶalteration in the MS passed here about four hours ago, and stepped on the track made by Mr.Ⓐalteration in the MS White about twenty hours ago;” and if you went and inquired you would find he was right. He couldn't ever be alone! the streets were crowded with the scent-spectresⒶalteration in the MS of men and women and dogs and cats and children, for him, when they were empty for you and you couldn't see a living thing. It was like crowdingⒶalteration in the MS your way through swarms of ghosts when you walked by night with him, and although it was dead still you seemed to hear them rustle. It was very interesting and unpleasant, and I always liked it. When he found that I didn't talk and he could trust me, he took me along for company many a time—particularly after I had the luck to do him the good turn mentioned in a previous chapter. He mainly walked at night, and [begin page 73] late; he liked to know who had been around during the day, but he didn't want their physical company.
He could keep secrets himself. The time that Jack Collins disappeared and everybody thought he was drowned, Harbison knew he was hiding in the town all the while; for he came out disguised and took exercise on dark nights and Harbison ran across his scent and we followed it to his hiding place and had a talk with him. We went there more than once, but didn't betray him. Harbison could go and walk through the church on a Sunday afternoon and name every person who had attended church and Sunday school there in the morning. No dog had any advantage of him; with the wind in his favor he could detect a stranger or any animal a measured distance of—I don't remember how many yards, but I know he could beat any of our hunting dogs on distance. He couldn't name the stranger, but he could name the animal without seeing it. I saw him stand the leeward of a decaying and offensive dead horse and “point” a covey of partridges that were behind some bushes twenty yards to windward of it. I smelt the horse myself, but not the birds. Our hunters had doubts about the birds, but Harbison was right, as it turned out. He said that there were five hundred smells present —of earth,Ⓐtextual note grass, water, beesⒶtextual note, bugs, butterflies, snakes, toads, numberless wild flowers and all manner of things, including the strenuousⒶalteration in the MS horse—but that each had its own peculiar and individual scent and projectedⒶalteration in the MS it through the horse's fragrance distinct, undefiled, and easily recognizable. His sense of smell may be likened to the visual capacity of the most powerful microscope. Such a microscope makes large and clear a myriadⒶemendation of things that are wholly invisible to the naked eye, and Harbison's gift made smellable to him a myriadⒶemendation of things which to us are destitute of smell. To him rocks, sand, bricks—in fact everything—had a smell; a smell of its own; and he could go in the dark into a room which he had never been in before and by his noseⒶalteration in the MS locate every object in it and come out and name each of them and its place—always pretending to do it by sight.Ⓐalteration in the MSⒶtextual note He could go on naming and locating the things until the listener was tired—which would happenⒶalteration in the MSⒶtextual note before he could name all of them, of course,Ⓐalteration in the MS if there happened to be a thousand. He said that [begin page 74] no two cats smelt alike, nor no two bricks, nor no two nails, nor apples, nor pieces of paper, nor men, nor elephants, nor fleas, norⒶalteration in the MS flies, nor coins, nor anything you could mention in the universe. He said no two faces, nor hands, nor apples, nor peas, nor grains of sand, nor any other two things were ever of exactly the same form and dimensions, and that this law of nature was rigidly carried out in the matter of smells. He said that all the air was thick with smells, and that none of them was to him or to the finest dog unpleasant; and that it was the foolish prejudice of our training that made carrion unpleasant to us—it was not unpleasant to any savage.
His senseⒶalteration in the MS of smellⒶtextual note would have been eyes for him if he had lost his sight. Wherever he was—even in the densest fog—he knew where every big and little object around about him was located, and the nature of it; and could name it and go straight to it and lay his hand upon it. By his talent he could tell when it was going to rain or snow, without having to go outside and consult the wind or the clouds.
His smell-memory was miraculous,Ⓐalteration in the MS and enduring. He said he did not think it possible for him to ever forget the smell of a friend; certainly not of an enemy. He said Ulysses' aged dog did not recognize his long-exiled master by his face and form, but by his smell. You could blindfold Harbison and bring fifty books from a library and deliver them to him one at a time as fast as he could take them and lay them down; and then you could carry them back and make a list of them as a help to your memory, scatter them here and there and yonder among the shelves, and send for him to come and find them. He would make his way through the house, easily followingⒶalteration in the MS your track with his bandage on, and pass along the shelves and touch the fifty chosen books and no others. All done by niceness of sight, he pretended.Ⓐalteration in the MSⒶtextual note
Lost children were a specialty with Harbison.Ⓐtextual note A child of his acquaintance could not lose itself, winter or summer, on ice or sand or rocks or ground, where he couldn't find it. He was nonplussed only once. That was the time that Clark's little boy wandered away. Harbison walked the whole circuitⒶalteration in the MS of the yard, and said little Billy [begin page 75] was in the house somewhere—he hadn't left the yard. The parents knew better, and were frightenedⒶalteration in the MS; they believed Harbison had lost his discriminating sight.Ⓐalteration in the MSⒶtextual note They said they had seenⒶalteration in the MS Billy playing outside the fence. Harbison went the rounds again, and said Billy was still on the premises; he said he knew the trackⒶalteration in the MSⒶtextual note that Billy's shoe would leave, and it wasn't there; there was no smallⒶalteration in the MS track but a stranger's.
“Show me where he was playing, outside.”
They took him to the place, but Harbison said—
“Billy hasn't been here—it's the stranger.” Then he had an idea, and said, “How thoughtless you are—he hasⒶalteration in the MS new shoes on, hasn't he? why didn't you say so?”
That was what had made the trouble. They swiftlyⒶalteration in the MS followed the new shoes into the woods, and trackedⒶtextual note them around a wide and erratic course; and when night came on, papa and the others retired from the hunt and sat down in the deeps of the forest to wait—for they had confidence in Harbison's capacities—but mamma held Harbison's hand and plowed through the briers and over the tree-roots and dead logs with him,Ⓐalteration in the MS for mothersⒶemendation can't wait; and toward midnight she had her desire and her reward, for they found the child curled up asleep on the ground, with his hands and face stained with the purple blood of blackberries, these signs being clearly visible to Harbison's nose.Ⓐalteration in the MS
It was Harbison that saved Henry Blake once, when he was in a bad scrape. He was a loafer and a thief, but that was believed to be the worst of him; but one winter's night screams were heard in the widow Aldrich's house, and Blake came flying out at the door and was caught. The widow was found lying on the floor of her bedroom up stairs covered with wounds and gasping her last. She died without speaking. Blake declared that he was not guilty of the murder. He said he had often robbed the widow's cellar of eatables, and that he was down there on the like errand when he heard the screams and tried to make his escape undetected. He had taken a few potatoes, and they were still in his overcoat pockets—they could search. Which they did, and found nothing else; nothing else except sixteen dollars in paperⒶalteration in the MS money. That was a bad detail, for [begin page 76] two reasons: in the first place it was too much money for Blake to honestly possess at one time, and in the second place he had concealedⒶalteration in the MS it in the lining of his hat. He explained that he had stolen it from a stranger, but as he confessed that he couldn't produce the stranger, the explanation went for nothing.
By this time all the town had gathered, and the cry “lynch him, lynch him!” went up in a general chorus. A rope was brought and an end of it thrown over the limb of a tree; a tar-barrel was fired, and as the flame and smoke rose and the glare lit up the angry faces of the people and the cringing form of the noosed and beseeching poor outcast, Harbison came bursting through the crowd and seized Blake's end of the rope just as the executioners had begun to haul down upon the other. He said—
“This man didn't do it; I'll find you the right one.”
The statement was doubted.
“Come with me,” Harbison said, “and bring him along, if you like; you needn't let him out of your hands till I've shown you.”
The crowd followed him to the house and up stairs, with lights, and he said—
“There—lift the blind, and you will see that the window is up.”
They found it was true, but said—
“What of it?”
“Well, the man came in there, over the shed, and he went out that way, again.”
“But how can you prove it?”
“By finding the man. Come with me and I will do it.”
“Is it your smell that you are depending on?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then. That is satisfactory. Who is the man?”
“I don't know; it's a stranger.”
There were murmurs, and something was said about a bird in the hand being worth several in the bush,Ⓐalteration in the MS and Blake began to plead again; but Harbison said—
“You shall come with me, Blake, I will take care of you.”
He was able to do it; that was recognised. The procession moved. Harbison walked around the house, picked up the track, and started [begin page 77] off at a brisk pace, down the lane, into the road, over a rail fence, through a stubble-field, and onward to the river, then out on the ice and straight toward the further shore through a thaw-mist which was rapidly thickening into a fog.
Godkin Fragment
Godkin possessed one marvelous gift. Sight, he called it. It wasn't; but he made everybody believe it was sight, and no oneⒶalteration in the MS ever knew any better until he disclosed his secret late in life when near his death. He claimed that all godkins had his wonderful vision, and that it was a part of their divine inheritance; that no genuine godkin was without it; that it was one of their trade-marks, and a sure identifier; that a pretender was certain to lack it, and the lack of it was proof absolute that he was no godkin.
When he finally revealed his secret it turned out that his specialty was not sight at all, but a bloodhound's sense of smell—and enlarged and improved, at that! A man with his gift might get along very well without sight, in fact. Godkin was probably right in hiding his gift from the people; no doubt he had more liberty to exercise it than he could have had if the nature of it had been known. He pretended that he could see through a blindfold, a wall, a board, through the pitch dark, through the thickest fog—through anything and everything you might mention. And he saidⒶalteration in the MS that no two objects, big or little were exactly alike in shape or color, and that he could detect the differences by sight, howsoever slight they might be. He had to pretend all this, otherwiseⒶalteration in the MS he could not have accounted for the bulk of the curious things which he ostensibly did with his eyes.
When he was tracking anything it was not suspected that he was not doing it with his eyes, for he walked erect and did not need to stoop down to get the scent. He knew the scent of every person in the town, and could go along the empty streets at midnight and smell out the day's history of every one's comings and goings. This all came out when he told his secret by and by and went into [begin page 78] details. He not only knew an old scent from a new one, but he knew the age of a scent in hours. He would say to himself, “Mr. Black passed here about four hours ago and crossed the track made by Mr. White about twenty hours ago.”Ⓐemendation He couldn't ever be alone! the streets were crowded with the scent-spectres of men and women and dogs and cats and children, for him, when they were empty and lonesome for other men and they couldn't see a living thing. It was like crowding and jostling his way through swarms of ghosts, and although the stillness might be perfect he always imagined he heard them rustle. He found it interesting and unpleasant, and always liked it.
He could walk through the church Sunday afternoon and name to himself every person who had attended Sunday school and the morning service. With the wind in his favor he could detect a stranger a mile. Once he stood to leeward of a decaying dead horse and “pointed” a covey of partridges that were behind some bushes thirty yards to windward of it. Of course he said he had seen them run in there, and the hunters believed him; whereas he had only smelt them. He spoke of this incident in his post-secret days, and said that when the thing happened there were five hundred smells present—of earth,
Here Mark Twain meant to insert revised pages of the “Human Bloodhound” manuscript—pp. 73.21–75.22 in the present text.
the purple blood of blackberries, these signs being clearly visibleⒶalteration in the MS to Godkin's nose.
Some time after he had completed the twenty-seven manuscript pages of “A Human Bloodhound” and had passed MS p. 46 of “Indiantown,” Mark Twain decided to transfer Harbison's sense of smell to Orrin Lloyd Godkin of “Indiantown.” He redrafted a portion of the “Human Bloodhound” manuscript on five manuscript pages, numbered 46A–46E. (These pages are printed after “A Human Bloodhound” in this volume.) Then he borrowed eight pages from the original “Human Bloodhound” manuscript, renumbering them and making a number of substantive changes in order to integrate them into “Indiantown.”
Since Mark Twain used the same ink throughout the writing and rewriting of “A Human Bloodhound,” it is frequently impossible to tell which of his alterations were made when he wrote the story and which were a part of the process of revamping the tale for inclusion in “Indiantown.” Where he changed “Harbison” to “Godkin” his intentions are clear. But where he interlined “until the listener was tired—which would happen” (p. 73.35) above the canceled “until you were tired; you would tire” there is no way of knowing when the revision took place. Since almost all the interlineations in the manuscript are on the borrowed pages, one may conjecture that they were intended for “Indiantown,” but the manuscript offers no other evidence to confirm this supposition. The name “Harbison” has, therefore, been restored throughout, but in all other cases the latest reading has been adopted. Revisions have been reported in the table of “Alterations in the Copy-Texts,” and textual notes discuss those which may in fact have been meant for “Indiantown.”