Leading the Way and Getting It Right

In the late 1950s, when I was ten years old, my parents gave me my first book. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn not only introduced me to Mark Twain but also had unanticipated consequences. It started me on a personal expedition to read every word Mark Twain ever wrote. That journey would eventually lead me to discover the remarkable Robert Hirst.My interest in Mark Twain took a sharper focus after I began my career as a medical school faculty member. I discovered that Twain wrote more about illness and medical care than I had realized. In Those Extraordinary Twins, for instance, he describes how the twins became progressively sicker during three days under a doctor's care, “but then the doctor was summoned South to attend his mother's funeral, and they got well in forty-eight hours.”1 The implications of the statement are profound and worthy of inclusion in every medical school curriculum (to encourage humility among physicians, if nothing else). In earlier years, Twain gave me a fresh perspective on a multitude of topics. Why not bring his wisdom into medical education?I then discovered a unique collection of Twain's writing previously unknown to me. The Mark Twain Project, under the direction of Robert Hirst, was systematically collecting, organizing, annotating, and publishing Twain's notebooks, journals, and personal letters. The words Twain jotted to himself in his notebooks and journals were intriguing; his remarkable letters to friends and foes were as powerful, amusing, and thought-provoking as his writings for public consumption. The preservation and dissemination of the rich record of his written words by the Mark Twain Project gave me an opportunity to fully explore Twain's medical observations.Twain was a leading spokesperson for all of humanity. He understood, for example, the value of empathy from a doctor. When Twain suffered an excruciating attack of gout, his doctor downplayed the episode by declaring it a matter of “no consequence.” Twain had a different opinion. The illness may not be important to the doctor, Twain noted, but “neither is hell, to a person who doesn't live there.”2 Mark Twain's perspective seemed an ideal medium to insert a sense of humanism into the education of fledgling doctors.Locating, organizing, and understanding Twain's medical experiences and commentaries became my hobby. It was a private pursuit. Finally, thwarted by an inconsistency I could not resolve, I sought the opinion of Kent Rasmussen, highly regarded for his encyclopedic knowledge of Twain. Kent made two suggestions of monumental importance. He deemed my pursuit of Mark Twain and medicine worthy of publication as a book, and he identified Robert Hirst as the quintessential authority on Mark Twain's writings and life.I first sought Bob Hirst's counsel in April 2002 after encountering the mention of a patent medicine in Justin Kaplan's 1967 Pulitzer prize-winning biography, Mr. Clemens and Mark Twain. Twain proposed to his brother Orion Clemens that a one thousand per cent profit could be made by bottling kerosene, disguising it with the scent of cheap perfume, and marketing it as an infallible treatment, “Swift Death to Chilblains.” Twain's experiences with patent medicines were complex, and it seemed essential to include this correspondence in my book. Kaplan's text paraphrased Twain's letter. I was wary of the dangers inherent in paraphrasing a paraphrase. I wanted to see Twain's own wording but could not find a published version. I took Kent Rasmussen's advice to heart and sought Bob Hirst's assistance. As a total stranger, I wrote to Bob to ask if he knew whether Twain's letter was published, and then I unabashedly made another request: “If not, is this something you would be able to help me find?” Bob promptly located the letter and sent me the transcript. (Twain's proposal was not pure chicanery; he used kerosene for his own chilblains in 1862, with striking benefit.)3Bob Hirst repeatedly came to my aid by locating essential documents, putting unrecognized names and events in context, and suggesting new leads. He rescued me once again in November 2002. An online discussion on the Mark Twain Forum mentioned Twain's outrage when he was asked to endorse a patent medicine that claimed to cure all illnesses. Twain vigorously attacked the patent medicine advertiser: “The person who wrote the advertisements is without doubt the most ignorant person now alive on the planet, also without doubt he is an idiot, an idiot of the 33rd degree, & scion of an ancestral procession of idiots stretching back to the Missing Link.” His anger was equally vehement toward the person who solicited his support: “A few minutes from now my resentment will have faded & passed, & I shall probably even be praying for you; but while there is yet time I hasten to wish that you may take a dose of your own poison by mistake & enter swiftly into the damnation which you & all other patent medicine assassins have so remorselessly earned & do so richly deserve.”Twain's comments were perfect material for my book, but the correct wording of his letter was in question. His original letter had passed through the hands of several collectors, and along the way, a dealer introduced errors into his transcription of the letter. The flawed version was broadcast on a nationally syndicated radio program in April 2000. A prior owner of the letter informed the Mark Twain Forum about the errors he identified in the recent variant (including substitution of the word “profession” in place of Twain's original “procession”).Twain's vibrant language alone begged for inclusion in a book on Mark Twain and medicine, but I was concerned about propagating a faulty rendition of the letter. I needed to see the original document to confirm its content. The collector who identified the aberrant wording did so from his memory of the original document, no longer available to him. He acknowledged the possibility of other inaccuracies he did not notice, then mentioned that he might have sent a copy of the document to the Mark Twain Project when it was in his possession. Now I at least had a lead to follow; once again, I turned to Bob Hirst for help, with the flimsiest identifiers for the letter. “Do you remember it?” I asked. “Unfortunately,” I confessed, “I don't know the date or the addressee.”Bob not only tracked down a copy of Twain's screed and sent me a reproduction but included copies of the four-page advertising brochure that provoked Twain's ire as well as the letter of solicitation that inspired Twain's anger. I was thus able to report Twain's reaction with confidence.4Bob Hirst and the Mark Twain Project were the intellectual resources I needed the most for writing and publishing Mark Twain and Medicine, the undertaking that seemed so far beyond my capability when it was first suggested by Kent Rasmussen. I stated my profound gratitude in the book's acknowledgements: “Robert Hirst and his colleagues at the Mark Twain Project have my everlasting thanks for the scholarly work they have done through the years in bringing Mark Twain to the public in a fashion that is unprecedented and unequalled; they are truly a national treasure, and this book could not exist without their work.”5As I once told Bob, one of my concerns about embarking on my project was the fear of introducing misinformation into Twain scholarship. The historical record has always been sacred to me. In my effort to explain and clarify, I was hypersensitive to the risk of getting something wrong. The attitude may be an extension of one of the tenets of my medical training (“first of all,” Hippocrates said, “do no harm”). Bob was always there to answer my questions and give needed advice, and I was always deeply appreciative of his assistance in helping me “get it right.”As I continue to explore and write about Twain, my target audience starts with myself. Does the topic interest me? Does my investigation extend or clarify my personal insight into Twain's life, literature, and times? Once I get past myself, the next reader I imagine is always Bob Hirst. I want my reports to be interesting and I want them to be correct. As a nontraditional Twain scholar (which may be the only kind there is), I do not want to contribute inaccuracies or infuse flawed interpretations into the greater body of knowledge. Once created, such errors are hard to eradicate. As I write about Mark Twain, I picture Bob Hirst constantly looking over my shoulder as my mentor. I don't know whether my grammar matters to him, but I know my information does. He is the epitome of accuracy and academic integrity. He is diplomatic. He is kind. He is approachable, welcoming, and encouraging. The Mark Twain Project is a unique and priceless resource, a piece of Americana like no other. Bob has simultaneously protected its integrity, promoted its utilization, and added to our understanding of Mark Twain with his scholarly insights. Thank you, Robert Hirst, from all of us who have benefited so much from you.