The Invalid's Story

“I belong in Cleveland, Ohio.”

The meaning of this statement made by the narrator early in the story is ambiguous. Readers don’t know if he lives in Cleveland or if he feels that is the proper place for him to be—as opposed to the fictional Bethlehem, Wisconsin, to which he is traveling, or Peoria, Illinois, the real destination of his friend’s remains. It may be Mark Twain’s way of saying that, as a writer of frontier humor, he belonged in the Midwest.

“I took the card, marked ‘Deacon Levi Hackett, Bethlehem, Wisconsin,’ and hurried off through the whistling storm to the railway station.”

The name of the deceased man’s father contributes to the Christian symbolism in the story. A deacon is a church leader; a Levi was a priest in the Hebrew Bible. The fact that the corpse is meant to be on its way to its father in Bethlehem shows that the dead man is symbolically Jesus. Since the box in the train car actually carries guns, Twain is using symbolism to poke fun at Christianity.

“There was something infinitely saddening about his calling himself to my remembrance in this dumb, pathetic way.”

The narrator’s attitude toward his departed friend, including his manner of speech, is proper and mournful. His manner contrasts sharply with that of the garrulous, grammatically incorrect Thompson, adding to the story’s humor.

“He gasped once or twice, then moved toward the cof—gun-box.”

At two points in the story, the narrator seems to forget that the “coffin” is really a box full of guns. The box is a symbol of the coffin that serves to illustrate The Nature of Mortality. Like this slip on the narrator’s part, the gun box shows the dead are not due any particular sentiment: a dead body might just as well be lifeless cargo.

“It’s perfectly awful, becuz you don’t know what minute they’ll rise up and look at you!”

Here Thompson is humorously describing times in which he has carried a coffin as cargo, only to have the coffin’s contents sit up and stare at him. In addition to alluding to the resurrection of Jesus, the quote suggests that the line between life and death is blurred.

“’Twould ’a’ ben a dum sight better, all around, if they’d started him along last summer.”

This quote from Thompson emphasizes the importance of the storm to the story. If the journey had taken place in the summer, the two characters would not have been in any danger as they tried to escape the smell of the Limburger cheese. Instead, they attempt to brave the cold in a series of escalating events that ultimately contribute to the narrator’s decline.

“Pretty soon it was plain that something had got to be done. I suggested cigars.”

This is the only one of the attempts at masking the odor in the train car that is initiated by the narrator, and it is the least exaggerated and humorous. The narrator’s mild-mannered suggestion emphasizes the contrast between him and the earthy, inventive Thompson.

“[H]e got to referring to my poor friend by various titles […] and I noticed that as fast as my poor friend’s effectiveness grew, Thompson promoted him accordingly.”

Thompson begins to refer to the supposed corpse with titles such as general, commodore, and governor to emphasize the growing smell in the train car. By the time he begins “promoting” the corpse, Thompson has already begun calling the narrator “Cap.” Given Thompson’s predilection for military titles, this is likely an abbreviation for “captain,” a lower military rank.

“It ain’t no use. We can’t buck agin him. He just utilizes everything we put up to modify him with, and gives it his own flavor and plays it back on us.”

Thompson repeatedly describes the corpse he believes to be inside the box as if it were alive. His attributions of power to the dead serve several purposes. They add to the humor, help readers to picture the ever-growing smell in the train car, and underscore the thematic point that life and death can be interchangeable.

“He had brought […] one thing or another: and he piled them on a breadth of sheet iron in the middle of the floor, and set fire to them.”

This sacrifice of a variety of fairly absurd items mimics the “burnt offerings” to God found in the Hebrew Bible. It supports Twain’s critique of institutional Christianity by giving a profane spin to a once-solemn religious ritual, showing that it is both meaningless and ineffective.

“And breaking for the platform, Thompson got suffocated and fell.”

This is the point in the story at which the characters decide they have to stay outside the train car on the platform. Within an hour, they are unconscious and have to be taken from the platform at the next station, presumably before the end of the 200-mile journey. The decision is a tribute to the overwhelming power of the smell inside the car.

“Yes, sir, we’re elected, just as sure as you’re born.”

In Calvinist Protestantism, humans are predestined or “elected” by God for salvation even before they have been born. Thompson’s words continue his assertion that the supposed corpse can “outvote” the characters. In this case, the corpse/smell has elected or destined the characters to illness.

“I went straight off into a virulent fever, and never knew anything again for three weeks.”

The narrator’s three-week illness masks a number of unanswered questions, including how he learned about the mix-up with the boxes and the true nature of the smell in the car. Readers don’t know where he spent this illness or how the body got to its intended destination. Twain might have intentionally left these questions hanging as a counterpoint to the narrator’s initial assertion that the story is a true one.