When I was a tween, I devoured mystery novels. Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, the Bobbsey Twins, Cherry Ames, the Happy Hollisters, Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Tommy and Tuppence, and Miss Marple were part of my daily life. And so was the distinctive and sometimes confusing vocabulary found in old detective books — words like henchmen, confederates, inquest, and most baffling of all, red herring.
Red herrings appeared frequently, especially in British mysteries. I knew a herring was a gull, so as a child I thought England must be teeming with red sea gulls. I can still recall the mental image I created of all the crimson birds flocking around Soldier Island when reading Agatha Christie’s “And Then There were None,” which I think is the first time I encountered the term. What I couldn’t understand was what a bird had to do with the story! But a herring, I later found out, is also a type of fish. And a red herring is one that has been smoked and has a very pungent scent — which cleared up nothing. Why would detective novels be so rife with smoked fish? Well, they’re not. The term red herring actually refers to a clue that is intended to be misleading. In a mystery novel, it’s false evidence planted by the culprit (or author) to lead the detective (or reader) away from the truth.
How exactly did a smoked fish come to be associated with a suspect’s throwing detectives off his trail? According to pieces in the journal “Comments on Etymology,” it’s a misinterpretation of British hunting practices first mentioned in the fifteenth century. A 1697 horsemanship text first suggested dragging a dead animal — preferably a cat but in a pinch a red herring — behind a hunting party to train horses to follow their trail without getting spooked by the gunshots. But 214 years ago, on February 14, 1807, radical journalist William Cobbett gave that a twist. In a piece castigating the traditional British press for allowing itself to be misled about a purported defeat of Napoleon, he compared the deluded reporters to a hunting hound who had been confounded by someone dragging a red herring across a rabbit’s trail and thus thrown off the hare’s scent. Apparently, he and later his son used the term this way so often that the meaning stuck.
Mystery solved. If red herrings and the other hallmarks of vintage detective stories are your thing too, check out the
Rhyme and Reason Books shop
and take a trip down memory lane with my vintage children’s mysteries and mystery-themed vintage craft supplies.