Your Fitter Grave

Your own proud land's heroic soil

Shall be your fitter grave;

She claims from war his richest spoil--

The ashes of her brave.

 

These stirring lines form the second half of the ninth octet of Theodore O'Hara's venerated poem "Bivouac of the Dead." Those of you who have taken a stroll through Arlington or Gettysburg national cemeteries have probably seen excerpts from this poem on plaques throughout the placid grounds. O'Hara penned the poem in 1847 (two years into the Franklin Expedition, interestingly enough) in memory of Kentucky troops killed in the Mexican-American War. The men of Franklin's lost expedition were not the victims of bayonets and artillery; rather, they succumbed to a different type of warfare--one that pitted them against nature's onslaught of cold, wind, and ice. Most of their remains are scattered across King William Island's desolate battlefield, largely impossible to discern from the mottled ground. Yet, almost miraculously, one nearly complete skeleton was plucked from KWI's grip by an intractable man with a real sense of purpose: Charles Francis Hall. Thanks to Hall, these remains eventually made their way back to England's welcoming shores, but there is a slight possibility that events could have transpired differently.

 

According to Richard J. Cyriax's Sir John Franklin's Last Arctic Expedition, widely regarded as the standard source of information on the tragedy, the Inuit told Captain Hall about two Kabloona graves and traces of an encampment near the Piffer (or Pfeffer) River on the southern coast of King William Island. In May 1869, Hall's party reached this site and uncovered the remarkably complete skeletal remains of a European. Hall sent the remains to one of his patrons who, in turn, sent them to Rear Admiral Inglefield, RN. Inglefield then brought the bones back to England, where they were examined by the redoubtable anatomist Thomas Huxley. With the help of relatives, a neat little gold tooth plug, and the distinctive features of the skull, Huxley identified the remains (with considerable certainty) as those of Lt. Henry T. D. Le Vesconte of the Erebus. With that being settled, the good lieutenant was reverently interred in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College in Greenwich.

 

It would seem that the return and fairly accurate identification of these remains would lay the matter to rest, so to speak, but there exists the slightest possibility that the skeleton, upon being identified as Le Vesconte's, could have been sent back across the Atlantic to southern Canada! A singularly excellent article by polar scholar Huw Lewis-Jones, "'Nelsons of Discovery': Notes on the Franklin Monument in Greenwich", contains a great deal of meticulously researched information on the Franklin monument in the Painted Hall and the Le Vesconte skeleton, including some invaluable family history.* Lt. Le Vesconte's father Henry was also a naval officer of some distinction and, after his retirement, the family relocated to what is now southern Ontario. Henry Sr. died in 1850 and quite probably outlived his son who had ventured into the Arctic five years before. Presumably, the Le Vesconte family has a burial plot in Belleville, Ontario. If that is indeed the case, the Le Vesconte remains could have been sent back to those family members to be interred alongside the father. Stranger yet, if Hall had somehow been able to make a positive identification while still on King William Island, the remains might not have even been sent to England! Henry T. D. Le Vesconte's mortal remains would be in a quiet family plot in Ontario instead of entombed in a legendary location. To add to the intrigue, recent investigations suggest that the skeleton belonged not to Le Vesconte, but to Harry D. S. Goodsir, acting assistant surgeon of the Erebus. That, however, is another tale.

 

Regardless of who owned those well-travelled bones, the Franklin monument in Greenwich is a most fitting place for their eternal repose. Let us part with the final octet of O'Hara's poem, which says it best:

 

Your marble minstrel's voiceless stone

In deathless song shall tell,

When many a vanquished ago has flown,

The story how ye fell;

Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight,

Nor time's remorseless doom,

Can dim one ray of glory's light

That guilds your deathless tomb.

 

*Further Le Vesconte family history can be found in my posts "Adventure Runs in the Family" and "The Viscount from the Beautiful Island", with links to the Wills family website. Also see this excellent website. 

 

 



Owen Beattie Makes Everyone Green

Green with envy, that is! At least, that's the theme of a Forward Prize-winning poem by UK poet and novelist Sheenagh Pugh. The poem appears in her anthology Stonelight, an eclectic collection that encompasses themes ranging from Arctic exploration to a tutor's urgings. "Envying Owen Beattie" is perhaps the least conventional in its message; as the title implies, Pugh yearns to be a part of the exhumations that unearthed Petty Officer John Torrington.

While I do not want to quote Pugh's poem directly (I did not request her permission to do that), I can tell readers of this blog that the piece is unabashedly honest. Pugh walks the reader through the emotional steps of the exhumation process via a series of tercets. The last four become very personal as Pugh contemplates bestowing a kiss upon the well-preserved body in an attempt to reawaken the young man who does not appear to be entirely deceased. Poetry on the Franklin Expedition abounds, but I know of no other poem that expresses such sentiments for a crewman.

Yet, just who was John Torrington? We know him as the chief stoker on board H.M.S. Terror. From what I've read, I know that he was new to the Royal Navy, a first entry. He was from Manchester, and his mother died in childbirth. By today's standards, he possessed very short stature. This is a frustrating paucity of information on a man who has oddly (and unwittingly) become the face of the Franklin Expedition.

Stonelight also contains poems about the geography and other explorers of the Arctic, including a rousing one about Elisha Kent Kane. Copies occasionally appear on eBay, and they are usually inexpensive.

January 1st will mark the 167th anniversary of John Shaw Torrington's passing. Let us take a moment to remember him and his comrades through poetry, prayer, or a few reverent thoughts. Doing so just might bring old John back to life....

Sir John and the Prince of Mountaineers

On the subject of mountaineering, I would like to mention another brave soul with a far more relevant connection to the Franklin Expedition: Edward Whymper. Dubbed "the Prince of Mountaineers" for his incredibly ambitious ascents (many of them firsts) of Alpine peaks, Whymper fared much better on the icy slopes than Maurice Wilson. He was also a man of great accomplishments, some of which may have been inspired by "Franklin and his gallant crew."

As a young man growing up in the 1850s, Whymper was immersed in the news of the futile searches for Franklin's lost Arctic expedition. His diary from his youth, edited by Ian Smith and published as The Apprenticeship of a Mountaineer: Edward Whymper's London Diary, is surprisingly laconic for a man of great aspirations, but he devoted at least a few sentences to his interest in the fate of Franklin. His family owned a successful wood engraving business, and young Edward made at least one Franklin-related image. Ian Smith, who is himself a mountaineer, recently authored an authoritative biography of Whymper, Shadow of the Matterhorn, that features an image of his print of a foundering HMS Terror on page 123. Whymper was undeniably a talented artist.

Smith, who is admirably thorough, mentions a few Whymper-Franklin connections, including Edward's association with Clements Markham, formerly a lieutenant on HMS Assistance, and his ownership of one of McClintock's sledges. Perhaps not too surprisingly, Whymper made plans to explore the Arctic himself, with the intent of penetrating remote regions of Greenland. He mentioned reading Elisha Kent Kane's account of the second Grinnell expedition in one of his London diary entries. Dr. Kane's words left such a lasting impression on Whymper that he decided to venture into those frozen wastes over a decade later.

I thoroughly recommend that readers of this blog get a read of both of Smith's books. Whymper is just one of probably many noteworthy figures who were inspired by the Franklin Expedition. In Whymper's case, the inspiration took him to great heights and secured his position as a formidable mountaineer and man of science.

A Curious Parallel

It is worth mentioning that some Franklin Expedition fanatics are also interested in the history of mountaineering. This is not too surprising; the perils and stark beauty of the polar regions are quite comparable to the frigid and breathtaking heights of the world's loftiest peaks. Both are witnesses to exhilarating feats of survival as well as horrendous tragedies. The eccentric (some might say "insane") women and men who brave the high latitudes also sometimes have a lot in common with their counterparts who tackle the high altitudes. I would like to address one similarity, perhaps just a coincidence, that is simply too strange to ignore.

David Woodman has very effectively captured the suffering that can transpire in extreme regions of the globe. His careful analyses of the Inuit testimony in Unravelling the Franklin Expedition reveal the horrors Franklin's officers and men had to endure. This literal trial by ice was not only physical, but mental. I can't help but think (and I'm not alone) that the combined effects of illness, lead poisoning, vicious weather, and starvation resulted in madness in at least some of those poor men. One curious particular might help to reinforce this sentiment: the well-preserved body found by Ogzeuckjeuwock and his mother Tooktoocheer, perhaps at Nuvertaro. The body of this Kabloona was "positively festooned with jewelry" (page 147). Woodman infers that this man might have been the last of his group to die. When Ogzeuckjeuwock "pulled the chain [hanging about the waist] it pulled the head up by the ears"--a macabre and puzzling detail. These two stood firm on their testimony, refusing to be told that they were perhaps mistaken. One wonders just what was going on inside that poor man's head that compelled him to embellish himself in such a fashion.

So, what does this have to do with mountaineering? Well, while reading the book Mountain Men: A History of the Remarkable Climbers and Determined Eccentrics Who First Scaled the World's Most Famous Peaks by Mick Conefrey and Tim Jordan, I came across a curious detail about the body of eccentric Maurice Wilson. Anyone familiar with Mt. Everest has probably heard of Wilson; those who have not will find a succinct article about him HERE. When Wilson's body was found on Everest's North Col, it was purportedly "festooned in women's handkerchiefs" (page 159). Conefrey and Jordan even used the same verb ("festooned")! Wilson was odd to begin with, but did the extreme conditions drive him to madness? Was it just a rumor generated by mistaken witnesses? Any conclusion is elusive.

The Arctic and the Himalayas are breathtaking places, but quite a few poor souls have taken their last breaths amid the cruel beauty. We will never know the full stories behind the cryptic behaviors of Maurice Wilson and the man found by Ogzeuckjeuwock and Tooktoocheer. All we can do is hope that they are at peace now, liberated from the torments of ostensible insanity.

Upon the China Station

The First Opium War, known more formally as the First Anglo-Chinese War, began in 1839 when relations between China and Great Britain deteriorated, largely due to massive quantities of British opium flooding the Chinese trade market. I will not elaborate on the moral implications and deleterious effects of this conflict (Wikipedia does an adequate job of that); rather, I would like to briefly mention the roles of several Royal Navy Men who would later become linked in a desperate fight for their survival in the Canadian Arctic.

HMS Volage was a 28-gun sixth rate ship that saw action during the early stages of the war. Young Thomas Hartnell, Able Seaman, served on her from January 1838 to May 1841 and was probably present during the First Battle of Chuenpee. This was an easy victory for the more maneuverable and heavily armed British ships. Thomas' older brother, John, joined the Volage in mid-September 1841, after Tom had already transferred to HMS Tortoise. One of Tom Hartnell's superior officers on the Volage was 1st Lt. Graham Gore; the two would later serve together on HMS Erebus on the last Franklin Expedition. The article "The Men who Sailed with Franklin" by Ralph Lloyd-Jones is an excellent source for the dates of service for Franklin's ratings.

Another young lieutenant (or "luff" in nautical parlance) who saw active service in the First Opium War was Henry T.D. Le Vesconte, who was appointed Mate of HMS Calliope, a ship very similar to the Volage. The Calliope was present at a number of key engagements, and even carried most of the Canton ransom money. After the war's end in 1842 (a victory for the British), Le Vesconte joined James Fitzjames on HMS Clio. William Battersby cleverly identified Fitzjames in the painting "The Signing of the Treaty of Nanking". Le Vesconte is also somewhere in this painting, perhaps standing  adjacent to his friend Fitzjames. Here is an image of that painting.

Readers will find an excellent summary of the First Anglo-Chinese War and its participants in Battersby's exquisite book James Fitzjames: The Mystery Man of the Franklin Expedition.

In writing this cursory post, this website was of great assistance. It is an index of Royal Navy ships and their services, and I recommend it to all of you.

The men who fought bravely in the First Opium War endured great hardships. It is a genuine tragedy that some of them would go on to endure further hardships in a much different environment, equally far-removed from their native Britain.

The Good Surgeon Is In: Alexander McDonald's Portrait and Prose

Richard Beard's daguerreotypes of Sir John Franklin and some of his officers give us a privileged glimpse into a world of wonder. These images help to provide an identity and soul to each of the heroic men the represent. That is why the absence of images for the officers of HMS Terror (with the exception of Captain Crozier) is so frustrating. We yearn to put faces with those names of yore. Fortunately, an acquisition by the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, UK, has helped us do just that, at least for one man: Assistant Surgeon Alexander McDonald.

McDonald's portrait, painted by an unknown artist circa 1840, was acquired by the NMM in late 2008. You can read about the acquisition and view a high-quality image of it HERE. You can also purchase a print of the portrait and read some brief biographical info HERE. Another article from the University of Calgary in Alberta, Canada, further illuminates the brief life of this intellectually gifted young man.

The surgeon had served in the Arctic on a whaler prior to joining the Franklin Expedition and published an account of his journey with the lengthy title A Narrative of Some Passages in the History of Eenoolooapik, a Young Eskimaux. You can read it HERE. The book includes important ethnographic information on the Inuit, and while I have not yet read it, I recommended it wholeheartedly. It is a historical gem.

Looking at the portrait of the boyish McDonald, it is incomprehensible to think that he would perish under terrible circumstances a mere few years after sitting before the unknown artist's canvas, his mind full of hope and unrealized dreams.

The Viscount from the Beautiful Island

In my previous post, I wrote about a famous cousin of Lt. Henry Thomas Dundas Le Vesconte. Now, I would like to shift focus to the good lieutenant himself, as well as a brief outline of his family's origins.

The Le Vesconte family traces its roots to the island of Jersey, one of the Channel Islands. Since 1875, the Societe Jersiaise, a society that promotes cultural studies of the island, has published the Annual Bulletin, a treasure trove of information on the history and people of the scenic island. It was through one of the Bulletin's articles, available HERE on theislandwiki, that I learned a bit about one of Sir John Franklin's ill-fated officers, including a remarkable example of family oral traditions.

The surname Le Vesconte is a corruption of the French term for viscount, vimconte. The Le Vescontes on H.T.D.'s line trace their origins to the island of Jersey and, subsequently, to Devon in the southern UK. One of their descendants, Jean Arthur, published the aforementioned Bulletin article in 1974. In it, the author detailed a quest to locate a Bible that H.T.D. took with him on the Franklin Expedition. According to the family's oral traditions, he was chosen for the Expedition "because of his knowledge of the Bering Strait." An unspecified search party later found his Bible in the snow, along with human remains. The former point puzzles me, as Lt. Le Vesconte had no prior experience in the Arctic, but his knowledge could have been obtained through study. Regardless, his friendship with Commander James Fitzjames was probably the main impetus behind his participation on the Expedition.

Arthur was able to examine a New Testament (found on King William Island) in the National Maritime Museum's collection and compare it with a sample of Lt. Le Vesconte's handwriting, but the comparison "proved inconclusive". Interestingly, the handwriting sample came from a lovely sketch of the Erebus and Terror by the lieutenant in 1845, which is reproduced in the article. Glenn M. Stein, FRGS, presents a thought-provoking discussion of this sketch HERE.

This simple example of family history opened up a doorway to a fascinating world for Jean Arthur. Such is the allure and mystique of all things Franklin: the mystery never ends, and one new discovery leads to a profusion of compelling questions.