The Men of the Franklin Expedition (Part 1)

“A letter always seemed to me like Immortality, for is it not the mind alone, without corporeal friend?” – Emily Dickinson, 1882

This summer I had the great fortune to work as a placement student for the University of Cambridge’s Polar Museum, one of several public-facing aspects of the Scott Polar Research Institute (SPRI). I was tasked with beginning the Arctic Cataloguing Project–fleshing out object and biographical entries in the catalogue in preparation for its addition to the SPRI website. I focused primarily on the Franklin and Nares Expeditions as they comprise a majority of the Polar Museum’s Arctic collection. As a historian and museum professional obsessed (to put it mildly) with the Franklin Expedition, this was an absolute boon for me. It meant I got to spend prodigious amounts of time in the SPRI Archives looking at letters written by members of the Franklin Expedition.

Much of the Franklin-related material in the SPRI Archives‘ extensive collection came from the Lefroy sisters, Sir John Franklin’s great nieces, who presumably inherited their collection via Lady Jane Franklin and their aunt, Sophia Cracroft. A few odds and ends were contributed by the Gell family, descendants of Franklin’s daughter Eleanor. Among their extensive document collection were letters and journals written by Franklin, Francis R.M. Crozier, James Fitzjames, Edward Couch, Stephen Stanley, Alexander McDonald,  and John Gregory. SPRI Archives also holds further letters by Fitzjames, held by the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, in facsimile.

Going through these documents I had an opportunity to get to know Franklin and his men in their own words, to see them as people rather than static figures in history. My undergraduate professor at Boston University, Cathal Nolan, taught me that the most important qualities a historian can possess are empathy and the ability to humanize the people of the past. In the spirit of fostering those qualities in others, I wanted to share some of my findings. Some of the biographies recorded here were compiled from various letters, not just those written by the individual himself.

Let me start, then, with two men whose personalities and writing styles could not have been more diametrically opposed: Sir John Franklin and Alexander McDonald.

Sir John Franklin (Commander)

Anthony Brandt, in his biography of Franklin, remarks that Franklin was not a gifted writer:

His correspondence tended to the stiff and formal, and he was aware of that fact, confessing to his first wife that he was not adept at putting his feelings into words. He had a positive horror of writing and dreaded the task of writing the account of [his first overland] expedition he knew faced him on his return (Brandt, 2001:138).

Based on his letters and journals in the SPRI Archives, I’m inclined to agree. The Archives holds a vast array of documents written by Sir John, most of which were donated by his great-nieces, Isabel, Jessica, and Louisa Lefroy. As so much has already been written about Sir John, I only read a piece of his journal pertaining to his 1828 trip to the Russian Imperial Court (Franklin, 1828). His writing was static to say the least. He focused on parties, dinners, and the famous people who attended them. It was like a high society column in a newspaper rather than a personal journal.

I gained more insight into Franklin’s character by looking at what others wrote about him. Captain James Fitzjames, who was a prolific and engaging writer, referred to Franklin as ‘the old gentleman’ (Fitzjames, 1845-b) and described him as ‘a most delightful person and full of anecdotes of his adventures and journeyings’ (Fitzjames, 1845-a). Given how delightfully sarcastic Fitzjames could be, I have to wonder if this passage translates to ‘our Commander cannot stop talking about his own exploits’.

First Mate Edward Couch (HMS Erebus) was a touch more lenient in his description:

Old Franklin is an exceedingly good old chap. All are quite delighted with him and very clever. He is quite a Bishop. We have church, morning & evening on Sundays. The evening service in the cabin to all the watch that could not attend in the forenoon to do so in the evening. […] Gives sermons out of his sermon books & I can assure you, adds a great deal himself (Couch, 1845).

Sir John was undoubtedly a very pious man who seems also to have been well-liked by at least his officers–even if, as they seem to suggest, he liked to hear himself talk.

Prior to appointing Sir John as the Commander of the Northwest Passage Expedition, the Admiralty had questioned his abilities based on his age and relative health. Talk of Sir John’s health certainly didn’t end with his appointment, however. Stephen Samuel Stanley, Surgeon on the HMS Erebus, wrote to Dr. John Richardson, a veteran of Sir John’s First Overland Expedition, with an update on his Commander’s health before the Expedition disappeared into the Canadian Arctic: ‘He seldom takes snuff more than once a day, and that consists of one pinch only. Whether this broken habit has anything to do with his improved state of health or not I cannot say’ (Stanley, 1845). It appears that even Sir John had some little vices of his own, although he sought to correct them.

But whatever his health, Sir John seems to have been too stubborn to let his age and physical fitness get the better of him. Sir John accompanied Couch during walk on the Whale Islands to make sketches and take bearings, perhaps as a show of solidarity with his men and as proof of his physical capabilities.

Couch writes,

Old Sir John came up with us. Very rough barren place, so I was obliged to help him up & down every minute. All the climbing places. I was surprised to see him attempt anything so risky but he managed very well considering (Couch, 1845).

Sir John, the mild-mannered officer whom many seem eager to disparage, was nothing if not determined to prove himself–to the Admiralty, to his men, and perhaps even to himself.

Alexander McDonald (Assistant Surgeon, HMS Terror)

Alexander McDonald was one of the more colorful characters I encountered in the Archives. His letters had a certain dramatic flare to them that, to me, marked him as an outgoing and flamboyant young man. On all his letters he drew a large, elegant, looping design in red ink next to the address and sealed with letter with a very specific wax seal–a skull in three-quarters view stamped into red wax. It seems fitting for a doctor and yet quite dramatic. He also appears to have been fond of cigars, although he wasn’t proud of that fact. ‘Do you still smoke as much as ever?,’ he wrote to his father. Due to the smoking restrictions aboard his assigned ship, he said, ‘I cannot manage more than two cigars or so in the evening now… I am glad of that for I’ll soon conquer the habit’ (McDonald, 1841-b). He affectionately signed his letters ‘Alex’.

The contents of his letters are just as vivid. SPRI Archives holds letters from McDonald to his father, Robert, a friend identified only as ‘James’, and Captain William Penny, a whaler from Aberdeen. In the letters to his father and James, he scolded them for not writing him more. McDonald seems to have liked receiving letters; it is unclear whether the people in his life were neglecting their responsibility to respond or if McDonald was simply impatient for correspondence. While reading these letters, I imagined his petulance at having been ‘ignored’ by the people in his life and, frankly, had to laugh.

He identifies his father Robert as a ‘snuff box maker’ living in ‘Lawrencekirk, Kincardineshire’, 32 miles south of the major whaling port of Aberdeen (McDonald, 1841-a); McDonald may have grown up in Lawrencekirk as well. Robert McDonald was perhaps considered a skilled laborer and more likely than not a member of the working class (see Landow, 2001-a, 2001-b). Robert’s possible class status makes it rather remarkable that Alexander was able to attend medical school in Edinburgh. Alexander was a student in Edinburgh in 1837 but it is unclear when he began or finished his studies. During that time, McDonald appears to have lived the life of a (in his estimation) poor student. Several times he asked Penny, a close friend, for a loan of several pounds (McDonald, 1838, 1837-a, 1837-b). His money troubles aside, McDonald described his days in med school as dull (McDonald, 1845).

He must have graduated some time before 1841 as he wrote his 11 October, 1841 letter to his father from the HMS Belvidere. Shortly before boarding the Belvidere, he lived in London with the Shand family. ‘The [Shand] house,’ he wrote, ‘was full of navy and army surgeons, all from Scotland, and we enjoyed ourselves very well’ (McDonald, 1841-a). Whilst aboard the Belvidere, he served as the Assistant Surgeon under a ‘Mr. Geddes’ but acted as the primary surgeon as Geddes often stayed in London (McDonald, 1841-a, 1841-b). ‘I think I have managed [sole medical charge of the ship] to [Geddes’] satisfaction,’ McDonald wrote with pride (McDonald, 1841-b). The Belvidere, according to McDonald, was stationed in Plymouth and Spitshead and would proceed to Malta making stops at ‘Lisbon, Leghorn, and Gibralter [sic]’ (ibid).

In early March, 1845, McDonald was paid off of the Belvidere and within a matter of weeks and began preparation for exams that would allow him to be promoted, presumably to Surgeon. Shortly after leaving the Belvidere, McDonald accepted a placement with the Franklin Expedition as the Assistant Surgeon aboard HMS Terror. ‘The appointment is a good one,’ he wrote to Penny.

While the appointment was indeed a good one, it was also ill-fated. The last McDonald letter in the SPRI Archive is dated 11 July, 1845, meaning it was sent back to England in the Expedition’s last batch of letters. After that final letter to ‘James,’ Alexander McDonald disappeared into the Canadian Arctic with the rest of Franklin’s crew. Penny, one of his regular pen pals, would later join the search efforts to find either the Expedition’s survivors or their remains. He, like so many others, was unsuccessful in that regard.

Bibliography

Brandt, Anthony (2001) The Man Who Ate His Boots: Sir John Franklin and the Tragic History of the Northwest Passage (London: Jonathan Cape).

Couch, Edward (1845) Letters to his parents, 4-11 July 1845; SPRI Archives, MS 248/363.

Fitzjames, James (1845-a) Letter to William Coningham, 29 May 1845, Papers (1825-45) [microfilm]; SPRI Archives, MS 1214/1-2.

— (1845-a) Letter to Elizabeth Coningham, 5 June 1845, Papers (1825-45) [microfilm]; SPRI Archives, MS 1214/1-2.

Franklin, John (1828) Journal for September 1828; SPRI Archives, MS 248/285;BJ Journal.

Landow, George P. (2001-a) ‘The Hierarchies of Victorian Workers: Craftsman, Semi-skilled Factory Operatives, and Laborers,’ The Victorian Web <http://www.victorianweb.org/victorian/history/work/burnett7.html> [accessed 16 Oct 2017].

— (2001-b) ‘The Prince of Victorian Manual Workers: The Skilled Craftsman,’ The Victorian Web <http://www.victorianweb.org/victorian/history/work/burnett8.html> [accessed 16 Oct 2017].

McDonald, Alexander (1836) Letter to William Penny, 30 Dec 1836; SPRI Archives, MS 116/45/1.

— (1837-a) Letter to William Penny, 12 Jan 1837; SPRI Archives, MS 116/45/2.

— (1837-b) Letter to William Penny, 6 Mar 1837; SPRI Archives, MS 116/45/3.

— (1841-a) Letter to Robert McDonald, 11 Oct 1841; SPRI Archives, MS 312/1.

— (1841-b) Letter to Robert McDonald, 14 Dec 1841; SPRI Archives, MS 312/2.

Stanley, Stephen Samuel (1845) Letter to Dr. John Richardson, 12 July 1845; SPRI Archives, MS 248/476.