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The Arctic region has been the subject of much popular writing. This book considers nineteenth-century representations of the Arctic, and draws upon an extensive range of evidence that will allow the 'widest connections' to emerge from a 'cross-disciplinary analysis' using different methodologies and subject matter. It positions the Arctic alongside more thoroughly investigated theatres of Victorian enterprise. In the nineteenth century, most images were in the form of paintings, travel narratives, lectures given by the explorers themselves and photographs. The book explores key themes in Arctic images which impacted on subsequent representations through text, painting and photography. For much of the nineteenth century, national and regional geographical societies promoted exploration, and rewarded heroic endeavor. The book discusses images of the Arctic which originated in the activities of the geographical societies. The Times provided very low-key reporting of Arctic expeditions, as evidenced by its coverage of the missions of Sir John Franklin and James Clark Ross. However, the illustrated weekly became one of the main sources of popular representations of the Arctic. The book looks at the exhibitions of Arctic peoples, Arctic exploration and Arctic fauna in Britain. Late nineteenth-century exhibitions which featured the Arctic were essentially nostalgic in tone. The Golliwogg's Polar Adventures, published in 1900, drew on adult representations of the Arctic and will have confirmed and reinforced children's perceptions of the region. Text books, board games and novels helped to keep the subject alive among the young.
further ado. 3 This may be the reason why so many reconstructions of the Franklin expedition (the quest with no survivors) are now being published, at a time when what is at stake in the fast-melting, coveted areas of the North seems of far greater urgency than the fate of long-gone Victorian explorers. A seasoned explorer, John Franklin had led two expeditions by land mapping the coast of the Arctic Sea
accolades he received as well as pictures and descriptions of the far-off lands which he brought back from his explorations in the previous years. 11 The Times provided very low-key reporting of Arctic expeditions, as is evident from a study of its coverage of the departure of Sir John Franklin in 1845, and the numerous search
relics in the ‘Franklin Gallery’ at the Royal Naval Exhibition in 1891, and books such as A. H. Markham’s history of the exploration of the North West Passage, The Life of Sir John Franklin , 12 and G. Barnett Smith’s Sir John Franklin and the Romance of the North West Passage 13 exploited the commercial opportunity provided by the forthcoming occasion. The year 1895
A New Naval History brings together the most significant and interdisciplinary approaches to contemporary naval history. The last few decades have witnessed a transformation in how this topic is researched and understood, and this volume captures the state of a field that continues to develop apace. It examines – through the prism of naval affairs – issues of nationhood and imperialism; the legacy of Nelson; the sociocultural realities of life in ships and naval bases; and the processes of commemoration, journalism and stage-managed pageantry that plotted the interrelationship of ship and shore. This bold and original publication will be essential for undergraduate and postgraduate students of naval and maritime history. Beyond that, though, it marks an important intervention into wider historiographies that will be read by scholars from across the spectrum of social history, cultural studies and the analysis of national identity.
Search of Sir John Franklin , London, Day, 1853 Figure 4 E. W. Moss, ‘Cliffs near Sanderson Hope’, 1875–76 The combined effect of the Franklin disaster, McClure
Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2003). 45 This way of performing erudition and expertise as drudgery has not gone anywhere. In his own amusing departure from that dour demeanor, Grafton satirizes this performance by comparing the tedium of a footnote to the ‘high whine of the dentist’s drill,’ both of which serve to reassure: ‘the pain inflicted... is not random but directed, part of the cost that the benefits of modern science and technology exact.’ Grafton, Footnote, p. 5. 46 John Franklin Jameson, ‘The influence of universities upon historical
narrator empties the Thames of active contradiction, just as it empties it of historicity. This is a strategy of ideological neutralisation that produces a static not dynamic geography, reads the Thames as a stable referent, defined by nation and service alone. This process also collapses the late nineteenthcentury operations of the City, their temporality and specificity, into a dehistoricised space of mercantilism, just as it equates the men who captained ships (Francis Drake, John Franklin) with the ships themselves (the Golden Hind, the Erebus, the Terror): The old
were necessitated by the uncertain reach of Imperial legislation. The first such law was enacted by John Franklin, Governor of Van Diemen’s Land, in 1837. While his Act for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals prospered, it paralleled a private bounty sanctioned by his wife Jane to rid the island of serpents. Otherwise, she was informed, snakes ‘would rise up again in increased numbers on any
confidently asserted, ‘follows’. 11 Interpretations of the settler home as a miniature ‘panopticon’ or prison house drew fulsomely upon understandings of the domestic sphere as a ‘natural’ site. Assignment, Governor John Franklin (1837–43) observed, provided a form of discipline in which ‘the convict is the least removed from the natural condition’. It was to be considered