Benjamin Leigh Smith discovered and named dozens of islands in the Arctic but published no autobiographical account of his pioneering explorations. He refused public accolades and sent stand-ins to deliver the results of his work to scientific societies. Yet, the Royal Geographic Society’s Sir Clements R. Markham referred to him as a polar explorer of the first rank. Traveling to the Arctic islands that Leigh Smith explored and crisscrossing England to uncover unpublished journals, diaries, and photographs, archaeologist and writer P. J. Capelotti details Leigh Smith’s five major Arctic expeditions and places them within the context of the great polar explorations in the nineteenth century.
Excerpt:
When Benjamin Leigh Smith was born amid the rolling countryside of East Sussex on March 12, 1828, the British naval officer William Edward Parry was publishing the results of his attempt to reach the North Pole from the islands north of Svalbard the previous summer. Parry, one of the most active Arctic explorers of his generation, had served as junior officer for John Ross’s search for the Northwest Passage in 1818, and then commanded three expeditions of his own in search of a solution to the mystery of the passage, before turning his attention to the North Pole.
The area of Svalbard from which Parry based his explorations, which for fifty years had been seen as a promising starting point for an expedition to the North Pole, would not see another Englishman for nearly another half-century. It would not be a cumbersome, flags-and-pennants- flying naval expedition of the type led by Parry, but instead would consist of a tiny civilian expedition on a small chartered sailing vessel and led by a polar neophyte, the now forty-three-year-old Benjamin Leigh Smith. Venturing reverently into the same area as Parry, Leigh Smith would eclipse the geographic work of his countrymen’s full-fledged Royal Navy expedition.
One might wonder how a well-to-do, middle-aged country squire like Leigh Smith, who could have lived out his days collecting rents and making a run for Parliament, found himself in a position to challenge the polar geographic research of the largest navy in the world. The reasons can be found in the great transformational polar event of the intervening years between Leigh Smith’s birth in 1828 and his first Arctic expedition in the summer of 1871. Ever confident in the discipline and organization of its navy to accomplish any task, Britain in the 1840s and 1850s experienced the massive cultural and institutional shock of the Royal Navy’s Franklin polar expedition catastrophe.
John Franklin, a career naval officer, was no stranger to polar exploration, having commanded a vessel in search of the North Pole as early as 1818. In 1845, in what was planned as the crowning achievement of a long and distinguished career, Franklin was ordered to solve, once and for all, the long-standing geographic problem of the Northwest Passage. Placed in command of two naval vessels heavily-reinforced for work in the Arctic, HMS Erebus and Terror, Franklin left Greenhithe in mid-May and his expedition was last seen station-keeping in Baffin Bay, awaiting favorable conditions to enter Lancaster Sound.
What happened next took the better part of the next century and a half and the efforts of at least twenty separate expeditions to find out. Franklin led his fleet into the thicket of islands that comprise the Canadian Arctic, pausing for the winter at Beechey Island, where three sail- ors died and were buried. The following spring of 1846, the ships turned south into Peel Sound and Franklin Strait, where Erebus and Terror were eventually frozen into the ice about twelve nautical miles northwest of King William Island. Beset in the ice, they would never leave it. Franklin himself died in 1847 at the age of 61, and, after a further eighteen months of increasing hopelessness, his surviving commanders abandoned their ships and led their remaining crew members in a desperate attempt to walk out of the Arctic.
Of the 134 officers and men who began the expedition at Greenhithe, five were invalided home from Greenland and the rest vanished into the North American Arctic. Their story was eventually worked out largely through the superhuman efforts of four men: the Scottish long-distance walker John Rae who learned some of the details from the Inuit of Boothia Peninsula in 1854; the Royal Navy’s Francis Leopold McClintock, whose 1857–59 expedition on board Fox discovered a brief written record on King William Island left by the survivors; the American explorer Charles Francis Hall, who recorded Inuit testimony about the fate of the sailors during his second expedition to the Arctic in 1864–69; and forensic anthropologist Owen Beattie and others in the 1980s, who found evidence to support a theory that Franklin’s men had had their reason impaired by the effects of lead poisoning from improperly sealed food tins.
The many years and even decades of news produced by the many expeditions sent in search of possible Franklin expedition survivors dominated Benjamin Leigh Smith’s formative years. During and just after his time at Jesus College at the University of Cambridge, no less than twelve separate expeditions involving hundreds of sailors were sent to scour the North American Arctic for any trace of Franklin, his men and his ships. Each of these searches was national news and almost every expedition made some contribution to filling in the complex geographic details and changing climatic conditions of the archipelago. And when the full extent of the catastrophe became apparent by the mid-1850s, it had the effect of dampening any further enthusiasm for polar exploration by the Royal Navy or any other national insitution for the better part of the next twenty years.
It is an open question how this protracted spectacle of government incompetence affected Leigh Smith’s world view. His was a wealthy life almost nakedly devoid of the need for government at any level. At the same time, the public history of Leigh Smith’s young adulthood was marked, not by a collective British pride in triumphant national geographic expeditions, but by a series of dramatic and largely private polar expeditions led by men from countries other than England, notably the United States, Sweden, Germany, and Austria-Hungary.
This atmosphere, during his college years, of private expeditions succeeding where public efforts had failed, was the exact opposite of the time Leigh Smith was born and in the decades preceding his birth. Then, from the Pacific explorations of James Cook to the exploits of Nelson at Trafalgar, there was very little, it seemed, that the Royal Navy could not achieve. One could even argue that it was this misplaced sense of technological and cultural superiority that made a tragedy like the Franklin expedition all but inevitable.