Introduction
After the end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815, the British Royal Navy had the opportunity and ample excess personnel to resume, “with an ardour worthy of a great maritime nation” (Beechey, Reference Beechey1843, p. 23), the exploration of the Arctic regions that it had begun in 1773. The goal was to find a Northwest Passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific to serve as a new trade route. Between 1818 and 1836, at least six Admiralty-organised expeditions were sent out for this purpose. While these made valuable contributions to geography and science, the Passage eluded them. By 1834, Arctic veteran Captain Sir John Ross answered the question of whether he thought that finding the Passage would “be attended with any public benefit” with a clear “I believe it would be utterly useless.” (Barrow, Reference Barrow1846, p. 509) Arctic expeditions increasingly focused on scientific research and the expansion of geographical knowledge, while being the first to complete the Northwest Passage became a mere matter of prestige. In December 1844, Second Secretary to the Admiralty Sir John Barrow (1764–1848) presented a proposal for a renewed attempt to First Lord of the Admiralty Haddington, adding in a private letter to him: “The Admiralty having done so much it would be most mortifying and not very creditable, to let another Naval Power complete what we had begun.” (TNA, ADM 7/187) Sailing out from Greenhithe on 19 May 1845, the new Arctic expedition under Captain Sir John Franklin on HMS Erebus (Captain James Fitzjames) and HMS Terror (Captain Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier) was tasked with conducting valuable magnetic observations and finally completing the long-sought-after Northwest Passage. But unprecedented tragedy struck when the entire Franklin expedition went missing and perished.
This article analyses the commission, reception, and exhibition history of one of the best-known images associated with the Franklin expedition: Stephen Pearce’s painting The Arctic Council planning a search for Sir John Franklin (1851). Despite its renown, the painting’s contents and purpose have often been misunderstood from the beginning. Although it was a private commission by the Admiralty’s Keeper of the Records, John Barrow Jr. (1808–1898), the painting served a public propaganda role from the outset to commemorate and promote the search for Franklin. It has been publicly exhibited on numerous occasions, and Barrow ultimately bequeathed it to the National Portrait Gallery, where it was on display for decades but now remains in storage. During the 1850s, it served as pro-Franklin Search propaganda at crucial moments, and after a long hiatus, the painting was reintroduced to the public in the 1890s, joining the iconography of the New Navalism campaign aimed at restoring the British public’s faith in the Royal Navy and fostering renewed interest in British polar exploration.
Historiography
While an image of The Arctic Council (Fig. 1) adorns many books about the Franklin expedition and Arctic exploration, the painting itself and its contemporary purpose have never been adequately analysed. There are three previous articles about The Arctic Council, which were all published in Polar Record. The oldest article, a short piece from 1952, is anonymous but probably written by the editor, Dr. Colin Bertram, the then-director of the Scott Polar Research Institute. It was written to mark the centenary of the supposed formation of the “Arctic Council,” which the article describes thus: “by 1851 the plans of these [search] expeditions were placed in the hands of the ‘Arctic Council’, appointed by the Admiralty and consisting of the most prominent ‘Arcticists’ of the period.” (Anonymous, 1952, p. 385) Brief biographies of some of the men depicted in the painting are then provided, copied directly from Naval biographer William O’Byrne’s descriptive key, which accompanied the engraving of the painting. This booklet by O’Byrne introduces the men in the group portrait as “those to whom the maturing of the plans of the various searching enterprises has been entrusted […] - The members of the Arctic Council.” (O’Byrne, Reference O’Byrne1851, p. 8) However, the first two biographies O’Byrne gives are of Captain Sir John Franklin and Captain James Fitzjames, whose portraits hang on the wall in the painting, and who were the ones being searched for. O’Byrne’s statement that the painting depicts an Admiralty-appointed Arctic Council responsible for organising the Franklin Search expeditions sowed the seed for subsequent confusion about whether a real meeting of an actual Arctic Council was depicted. Pearce himself titled his painting The Arctic Council planning a search for Sir John Franklin, and the July 1851 subscription form for the engraving of the painting refers to it as a “historical picture” of “this deeply interesting meeting” (Pamphlet by Henry Graves & Co., 1851, NPG Archive, Registered Packet 1208), suggesting that it was of a documentary nature. A 1988 article by polar historian Ian Stone provides an overview of all the Arctic portraits by Pearce in the National Portrait Gallery’s collection, including The Arctic Council. About the latter, Stone explains that “as is well known, the group portrayed never actually met as such,” but offers no further analysis of the painting. (Stone, Reference Stone1988, p. 56) The article’s purpose is to give “a brief account of the painter and a full list of his polar portraits” (Stone, Reference Stone1988, p. 55), and Stone concludes that Pearce’s Arctic portraits “constitute a primary source of the greatest importance” because “the accuracy of his [Pearce’s] works is attested to by the contemporary naval biographer W.R. O’Byrne, and they enable a clear impression to be gained of the personalities being dealt with.” (Stone, Reference Stone1988, p. 58) For his 2004 article, “The Arctic Council of 1851: fact or fancy?,” geographer William Gillies Ross consulted Admiralty records and literature in search of contemporary references to the Arctic Council to determine whether it was an official body. Finding none in the former and only misguided ones in the latter, he concluded that the confusion must have originated with Pearce’s painting and that there was no official Arctic Council (Gillies Ross, Reference Gillies Ross2004, p. 140).
Stephen Pearce, The Arctic Council planning a search for Sir John Franklin (1851), National Portrait Gallery, London, NPG 1208. © National Portrait Gallery, London. Standing (left to right): Sir George Back, Sir William Edward Parry, Edward Bird, Sir James Clark Ross, John Barrow Jr., Sir Edward Sabine, William Baillie-Hamilton, and Sir John Richardson. Seated (left to right): Sir Francis Beaufort and Frederick William Beechey. On the wall (left to right): Sir John Franklin, James Fitzjames, Sir John Barrow.
Naval historian Andrew Lambert describes The Arctic Council as having been commissioned “for the private edification of a man [John Barrow Jr.] who had done his utmost to advance the search, to commemorate his fellow labourers” and to make heroes out of them (Lambert, Reference Lambert2009, p. 311). In his study of the culture and politics of the heroic and the public reception of Arctic exhibitions, historian Huw Lewis-Jones finally correctly recognises The Arctic Council as a propaganda tool for the first time, stating that it was used as “a prop to apply pressure on the Government and stir up sentiment and support for more searches.” (Lewis-Jones, Reference Lewis-Jones2019, p. 262) However, Lewis-Jones focused on the 1891 Royal Naval Exhibition, which included The Arctic Council, and the painting’s previous exhibition history is merely summarised as having been widely shown in the mid-nineteenth century.
The Arctic Council has also been discussed in several widely read popular history books. Journalist Fergus Fleming’s Barrow’s Boys features an entire chapter on “The Arctic Council – or Committee.” Gillies Ross says that Fleming provides “a wealth of extraordinary details” (Gillies Ross, Reference Gillies Ross2004, pp. 137–138), but these are unreferenced and seem to be based on the latter’s imagination. According to Fleming, the Arctic Council “had been born in the mid-1830s as an advisory group to filter proposals for attempts on the North-West Passage.” (Fleming, Reference Fleming1998, p. 381) He further states that John Barrow Jr. became the co-ordinator of this council after his father Sir John Barrow’s death and that Lady Franklin was one of its most influential members (Fleming, Reference Fleming1998, p. 382). In his book The Arctic Grail, journalist Pierre Berton misunderstood The Arctic Council’s context and purpose. He uses the painting to illustrate that the British did not acknowledge the Inuit’s role in helping them survive in the Arctic:
In the famous painting of the so-called Arctic Council (which never met as a body), there is one face missing. Even Franklin is there, though Franklin was long dead when the faces of his contemporaries were immortalized in oils. But where is the symbolic Eskimo? Like the ghost at the banquet, he is unseen. Yet without him the painting is incomplete and the Arctic Council has no meaning. (Berton, Reference Berton1988, p. 338).
Contradictorily, Berton refers to an Arctic Council throughout his book, making it look like it was an official body. Franklin was not considered to be dead when the painting was made. Although the Inuit’s role in the search for Franklin is invaluable, it is not relevant to analysing The Arctic Council, which had a specific propaganda and commemorative purpose. Its contents are carefully designed to achieve its intended goal and convey all the meaning it needs to.
Unfortunately, the myth of The Arctic Council depicting an official body continues today, even in academic literature. The relatively recent book Governing the North American Arctic opens its chapter about the Arctic Council (which in the present day is an actual official council) with the information that in the 19th century, the Arctic Council was “an extraordinary group of British military and political leaders, who were responsible for the burst of Arctic expeditions after the Napoleonic Wars. […] They survive unforgettably in Stephen Pearce’s remarkable painting that captures an imaginary meeting of Sir John Barrow and others planning to rescue Sir John Franklin.” (English, Reference English, Berry, Bowles and Jones2016, p. 217).
The commission of The Arctic Council
After two years of no tidings of the Franklin expedition, the Admiralty sent out the first Search expeditions in the spring of 1848, by sea under the command of Sir James Clark Ross and overland under Sir John Richardson. A third expedition under Captain Henry Kellett was sent to the Behring Sea in case Franklin had made it there. All returned without discovering anything of Franklin’s whereabouts or fate. The 1850–51 Search expedition under Sir Horatio Austin had departed for the Arctic in March 1850, around the time when John Barrow Jr. commissioned his friend Stephen Pearce to paint a large group portrait of those who had been instrumental in organising and advising on the Franklin Search expeditions (Pearce, Reference Pearce1903, p. 59). The Franklin expedition and its disappearance held a personal significance for Barrow Jr., as one of his dearest friends, Captain James Fitzjames, whom he loved like a brother (Letter John Barrow Jr. to Elizabeth Coningham, 2 November 1854, NMM, MRF/89), was the third-in-command of the expedition. When Sir James Clark Ross embarked on his Search expedition, Barrow Jr. made his feelings clear to him in a 6 May 1848 letter: “Should you fortunately fall in with the expedition, say all that is kind from me. They have caused me many an anxious hour. With Captn Fitzjames I am sure you will be pleased, and I doubt not that he will have given great satisfaction to Sir John Franklin.” (SPRI, MS 1226/2/1) In August 1850, Austin’s expedition had made the important discovery of three Franklin expedition graves on Beechey Island and remnants of their Winter 1845–46 camp at Cape Riley, news which was made public in early October 1850. Among the relics found were scraps of paper containing the handwriting of Captain Fitzjames. When pasting these scraps into a volume of the Admiralty’s Arctic Papers, Barrow Jr. lovingly annotated them with the message that Fitzjames was “One of the bravest – the best – & most amiable officers in the British Navy.” (TNA, ADM 7/190)
While John Barrow Jr. was a meticulous archivist of both his official and private correspondence related to Arctic matters, he did not appear to have retained any correspondence concerning his commission of The Arctic Council. Hopefully, this material does exist somewhere in a private collection. The only mention the present author could find is in a 7 May 1850 letter from Barrow Jr. to Sir George Back, who appears in the group portrait and seems to have advised on it:
Thanks for your kindness about the painting. The minute I mentioned was subject to Graves & Co - They asked to engrave it: - Exhibit it &c
I propose putting Cap: Hamilton into it. He has taken a very decided & active part in the Relief question & has fairly earned his position. It puts me too at my ease. He will take the place of Cap: Bird, whom I only thought of asking - but who, as you know, has not been in command. Sabine will be a valuable addition. (SPRI, MS 395/37/2).
Although no available source details Barrow Jr.’s motivation for the commission in his own words, his letter to Back shows that making an engraving of the painting and thus ensuring it would be widely available was the intention from the earliest stages of the commission. This confirms that the painting had an intended propaganda role from its inception. Captain Edward Bird, who was the second-in-command on Sir James Clark Ross’ Search expedition, was ultimately included in the painting. Gillies Ross assumed that Barrow Jr. “was not vain enough to have himself painted in” and that “one suspects that Lady Franklin insisted that he and Hamilton [Captain William Bailie-Hamilton had succeeded Sir John Barrow as Second Secretary to the Admiralty in 1845.] should be represented. She was in close communication with both men, and greatly appreciated their dedication to the search for her husband.” (Gillies Ross, Reference Gillies Ross2004, p. 135) However, the painting was not commissioned by Lady Franklin. No sources are provided for his suspicions, and Gillies Ross evidently had not seen the letter quoted above. While Barrow Jr. could have left himself out of the portrait out of modesty, his place in it is warranted as someone whose exertion and emotional involvement in organising the Search expeditions was equal to Lady Franklin’s. She told Barrow Jr. around November 1849:
I cannot tell you how deeply I feel your unwearied exertions — I am always afraid that every body will get tired at last, but you, compelled alike by principle & feeling, have made me believe you will never fail — God knows how I want such a support — I should like Captn Hamilton to know how much I feel his kind interest & exertions too. (Undated, TNA, ADM 7/189).
Analysis of The Arctic Council
The Arctic Council planning a search for Sir John Franklin depicts an imagined meeting of a group of primarily Arctic veterans, who were all involved in the search for the Franklin expedition, as advisors and/or active searchers. Three of the men, Sir James Clark Ross, Sir John Richardson, and Captain Edward Bird, were on the first Search expeditions of 1848–49. However, three others had never been to the Arctic at all: Hydrographer Sir Francis Beaufort, Captain William Bailie-Hamilton, and the commissioner of the painting himself, John Barrow Jr. On the wall, three men who are not physically present are represented as portraits. They are Sir John Barrow (who died on 23 November 1848), Sir John Franklin, and Captain James Fitzjames. While the portraits on the wall could be interpreted as commemorating individuals who have all passed away, O’Byrne’s descriptive key of The Arctic Council refers to Franklin and Fitzjames in the present tense. They are described as being merely absent while employed on the missing expedition (O’Byrne, Reference O’Byrne1851, pp. 10–11). At this point, the Search expeditions were still considered to be rescue missions. On 4 May 1851, Barrow Jr. wrote to Captain Erasmus Ommanney, who was serving on the 1850–51 Search expedition, that he hoped that “you will have been able to discover & receive Sir John Franklin, Crozier, Fitzjames & all their brave associates & that my life may be spared to hear the joyful news.” (RGS, EO/3/1/9)
In his memoir, Stephen Pearce says that Parry and Richardson could not come to his London studio. Unable to transport the large canvas, Pearce took small canvases to their residences at Haslar Hospital in Gosport (Pearce, Reference Pearce1903, pp. 52–53). It may be presumed that all the other sitters’ portraits were painted at Pearce’s studio, since he does not mention visiting anyone else. There are, however, individual studies of all the sitters except Back and Bird, and all of these are now also in the NPG’s collection. In The Arctic Council, the likenesses are collaged around a table strewn with letters and maps, giving the impression of great activity. The men, however, seem rather lifeless, like emotionless wax figures. Franklin Search veteran Captain Sherard Osborn, whose portrait would be painted by Pearce years later, remarked to Barrow that Pearce fails to “throw any soul” into the countenance because “painting horses & dogs is prejudicial I am sure to good spirited painting.” (Sherard Osborn to John Barrow, 15 August 1859, British Library, Add MS 35.309) In addition to his portraits of people, Pearce painted many hunting scenes and equine and canine portraits.
There are two separate groups in The Arctic Council, the individuals are arranged so they appear to interact with each other within their group. Group one is standing to the left, with Parry staring past Back while pointing at the map the latter is holding and looking down at. To the right, Bird, Beaufort, Barrow Jr., Sabine, and Bailie-Hamilton are looking at Richardson, who is pointing at the map on the table. Ross and Beechey are seemingly disengaged from what is going on around them, staring absentmindedly into the distance. Something that adds to the lifelessness is that everyone’s mouths are shut; no one is actually speaking. The large map in the middle of the table shows the countries around the North Pole (Fig. 2). It appears to be a variation on and an abstract version of the 1850–1851 edition of John Arrowsmith’s map (Fig. 3). Richardson’s finger points to the area around Wellington Channel. A committee comprising Parry, Back, Beechey, and Richardson recommended that the upper part of Wellington Channel be further searched, believing that Franklin had gone north rather than south. When the only surviving written record of the Franklin expedition, the Victory Point Note, was found in 1859, it indeed turned out that Franklin had gone up Wellington Channel at one point but had gone down again to Beechey Island to overwinter (Cyriax, Reference Cyriax2021, p. 82).
Detail of The Arctic Council. © National Portrait Gallery, London.
John Arrowsmith, Map Of The Countries Round The North Pole, c.1850–1851.
Source: raremaps.com.
Near the map lies a red leather briefcase with the word “Admiralty” in gold lettering, surrounded by two letters with partially legible writing (Fig. 4). Through these two letters, Lady Franklin is represented in the painting, and American aid in the Franklin Search is acknowledged. Her correspondents are American merchant Henry Grinnell, who took a warm interest in the search for Franklin and financed an American search expedition; and Lieutenant Edwin Jesse De Haven of the US Navy, the leader of Grinnell’s expedition, which had departed New York on 22 May 1850. The legible lines in Grinnell’s letter say: “My dear Madam […] I wish they may be the honoured ones to restore to you your husband, & his associates to their friends. With great respect, I am Madam, Your friend, Henry Grinnell.” De Haven’s letter says: “and my highest ambition will be […] restored to their country and friends again. With the highest respect, I am Dear Madam, Your obedt Servt, Edwin J. De Haven, Lieut. U.S.N.” In the lower left corner of both letters, it says “(To) Lady Franklin.” The original letters are presumably among Lady Franklin’s papers at the Scott Polar Research Institute. Underneath De Haven’s letter is a map titled Arctic America, where Cockburn Island, Gulf of Boothia, and Melville Peninsula are visible (Fig. 5).
Detail of The Arctic Council. © National Portrait Gallery, London.
Detail of The Arctic Council, flipped 180°. © National Portrait Gallery, London.
It is also interesting to observe who has not been included in this group portrait of Arctic and Franklin Search worthies. If one does not know the context of the commission, a glaring omission appears to be Captain Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier, the second-in-command of the Franklin expedition. Crozier’s biographer Michael Smith remarks that “even Fitzjames” was included while “Crozier, unaccountably, was not considered worthy of inclusion.” (Smith, Reference Smith2021, p. 271) Fergus Fleming states that “Crozier, the untutored Irishman, was obviously considered unworthy of inclusion.” (Fleming, Reference Fleming1998, p. 382) Fitzjames’ biographer, William Battersby, correctly argues that, since Crozier had never been a friend of Barrow Jr. and the latter was the one commissioning the painting, it makes sense that Fitzjames, rather than Crozier, was included. However, Battersby also notes that “the unfairness of excluding Crozier from this depiction has often been commented on” (Battersby, Reference Battersby2010, p. 185), but aside from Smith and Fleming, the present author has found no discussion of Crozier’s exclusion in any other sources.
When the painting was first exhibited, only one newspaper remarked upon Crozier’s exclusion. The Sun of 24 July 1851 said: “One omission we regret, though, perhaps, for reasons unknown to ourselves it may have been unavoidable, that of Captain Crozier, the distinguished comrade of Sir John Franklin.” On a practical level, including a portrait of Crozier would have been just as feasible as including a portrait of Fitzjames. Lady Franklin commissioned photographer Richard Beard to take daguerreotype portraits of the officers of the Erebus and of Crozier of the Terror before their departure. Fitzjames’ portrait in The Arctic Council appears to be modelled on his daguerreotype. Lady Franklin owned a set of these daguerreotypes, which John Barrow Jr. would surely have been allowed to use as a reference for a Crozier portrait if he had wished.
Reception of the painting in the press
The Arctic Council was completed in June 1851, and soon after, Pearce was ordered to deliver it to Buckingham Palace for Queen Victoria and Prince Albert to view (Pearce, Reference Pearce1903, p. 59). This indicates that the Royal Family took an interest in the search for Franklin. After a short stay at the Palace, the painting was transferred to the print publisher Henry Graves at 6 Pall Mall, London, where it was publicly exhibited to promote subscriptions for an engraved reproduction by James Scott. Victoria and Albert headed the subscription list (The Morning Herald, 7 July 1851). The Morning Chronicle of 8 July 1851 said that the painting was not only of great interest “to the Navy, to men of science, and to the public” because of “the brave officers and eminent men depicted, but as recording an historical meeting, the result of whose plans may, we trust, yet restore to their country Sir John Franklin and his brave companions.” According to The Sun on 24 July 1851, it “represents ‘The Arctic Council’ as the members appeared when discussing a plan of search for Sir John Franklin, previously to submitting it to the Lords of the Admiralty.” They furthermore stated that “a more attractive subject could scarcely have been selected by any artist, or one more singularly calculated to excite the sympathies of the population.” However, The Daily News (London) on 14 July 1851 understood that it was not an actual meeting that was depicted, but rather an embodiment in one composition of the likenesses of “those gallant officers who have exerted themselves in trying to ascertain the fate of Sir John Franklin and his accompanying crews.” The paper noted that “judging from the arrangement of the light and shade, the picture is in every way promising to the engraver.” They did have a cheeky suggestion for an improvement when it came to the anatomy of the individuals portrayed: “It is no use dividing the anxiety of the spectator between the fate of those intended to be rescued, and the whereabouts of the limbs of those represented in the design.” The Standard of 7 July 1851 perfectly conveyed the patriotism and heroism imbued in the painting, describing the men portrayed as
not inferior to the Waterloo heroes; indeed, it [the painting] may in some respects, be considered a counterpart to it – “Peace and War”. The one representing the great and illustrious men who raised the glory of the nation in the time of war – the other the no less great and illustrious men who, in time of peace, and immediately on the cessation of hostilities, went forth to raise the glory of the nation by pushing their discoveries into parts unexplored by the foot of man, amidst the vast and desolate regions of everlasting snow and ice. Of the dangers, difficulties, and sufferings endured by these brave men, few, we imagine, are now ignorant. Of the dangers we need only remind our readers of the awful mystery overhanging the fate of the good and gallant Sir John Franklin and his noble band of officers and seamen, the very choice of the service; but we have never despaired of them, and with so many daring spirits afloat in search of them we still look forward to their happy deliverace from their perils with which they are now surrounded.
The Sun of 24 July 1851 shared a similar sentiment about The Arctic Council, saying, “Among the group are recognised the forms of several whose names will ever be illustrious among the glorious band of English navigators, the features of many a salt water captain the records of whose travels have long been as ‘household words’ in the homesteads of the United Kingdom.” They call the portraits “faithful portraitures of these extraordinary men, the heroes some of them, maybe, of our readers’ boyhood […]” In peacetime, glory was not to be obtained through battles against men of other nations. As Stephanie Barczewski puts it, the British had become “specialists in Polar suffering” (Barczewski, Reference Barczewski2016, p. 49), and the men who willingly subjected themselves to it became the nation’s new heroes.
The public exhibition of The Arctic Council and its glowing reception in the press was a great promotion for the continuation of the Franklin Search, presenting it as a sacred national duty. But at the Admiralty, most of the Lords had grown weary of risking men and materiel. On 3 November 1851, Barrow Jr. lamented in a letter to Bailie-Hamilton that some at the Admiralty had never cared much about finding Franklin:
There is nothing I would hesitate to do — if I could in any way further the object which you and I, and a few others, have truly and deeply at heart, — but what crushes all my energies, and withers my hope, is to see how little some seem to care at all about the matter, — and how little they have cared about it, from the first. Ignorant of facts they set aside all arguments. (TNA, ADM 7/190).
Indeed, when Barrow Jr. urged the Admiralty in February 1851 to send an additional steamer to send provisions and obtain news of Austin’s squadron, the common opinion of the Lords was that they were inclined never to send any ship to the Arctic ever again. Second Naval Lord Maurice Berkeley said: “I must declare mine opinion is strongly opposed to sending any more Vessels to the Arctic seas – We must stop some where – every thing has been done amply and fully in the endeavour to obtain information of Sir John Franklin and I do not think we are justified in risking more.” Secretary Charles Henry Pennell added: “I do not see any advantage to be gained by sending out another ship, to add, as is justly said ‘to our anxieties’. On the contrary I hope if the ships sent come home safely, we shall never send any more souls to those regions of thick ribbed ice.” (March 1851, TNA, ADM 7/190)
To advocate for the urgency of sending out more Search expeditions after Austin’s expedition returned home in October 1851 without having found Franklin, the public was made more personally acquainted with the officers of the Franklin expedition. On 13 September 1851, The Illustrated London News published engraved portraits of the officers, based on daguerreotypes taken a few days before the Franklin expedition’s departure from England. William Parker Snow, who had been a civil officer on the Prince Albert during a brief Franklin Search expedition from June to September 1850, described the effect the portraits had on him, which was surely the intended effect on the general public:
I have before me the portraits of the different officers, as given in the Illustrated News this week, and I cannot run my eye over their features calmly. What mournful recollections obtrude themselves upon me! In my fancy I behold either of them seated upon some of those solitary and ice-bound rocks, looking from morning until evening for that aid which can only be given by friendly hands sent to them. […] I feel a wish that all who read or hear about the missing expedition could have their kindly sympathies similarly awakened. (The Morning Chronicle, 19 September 1851).
Barrow Jr. informed Bailie-Hamilton on 1 November 1851 that, “The newspapers are, from day to day, full of articles on the subject of further search, and petitions are ‘pouring in’ from all parts, – indeed there seems to be but one feeling, (out of doors,) respecting it: – So great is the pressure, that I am sure the wise course will be to yield to it willingly.” (TNA, ADM 7/190)
The propaganda was successful, and the final government-funded Search expedition left England in April 1852, comprising four ships under the overall command of Sir Edward Belcher, who had never been to the Arctic before. To promote the engraving far and wide, The Arctic Council painting went on a tour and was exhibited “at all the principal places in England, Ireland, and Scotland.” (Pearce, Reference Pearce1903, p. 59) In February 1852, it was on display at frame makers and print sellers Messrs Hay, 2 Market Street, Aberdeen. The local press advertised it as having “that life-like aspect and expression of character – which leave no doubt of the truth of the painting.” The dedication of the prospective engraving to Lady Franklin made “the melancholy circumstances in which it has originated give it a peculiar interest.” (Aberdeen Journal, 25 February 1852) In April 1853, the engraving of The Arctic Council was published, and The Standard endorsed it on 15 April 1853 with a patriotic message. Seeing the individuals portrayed,
would create a deep interest in every mind alive to the cause of science and England’s maritime power; they would view their resemblances as historic records to bring back their deeds of energy and daring, for they have borne the flag of England to the icy north, not only to display the great courage of the British navy, but to acquire for mankind vast knowledge in astronomy, navigation, natural history, &c; how interesting, therefore, becomes a group of all the above distinguished arctic navigators consulting and discussing such a cause as Franklin’s succour […]
The Illustrated London News of 7 May 1853 shared a similar message, saying they were sure that the print “will be looked upon with deep interest by all who are proud of the enterprising spirit of our country, and feel a deep and painful interest in the fate of some of the bravest of her sons.”
Riding on the success of the engraving and, as always, to promote the search for Franklin, The Arctic Council painting was next exhibited at the Royal Academy from 2 May until 23 July 1853, in the Middle Room. The catalogue entry lists the portraits on the wall in The Arctic Council as being of “Sir John Franklin […], Captain James Fitzjames, and the late Sir John Barrow […]” (Anonymous, 1853, p. 15), signifying that the former two were still living. In the same room was Pearce’s portrait of whaling Captain William Penny, in Arctic gear, on his search for Franklin, with the background showing his ships, Lady Franklin and Sophia, in the ice (Anonymous, 1853, p. 21). There were more Franklin searchers by Pearce on display: Commander Edward Augustus Inglefield in the East Room (Anonymous, 1853, p. 8) and Dr. John Rae in the West Room (Anonymous, 1853, p. 28), but neither in Arctic gear nor surroundings. In total, the exhibition contained 1,465 artworks (Tricoire, Reference Tricoire, Hallett, Turner and Feather2018), and The Arctic Council was mentioned in the press. The Weekly Dispatch of 8 May 1853 aptly remarked that “Mr. Pearce has laboured at the portraits of the Arctic heroes, who are seen discussing the plan of search for Sir J. Franklin; the design evidently being the production of a pic – that will ‘engrave well’.” The Standard of 5 May 1853 was again praiseworthy of the painting: “In the middle room […] will be found Mr. Pearce’s picture of ‘The Arctic Council discussing the Plan of Search for Sir J. Franklin’. It contains portraits of all the distinguished Polar navigators of the day, and is, in many respects, a very clever and interesting picture.” Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper of 22 May 1853 was equally impressed: “The Arctic Council, by S. Pearce (249), is interesting as giving the portraits of brave and clever men.” The impact of the engraving was acknowledged by the Morning Advertiser of 4 May 1853: “‘The Arctic Council’, giving the portraits of the commanders celebrated in the polar explorations, is well known by the engraving. It is extremely carefully painted, and is a creditable work of art, as well as an exceedingly interesting record.” Bell’s Weekly Messenger of 14 May 1853 said that “The picture has already become well known by a clever engraving, which is now in general circulation, and has obtained considerable approbation for the truthfulness of the portraits.” The Morning Chronicle of 23 May 1853 was deeply touched by the painting and felt what was surely its intended effect: “an historical picture of more than ordinary interest. Apart from its intrinsic merits as a composition, and the fidelity of the likenesses, it touches a chord which vibrates in the hearts of all who take an interest in the fate of the gallant Franklin and his companions.”
In September 1853, The Arctic Council painting was temporarily loaned to printseller J.W. Leng’s in Hull, “by the special kindness of John Barrow,” to be on private view for a week. It was advertised in the Hull Packet of 16 September 1853 that “this highly valued picture is peculiarly interesting at the present time as it contains portraits of Col. Sabine, Sir James C. Ross, John Barrow, Captain Beechy [sic], and other distinguished persons.” The advertisement further stressed the connection of Arctic exploration to Hull, bringing the subject of the painting closer to home for its citizens:
Apart from its merits as a work of art, this picture is intensely interesting to the inhabitants of Hull, from the extensive and frequent intercourse so long existing between this town “and the frozen north”. The portraits of each of the sturdy sons of the sea, represented in this picture, are all faithful and lifelike. We can vouch for two, from personal introduction to Sir James Ross and to Col. Sabine, who recently visited us.
Criticism of the Admiralty
The Search Expedition under Belcher abandoned all their ships in the ice and returned to England on the supply ships North Star and Phoenix in early October 1854, having found no further clues about the fate of Franklin. Earlier that year, the Admiralty had already declared that the crew of the Franklin expedition had all perished in the line of duty and had taken their names off the Navy List as of 31 March 1854 (London Gazette, 20 January 1854, p. 174). Later in October 1854, the Admiralty received Dr. John Rae’s report of Inuit accounts about Franklin’s men having had to resort to cannibalism, and Rae brought back items belonging to Sir John Franklin and other officers that he had obtained from these Inuit. Having their hands full with the Crimean War and eager to finally close the chapter on the fruitless search for Franklin, the Admiralty concluded that Rae had successfully ascertained Franklin’s fate and deemed it unnecessary to send any further Search expeditions. Lady Franklin sent the Admiralty a lengthy protest letter saying that “it cannot truly be affirmed of the crews of the Erebus & Terror that their fate has been ascertained and therefore to adjudicate on such an assumption seems to be premature.” (14 April 1856, TNA, ADM 7/200, f.207) She believed there was still a good chance that more concrete information, or even survivors, could be found.
On 25 October 1854, The Sun published a scathing article in which they stated that not enough effort had been made to find Franklin and that the authorities “have sacrificed the Franklin expedition to a perverse attachment to their own special views, imbibed from one of the most prejudiced of men, the late Sir John Barrow.” Believing the Arctic Council to be real, The Sun especially called out Sir George Back:
The Board of Admiralty sheltered themselves under the cloak of a council, called the “Arctic Council”, who were made, not only once, but twice, to report the utter impossibility of Franklin being anywhere in the neighbourhood of the Great Fish River. […] What part did Sir John Franklin’s old companion, Sir George Back, take in this decision of the Arctic Council, for he was one of its members? We are acquainted with a print entitled the “Arctic Council,” portraits of the members of the council called together under that name […].
Dr. Richard King, who had been to the Arctic with Back in the 1830s, had first submitted a proposal to the Admiralty for searching for Franklin in the vicinity of the Great Fish River (also known as Back’s Fish River) in early 1847. In his 21 April 1856 letter to the Admiralty, King states that his proposals were referred to the Arctic Council, which, except for Captain Beechey, unanimously rejected them (TNA, ADM 7/200, f.258). Later in 1855, items belonging to the Franklin expedition had indeed been found near Back’s Fish River by Hudson Bay Company employee James Anderson (Osborn & McClure, Reference Osborn and McClure1865, p. 281). The failure to search there earlier and possibly rescue survivors was, according to King, an “awful tragedy, of which the Board of Admiralty most assuredly are the cruel authors.” (King, Reference King1855, p. 133)
Sir John Ross added fuel to the fire by publishing a book in 1855 in which he told the public his truth about why the Admiralty’s rescue expeditions had failed and that his own early rescue proposal in September 1846 had been turned down by “a malevolent influence at the Admiralty” (Ross, Reference Ross1855, p. 6), meaning Sir John Barrow. Ross also believed that the Arctic Council was an official body, “from which I was of course excluded” because he held different opinions from its members. However, he was complimentary about the “splendid” engraving of The Arctic Council, saying that “the portraits do infinite credit, as likenesses, to Mr. Pierce [sic], the painter.” (Ross, Reference Ross1855, pp. 57–58) While the image of The Arctic Council had been a reassurance to the public that the search for Franklin was in the capable hands of a group of Arctic heroes, they now learnt that this same group had possibly prevented the Franklin expedition from being saved. The Daily News declared on 26 October 1854 that “His [Franklin’s] blood and the blood of his brave companions is on their [the Admiralty’s] heads!” Janice Cavell observes that the criticism directed at the Admiralty is often overlooked in histories of Arctic exploration, which tend to focus on the criticism Rae received for reporting the shocking news of cannibalism among the Franklin expedition (Cavell, Reference Cavell2008, p. 206). This is also reflected in the reception history of The Arctic Council, as this painting continued to be exhibited with favourable commentary even until the early 20th century, as we will see.
1857: Art Treasures exhibition and the Fox Expedition
While the matter of the missing Franklin expedition was closed as far as the government was concerned, Lady Franklin and John Barrow were not ready to give up. The Arctic Council next appeared at the Art Treasures exhibition in Manchester, which showcased masterpieces from British private collections. The exhibition ran from May until October 1857 and was visited by over 1.3 million people (Anonymous, 1859, p. 42). It was what could be called, in modern terms, a blockbuster exhibition, coming a few years after the highly successful 1851 Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations held at the Crystal Palace in London. The proposal for the Art Treasures exhibition stated that “It may be taken as a fact […] that there are in the United Kingdom, in the possession of private individuals, objects of Art which exceed in interest and value those of any other country in the world.” (Anonymous, 1859, p. 3) Both the 1851 and 1857 exhibitions were endorsed by the Queen and Prince Consort, who desired that all levels of British society should be educated about industry and art (Anonymous, 1859, p. 17). However, the massive scale of the venue and the huge amount of artworks on display made a visit to the Art Treasures exhibition seem like trying to see the entire Louvre in one day, and it is debatable how much new knowledge the average layperson actually came away with (Leahy, Reference Leahy2007, pp. 252–253). The Arctic Council was less conspicuous among the 16,000 objects of art displayed (Anonymous, 1859, p. 23), but it hung in a prominent position in Saloon F (British Modern Masters) (Fig. 6). The Manchester Times of 25 April 1857 reported: “At the extreme west end of the court, immediately over the entrance, is placed the painting of the ‘Arctic Council […]’. It presents admirable portraits of Fitzjames, Beechy, Hamilton, Richardson, Ross, and others.” The Norwich Mercury of 22 April 1857 also made mention of the painting. This appears to have been the extent of the press coverage for The Arctic Council, but at least it had potentially been seen by over a million visitors.
Detail of ‘Visit of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert to the Art Treasures Exhibition’.
Source: © Manchester Archives+ on Flickr. The Arctic Council is highlighted in red by Fabiënne Tetteroo.
Besides The Arctic Council, John Barrow lent Pearce’s portraits of Franklin searchers Captain William Penny and Captain Robert McClure. The latter had been the first to complete the Northwest Passage, albeit on foot, in 1853. Like Penny’s portrait, McClure’s also shows him in Arctic gear with an icy landscape behind him. An Art Treasures guidebook mentions The Arctic Council, saying that “it will always be nationally pleasing, from the good likeness of the individuals represented, who have all borne a celebrity in the page of history.” (Amateur, 1857, p. 115) Another guide said: “Mr. Pearce’s portraits of our Arctic navigators (484 [Penny], 485 [McClure], 521 [Arctic Council]) will have interest for all visitors to the gallery. They are painted in a manly style, and with appropriate accessories.” (Anonymous, 1857, p. 125)
When the exhibition had just opened, a new privately funded Franklin Search expedition was fitting out to depart on the yacht Fox, sponsored by Lady Franklin, John Barrow, and other family and friends of the lost expedition. On 7 May 1857, on the same page as a report about Prince Albert opening the Art Treasures exhibition, The Sun published an open letter to the British public urging them to donate to “Lady Franklin’s Final Search.” The letter was signed by, among others, John Barrow, Francis Beaufort and Edward Sabine. Owing to the government’s refusal to lend its support to any further search for traces of the Franklin expedition, the letter’s authors called upon the British people to “tender to the widow of the illustrious navigator that sympathy which his fame and her devotion must call forth” in this final search for Franklin, which involved “the honour of the nation.” It was even suggested that this Search expedition could possibly “rescue from their isolated icy abode among the Esquimaux some of his [Franklin’s] younger companions, who may still be prolonging a dreary existence.” At a lecture in January 1857, Captain Leopold McClintock, who would lead the new search, stated that with all of the subsequent knowledge of Arctic travel it was entirely possible to rescue the survivors or at least ascertain their fate, and the government’s refusal to keep searching was “most assuredly a deep national disgrace.” (McClintock, Reference McClintock1857, p. 238) On 1 July 1857, the Fox expedition left England, and in May 1859, Lieutenant William Hobson found the Victory Point Note, the only written record of the Franklin expedition that summarised their route, confirmed the death of Franklin on 11 June 1847, and established that the remaining men must have died of starvation after deserting the ships. With the search for Franklin having thus come to an end for Lady Franklin and John Barrow, The Arctic Council had successfully fulfilled its propaganda purpose. The painting now assumed a private purpose as a commemorative piece to be displayed on the wall of John Barrow’s home at 17 Hanover Terrace, London. In 1868, it briefly returned to the public sphere as part of the National Portraits exhibition at the South Kensington Museum (now the Victoria & Albert Museum). In the Central Hall, The Arctic Council was joined by portraits of Sir John Franklin, Sir John Barrow, Sir William Edward Parry, and Sir John Ross (Anonymous, 1868, pp. 84–85)
The Arctic Room at the National Portrait Gallery (1899–c. 1928)
In the last decade of the 19th century, Britain feared that other countries might surpass their naval superiority. New Navalism brought about legislative and technological reforms, and a campaign to rekindle patriotic pride in the Navy among the people was carried out (Cesario, Reference Cesario2021, pp. vii–viii). It is within this context that the Royal Naval Exhibition (hereafter RNE) was organised from May until October 1891. The expedition had an entire gallery on Arctic exploration, and serving on the committee in charge of it were, amongst others, Franklin Search veterans Leopold McClintock, George Nares, George Richards, Allen Young, and Clements Markham (Anonymous, 1891, p. xxix). McClintock was in contact with John Barrow, who had offered to lend items from his collection. On 18 February 1891, McClintock initially wrote to Barrow that the committee only wanted portraits of Arctic expedition leaders (Weston Library, MS. Eng. hist. d. 59, f.164a), but they ultimately decided to request all of Barrow’s Arctic portraits by Pearce. The Arctic Council was separately requested on 4 March 1891: “We had a meeting of Arctics here today: and they desire me to ask you to lend your picture of the Arctic Council. I am quite ashamed, but they urged me to do so.” (Weston Library, MS. Eng. hist. d. 59, f.202b) Barrow was, however, happy to oblige, and for the first time in 23 years, The Arctic Council appeared in public again.
The Arctic section was named “The Franklin Gallery,” and it was the first gallery visitors encountered upon entering the exhibition. Lewis-Jones’s detailed study of the RNE shows how a mix of relics, portraits, and Arctic equipment displays, featuring wax figures hauling a sledge and making camp, was intended to reignite national pride in what these polar heroes had endured and achieved. The aesthetic display of the gallery fitted neatly into the New Navalism campaign and particularly the lobbying for a renewal of British polar exploration led by the Royal Geographical Society’s President, Sir Clements Markham (Lewis-Jones, Reference Lewis-Jones2019, p. 263).
Lewis-Jones remarked, “It is interesting that nearly all of Pearce’s polar works were exhibited here [at the RNE] alongside each other for the first and, possibly, the only time.” (Lewis-Jones, Reference Lewis-Jones2019, p. 262) However, in 1899, an Arctic Room was opened at the National Portrait Gallery (hereafter NPG) to display all of Pearce’s Arctic portraits together. This seemingly forgotten room existed for at least 29 years, although it was relocated a few times within the museum and shrank in size. The newspaper The Graphic published the only available photograph of the Arctic Room (Figs. 7 and 8), and the NPG’s archive has a bundle of correspondence and documents about the design of the room (Registered Packet 1208). The majority of the portraits in the Arctic Room were bequeathed to the NPG by John Barrow, who died on 9 December 1898. The others were owned by Lady Franklin and bequeathed by her niece, Sophia Cracroft, after the latter’s death on 20 June 1892. Now in possession of a complete collection of Pearce’s Arctic portraits, the NPG wished to display them together. The Times of 29 April 1899 reported that “As, however, in the present state of the Gallery, it is no longer possible to find room for so large an accession of portraits requiring to be hung together, a room in the east wing adjoining the National Gallery will be adapted for the purpose of containing the Arctic portraits […]”
“The new Arctic Room at the National Portrait Gallery.” Names added by Fabiënne Tetteroo.
Source: www.meisterdrucke.us.
“The new Arctic Room at the National Portrait Gallery,” The Graphic, 5 August 1899, p. 195.
Source: Fabiënne Tetteroo’s copy of The Graphic.
The Arctic Room was opened on 22 July 1899, without “ceremonial, only one more room to walk through in the long corridor on the first floor,” according to the Morning Leader of 24 July. The previous day, on 21 July, there was a private viewing of the Arctic Room for invited guests, including Stephen Pearce (NPG Archive, Registered Packet 1208). Besides the portraits recently donated by Cracroft and Barrow, there were also on display a bust and a painting of Sir John Franklin, as well as a portrait drawing of Lady Franklin. The NPG’s director, Lionel Cust, had been personally involved in curating the room, which he at first wanted to call the Franklin Room. However, the times had changed, and the name Franklin was no longer immediately associated with Sir John Franklin. Only a few days before the opening, on 19 July 1899, Stephen Pearce suggested to Cust: “Do you not think that The Arctic Room, or The Arctic Gallery far better than the Franklin Room? Arctic stamps it at once, whereas, there have been other eminent men named Franklin.” (NPG Archive, Registered Packet 1208) Sir Leopold McClintock served as a direct link to the past by assisting Cust in writing a text summarising the history of the Franklin Search expeditions (Fig. 9), which was placed in the room along with a map of the Canadian Arctic.
A draft of the history of the Expeditions to the Arctic regions in search of Sir John Franklin, for inclusion in the Arctic Room. Registered Packet 1218, NPG Archive. © National Portrait Gallery, London. Photo by Fabiënne Tetteroo.
In the photograph (Figs. 7 and 8), we see The Arctic Council and underneath it a row of smaller individual portraits of officers who advised on and/or went on the Franklin Search expeditions. The Peterhead Sentinel and General Advertiser of 12 August 1899 names some of the portraits not visible in the photograph: Erasmus Ommanney, Robert McCormick, John Rae, Alexander Stewart, and Joseph-René Bellot. The wall to the right has two larger portraits of McClure and, barely visible in the photograph, Penny in Arctic dress. Underneath Penny’s portrait is the table on which the Arctic map and short history of the Search lie. “On the opposite wall [from The Arctic Council] a fine portrait of Sir George Nares, in furs, with a Polar background, will command attention,” said The Morning Leader of 24 July 1899. The St James’ Gazette of 24 July 1899 adds that “the picture of Sir John Richardson is hung in a poor light, which is a pity; for it has nothing to fear from the light of day.” The Daily Chronicle of 24 July 1899 says that Pearce’s portrait of geologist and President of the Royal Geographical Society, Sir Roderick Murchison, was also included in the room. He had been a great supporter of the Search expeditions. In the narrow corridor leading to the Arctic Room hung Pearce’s portrait of Sir Francis Beaufort, separated from the rest (See Appendix for a list of the contents of the Arctic Room). Stephen Pearce seems to have regarded his Arctic portraits as his finest work. He bequeathed a self-portrait (NPG 1381) to the NPG on the condition that it would be hung in the Arctic Room, which the NPG appears to have accepted, as the portrait indeed entered their collection (Letter from Pearce’s Solicitors to Lionel Cust, 26 April 1904, NPG Archive, Registered Packet 1381).
In an 18 May 1899 letter to Cust, McClintock said that The Arctic Council represented an actual council gathering: “I think Mr. Barrow left amongst his pictures one of the Arctic Council in which appear all the several officers who were called to-gether in consultation.” (NPG Archive, Registered Packet 1208) If someone involved in the Franklin Search expeditions believed that the Arctic Council was an official body, it is not surprising that some of his contemporaries and later researchers were confused as well. Also, John Barrow’s long-time friend and neighbour in Kingham, the historian William Warde Fowler, recalled in his memoirs that Barrow had been “a member of the Arctic Council in the days when search was being made for the remains of Sir John Franklin’s lost party.” Fowler and Barrow met in 1869, long after the Search expeditions, but they often discussed Arctic exploration, to which “the old gentleman [Barrow] was devotedly attached.” (Fowler, Reference Fowler1921, p. 36)
When the Arctic Room was opened, newspapers reported on it in terms reminiscent of the 1850s: “A room devoted to the memory of the heroes of Arctic Exploration” (The Standard, 22 July 1899). “The little gallery will undoubtedly prove a source of attraction, for in it are enshrined interesting mementos of hardy seamen whose deeds of endurance and daring in icy regions Britons recall with pride.” (Morning Post, 24 July 1899) and “These pictures […] form a unique and most interesting record of an heroic chapter of our national history, and particularly of the seafaring adventure and discovery which are the special product of the English genius.” (St James’s Gazette, 24 July 1899) The Franklin Search expeditions had successfully brought back their surveying and scientific results, and most importantly, the vast majority of the men returned alive. Why were the men of the Franklin expedition commemorated as heroes when they had all died and could not deliver proof of their work? On the 50th anniversary of the Franklin expedition’s departure from England, Sir Clements Markham gave his reasoning: “Every Arctic Expedition is a success if it crosses the threshold of what was previously unknown. This is the proper test; and, when tried by it, the Franklin Expedition was a most remarkable success.” (Anonymous, 1895, p. 39) The Uttoxeter New Era of 2 August 1899 understood the timeliness of this renewed promotion of Franklin: “The collection [at the NPG] proves to be very interesting, and it is the more in season just now, when the government has promised a large contribution towards the proposed National Antarctic Expedition, which wishes to do for the South Pole what Sir John Franklin endeavoured to do for the North.” Antarctica and the search for the South Pole had become the new Arctic and Northwest Passage. The first British National Antarctic expedition, also known as the Discovery expedition, led by Captain Robert Falcon Scott, departed from England in August 1901.
On a subsequent expedition in 1912, Scott would meet a similarly tragic end to that of the Franklin expedition, dying along with his party on their return journey from the South Pole (which, unfortunately for the British, had been reached first by Norwegian Roald Amundsen and his party about a month earlier), when they were trapped in a blizzard only 11 miles from their next food and supplies depot. Like Franklin and his men, they became martyrs of science and exploration. In a message written to the public, the dying Scott propagated that pro patria mori, dulce et decorum est:
We are weak, writing is difficult, but for my own sake I do not regret this journey, which has shown that Englishmen can endure hardship, help one another, and meet death with as great a fortitude as ever in the past. […] But if we have been willing to give our lives to this enterprise, which is for the honour of our country, I appeal to our countrymen to see that those who depend on us are properly cared for. (Scott, Freshfield, Curzon, & Markham, Reference Scott, Freshfield, Curzon and Markham1913, pp. 202–3).
In his address discussing the news of Scott & Co.’s deaths, the Royal Geographical Society’s Vice-President, Douglas William Freshfield, said:
No Arctic or Antarctic party was, I suppose, ever sent out better equipped or better fitted by the gallantry and experience of its members, from Captain Scott downwards, to meet with the ordinary perils of the Poles. But Arctic travel would not be what it is, a training ground for the highest qualities of the British race, if these perils were altogether avoidable. (Scott et al., Reference Scott, Freshfield, Curzon and Markham1913, p. 205).
This echoed the sentiment that Cavell describes about early 19th-century Arctic Exploration, namely that in the hazardous icy regions, naval officers were able to “raise their characteristically British traits to the highest pitch of development” and thereby inspire a sense of national identity among all Britons (Cavell, Reference Cavell2008, p. 122). Between the Franklin expedition and Scott’s final expedition, evidently, not much had changed in this regard.
When consulting the NPG’s floor plans in their catalogues (Figs. 10–12), we can see that the Arctic Room was relocated within the museum over time, diminishing in size but surviving until at least 1928. On 24 February 1909, The Arctic Council witnessed a shocking murder-suicide. A wealthy-looking couple from Brighton, John Tempest Dawson and his wife, visited the NPG and were seen animatedly discussing the pictures. When they were alone in the Arctic Room, the man suddenly “whipped out a revolver, shot the woman through the head, and then turned the weapon on himself.” (Daily Express, 25 February 1909) Apparently Mr. Dawson had been suffering from mental health issues for some time. The location of the Arctic Room is given as the East Wing, the same as when it opened in 1900 (Bradford Daily Telegraph, 25 February 1909).
National Portrait Gallery floor plans from the museum catalogues. Photos by Fabiënne Tetteroo. The Arctic Room is on the first floor in the East Wing. Room D.
Source: Historical and descriptive catalogue of the pictures, busts, &c. of the National Portrait Gallery, London: Darling & Son, 1900.
The Arctic portraits have been moved to room XIV. It is in a “Reference section for students only” and the name of the room is “Arctic Explorers, etc.”
Source: Historical and descriptive catalogue of the pictures, busts, &c. of the National Portrait Gallery, London: Darling & Son, 1914.
The Arctic portraits are now on public display again in the basement, in a triangle-shaped room, XXXVI.
Source: National Portrait Gallery. Illustrated List of the Portraits, London: H.M. Stationary Office, 1928.
After 1928, the museum’s catalogues no longer include maps of the museum rooms, nor does the museum’s database offer any information on whether Pearce’s Arctic portraits were on display between 1928 and 1997. The only recorded appearance of The Arctic Council was on loan from October 1967 until January 1968 to the A Pageant of Canada exhibition at the National Gallery of Ottawa, along with the portraits of William Penny and Sir Robert McClure. This exhibition was held to celebrate the centenary of Canadian Confederation and tell the history of Canada through art. The catalogue says that the group portrait was “a mythical scene as no such body as the Arctic Council existed.” (Strong, Reference Strong1967, p. 222)
Conclusion
The Arctic Council was created as a piece to commemorate and promote the search for the missing Franklin expedition. It was commissioned by John Barrow, an Admiralty clerk who had a strong personal connection to the expedition through his close friend, the third-in-command, Captain Fitzjames. The painting’s inclusion in major exhibitions at key moments in the organisation of the search for Franklin ensured that the public remained mindful of the need to continue the search, even after the Admiralty decided that enough had been done. The present article has shown that the press played a major role in crafting a nationalist narrative and disseminating the message the painting was intended to convey. After the 1857–59 Search expedition, which confirmed the Franklin expedition’s fate, The Arctic Council assumed a private role. However, from the 1890s onwards, its propaganda role was revived during the New Navalism when the British Government shifted its focus to Antarctic exploration. The present article has revealed that in 1899, a now-forgotten Arctic Room was opened at the NPG, where Pearce’s Arctic portraits, including The Arctic Council, were all displayed together.
The Arctic Council was on loan to Bodelwyddan Castle from 1997 until 2017 and was subsequently transferred to the NPG’s storage facility in 2020, where it has remained since. In June 2023, the NPG reopened following a lengthy refurbishment, and its narrative no longer included Arctic exploration. The only Arctic explorer (excluding Horatio Nelson, who spent a few months at Svalbard on the 1773 North Pole expedition) whose portrait is currently on display is Sir John Ross (NPG 314) (Figs. 13 and 14). In this 1833 portrait, Ross is wearing a full naval dress uniform with a large fur coat against a backdrop of an icy Arctic landscape. It is ironic that while the portraits of the ‘members’ of the ‘Arctic Council’ are all in storage, the man who was excluded from giving counsel and from participating in any government-backed expeditions is the only one whose portrait now represents 19th-century Arctic exploration at the NPG. Upon enquiry about the idea behind this, Senior Curator of 18th Century Collections Lucy Pelz explained that Ross’ portrait was chosen for inclusion on the Show Stoppers wall for its aesthetic qualities rather than for Ross’ identity or achievements. (L. Pelz, email correspondence, 16 June 2025).
Sir John Ross’ portrait takes centre stage on the “Show Stoppers” wall in room 18 on the third floor. Photo by Fabiënne Tetteroo taken on 2 June 2025 at the National Portrait Gallery.
James Green, Sir John Ross (1833), NPG 314. Photo by Fabiënne Tetteroo taken on 2 June 2025 at the National Portrait Gallery, room 18.
Currently, the rooms at the NPG covering the 19th century have previously under-represented themes such as women’s suffrage, empire & resistance, and portraying colonial power & expansion. It was high time to present a more critical and inclusive view of British history. Nonetheless, the present author hopes that the NPG will, at some point, recreate the Arctic Room as at least a temporary exhibition and release all of Pearce’s splendid Arctic portraits from storage once more. These portraits, in addition to their historical and artistic value, can also be used to reflect on the NPG’s current themes. The Arctic Council can once again become part of a new narrative.
Acknowledgments
The first version of this article was written as my research project for the MA Naval History at the University of Portsmouth, and I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Cathryn Pearce, for her valuable feedback on it. Thank you to Logan Zachary for his advice on the map in The Arctic Council and for helping with identifying some of the paintings in the NPG’s Arctic Room. Thank you to Prof. Dr. Christa-Maria Lerm Hayes for her feedback. And thank you to my dear friends who read various versions and encouraged me.
Financial support
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency, commercial or not-for-profit sectors.
Competing interests
The author declares no competing interests.
Appendix: The contents of The Arctic Room at the National Portrait Gallery in 1899
Sir John Franklin by Andrea Carlo Lucchesi, bronze bust, 1898 (NPG 1230)
Sir John Franklin replica by Thomas Phillips, oil on canvas, 1828 (NPG 903)
Jane, Lady Franklin by Amélie Romilly, chalk, 1816 (NPG 904)
By Stephen Pearce. (Bequeathed by JB = John Barrow or LF = Lady Franklin, through Sophia Cracroft)
The Arctic Council planning a search for Sir John Franklin, 1851 (NPG 1208) JB
Three-quarter lengths:
William Penny, 1853, (NPG 1209) JB
Sir Robert McClure, 1855 (NPG 1210) JB
Sir Francis Leopold McClintock, 1859 (NPG 1211) JB
Sir George Nares, 1877 (NPG 1212) JB
Smaller portraits:
Sir Horatio Thomas Austin, 1860 (NPG 1218) JB
John Barrow, 1851 (NPG 905) LF
Frederick William Beechey, 1850 (NPG 911) LF
Sir Edward Belcher, 1859 (NPG 1217) JB
Joseph René Bellot, 1851 (NPG 1227) JB
Sir Richard Collinson, 1855 (NPG 1221) JB
William Alexander Ballie-Hamilton, 1850 (NPG 908) LF
William Robert Hobson, 1860 (NPG 910) LF
Sir Edward Augustus Inglefield, 1853 (NPG 1223) JB
Sir Henry Kellett, 1856 (NPG 1222) JB
William Kennedy, 1853 (NPG 1225) JB
Rochfort Maguire, 1860 (NPG 1214) JB
Sir Francis Leopold McClintock, 1856 (NPG 1226) JB
Dr. Robert McCormick, 1856 (NPG 1216) JB
Thomas Edward Laws Moore, 1860 (NPG 1215) JB
Sir Roderick Murchison, 1856 (NPG 906) LF
Sir Erasmus Ommanney, 1861 (NPG 1219) JB
Sherard Osborn, 1857 (NPG 1224) JB
Sir William Edward Parry, 1850 (NPG 912) LF
Dr. John Rae, 1853 (NPG 1213) JB
Sir George Henry Richards, 1865 (NPG 923) LF
Sir John Richardson, 1850 (NPG 909) LF
Sir James Clark Ross, 1850 (NPG 913) LF
Sir Edward Sabine, 1850 (NPG 907) LF
Alexander Stewart, 1854 (NPG 1220) JB
Dr. David Walker, 1860 (NPG 922) LF
Sir Allen William Young, 1876 (NPG 920) LF
Benjamin Leigh Smith, 1886 (NPG 924) LF [Commissioned by Sophia Cracroft]
- In the hallway between room XXVII – Scientific and Literary and D – Arctic Explorers (Arctic Room):
Sir Francis Beaufort, 1850 (NPG 918) LF
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