COLD SPRING (RESPECTING IT)

Next morning there was a magnificent halo; the monarch of day appeared surrounded by a luminous circle, radiant with all the prismatic colours. This phenomenon never lost its charm, for the Doctor, however frequently it occurred, and he always noted carefully down all particulars respecting it.

From :  Jules Verne, Voyages et aventures du capitaine Hatteras (1864)

Sermon: Fiscal Cliff

She said "it feels like those who are struggling have been abandoned by those who aren't."

 

Rime

          "Suddenly, without anything announcing the surprising change, completely frozen water vapour rose from the ground;  it reached a height of about ninety feet and remained motionless;  they could not see more than a single pace ahead; the water vapour stuck to their clothes, which it filled with long, sharp prisms.

         The travellers, surprised by this phenomenon of rime, had one immediate thought:  to find each other."

From Jules Verne, The Adventures of Captain Hatteras (1864) (trans. William Butcher).  Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2005.

July Cooling (Theophile Gautier on Captain Hatteras, 1866)

Men of the Belgica wintering in Antarctica, 1898



When the alcohol in the thermometer . . . . pushes its red thread [to the maximum] . . . . it is best . . . . to read in the half-darkness . . . . some pleasant and refreshing book, for example the imaginary journeys of M. Jules Verne . . . . The British at the North Pole and The Desert of Ice . . . . especially, are excellent today. . . . . These Arctic books come at the right time.  When you hold them, they almost give you frostbite:  you can see your breath stretching out as fog while an invisible snow falls on your shoulders.  Like doctors, M. Jules Verne knows how to make ice at the heart of a white-hot tomb.  There exists an extensive collection of imaginary journeys, ancient and modern: from Lucian's True History to Gulliver's Travels, the human imagination has revelled in wild fantasies where, on the pretext of excursions to unknown lands, authors with more or less talent develop their utopias or exercise their satirical verve.  The journeys of M. Jules Verne belong to neither of these categories.  If they have not really been carried out -- even if they could not yet be done -- they present the most rigorous scientific possibilities, and the most daring are only the paradox or exaggeration of a truth soon to come.  Here the chimera is written and guided by a mathematical spirit.  It is the application to an invention of all those true, real, and precise details that produce the most complete illusion.  There is more Edgar Allen Poe and Daniel Defoe than Swift in M. Jules Verne -- or rather he has found his method on his own and at the first attempt taken it to the highest degree of perfection . . . .


. . . . When Hatteras shoots the sun, no naval captain could find the least error, and the same applies to the tiniest details.  Only Robinson Crusoe's diary by Defoe reaches this degree of verisimilitude.  But in addition, M. Jules Verne, who does not neglect the human and cordial side, ensures his characters are liked, and, above all on days as hot as when this article is written, he creates the desire to go and spend a few hours with those good companions in the snow-house in the desert of ice!



     ---  Theophile Gautier, Les Voyages Imaginaires de M. Jules Verne (16 July 1866), published in Le Moniteur universel, p. 197

Theophile Gautier photographed by Nadar, 1856  






Note:  Reading Theophile Gautier's contemporary review of Jules Verne's The Adventures of Captain Hatteras yesterday evening struck a chord because I also had been reading the novel partly to moderate my internal thermostat as Pennsylvania's summer swelters mounted their cruel annual assault.  I mentioned this to a friend, a psychotherapist much concerned with behavioral cues and tics the other day (under a high, beating sun; over cooling mango drinks), and it provoked a lively conversation.


The weather here has already become much too "close", as it was during Gautier's July 150 years ago.  "Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose", as the man said.

The Belgica in port of Antwerp, 1897, prior to voyaging

Consequential (Northern Arcadia)

          

Polar hares

          While chatting, the huntsmen, now converted to naturalists, continued on their way, and reached a sort of vale, without surrounding hills, at the bottom of which snaked a more or less unfrozen river;  because of its southern exposure there grew some vegetation on the banks and a certain way up the slopes.  The ground displayed a veritable desire to be fertilized;  with a few inches of topsoil, it would have asked for nothing better than to produce.  The doctor pointed out these manifest tendencies.

        ‘Look, couldn’t a few enterprising settlers settle in this valley, if they had to?  With hard work and perseverance, they would transform it; not to a temperate countryside – I wouldn’t go so far – but at least a presentable patch of land.  If I’m not mistaken, over there are even a few four-legged inhabitants!   Such fellows know all the best places.’

Polar hare  

        ‘Goodness, they’re polar hares!’ exclaimed Altamont, loading his gun.

         ‘Wait,’ cried the doctor, ‘wait, you crazy huntsman!  The poor animals aren’t about to flee.  Come on, leave them be;  let them come to us!’

            In fact three or four young hares, gamboling in the thin heather and new moss, were approaching the three men, whose presence they did not fear;  they ran up with beautiful naïve airs, which hardly managed to disarm Altamont.

Arctic fox

           Soon they were between the doctor’s legs, who stroked them, saying:

            ‘Why use shots for those who seek caresses?  The death of these small creatures wouldn’t serve us.’

              ‘You’re right,’ cried Hatteras, ‘their lives should be spared.’

           ‘Like those of the ptarmigans flying toward us,’ exclaimed Altamont, ‘and the sandpipers advancing gravely on their long stilts.’

Arctic Ptarmigan

          A whole feathered race was approaching the huntsmen, not suspecting the danger the doctor had averted.  Even Duke, holding himself back, watched in admiration.

Arctic sandpiper

          It was a curious sight to see the pretty animals running, jumping and leaping trustingly;  they landed on the good Clawbonny’s shoulders; they lay down at his feet;  they spontaneously offered themselves to the unaccustomed caresses;  they did their utmost to welcome the unknown guests;  the many birds, joyously chirping, called to each other and came from all points of the valley;  the doctor resembled a veritable charmer.  The huntsmen continued their journey by climbing up the soggy banks of the stream, followed by this friendly group;  at a bend in the valley they spotted a herd of eight or ten reindeer, grazing on some lichen half-buried under the snow, charming animals to look upon, gracious and calm, the females bearing antlers as proudly as the males.  Their wooly hides were already exchanging wintry whiteness for the brown and dull grey of summer;  they appeared no more frightened and no less tame than the hares or birds of this peaceful country.

Arctic reindeer

          Such must  have been the relationship between the first man and the first animals when the world was young.

Dr. Clawbonny, Duke, Captains Hatteras and Altamont in Northern Arcadia

Text excerpted from:  Jules Verne, The Adventures of Captain Hatteras (1864).  Trans. William Butcher.  Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2005.

Graduation In Zion

        

        A cry of terror escaped from every breast.  All fled to starboard.

       But suddenly the ship was totally eased.  She was carried away and floated in the air for an imperceptible moment, then leaned over, fell on the ice floes, and there she underwent a rolling motion which made her rails crack.  What was happening?

        Lifted by the rising tide, pushed on by the blocks attacking her from behind, she was crossing the uncrossable ice-pack.  After a minute – a century – of this strange navigation, she had traversed this obstacle and fell back down on an ice-field; her weight made her pass through, and soon she was back in her element.  

        “We’re past the ice-pack!” exclaimed Johnson, rushing to the front of the brig.  

        “Thank God,” replied Hatteras.

      In effect, the brig was in a basin;  ice surrounded her on all sides and although her keel was in water, she could not move; but although she remained motionless, the field was moving for her.

         “We’re drifting, captain,” cried Johnson.

         “Let it happen.”

        I’ve been re-reading Jules Verne’s The Adventures of Captain Hatteras lately, so it’s probably not surprising that when I slept (and woke and slept and woke) last night, my dreaming and waking assumed the form of a ship navigating an ice-pack, continually rising and falling, being trapped and occasionally sliding free.  It’s nice finally to be awake with good morning light flowing in.  Soon, the dogs will want to go out.

        I fell asleep watching the CNN Republican candidates "debate", which was ok, but from what I saw, tending toward the predictable as entertainment fare, so sleep must have taken over early because the first time I woke up it was only just past 11 pm.

        Somewhere amid all the being trapped-in-ice sensations that Verne’s book (I know the dialogue seems creaky, but it’s really excellent and unique in my experience; it was a great favorite of Alfred Jarry’s also and contributed to his creation of Dr. Faustroll) prompted, which simply amplify other things I’ve been feeling, I also had a wonderful memory yesterday of an evening about 10 years ago when Caroline and I had drinks on a screened porch in the summer and watched a small spider construct a web for a couple of hours.  I know I’ve never seen anyone work so patiently, purposively and expertly, or convey a greater feeling of freedom.  He reminded me of those pictures of Jackson Pollock painting and of Jane silently creating one of her many art projects.

Notes:

1.  Text excerpted from Jules Verne, The Adventures of Captain Hatteras (trans. William Butcher).  Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2002.

2.  Top photo:  Belgica trapped in ice near Antarctica.  1899

3.  Second photo:  Gauss trapped in ice, Antarctica, March 29, 1902.  Hot-air balloon employed for aerial photography at right-hand side of photo. 

4.  All images enlarge when left-clicked.

Ice Blink; Mahogany Flotsam (Captain Hatteras 2)

Charles W. Swithinbank, Ice Blink photograph, from Illustrated Glossary of Snow and Ice. Cambridge,  Scott Polar Research Institute, 1969.

I.

Soon the flocks of birds, more and more numerous, petrels, puffins, and warblers, inhabitants of these desolate shores, showed they were nearing Greenland.  The Forward was heading north at speed, leaving to leeward a long trail of black smoke.

        At about eleven on Tuesday, 17 April, the ice-master reported the first sight of ice blink. [1]  It was at least twenty miles to the north-north-west .  Despite the very thick clouds, this strip of dazzling white brightly lit up the whole of the atmosphere near the horizon.  Experienced sailors on board could not mistake this phenomenon, recognizing from its whiteness that the blink had to come from a vast field of ice situated about thirty miles beyond the range of vision, being even produced by a reflection.

[1]   The remarkable, resplendent colour the air becomes when above a great extent of ice.

"Ice Blink",  photograph, Joanna Bury, 2005

Atlantic Puffin in Iceland

II.

Attributed to William Hodges, R.A. (1744-97), Ice Islands with Ice Blink, 1773

“Hence, gentlemen, it must be agreed that America is completely detached from the polar landmasses and the waters of the Pacific move around its coasts and into the Atlantic.  Anyway the greater height of the waters of the Pacific is another confirmation that they flow toward the seas of Europe.”

         “But there must be facts supporting this theory, and if there are”, Shandon added with a certain irony, “our universal savant will surely know them.”  

Narwhal whales "tusking" in Arctic waters 

         “Upon my word”, replied the latter with pleasant  satisfaction, if it interests you, I will say that whales wounded in the Davis Strait were captured sometime later near Tartary with European harpoons in their flanks.” 

    

        “So, unless they rounded Cape Horn or Cape of Good Hope, they must necessarily have gone round the northern coast of America.  That’s indisputable, doctor.”

        “If, however, you were still not convinced, my good Shandon,”  said the doctor smiling, “I could produce further facts, such as the flotsam Davis Strait is full of, larches, aspens, and other tropical wood species.  Now we know that the Gulf Stream would prevent this wood from entering the strait, so when it comes out it can only have got in through the Bering Strait.”

Flotsam: Lifeboat from the Edmund Fitzgerald, 1976

         “I’m convinced, doctor, and I admit that it would be hard to remain a disbeliever with you around.”

           “Upon my word,” said Johnson, “abreast is a timely illustration of what we’re talking about.  I can see a piece of wood of fine size; if the commander allows we’ll go and fish out this tree-trunk, hoi it on board, and ask  it what country it hails from.”

"a piece of wood of fine size"

            “Good idea” said the doctor; “the example after the rule.”

               Shandon gave orders; the brig headed for the piece of wood and soon the crew had hauled it on deck, not without difficulty.

               It was a mahogany trunk, gnawed by worms to its very heart – otherwise it could not have floated.

 

Duke, the "Dog-Captain", moving the story forward

Herbert Ponting, Ice Grotto within ice-berg, 1911

Petrel chick

Black-cap warbler



Reader Note 1: Inevitable musical accompaniment is Iceblink Luck by Cocteau Twins

Reader Note 2:  Text excerpted from the marvelous  The Adventures of Captain Hatteras by Jules Verne (1864).  Translation with an Introduction and Notes by William Butcher.  New York, Oxford University Press, 2005.    For previous Captain Hatteras post, please see Here.

Reader Note 3:   Cause and effect explanation.  Steamy, fevering heat arrived in SE Pennsylvania several days ago when the air conditioning was broken (an icicle or sharp branch severed by the winter storms slashed a compressor wire) and seems already to have assumed its all-summer berth.   Although a/c systems are once again "go", for a number of reasons, including the differing internal thermostats of the residents of Signal Hill and their varying degrees of "influence", things are cooling down quite slowly here.  Reading The Adventures of Captain Hatteras chills and clears the air; this meteorological aspect of reading Verne's novel should be the subject of someone's book column somewhere or possibly (my favorite notion always) a one-act play.  I intend to explore William Hodges' career here in more detail in the future.  Things have been connecting up happily (I think) and unexpectedly of late.

Uni-Polar: The Adventures of Captain Hatteras

     

         This unique journey, without precedent in the annals of history, summed up all the previous discoveries done in the circumpolar regions; it united the expeditions of Parry, Ross, Franklin, and McClure; it completed the map of the hyperboreal lands between the hundredth and hundred-and-fifteenth meridians; and it culminated at that point of the globe inaccessible until then:  at the very Pole.

        Never, no, never did such an unexpected piece of news explode across a stupefied Britain!

        The British are excited by great geographic accomplishments; they felt moved and proud, from the Lord to the Cockney, from the merchant prince to the dockworker.

        The news of the great discovery ran down all the telegraphic wires of the United Kingdom at the speed of lightning; the newspapers inscribed the name of Hatteras in their titles, like that of a martyr, and Britain trembled with pride.

        The doctor and his companions were feted, and formally presented to Her Gracious Majesty by the Lord Chancellor.

        The government confirmed the name of Queen’s Island for the rock at the North Pole, Mount Hatteras for the volcano, and Altamont Harbor for the port of New America.

        Altamont remained with his companions in misery and glory, and became their friend; he went with the doctor, Bell, and Johnson to Liverpool, which acclaimed them on their return, after believing them long dead and buried in the eternal ice.

    But Dr Clawbonny always gave the glory to the man who deserved it above all others.   In his account of the journey, entitled The British At The North Pole and published the following year by the Royal Geographical Society, he presented John Hatteras as the equal of the great travelers, the successor of those daring men who indefatigably sacrificed themselves for the advancement of science.

        Meanwhile, this sad victim of his sublime passion was living peacefully at Sten Cottage Nursing Home, close to Liverpool, where his friend the doctor had personally placed him.  His madness was of the gentle sort, but he did not speak, he no longer understood, for power of speech had apparently departed at the same time as his reason.  Only one emotion linked him to the external world, his friendship for Duke, from whom it had not been thought wise to separate him.  This disease, this polar madness, thus quietly followed its course, not presenting any special symptoms.  But while visiting his poor patient one day, Dr Clawbonny was struck by his gait.

        For some time Captain Hatteras had been walking several hours each day , followed by his faithful dog, who gazed at him with soft, sad eyes; but it was invariably in a particular direction along a certain avenue at Sten Cottage.  Once the captain reached the end of the avenue, he would retrace his route, walking backwards.  If somebody stopped him, he would point to a fixed spot in the sky.  If someone tried to make him turn round, he would flare up, and Duke, sharing his anger, would bark back furiously.

        The doctor attentively observed such a strange mania, and soon understood the reason for such a singular obstinacy;  he guessed why the walk followed a fixed direction, under the influence, as it were, of a magnetic force. *

        Captain John Hatteras marched constantly north.

From Chapter 27,  The Adventures of Captain Hatteras by Jules Verne (1864).  Translation with an Introduction and Notes by William Butcher.  New York, Oxford University Press, 2005.

*  Note:  Verne was influenced by Franz Friedrich Anton Mesmer (1734 – 1815), a Viennese doctor who used magnets to explore human sensitivity to the “magnetic fluid”, an idea not totally discredited today, and one which led to Charcot’s work on hysteria and to Freud.

** Note 2:  The Adventures of Captain Hatteras illustrations from various sources.  Please note that most of the images enlarge with a mouse click.  Verne's map is really impressive to behold.

Mesmer's Baquet, Musée d'Histoire de la médecine et de la Pharmacie, Lyon, France.

Mesmerism: The Operator Inducing a Hypnotic Trance, engraving after Dodd, 1794. Plate from Ebenezer Sibly's book, A Key to Physic, 1794.