Showing posts with label monkey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label monkey. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Ambrose Ashdown, 1858



Ambrose Ashdown, 1858

Born in Orkney in 1816, Ambrose was a sickly child who seldom left his mother's side. In his journals later in life, he attributes his sheltered childhood to the passion for exploring that struck him during his teenage years. At the age of 18 he left his tiny village and traveled to Edinburgh, where he met a man by the name of John McClure, who had signed on with Sir Robert Black to help organize an ambitious Arctic exploration. Ambrose was taken on, and in 1836 he sailed on the HMS Terror and spent the next four years in the far north.

After his return to Europe, he spent a few years working as a clerk in a London bank, but soon felt the exploring bug bite him harder than ever. Thankfully for Ambrose, his friend John McClure had become a captain in his own right and was in the process of putting together a team. In 1850 the HMS Investigator made its way north on a trip
that would end up lasting for almost a decade.

One of the key moments in the exploration came when the ship became hemmed in by ice. Leaving the crew to their own devices, Ambrose and John decided to set out on sledges and see what they could find in the vicinity. Though Ambrose's journals show that he was the one to find the majestic strait that would come to be known as the Viscount Melville Strait, as captain it was John McClure that claimed the discovery as his own.

Unaware of John's upcoming betrayal, Ambrose continued to work with him in their push farther north and may have helped him find the Northwest Passage. Upon the ship's eventual return to England, John was knighted and the rest of the crew given a token medal for their bravery, leaving Ambrose extremely bitter.

In 1859, Ambrose threw his medal in the Thames and set off on his own ship, Artemis. He returned to the Arctic and spent the rest of his days living in an Inuit village and pretending Europe did not exist.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Alonzo Purcell, 1878



Alonzo Purcell, 1878

A consummate performer, Alonzo knew he wanted to be a part of a traveling show from the age of 5. When his moustache started to grow at the age of 17 and people began to comment on its virility, he knew his facial hair would be his ticket to stardom.

After only three years of growth, Alonzo beat the great Harlan Montrose, a.k.a. 'Mister Moustache', at the London Fair in the categories of both bushiness and length. After collecting his prize of twenty pounds, Alonzo was approached by Tom Norman (the future manager of the Elephant Man), then a young showman, and offered a spot on his lineup.

For three years Alonzo showed off his impressive 'stache in between the Skeleton Girl and the Balloon-Headed Baby (somehow Tom managed to procure an endless supply of such babies, thus extending the life of that exhibit), earning an impressive sum of money and charming all of England with his passionate poems on the benefits of a fine set of facial hair.

Once his contract with Tom ended, Alonzo went on to shill for Colonel Carrigan's FINEST Moustache Wax as well as enjoying a brief stint as Bath's poet laureate.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Tardy Gents

These three dapper fellows showed up around Christmastime, but are only now making their way onto the blog. Please welcome...


Sir Archibald Farnsley


Alexander Marchester


Frederick Zimmerstein

Sunday, January 4, 2009

In The Meantime...

There will be a few more Victorian portraits coming (stories included), but in the meantime, here are a couple sketches I did while supposedly listening in a lecture (it's a bad habit, I know).

Here we have a slightly creepy elephant shrew...



...and a quizzical monkey-dude!

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Edwin Farthingale, 1845



A Photo of Edwin Farthingale, 1845

From what we gather from letters and a number of literary mentions, Edwin was an ape of many talents, most of them on the dastardly side. He is quoted in a popular novel of the time as saying to a lady, "frankly my dear, those gloves should be on my bedroom floor," which scandalized her to the point of swooning. This account cannot be verified, as the novel in question (The Trampled Lace Glove) is quite florid in style and takes liberties with most aspects of Victorian culture. We do know that Mr. Farthingale was thoroughly disowned by his grandfather for an unnamed deed and lived his life on gambling winnings (Edwin appears to have had quite the knack for cards, though he may have cheated with equal skill). This is one of the only existing portraits of an ape whose name was known throughout Victorian London.