Resolute by Martin W. Sandler Page B

still plump and out of shape. Moreover, he was old for such an assignment. And he had not been in the Arctic for more than sixteen years.
    It was not that Franklin was without considerable strengths. In both combat and his previous Arctic experiences he had demonstrated remarkable courage. He was an excellent seaman. He was genuinely liked, even admired, by those who served under him. He was unflaggingly loyal and he had again proved in both his overland expeditions that he was dogged, particularly in his determination to follow whatever orders he was given.
    In the end, however, it was none of these qualities that got Franklin his command—aside from the default factor, it was his petite, elegant, and highly intelligent wife who was the catalyst. Lady Jane Franklin was one of the most remarkable females of her era. She would eventually become the most influential woman in all of Arctic exploration.
    Born in London in 1791, Jane Franklin defied every taboo of her day. Rather than devote herself to the genteel domestic life dictated by society, she became a social activist who took a backseat to no one in expressing her opinions on any matter. Endowed with boundless energy, she visited prisons, sat in on lectures at the Royal Institution, and attended meetings of the British and Foreign School Society. Before marrying Franklin, she had traveled widely with her father to a number of foreign countries where she meticulously recorded her impressions of every landmark she visited. Those who knew her well were particularly impressed with her thirst for knowledge—during one three-year period she had read 295 books, delving into issues ranging from social problems to education and religion.
    Most of all, Jane Franklin was a woman determined to get what she wanted, and more than anything else, she wanted to get for her husband what she believed he deserved. And ultimately, that meant helping him to gain the greatest honor of all—to be forever known as the discover of the Northwest Passage. She would simply not sit idly by while he, the naval hero, the man who had eaten his boots, the man who had charted much of the Arctic coast, was being denied his moment of glory.
    She loved her husband dearly, but she felt that—lacking her own aggressive nature—he needed to be reminded of what, despite his setbacks, had elevated him to the esteem in which he was held by the British public. “The character and position you possess in society,” she confided to him, “and the interest—I may say celebrity—attached to your name, belong to the expeditions and would never have been acquired in the ordinary line of your [naval] profession … You must not think I undervalue your military career. I feel it is not that, but the other, which has made you what you are.”
    But for Jane Franklin, simply reminding her husband of his destiny was not enough. Action had to be taken. While Barrow debated with himself over Franklin’s selection, Lady Jane began to campaign relentlessly on his behalf. No influential body escaped her lobbying—the navy’s Arctic Council, the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, members of Parliament, the officers of the Royal and Geographical Societies. Aware that James Clark Ross had been one of Barrow’s prime candidates, and concerned that he might change his mind and accept the command, she even wrote to him, stating, “If you do not go, I should wish Sir John to have it… and not be put aside by his age… I think he will be deeply sensitive if his own department should neglect him…I dread exceedingly the effect on his mind.”
    By the time her petitioning was through, each of these bodies was convinced that John Franklin was their man. Given the absence of other notable candidates, Sir John would have received the command in any case. But any lingering doubt was effectively removed by what Lady Franklin had managed to accomplish. It would not