The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 278, Supplementary Number (1828)

In Short

This volume serves as a curated digest of 1828 British life, offering a blend of architectural critique and travel narrative. It examines the construction of the new Buckingham Palace—detailing its controversial design and environmental hazards—while simultaneously documenting the harrowing, failed attempts of Captains Parry and Franklin to conquer the North Pole and the Northwest Passage. By juxtaposing the vanity of royal building projects against the stark, icy struggles of naval officers, the book illustrates the widening scope of British ambition at the dawn of the Victorian age.

The Story

The narrative arc begins in the heart of London, where the city seeks to transform its architectural reputation through the construction of the new Buckingham Palace. The text presents this project as a national concern, yet it quickly pivots to severe criticism. Architectural observers and commentators, such as Mr. Loudon, highlight the absurdity of the site, noting that the palace is essentially a moisture-trapping basin prone to fog and "malaria." The story of the palace evolves from a celebration of royal prestige into a cautionary tale of "incongruities" and "enormities," where the designer remains a secret and the public feels only disappointment. The text describes the internal and external layout—the Doric and Corinthian orders, the fireproof flooring, and the artificial mounds meant to mimic the scenery of Cumberland—but concludes that the project is a "fantastical" failure, falling short of the grandeur expected of a capital city.

The focus then shifts abruptly from the stagnant air of St. James’s Park to the biting, shifting ice of the high Arctic. The narrative tracks Captain Parry’s attempt to reach the North Pole by boat and sledge. The progression is one of relentless, soul-crushing labor: the men drag heavy boats across chaotic, uneven ice ridges, only to realize that the ice itself is drifting south faster than they can travel north. They face starvation, exhaustion, and the physical agony of wet limbs turning numb in freezing temperatures. They eventually abandon their "impracticable design," returning home without loss of life, but with the sobering realization that the Pole may remain unreachable.

Parallel to Parry’s struggle, the narrative covers Captain Franklin’s land-based expedition. His party navigates the Mackenzie River and the frigid coastlines of North America, facing thick fogs, unapproachable terrain, and constant ice. Like Parry, Franklin finds his path obstructed by nature’s indifference. His party experiences extreme suffering from wading in freezing water, eventually concluding that further progress would be "unpardonable rashness." The two accounts culminate in a shared sense of defeat, tempered by the scientific observation that the Northwest Passage likely exists, even if the current technology and human endurance are not enough to master it. The book ends not with a conquest, but with the quiet return of these explorers, noting with a touch of irony that the public’s prophecy of their failure arrived exactly on schedule.

How It Unfolds

The architectural critique begins with an assessment of the new Buckingham Palace, framing the building as a symbol of national identity that fails to satisfy the public eye. The text details the specific stylistic clashes, such as the awkward blending of Greek architectural orders and the dome’s unfortunate resemblance to a "Brobdignagian egg."

The environmental warning follows, introducing the theory of "malaria" to argue that the palace’s location in a low-lying valley makes it an unhealthy, fog-choked dwelling for the King. This section provides a medical justification for the public's growing dislike of the royal site.

The polar challenge marks the shift to the Arctic, where the narrative details the logistics of Captain Parry’s expedition, including the failed reliance on reindeer and the switch to manual labor. The focus here is on the physical toll of dragging boats over treacherous, drifting ice fields.

The frustration of nature details Franklin’s coastal survey, where the explorers find themselves stymied by relentless fogs and shallow, icy waters. The narrative emphasizes the insurmountable nature of the obstacles, characterizing the environment as a hostile, shifting frontier.

The return home concludes the accounts, showing the explorers arriving back in London to reconcile their failures. The narrative brings the reader back to the domestic sphere, grounding the grand, failed ambitions of the state and the explorers in the mundane reality of "quarter-day" schedules and political office reports.

The People

The figures in this volume are defined by their roles as either architects of national image or agents of imperial exploration. The anonymous designer of Buckingham Palace stands as a shadowy, controversial figure whose "incongruities" draw the ire of critics like Mr. Loudon. Mr. Loudon acts as the voice of scientific reason, using meteorology and medical theory to expose the palace as an architectural and health hazard. His Majesty is portrayed as a man of "exquisite taste" whose personal residence is being shaped by conflicting professional interests and party politics, leaving him to occupy a building that many believe is fundamentally flawed.

Captain Parry and Captain Franklin represent the quintessential nineteenth-century explorers: stoic, disciplined, and relentlessly persevering. Parry is described as a model of health despite his ordeal, a man who leads his crew into the "chaotic" ice with nothing but raw willpower. Franklin, similarly, is a figure of duty, making the difficult call to turn back when his men begin to suffer from exposure. These men are not portrayed as tragic heroes, but as professionals dealing with the harsh reality of a world that refuses to be mapped. They are contrasted with the "well-dressed men" and "lovely women" who once populated the malls of St. James's Park, highlighting the distance between the elegant, social life of the capital and the lonely, frozen struggle at the edge of the world.

In Its Own Voice

"If the problem had been proposed how to alter Buckingham House and gardens, so as to render the former as unhealthy a dwelling as possible, it could not have been better solved than by the works now executed."

(Loudon’s scathing assessment of the new royal palace’s poor site selection.)

"During their whole march they were soaking wet to the knees, and benumbed by a temperature always at or near the freezing point."

(A description of the physical reality faced by the crew of the Hecla during their trek across the Arctic ice.)

"The ice itself was drifting faster to the south than they could make their way over it to the north: thus, during the last three days of their struggle, instead of gaining a higher latitude, they were actually two miles farther south than when they set out."

(The moment of realization for the Arctic explorers that their efforts were futile.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this book explores the tension between human vanity and the unyielding forces of nature. The construction of the palace is an attempt to impose order, beauty, and status onto the landscape, yet it results in a "dam to a pond of watery vapour." Similarly, the Arctic expeditions are attempts to impose the grid of human knowledge onto the poles, only to be rebuffed by ice that moves with its own tidal logic. The book questions whether "progress" is merely a surface-level aesthetic choice—like adding a triumphal arch—or a genuine advancement. It asks whether humanity can truly master its environment, or if we are merely "subordinate personages" at the mercy of larger, indifferent systems.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the history of urban planning and the gritty, visceral accounts of Victorian-era exploration will find this a fascinating document. It offers a rare, ground-level view of how a city—and a nation—processed its own growth and its failures. The prose is earnest and precise, reflecting a time when "improvement" was the ultimate goal, yet it is refreshingly honest about the disappointment that often follows grand projects.

The book is not without its difficulties; the architectural terminology may feel dense, and the periodic reliance on 1820s medical theories—like the specific dangers of "malaria" from garden ponds—reflects a worldview that has long since passed. However, the accounts of the Arctic expeditions remain strikingly modern in their depiction of survival. The frustration of Captains Parry and Franklin, their "disheartening and fruitless toil," and the sheer physical agony of their journey provide a window into the human spirit that transcends the era. You will walk away with a sense of the scale of the nineteenth-century ambition, and a sobering, grounded understanding of the costs of trying to tame a world that, in many ways, remained entirely beyond human reach.