That Curious Fellow: Captain Basil Hall, R.N. by James McCarthy
Basil Hall comes over as a likeable, tiresome, naïve, middle-class, enthusiastic, extroverted, helpful, social-climbing, insecure, late eighteenth early nineteenth century bore and total non-entity. A keen observer of events and people yet with no insight or perception of how others saw him, little awareness of his own abilities or lack thereof, a decidedly thick skin and a complete lack of initiative. A terrible snob who compared his fellow Scots poorly against the English and was disparaging about Americans. A man who had not the slightest compunction over aggrandizing himself and pushing himself forwards he was not slow to claim exaggerated acquaintance with a whole range of leading figures of the day. One can only imagine how people’s hearts sank when he was announced at their doors. He never seemed to realize how much he was being patronized.
Born in 1789 he was a difficult child who was dispatched at age 13 into the Navy, was present at the evacuation of Corruna, transferred to the notorious 50 gun ship HMS Leopard and stayed for several years on the North American station in Labrador. Eventually, through influence rather than ability, he became a Captain long after the end of the wars. After 20 years naval service he returned to his native Scotland where he lived on his half-pay and pushed himself forwards as a travel writer and member of Edinburgh society.
He was well-travelled for the time, visiting North and South America and China as well as following the route of the Grand Tour in Europe. His observational writing was astute for the day, but what he said about the peoples was outrageous then and now and made him no friends whatsoever.
I don’t think I’ve read a biography structured in quite this way before. Most chapters focus on Hall’s interaction with a well-known personage, Walter Scott, Audubon, Napoleon, Hershel or Dickens, and uses extracts of their letters or notes to provide insights into his life. I find this confusing, as it means that the timeline through the chapters overlaps and jumps about alarmingly. Nevertheless, its good to see a biography of such a strange and unusual character.
Hall contracted the ague on his return to Scotland from Italy in 1842, for which he was helpfully prescribed arsenic and laudanum. Soon thereafter he was committed to the Haslar naval hospital suffering from ‘mental instability’. I wonder whether he wasn’t progressively bipolar. He died four years later.















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