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Appended with the subtitle ‘A Tale of Love and Strange Adventure”, Henry Clay Fairman’s The Third World (1895) is an Arctic subterranean adventure story called ‘crude’ by John Clute in its execution, and yet unusual for its advocacy of female suffrage.⁸ The Third World is typical in its portrayal of a male protagonist who falls in love with the leader of an

advanced civilisation, helping to overthrow a conniving dictator (see Goddess of Atvatabar and Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder for similar plot devices). Where it differs from others is its use of a British – rather than American – protagonist, the last survivor of the failed Franklin mission to the North Pole. Nor does it employ the Symmes Hole mode of entry or geology, but the equally popular Vernian cavern structure with a modified internal geography meant to explain aspects of the natural world.

In the ‘Author’s Introductory Note’, Fairman orients the reader to the history of the Franklin expedition (and Franklin will play a role in passing in several other terra cava novels):

The following story has its roots in a tragedy which stirred the sympathies of all civilized peoples.

[…]

8 John Clute, “Fairman, Henry Clay”, The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction (2011) <http://www.sf-encyclopedia.com/entry/fairman_henry_clay>

88 In 1845 Sir John Franklin, the celebrated Arctic explorer, in command of two vessels- the Erebus and the Terror – was sent into the American Arctic region in quest of a strait which was supposed to connect Baffin’s bay with the Pacific ocean by way of Bering strait.⁹

Franklin and his ships were never seen again. Americans joined the British in searching for the lost expedition, to no avail. Fairman goes on to provide a history of those search and rescue missions, and the remnants of Franklin’s presence that were found (huts, skeletons, a diary, etc.), until page six, when the narrative transitions from the factual to the fictional:

Here, history retires and fiction takes up the pen.

“The Third World” is the supposed personal narrative of a sole survivor of the Franklin party. His story begins by relating how he, as a youth of nineteen, joined the expedition, and gives a detailed account of the voyage from the time of leaving England to the tragic ending, he, the Sole Survivor, being rescued from a snow-covered boat by the Eskimo, Loolik.

This manuscript is apparently discovered by a Norwegian sailor in 1859, along with a compass inscribed “The Terror” to attest to the narrator’s origins. Fariman has provided the traditional editor’s framing device (without actually naming himself as editor). He

establishes facts to be intertwined with fiction, building verisimilitude for the story. At times, the flow of the manuscript is interrupted by [brackets] summarising certain details to elide over long descriptive segments, reminding the reader that this is supposed to be an edited story. The narrator himself also demonstrates a distinct awareness of his audience: ‘I am constantly tempted to enter into the details of things. I feel a desire all the time when holding my pen to describe minutely the scenery that surrounded me… But if I succumb to this temptation, my narrative, whilst it might be useful to the naturalist or geographer, would be prosy to general readers’ (p. 55). This removes the onus from Fairman to be overly didactic in his narrative, while keeping the plot moving with the ‘love and strange adventure’ promised.

The plot structure is simple: this unnamed English sailor wanders into the

underground kingdom of Haiwana, where he is given the name ‘Wanhama’ by the natives, revered for his fair skin, and after battling doubters and villains, becoming the king’s right

9 Henry Clay Fairman, The Third World: A Tale of Love and Strange Adventure (Atlanta, GA: The Third World Publishing Co., 1895), p. 3.

89 hand in a vastly enriched kingdom. Race, history, religion and wealth – all imperialistic themes – come into play. Though Fairman is using a British narrator, many of the ideas

‘Wanhama’ espouses (including the use of American currency to denominate the value of treasure) strike the reader as distinctly originating in the U.S.

Opening with the statement, ‘I believe that my adventures are without a parallel in this history of mankind. Therefore, it seems a duty I owe to the world that I should write them down’ (p. 7) the narrator is asserting the prominence of his story above others, and that its writing is not for gain, but the revelation of truth for imperial gains. This is a tactic seen in many other hollow earth stories, like other travel narratives passing on new information to readers. First rescued by an Eskimo named Loolik (p. 8) several parallels are made between the narrator’s situation and Robinson Crusoe, equating Looklik with the character of Friday, and teaching him ‘more cleanly habits than are common to the people of his race’ (p. 13).

Loolik becomes the faithful servant and ‘noble savage’ (p. 20) popular in literature. While exploring their northern environment, Wanhama and Loolik discover a valley which

contains an ancient city buried under ice. On exploring it, they find vast wealth and perfectly preserved corpses; Fairman was undoubtedly influenced by both the contemporary

excavations of Pompeii and the discovery of extinct creatures like woolly mammoths preserved in ice.

After Loolik falls ill and dies, the story shifts from the Arctic surface to the subterranean, following a cave into ‘the Plutonian regions’ (p. 23) since death would be assured if the narrator tried to make his way back south. After two chapters of broken narrative about his long walk to the interior – interspersed with asterisks *** marking breaks in the manuscript – Wanhama is rescued by a boat of internal inhabitants, described as having ‘black hair, black eyes, and brown skin’ who in attire resembled ‘the ancient Romans’ (p. 47). Repeatedly he mentions how they are all ‘brunettes’ and ‘straight and graceful in aspect’ (p. 49). One again, the uniformity of an interior race is displayed. No matter what the colour employed by the author, it is always uniform, unlike the multi-cultural United States. This is an extension of the early-nineteenth century fantasy ‘of an

90 America without race’¹⁰ that Gardner explored in his analysis of Symzonia. Though the skin-tone of these internals is darker, their uniformity of race marks them as superior to

Wanhama and his own heterogeneous society: ‘Isolated from all mankind, the inhabitants of my new world possess what no other race can boast – pure blood’ (p. 91). These

subterranean inhabitants are not ‘short or deformed’, but universally ‘tall, erect and comely’

(p. 69), meaning that they are also without the congenital and environmental physical impairments found among the working classes in the industrialised surface world.

This rescue leads into a lengthy soliloquy about the significance of the narrator’s discovery (at least to himself and the contemporary reader):

By chance I found the key to the secret of the North Pole. I have unlocked the door and am about to solve the problem that has puzzled nations for centuries. But the secret will die with me; for the Arctic wilds are so little travelled it is not likely that my unparalleled experience will be repeated in thousands of years; most probably never again… I alone of all the billions of men who have lived on the sun-warmed hemisphere of the earth, will die in possession of the great secret.

[…]

I had known always that there was about the North Pole an unexplored region of almost continental proportions, and I believed myself now to the discovered of a NEW WORLD. (52)

The phrase ‘New World’ draws immediate contrast with Columbus and the ‘discovery’ of the Americas, and metaphor frequently used in terra cava novels. The interest in exploring the Polar regions is also drawn out into a hyperbole of a ‘puzzle’ that has intrigued ‘nations for centuries’, though it would difficult to trace any interest before the sixteenth century. The narrator soon finds himself subjected to the same interest that arriving Europeans in the West were also subjected to.

Foremost is the paleness of Wanhama (the name he is given means ‘fair-haired’ [p.

59]), who is marvelled over for his blue eyes, white skin and blond hair. He is a curiosity, and treated like one. Wona, his rescuer and host, harboured ‘the natural ambition to be the first to introduce a blonde man into this country’ (p. 56), like the first Native Americans carried back across the Atlantic to Europe. He is welcomed into the city in a triumphal march (p. 61) to be presented to the king. It is not just Wanhama’s appearance, but what he

10 Gardner, Master Plots, p. 116

91 represents: a land and a race never before known to exist (p. 63). The Queen believes him to be ‘a messenger from the supernatural world’ (p. 66), a Saviour of some sort, which

Wanhama does indeed become in the defeat of the rebellious Lord Bambana via the

introduction of gunpowder to the Polarians. When presented to the public, the King makes a point of claiming that this mysterious man’s ‘lily-white skin would seem to indicate a higher order of beings than we are as it must be the product of finer and purer blood; but he claims no such superiority’ (p. 71). Wanhama’s ‘finer and purer blood’ casts him as the obvious hero and deserving inheritor of a large portion of the vast wealth of the kingdom. He is also the one who brings them information about the petrified city of wealth, as well as the path back to it.

There are many utopian aspects to the city of Hiawana, capital of Polaria (the narrator’s designation for the country which becomes the popular designation, as if the kingdom never had a name before his arrival [p. 88]) making it a prize worthy of capture;

horse-drawn chariots and vast green parks, ‘a well-preserved city of ancient times’ (p. 60-1).

The presence of a monarchy is not inherently distasteful or damaging for the almost-perfect Polaria, because they are ruled by a benevolent and progressive King. It is the presence of the scheming, dangerous Lord Bambana which taints the utopian presence and provides the inlet for Wanhama to eventually ascend to the heights of power in Polaria. Besides royalty, there is also a favoured ‘educated class’ (p. 67), which implies that their opposite exists as well. Wanhama desires to use his newfound wealth and power to inaugurate schools and colleges all over the kingdom’ (p. 234), fulfilling the distinctly American promise of universal education. Like many other utopian societies, and springing from the

contemporary Prohibitionist movement, there is no alcohol to be found on Polarian tables (p.

70-1) and they lack even a concept for such a beverage. Wanhama believes this abstentious nature has contributed to their ‘remarkable physical development’ (p. 88). No imperialist would want to gain control over a country of drunkards and degnerates.

It is only the scarcity of precious metals that mars the nearly-utopian market, a scarcity that Wanhama finds himself in the position to alleviate. Without gold or silver to

92 circulate as currency, the economy functions via barter, an ‘unhealthy state of affairs’ that is

‘a great burden upon the commerce and industries of the country’ (p. 92). Fortunately, Wanhama knows where to find mountains of wealth waiting to be claimed by an industrious adventurer, one of his particular specialities; his role a saviour, not just of the body politic, but of the economy, is coming to fruition. Wanhama’s crowning achievement – literally – is to crown the King of Polaria with the recovered crown of ancient Haiwana (p.265), an act usually reserved for representatives of Divine power.

Wanhama is fascinated by the books in Wona’s house: ‘What ancient history of the human race; what missing link it might supply; what confirmations of Holy Writ it might contain’ (p. 64). There is a mixing of both Darwinian and Biblical language in this passage;

he believes them to be of ‘Adamic blood’ though cannot identify their common heritage as there is no Bible among the Polarians. By chance Wanhama has a copy of the New

Testament with him (one of two items to survive his ordeal since setting out with Franklin) and he translates it into the Polarian language, making himself into a prophet of the Good News. Fortunately, among the Polarians, there is already the practice of monogamous marriage (a mark of civilised behaviour), and these unions must be certified by a physician, a subtle reference to the practice of eugenics among them (p. 87). The second implement to survive Wanhama’s journey to the Polar interior is his gun; with God and a gun he can bring the whole of the Polarian population under his sway. The gold he recovers from the ancient, iced-over city of Haiwana polishes the finished shine of Wanhama’s deeds among the Polarians.

A new source of wealth is the last piece of the puzzle in putting an end to Lord Bambana’s hold on the kingdom, as his are the only functioning precious metal mines. With the king’s blessing, Wanhama leads an expedition back to ancient Haiwan in search of ‘a public treasury’ (p. 229). No compunction is felt in the grave robbing because ‘the dead had no need for riches’ and the act is only the restoration of the Polarians’ ‘lost inheritance’ (p.

230). The order in which these excusing arguments are made is suggestive; even if it had not been a ‘lost inheritance’ that would not have mattered, because a deceased society does not

93 use its precious resources. These riches are also key to winning Noona away from Lord Bambana, worth ‘hundreds or perhaps thousands of millions of wealth’ (p. 234); the gold is so plentiful there is no need to bother with the silver (p. 237).

Wanhama’s ascension to the King’s right hand still marks him as superior to the internals in certain ways, characteristics which give him advantages. Foremost among these advantages are his physical appearance, being blond with pale skin, the white-man-as-deity trope of nineteenth century imperialist fiction. He is desired by the King to not just instruct the populace in ‘historical and geographical knowledge’ but also ‘the truths of the Christian religion’ (p. 163), as humble Wanhama is ‘the most celebrated man who has ever trod the soil of Polaria’ (p. 164). Authorial and reader wish-fulfilment seems an appropriate

designation for this response to Wanhama. To his achievement of glory, God, and gold may be added a forth, gunpowder, which Wanhama manufactures to blow up the defences of Lord Bambana (p. 289). He is rewarded – besides ten percent of everything brought back form the old city – with a medal from the King which reads ‘Who strikes Wanhama, wounds the King’ (p. 309), placing this blonde visitor on an almost equal footing with native royalty.

Though a significant portion of the narrative is given over to the journey, the meeting of the Polarians, describing their society, history, and geography, the rest of the story is given over the traditional love triangle (Wanhama trying to win the hand of Lady Noona from Lord Bambana) and fighting (quelling Bambana’s rebellion). There is little to distinguish these passages as terra cava rather than another other worldly setting. This is the long promised ‘love and strange adventure’, reached after a hundred pages of just strange adventure.

It is difficult to define The Third World as a hollow earth novel, or even just a subterranean novel; Fairman does not remain consistent in his descriptions, or the geography. On the penultimate page, Wanhama asserts ‘There is but one gateway to the North Pole. It is through the cave that led me here. The mountains that wall this basin (or funnel) in, is unscalable. This I have ascertained to be unquestionably true.’ (p. 312) Is this a Polar Depression with a narrow tunnel leading to the other end of the world, were a similar

94 southern Polar Depression exists? In studying maps (though no illustrations are provided for readers), Wanhama concludes: ‘The country inhabited by the Polarians is simply the vast crater of an extinct volcano’ and at the centre of what would be considered ‘The Pole’ is a Bottomless Abyss (p. 81) some forty miles in diameter. The sun is visible during the summer months, and light is provided by the Aurora Borealis (which emerges from the Bottomless Abyss) during the winter months; twilight and sunrise occupy the autumnal and spring months respectively (p. 83-5).

Though the native inhabitants are not white, they are not depicted as savages, which is an unusual feature. However, unlike nearly every other terra cava novel which is

populated with a race advanced both spiritually and technologically, The Third World presents a civilisation on the level of Rome; there is no knowledge of Jesus, and no scientific or technological knowledge. Inequality still permeates via a caste system. Wanhama’s arrival heralds a one-man colonisation of Polaria in words, deeds, knowledge, and political power, transforming their society into one that resembles the world he left behind.