MED-IMG: Mitchell FW1

Spanish Order of Carlos III, Knight

Royal and Distinguished Spanish Order of Carlos III, knight was instituted by King Carlos III by Royal Decree on 19 September 1771 to reward activities that benefited Spain and the Royal House. It has always been Spain’s highest civil award, though until 1847 it was both a military and civil decoration. The Order is still in existence and is now awarded to ‘citizens who, with their effort, initiative and work, have brought a distinguished and extraordinary service to the Nation’. The Immaculate Conception, 1660, by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo on which the image on the face is based is in the Museo del Prado, Madrid.

Were FWM and Maj. General Wilson Friends?

F.W. Mitchell, retired Postmaster General of Hong Kong, married Emily Wilson, the Major-General’s daughter, one year after the Wilson family arrived in Hobart. What did John Wilson think about his 27 year old daughter marrying the 62 year old F. W. Mitchell, a man 10 years older than himself? Did he have serious misgivings or was he pleased to add such a prestigious figure to the family? We will never know. Still, it is not hard to imagine the Major-General and the Postmaster General swapping tales in the Hobart Men’s Club, and whiskeys in hand, declaring the oft heard phrase “To the Queen,” followed swiftly by “To the Empire.” Only three years later, F. W. Mitchell died.

Footnote: As you were, folks. Robin Price leaves this comment: “As John Newbold Wilson was an ardent lay preacher for the Methodists, I don’t think he was likely to be drinking whiskey.” Still, it could have been sasparilla. Nonetheless, it’s an interesting piece of information as it explains how Emily connected with her second husband Henry Samuel Cox Fooks, a Methodist minister. It might also suggest that FW Williams Mitchell was a religious man. Clearly, he was a man of strong principles and (as we gather from historical anecdotes) a brisk “my way or the highway” kind of guy who was not known for his affability. 

Mitchell FW Obituary

Mr F.W. Mitchell, who died on June 27, 1890, at his residence Vaucluse, Hobart, Tasmania, was born in Cornwall, England. As a young man he was articled to a firm of lawyers in London, with a view to adopting the legal profession. Later on, however, seeing that his interests would be more advanced by going abroad, he applied for a vacancy, and cancelling his articles to the legal firm, proceeded to Hong Kong where his career of usefulness fairly commenced.

In March 1857, he was appointed Deputy Registrar of the Supreme Court, and in the same year became Chief Clerk in the Imperial Post Office, and in the following year, Acting Postmaster. In 1859 Mr. Mitchell was appointed Auditor-General of the Colony of Hong Kong and of the Consular and Diplomatic accounts of China and Japan. On the transfer of the Imperial Post Office to the colony on May 1, 1860, Mr Mitchell was appointed Assistant Postmaster-General and became head of the department in November of the year 1862. In April, 1862, he was chosen a member of a committee to investigate defalcations at the Government Civil Hospital, and received the thanks of the Government for his services on that occasion.

He was created a J.P. in December, 1864 and acted as Police Magistrate for some months in 1866. In 1867 he was appointed to make a tour of inspection of the various postal agencie in China and Japan. He acted as Police Magistrate from July 13 to September 9 of 1867. He was appointed Collector of Stamp Revenue on September 10, 1867. In May 1868, he was appointed atrustee of St John’s Cathedral on behalf of the Government and on his departure the trustees of the Cathedral acknowledgedthe care and efficiency with which he, as one of their body, performed the duties of treasurer. He was appointed a Commissioner under the seal of the colony to make inquiries and investigation into the state of the Police Force, in December 1871 and received the thanks of the Government Appointed Acting Police Magistrate in April, 1872 and remained so until June, 1874. In June, 1872 he was appointed member of a committee to inquire into the expediency of establishing a Savings Bank. In September, 1873 he was delagated (sic) to investigate a dispute between the Medical and Gaol Departments, and again received the thanks of the Government.

He rendered the Spanish Government in Manila valuable services in facilitating the regular conveyance of their mails, which services were recognized by the King of Spain (Amadeus) who conferred upon him the honour of a Knighthood of the Distinguished Order of Carlos III, in the year 1871. The Merchant Communities of Manila and Shanghai also tendered him their thanks for his services.

Privately he was always ready to counsel and befriend the distressed and unfortunate. Before leaving Hong Kong in April, 1875, a public dinner was given to him in recognition of the many services he had rendered the colony, and regret was expressed at his departure, with earnest wishes for his welfare. In Hobart his career was eminently useful as a public man, and many were the regrets at his death. 

He was interred on the 1st July, in the Queensborough Cemetary, Sandy Bay, near Hobart.

Francis Reborn

Reborn

It must have been a lonely few years for Francis Sr after his wife Mary passed away. Fortunately he had his work to occupy him. And no doubt, he had good friends in Hobart his own age. It had a substantial ex-pat community for good reason. It was a splendid place to retire. Living was cheap, vastly cheaper than London, and the climate was superb.

1887: Resurrection

No doubt Francis made daily forays to Hobart’s Empire Club — getting a spot of lunch, ordering a port with his London Times and chatting it up with other Old Warhorses. Speaking of Old War Horses, I suspect he was friends with Major-General John Newbold Wilson at the Club, famous for his exploits in the India Regiment. Well, speak of the devils, there they are, over by the window, swapping yarns by the look of it. Let’s slip over and listen in…

The Major-General: “Yes, those were bloody good years with the regiment. Certainly, living conditions were challenging for my Mary, poor soul. But she got on with it and no harm came of it. And as you know, one makes fast friends in those places. It was as they say, ‘the best of times.’”

Francis replies: “I dare say it was good experience for your Emily too. Situations like that build strong characters, adults who are self-reliant, speak their mind and know the value of hard work and a principled life. Emily has all of those qualities John. I greatly admire your daughter for that. And you and Mary too, for that matter, for the remarkable job you’ve done shaping her to be the outstanding woman she is today. Well done, old chap.”

“Why thank you Francis. You’re very kind…..you know she greatly admires you too. She has told me so. It must be a bit lonely for you with Mary gone. Have you considered remarrying?”
“I confess I hadn’t until recently.”
For a moment, nothing is said. Both the men seem uncomfortable with what they know must come next.
“John, I…I feel very awkward asking you this, but I feel I must. As you know, Emily and I have been spending a lot of time together over the last few months. She is such a delightful young woman that I feel born again in her presence.

I have deep feelings for her John, and she has expressed deep feeling for me in return. This is dreadfully difficult for me to say, as she is your daughter and so much younger than me….

John, I am asking you for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“And Emily wishes it also?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then so shall it be, old boy. She will be a devoted and loving wife to you Francis. And better that than a loving daughter forever in my household, what? Let us toast the occasion. I must refrain from the liquor. Methodist, you see.

Waiter! One of your best brandies for my friend here and tea for me. We have cause to celebrate.”

Post script:

Married they were on the 16th of August, 1887. Francis was sixty-two, his bride twenty-seven. They had barely three years together before Francis died in June, 1890.

Femme Fatale

We pick up the story of Francis Mitchell in Hobart, Tasmania (then Van Diemen’s Land) where Francis has taken work as the island’s coroner. Early in 1881, Francis Jr (34) and his wife Charlotte pay a visit to the Mitchells in Hobart. It is 5:00 PM February 1, 1881. Francis, Mary, Francis Jr and Charlotte are sitting round the fire in the drawing room sipping mulled wine. Francis Jr speaks:

“My dear parents, do you still insist on not joining us at the theatre this evening? I would love to treat. You’ve been so good to us this trip. Please come, won’t you?”

“Not this time son. I’m just not feeling up to it. I’ve been doing a lot of travel lately and I’m not a young man any more. There will be lots of other opportunities. But thank you. I appreciate the invitation. Mother, what about you.”

“No thank you Francis. I’m happy to stay home and relax with your father. We’ve got a cozy fire going and I’ve got some knitting to catch up on. You and Charlotte take this time for yourselves. But thank you all the same.”

Charlotte speaks. “Francis, are you sure you’re up to it. Your fainting spells have increased recently and I’m worried about you. We can easily go to the theatre another time when you’re more stable.”

“Charlotte, I’m just fine. Really. I feel top notch today. But if it will make you feel better, take along the smelling ammonia in the off chance I have a spell. Come on then, we’d best get ready.”

Almost the entire who’s who of Hobart are in the theatre lobby at intermission. The women, in expensive gowns and far too much make-up, the men in formal evening wear. The air in the lobby is thick with the smoke of pipes, cigars and cigarettes. Patrons cluster with old friends and exchange pleasantries. All is as it should be and then…
There is a gasp in the crowd. Someone yells “MAN DOWN. GET A DOCTOR.” Francis is lying
face up on the floor.

Charlotte, on edge about her husbands recent bout of fainting spells, cries out and rushes frantically to where the crowd has parted to make room for the unconscious man. Francis is lying face up on the floor. His mouth is hanging open. “Oh dear God,” she cries, “Francis!”

Charlotte is visibly agitated, barely able to focus on what she must do next. From her purse she takes a small glass vial and removes the stopper. Her hand is shaking uncontrollably.

Kneeling down, and unthinking, she tucks the vial of ammonia under his nose. In an instant she realizes her mistake. The ammonia pours from the vial and slips into her husband’s mouth and down his throat.
“Oh my God, what have I done? My dear husband, please forgive me.
Please, please, somebody help.”

A doctor is found and attends the stricken man, but there is nothing he can do. The ammonia has done its work. For two days, Francis endures unspeakable pain, then dies.

Post script:

Charlotte never remarried. Perhaps she felt it her penance to live her life alone; perhaps she loved Francis too much to love another. She died in England at fifty-nine. A year after the death of her son, almost to the day, Francis’ mother Mary died. Some say she died of a broken heart.