Documents relating to Alfred Crossley
[1839-1877]

DEATH OF A WELL-KNOWN NATURALIST

A telegram has been received in Halifax announcing the death of Mr Alfred Crossley, at the age of 37 years, in the island of Madagascar, whither he had gone to collect specimens of natural history. Mr Crossley has passed a life of adventure, having part of his life being a seaman. On one occasion, in a shipwreck, he and a companion escaped on a raft to Madagascar. Of late years he has been engaged in collecting natural history specimens, some of which are in the British Museum. He went out last June on another expedition, and news came in February that he was ill, but nothing further was heard until the telegram arrived announcing his death, but without giving details. Smallpox has raged severely in the island, and it is presumed he has died of the disease

DEATH OF A HALIFAX MAN IN MADAGASCAR

Intelligence has been received this week of the death, in the island of Madagascar, of Mr Alfred Crossley, a townsman. He was only 37 years of age, and for the greater part of his years he had been living a life of peril and adventure by sea and land. In early years, while residing with his relatives in the neighbourhood of Mount-pleasant, has was possessed by a string desire for the life of a sailor, and as he could not be persuaded otherwise, he was duly apprenticed. In one of his voyages he was wrecked, and he and another sailor escaped only by taking to a small raft, on which they drifted onto Madagascar. Here they were detained two years as prisoners, but not very hardly treated. In the end they managed to escape from their captors, and reaching more civilised parts of the island they eventually got away. Mr Crossley pursued the sea-faring life for some time longer, in the meantime marrying Sarah, the daughter of Mr Parker, formerly a blacksmith in Crib Lane. He afterwards was disposed to settle down in Halifax, but circumstances not favouring that disposition, he went out again to Madagascar, not as a seaman this time, but as a naturalist. Partly under an arrangement with a private gentleman, he went to capture and bring home specimens in natural history and botany for the enrichment of private and public collections in this country. We believe he was commissioned especially to look out for butterflies; but nothing came amiss to him, of course, the rarer specimens being particularly sought. He captured animals, birds, butterflies, insects, not overlooking, while he subordinated, botanical specimens. It was a strange life to lead truly. Mr Crossley would disappear in the romantic and most beautiful wilds of the island for weeks, sometimes months, with native servants – "boys" as they are called, and as Livingstone called his attendants – patiently gathering up the living creatures he sought for, and being skilled in the work, properly curing and packing them. On these expeditions he went many times, and the specimens he brought home now appear in the collections of private gentlemen and in public institutions, such as the British Museum. Readers would be astonished and incredulous were we to mention the prices some specimens realise, and equally so at the number of persons employed in work like this in different parts of the world. Mr Crossley spent a good while in parts of Africa in like pursuits. Full of perils of many kinds undoubtedly such a life must be, but it has attractions to the adventurous and courageous. Mr Crossley would say that, after a few months in the wilds, the strong home sickness would come upon him, and he would hasten away to the port and quickly home, often astonishing his friends by suddenly appearing among them when they thought that he was thousands of miles away. He took what has proved to be his final farewell just a year ago. It may be mentioned that his wife had died, and that in February 1876 he married again, Rebecca, the daughter of Mr William Dennis, a gentleman well-known as a vocalist in Halifax. Four months after the marriage, circumstances seeming favourable, he decided to go to Madagascar again. Somehow, things did not go well with him, and several mishaps occurred. Then he was stricken down with illness – an inflammation; this was in February; he could not, because of illness, write all he had to say to his wife, and a friendly hand wrote part of it. No further communication was received from his as the weeks went away, but it was known that smallpox raged on the island, and ships and mails were not allowed to leave, alarm was stayed. Thus for many weeks hopes and fears beguiled each other. On Wednesday, however, a telegram of but a few words told that he was dead – how, where, when, is not known. Less than anybody would Alfred Crossley have expected to be made the subject of a paragraph in the Halifax Courier; but he is worthy of these few lines, for he was of a fine and intelligent nature. Simple and honest, he was also modest and brave. There was a singular absence of forwardness, not to mention swagger, in his manners. Only now and again, and under favourable conditions, could he be drawn out to speak of his travels, but sometimes he would tell attractive stories of the sea, and of adventures among wild scenes and wilder men; and at times there would creep out, unconsciously to himself, facts and incidents showing the fortitude, courage and bravery of the man. He had an intense desire, all his wanderings over, to die at home at last, but it was not so