With Scott in the Antarctic

by Isobel E Williams

  He decided to follow his father into medicine. His schooling had prepared him for a professional career. Medicine attracted him because he had first-hand knowledge of the useful contributions his father had been able to make in Cheltenham. He would be aware also of the importance of his having a reliable income; he knew that his father still had six daughters and a young son at home. He had no bent to follow his elder brother Bernard and Uncle Charles into the army; his contemplative nature would have made him completely unsuited to the life. Medicine was a good choice. It offered a springboard for diverse opportunities: travel, specialisation in hospital, general practice, missionary work. In 1891 he took the Cambridge entry exams to study natural sciences and medicine. He did well and would have done better if he had not been ill at the time. He had hoped for a scholarship but he got a Certificate with Honours in science41 and was later awarded an Exhibition of £20 (with £3 for the purchase of books) at Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge.42 To satisfy the General Medical Council of his suitability to register as a medical student he had to pass a seriously daunting number of subjects including languages, mathematics, logic and botany,43 but by now his intellectual ability had asserted itself. He had no difficulty with the examinations and like his father he managed to fit in innumerable interests in addition to his medical work.

  2

  Cambridge

  Wilson entered Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge as an ‘Exhibitioner’, with his £20 a year grant, on 1 October 1891. He knew that Cambridge has been famous for its teaching for centuries. Alumni included: Isaac Newton, the mathematician who formulated the concept of gravity; William Harvey, who first discovered that blood circulates around the body; Charles Darwin, who shook the world with his theories of evolution; Lord Byron who shocked the world with his lifestyle and enthused it with his poetry and Thomas Lynch, one of the founding fathers of The United States. To a visitor Cambridge may impress with its grey stone buildings, grassy courts and chapels, but its reputation is firmly anchored to its huge intellectual and scientific contributions. When Wilson went to Cambridge the university had twenty-three Colleges. He arrived, holding the place in awe, but determined to play his full part in its life. His medical student registration certificate (number 20793) was signed on 9 October.1 He was to read for a degree in natural sciences and for his pre-clinical medical degree.

  The last decade of the nineteenth century was described as the ‘golden era of the Cambridge medical school’.2 This description was coined because although medical education had vastly improved, a classical overtone was still very much in evidence as it had been at Wilson’s school. Students were still imbued with ideas of manliness and loyalty and the ability to govern was considered essential. The concept of ‘a Christian gentleman’ pertained and the undergraduates had to be familiar with Latin, the classics and to be able to write well. The students would know that a medical degree from Cambridge would automatically open doors to the most prestigious and respected positions in the medical profession, opportunities not necessarily offered to students from other universities. In Cambridge, Wilson would have known that he was one of ‘the chosen’.3 To start with the instruction was general; the lack of specific scientific teaching was not a concern, indeed, too early an emphasis on specialisation in the sciences was discouraged.4 However it would be inaccurate to think that medical studies were easier then than now. The requirements were certainly different, but they were daunting: medical students, to be registered by the General Medical Council, had to pass the Preliminary Examination with work done at school. Then they faced a long haul. Wilson went on to a series of further examinations with the aim of eventually achieving two degrees. The first was the natural science Tripos; this resulted in a Bachelor of Arts degree (B.A.) which, in spite of its name, was not in the arts, as most people understand them, but in chemistry, physics, mineralogy, comparative anatomy and much more. The second was the medical degree, Bachelor of Medicine (M.B.). Students did the first three years of the six-year medical course at Cambridge. Wilson faced regular examination hurdles. He passed Parts 1 and 2 of the first M.B. in the autumn of 1891.5 In 1893 he passed Part 1 of the second M.B. in pharmacy. He passed the final pathology examination in December 1893.6

  The following year he took the first part of the natural science Tripos, for his B.A.7 Here he excelled and was awarded first class honours, having sat papers and done practical examinations in physiology, zoology and comparative anatomy, botany and human anatomy. He chose as his prize five volumes of the writings of John Ruskin, the art critic and social reformer, bound in blue calf, a valued treasure. This unenviable series of examinations were the norm for medical students, but by 1894, Wilson was very keen to get onto the clinical part of his course, which was to be done in London. His aim was to become a surgeon; he had had his fill of theoretical work and wanted to get down to the ‘real’ business. A painting shown at the Royal Academy of Arts in London in 1894 reflected his feelings. The picture showed a stylish-looking yacht surrounded by working steamboats and rowing boats. Wilson wrote to his father, ‘Butterflies and Bees’ is a picture in this year’s Academy and it just gives my ideas of the six years’ medical training. The first three are the butterflies up here, the three last are the bees in Hospital in Town and now the sooner I get there the better’.8 Unusually, the Master of the College asked him to stay on for an extra year. The reason for this was said to be that he could take the second part of the Tripos and that he was ‘a good influence’.9 Whatever the reason, Wilson’s parents, no doubt pleased that their son had been praised and singled out in this manner, persuaded him to stay on until 1895. He took two further examinations in this extra year: Part 2 of the second M.B. and the Part 2 of the Tripos. Although George Seaver says that Wilson failed both these examinations,10 he in fact passed Part 2 of the second M.B. in the Michaelmas term 1895,11 probably at a resit.

  Although he had watched operations in Cambridge, by the time Wilson came face to face with a ‘real’ patient, he had already done four years of training and more loomed ahead. The final medical degree had to be taken after at least three years of clinical work in a teaching hospital. There was no clinical teaching in the Cambridge hospitals in the 1890s, so many students went to London for this training and returned to Cambridge to sit the final exam. Students had to pass exams in surgery, midwifery, general pathology, hygiene and medical jurisprudence. They had to produce certificates of ‘diligent attendance’ at the various courses.12 No one reading these requirements could suppose that medicine in the 1890s was an easy option or that the titles B.A. and M.B. were not well earned. When Wilson got to London in October 1895 he would have assumed that a further three years would finally free him of the examination yoke, at least for a time. The fates decreed otherwise. He was eventually to be a student for over eight years, finally being awarded the M.B. on 7 June 1900.13 In relation to all the examinations he sat however, there is no doubt that he followed the route dictated by the authorities.

  Gonville and Caius is one of the smaller colleges in Cambridge. It was established in 1348 by Edmund Gonville and was refounded and extended in the sixteenth century by a doctor of medicine, John Keyes. It flourishes still. The College is called Caius because Dr Keyes, who had practised in Italy, ‘Latinised’ the spelling of his name. The College buildings include a chapel, a hall (where a flag bearing the Gonville and Caius Arms that Wilson took to the Pole still has pride of place), a library and accommodation, all built around grassy courts reflecting the founders’ aim of providing a communal place for study and prayer. Dr Keyes’ legacies to Caius of three carved stone gates named ‘Humility’, ‘Virtue’ and ‘Honour’ are important landmarks. Wilson was billeted high above ‘Virtue’, in rooms that were later dedicated to his memory, with a memorial plaque on the door. The gates were built in Renaissance style and are generally admired by visitors, though probably hardly noticed by Wilson and his friends as they dashed underneath them in their day-to-day student life. Wilson, like the ot
her students, had a ‘gyp’ – a servant to look after him – and his, by chance, was a man who served with his Uncle Charles on the Nile Expedition, a coincidence that must have made him feel proud. Caius has several connections with Scott’s Antarctic explorations: the Canadian glaciologist Charles Wright who was on the second expedition, was an undergraduate at Gonville and Caius and the Australian geologist Frank Debenham was a Fellow of the College.

  In Caius everyone would have known and been known by each other. Students studied a range of subjects, only a few were training for a medical degree. Disagreements and debates would have ranged and raged over the topics of the time: Darwin, art, literature, medicine. The students who joined in 1891 were said to be intelligent, also boisterous and rowdy.14 In this group Wilson was hardly domineering, in fact he was relatively quiet, but beneath this exterior he was confident in his views and certainly not overwhelmed by young men trying to impress each other. He was particularly unimpressed by the intellect of the students who had beaten him in the scholarship. Where he was unusual was that he was completely lacking in personal ambition in the sense of wanting to lead the group. Though in his early days at Cambridge he could still be aggressive, critical and argumentative and his temper could still break out alarmingly,15 he never wanted to dominate. His saving grace was that he had a sense of humour and was tolerant of other people’s opinions whether they coincided with his or not. He was easy to know, but difficult to know well. When he did give his confidence, however, he gave it completely and his companionship and considered thoughts on nature, religion, art and poetry were the reward; in discussions with his friends, he honed and tempered his thoughts on religion, life’s meaning and life in general. These friendships were kept in good repair throughout his life and later, when he was on the expeditions, he regretted that there was no one to whom he could open up as completely as he did in Cambridge.16 George Abercrombie, (1872–1961) was admitted to Caius on the same day as Wilson and trained with him also in London. Abercrombie went on to be a physician in the Orthopaedic Royal Hospital in Sheffield. John Roger Charles (1872–1962) was also in Wilson’s year. Another solid citizen, he became a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians in London and physician at the Royal Infirmary in Bristol. John Fraser (1873–1962) was also with Wilson throughout his student days. He went on to practise in Pietermartizburg and was the father of Wilson’s godson. Incidentally none of these friends were awarded first class honours in the natural science Tripos as Wilson was; Fraser and Abercrombie were given third class honours and Charles second class. Wilson was exceptional.17

  Wilson’s weakness was his temper. He struggled to control it. Although probably uniquely for a medical student of his time his goal was to achieve perfect self-control, his resolutions were often blown away by an enraged outburst. But in his early twenties his temper gradually became calmer and he was obviously approachable and sympathetic because he became, unexpectedly, the mediator and peacemaker of his year; his peers obviously recognised his integrity and tolerance and could rely on his discretion. He would continue in this role for life. It was a responsibility he relished because it made him feel wanted and useful and that was enough for him. However he would never become a social animal, he lacked small talk. Concepts and ideas were his metier. In Caius he started to enjoy reading poetry, particularly Tennyson, who was to become a permanent love; he was reading Tennyson’s In Memoriam and Maud on his fatal journey from the Pole.18

  Students mostly relish their independence and freedom when they leave home, only too keen to try new experiences. However there is absolutely no hint of any impropriety in relation to Wilson’s student days. Although as a ‘fresher’19 he took part in College activities actively and eagerly, there was another side to his character. Underpinning his surface enthusiasms he was a reflective young man, consumed with religious curiosity, unworried by personal or parental ambition and already thinking of himself as primarily answerable to his maker. By the 1890s, society was changing. Strict Victorian morality was soon to be lightened by Edwardian mores and many Cambridge students no doubt sampled the delights of the town. Wilson disapproved of any such activity, he was celibate; he tried to instil his ideals into his younger brother Jim, when he too went up to Cambridge a few years later. He advised Jim to have nothing to do with Cambridge town women:

  Our family is a bit above that sort of thing, even in fun it is not a sign of superiority or manliness – rather a sign of true manliness is to have the greatest respect for even the most degraded woman. Don’t think there is anything you should learn about them practically because you will learn more than enough listening to your friends’ conversation. Remember you are a gentleman more truly than most of them you meet who may cut a finer figure and live up to it. Don’t ever underestimate your own power of example. You are responsible for the sins of others in so far as they are copying you – and you may save a soul alive and so cover a multitude of sins.20

  His enthusiasms were all intellectual and he was avid for knowledge on any front: natural sciences, walks in the countryside to collect specimens (his room was always a jumble of animal skulls, bird’s feet, claws and bones) and poetry. Fascinated by the arts, especially painting, and always keen to improve his technique, he drew incessantly. He read (particularly on painters), studied, joined societies, debated and talked. He had the knack (and advised Jim to cultivate it) of getting people to talk about themselves, a subject everyone finds endlessly fascinating and this must have helped with him being generally liked. But above all, his religious passion insinuated itself as one of the dominating and permanent obsessions of his life. It was at Cambridge that much of his questioning about life began to be clarified in his mind. In Cambridge he started to wrestle with the demands imposed by the New Testament on each individual. His concluded that truth is what is described in the Bible and exemplified by the life of Christ. He came to these conclusions after discussion and study but always formed independent opinions and was unconcerned about ‘received’ views. For example, after reading Thomas à Kempis he characteristically came to the conclusion that the lives monks led could be thought escapist, because they bypassed the everyday struggles of the common man and never advanced. He wrote that the self-abasement and self-restraint practised by ascetics should only be the first step towards a useful and productive higher life, and should be followed by higher social and humanitarian ideals. He wanted, when he had achieved self-control, to become so concerned about others’ wellbeing that he could forget his own needs.21 Through this questioning and self-examination he was laying the first steps towards the ‘active mysticism’ that dominated his later life. Many young people pass through a philanthropic and idealistic phase. Wilson was different: this was no passing phase and inner strength and aesthetic self-discipline were his ideal for life. He made an early start to live up to his ideals by adopting a frugal lifestyle and managing on less money than his father gave him, conscious that in comparison to the majority he was living a privileged life.

  This undertow, which was undoubtedly the main passion of his life, was not forced on his peer group and many of them would have been astonished to learn of his ‘inner life’. Sport was a counterbalance to too much introspection and rowing was his favourite sport. He loved its discipline and the stamina it demanded, his pleasure, as always, being in the effort to try his hardest: ‘though everyone at one time or another wishes he were well out of it, there’s a fascination about keeping oneself at the treadmill’.22 He could not believe that some students went through their whole three years at Cambridge without rowing and he took part enthusiastically in the rowing races between the colleges. He did not represent the university but represented Caius regularly in both the second and the first boats. He took part in ‘The Bumps’, a hallowed Cambridge competition, flourishing still, when college boats line up one behind the other at marked intervals and in agreed order, and then row as hard as possible to catch and ‘bump’ the boat in front. The aim is to bump as many boats as possibl
e whilst avoiding being bumped. Because of his rowing abilities, enthusiastic though uninformed comments followed his appointment to the first Antarctic expedition: ‘He rowed bow in the Caius First Boat; may he succeed in bumping the South Pole’.23

  Summer holidays offered travel opportunities. In 1892 Wilson went to Gottingen to attend the university there. He could speak enough German to get by, and had probably had a little teaching also from his sisters’ governess, Fraulein Scharnhurst. As he travelled through Europe, he filled some twenty-three pages with notes on the artists he saw. Impressionists, or indeed Neo-Impressionists, were not his style but George Seaver states that the twenty-three pages of comments on the paintings and architecture of the cities he travelled (unfortunately now destroyed) showed considerable knowledge and discrimination.24 He disagreed with his father that Rubens’ women were hideous. He thought that the women in Rubens’ Descent from the Cross were the most beautifully painted of any he saw in the Dutch and Flemish galleries.25 Visits like this were a revelation to him because for the first time he understood that even the greatest artists received tuition. With some help, he thought he could improve. He did improve, but never managed to get drawing classes.