With Scott in the Antarctic

by Isobel E Williams

  He would never deviate from these views.

  At home his egalitarian, uncompromising and socially-uncomfortable opinions included strong views on the class distinctions that supported the lifestyle of the upper classes in Victorian England. He believed that time, not money, is our most precious gift, a gift that must be cherished and he was very conscious of the monotonous drudgery of the lives led by most Victorian servants who spent their working days supporting that privileged minority. He wrote that upper-class freedom was bought by the sacrifice of workers and accepted selfishly without consideration of the social structure separating the ‘have’ from the ‘have-nots’ by a wide and impassable divide. He wrote in 1900: ‘One by one, we, the few will be brought face to face with them and asked what we have done with our lives and the time they gave us to make the world better’.27 He tried to live as simply as possible and later he and Oriana did not employ servants but shared their domestic duties.

  Like us all, but perhaps reaching different conclusions, he pondered on life’s purposes and on the perfecting power of pain. He thought any illness or pain that he had suffered was a valuable check to self-confidence, worldly success and ambition. Through suffering, he could empty the soul and let God in. He wrote, ‘This I know is God’s own Truth, that pain and trouble and trials and sorrows and disappointments are either one thing or the other. To all that love God they are love tokens from Him. To all that do not love God they are merely a nuisance. Every single pain that we feel is known to God because it is the most loving and most pathetic touch of His hand’.28 More and more his inclinations were towards a Franciscan way of life. In September 1900, he lovingly created a picture of the saint he venerated. He gave this painting to Oriana.

  In November 1900, with his arm in a sling, Wilson met Commander Scott and other members of the Antarctic Committee. Scott, ‘who knew a man when he saw one’, was sufficiently impressed with this thoughtful man, four years his junior, to ‘practically appoint’ him, health permitting, although there were many other candidates.29 At this stage, Scott was Commander of Discovery, but not in total command of the expedition, although the appointment was definite enough to encourage Wilson to begin preliminary work for the voyage. Scott wrote in his account of the expedition that although Wilson’s health was not perfect when he joined Discovery, ‘his fitness for the post in other respects was obvious’.30 From Wilson’s point of view, his only concern was separation from Oriana, now that they were finally engaged and had achieved happiness and emotional security. He had to weigh up the prospects offered by this unexpected opportunity against a prolonged departure and the definite possibility of a non-return. But no other career option had been offered and this was a time when men routinely left their families for years in the service of the Empire. Wilson would have been accustomed to long familial separations. His uncle Charles had regularly been on long campaigns and his brother Bernard was a serving soldier. Before proceeding, however, he cautiously made Oriana give her written consent to an adventure that affected her future as much as his.31 Oriana bravely agreed and with her consent in his pocket, Wilson felt free to proceed.

  The feared medical interview with the Admiralty Medical Board was on 4 January 1901 and Wilson presented himself, still with his arm in a sling, having had a second operation to drain pus from the axilla. His mother, apparently still preparing herself for the worst, wrote that his body was frail and delicate ‘a noble soul and spiritual… He is half a Holy-Spirit now’.32 The exact implication of this is unclear, but fortunately the doctors took a more robust view and passed him as provisionally fit, but took the precaution of arranging a final review for July.33 He was put on the National Antarctic Expedition pay roll from January and paid £23 initially, and thereafter £18 14s 4p (plus expenses) each month, a great help to his finances.34 He met his future shipmates at the Royal Geographical Society and had lunch with Ernest Shackleton, (1874–1922), appointed as Third Lieutenant on Discovery. The medical examination in July was expected to be a ‘signing off’ and the subject of chest problems would not have been considered if Wilson had not felt it only honest to reveal his pulmonary history. His physique must have improved considerably in the twenty-six months since he had left Davos, or the doctors surely would have been wary of his appearance. Re-examination resulted in them changing their conclusions about Wilson’s fitness to go to the South Pole. They decided, probably correctly, that there were signs of lung scarring and Wilson’s appointment was not therefore recommended.35 However, Scott by this time had decided definitely on Wilson and said that he would take him on his (Wilson’s) own risk. Dr Rolleston supported the application.36 Wilson agreed and the appointment was signed and sealed. He was delighted. He wrote:

  I think I am intended to go. If I had tried to get it I should have had many doubts but it seems given to me to do. If the climate suits me I shall come back more fit for work than ever, whereas if it doesn’t I think there is no fear of me coming back at all. I quite realise that it is kill or cure and have made up my mind it shall be cure.37

  He wrote to his father that if his expensive M.B. landed him at the South Pole it would be well worth the expense. It was a golden opportunity.

  The time before Discovery’s departure was busy. Wilson had to climb a steep learning curve. He had to prepare medical and scientific lists. He took a ‘refresher’ course in taxidermy at the Natural History Museum; his childhood lessons with ‘White the Birdcatcher’ being insufficient for this assignment. This was a skill that stood him in good stead. Much, too much he thought, of his time on the expedition was taken up with this smelly, tiring, but essential occupation of skinning and preparing the animals. In the Natural History Museum he familiarised himself with Antarctic and southern wildlife. Always industrious, he wrote an illustrated paper on seals for the British Museum and designed, at Scott’s request, a crest for Discovery’s crockery and paper.38 The expedition was to have many home comforts: commissioned crockery, photos, a piano and a library. Scott was not unusual or self-indulgent in this. Amundsen’s mess on Fram in 1912 had a similar piano, framed photographs and pictures.

  During the time before departure, a long list of social engagements had to be endured: the Royal Geographical Society annual dinner, the Royal Society’s dinner at the Athenaeum39 and the Geographical Club’s dinner at The Ship in Greenwich, to name but a few.40 However these events would not have been the usual trial. Here Wilson would be meeting like-minded people whom he could respect, and share interests and exchange opinions with. Also being settled, secure and happy in his personal life, he felt more confident socially.

  The advantages and disadvantages of marriage before the expedition were anxiously discussed, but by now the couple had waited long enough; they wanted the relationship officially blessed. They knew that the days before Discovery sailed could be their only time together, the future was totally uncertain; Antarctica was unknown and Wilson could die on the expedition. As soon as his appointment was confirmed, Wilson and Oriana finalised the wedding plans for 16 July 1901, just three days after his interview with the Admiralty. On the day before the wedding, Wilson, Oriana, his mother and Ida, one of his sisters, attended a service held by the Bishop of London on Discovery. The couple were given a three-tier, silver dessert stand by his fellow officers and Sir Clements Markham, the instigator of the expedition. On the 16 July, that long-awaited day, Dr Edward Wilson and Miss Oriana Souper were married in the Church of St Mary Magdalene at Hilton in Cambridgeshire where Oriana’s father, The Rev. F.A. Souper, was the vicar. Bernard Wilson was the best man. Oriana’s father conducted the service and the rector of Woolwich gave the address. The wedding was reported on in the local newspapers: ‘A fashionable wedding was solemnised at Hilton Parish Church … the bride looked charming in a dress of white satin, trimmed with chiffon and lace, she wore a tulle veil with a wreath of orange blossoms. She also carried a bunch of white trumpet lilies’.41 The marriage was to be extremely happy. Oriana and Wilson were well suited. They
shared an intense friendship and had a devoted loyalty to each other. Oriana was not a social, chatty person but she had an excellent brain and could help Wilson with his work. Friends described her as a man’s woman.42 She was certainly Wilson’s woman. He wrote to John Fraser, his friend from St George’s, that he was ‘as happy as it is given to mortals ever to be on this earth’.43 Two days after his wedding he took Oriana to see the ship before going on an all-too-short honeymoon. In three weeks he had departed. Discovery weighed anchor on 6 August 1901 bound for the Cape, New Zealand and the Antarctic. Wilson was not to see his Oriana for more than three years.

  The fact that Wilson was offered this ‘golden’ opportunity was due indirectly to the exertions of one man, Sir Clements Robert Markham (1830–1916). Sir Clements had pursued his vision of sending an expedition to the Antarctic over many years with tenacity, determination and astuteness. He had become interested in polar exploration when, as a 9-year-old he read about Arctic expeditions.44 His interest and enthusiasm increased when, as a young midshipman on board HMS Assistance, he was a member of one of the unsuccessful naval searches sent to find any remains of Sir John Franklin’s fatal Arctic expedition of 1845. Sir John’s two ships and 129 officers and men had disappeared without trace on an exploration to open up the Northwest Passage, potentially a quicker route to the Indies’ lucrative trade market. Also on Assistance was Lieutenant Leopold McClintock (1819–1907), who devised a man-haul sledging technique that so impressed Sir Clements that he became convinced that, with fit and disciplined naval men, the method was a better and more reliable form of transport than dog transport in Arctic conditions.45 McClintock went on to use dogs successfully on polar journeys, but Sir Clements did not change his views on the superiority of man-hauling, where men pitted themselves against the unforgiving climate, terrain and isolation of the frozen continent and his influence was to have an effect on British Antarctic exploration. Sir Clements waged a long campaign for the revival of polar exploration which had lapsed since Ross’s voyages and gradually developed his vision of organising, financing and supporting a National Antarctic Expedition. Discovery was the culmination of his long campaign. Sir Clements was a remarkable man. He spoke half a dozen languages. Long before he became president of the Royal Geographical Society (1893–1905), he had made two extraordinary contributions to mankind. Whilst working in the India Office he smuggled seeds and saplings of the jealously-guarded cinchona, or quinine plant, out of Peru and established it in India,46 where it became the vanguard of the fight against malaria. But he did more; sickened by the excessive discipline of the Navy he later initiated a campaign for the abolition of flogging.47 However he could be scheming, critical, devious and acerbic in pushing through his plans. Clive Holland, the editor of Sir Clements’ book An Antarctic Obsession, wrote that few had Sir Clements’ skills for background organisation or background intrigue.48

  In July 1895, The Sixth International Geographical Congress took place in London. Deputations from all major European countries were present. Sir Clements was the Chairman. A statement of intent was published at the end of the congress which read that ‘Exploration of the Antarctic is the greatest piece of geographical exploration still to be undertaken. That in view of the addition to knowledge in almost every branch of science that would result from such a scientific exploration, the Committee recommended that scientific societies throughout the world should urge in whatever way seems most effective that this work should be undertaken before the end of the century’.49 Sir Clements was determined to push through this lofty goal in Britain’s name. The British expedition would carry out geographical research as well as exploration in the Antarctic and, importantly, add lustre to the prestige and influence of Great Britain.

  Funding was his most persistent problem and Sir Clements spent years tenaciously addressing this problem. But by the end of 1897 only £12,000 had been raised, most of it from the Royal Geographical Society and the publisher, Alfred C. Harmsworth, who donated £5,000. However donations received a spectacular boost when Llewellyn W. Longstaff (1881–1918), a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and a businessman, gave £25,000 to the appeal, altruistically stating that he wished to contribute to the advancement of knowledge of our planet.50 Finally, after a distinguished deputation waited on A.J. Balfour (1848–1930), then the First Lord of the Treasury and subsequent Prime Minister, the government, after years of refusing aid, finally offered £45,000 on condition that a similar sum was raised by private subscription. The Royal Geographical Society who had donated a total of £8,000 to the project agreed to a final top-up. Thus the expedition’s future was assured.

  Sir Clements was the registered owner of the ship. He wanted a naval man as leader. He had a list of possibilities in which Scott was included, though not as favourite. Scott was connected to Sir Clements by marriage: a niece of Sir Clements had married a cousin of Scott’s51 and Sir Clements had noted him in 1887 when Scott was a midshipman and had taken part in a race between two Navy cutters in the West Indies. Sir Clements claimed subsequently that he had been impressed by Scott’s good judgement, prudence and determination. He met Scott again, in 1897, when Scott, now promoted to Torpedo Officer, was training off Spain. When, with Sir Clements’ support, Lieutenant Robert Scott of Majestic was appointed in charge of Discovery, Sir Clements gave him his energetic and wholehearted help and sent Scott letter after letter of advice.52 He canvassed support for Scott’s promotion.

  Scott and his fellow officers had only a year to prepare for the expedition and the administration required was formidable: the ship had to be completed and animals, equipment and the scientific instruments had to be organised. Scott also had to assist in the selection of the officers and crew. These appointments included Wilson. Sir Clements had a habit, begun as a boy at Westminster School, of writing short descriptions of all his contacts. Although many of these are outspoken and critical, his report on Wilson is not uncomplimentary. Wilson’s appointment, he wrote, had been approved in December 1900. Wilson had been recommended by his uncle, who had sent specimens of drawings and paintings of birds and fishes. He said that Wilson had a masterly hand and delicate touch and would be invaluable as an artist; he understood Wilson to be an efficient medical man and that he would be an amiable messmate. He noted that Wilson was not strong ‘and must be saved as much as possible from hard work and exposure’.53

  Of the many appointees to Discovery, Wilson’s proved to be amongst the most successful. Scott, encased in the strict hierarchy of the Royal Navy, was to find in Wilson a non-naval companion to whom he could talk on an equal footing, in a way that was impossible with fellow naval officers. They became loyal personal friends.

  5

  England to Madeira

  Tuesday, 6 August 1901, was a brilliant, sunny day. The sun glistened on the water as Discovery sailed away from the south coast of England on her historic expedition. She left a busy, colourful scene. Thousands had come to wave goodbye to the little vessel, with its complement of officers, scientists and crew. The King himself, Edward VII, saluted from the royal yacht and other prestigious yachts hailed Discovery. Little craft bustled around in the water. Discovery was registered as a yacht and so flew a Blue Ensign; the Admiralty had refused permission for her to fly the Royal Naval White Ensign (which had more prestige) on the defendable grounds that she was not a man o’war.1 Discovery responded to the salutations by raising and lowering the ensign ‘again and again’, before she finally departed British shores.

  Sir Clements had commissioned Discovery specifically for the 1901 expedition. She was expensive, costing £51,000 including the engines, and built by The Dundee Shipbuilders Co. She left Dundee in early June to sail to the East India Dock in London for fitting and coaling and to take on provisions. Londoners welcomed Discovery’s arrival with enthusiasm. They crowded the quayside and occasionally the decks (to the disapproval of the crew who had their work cut out to complete their preparations) displaying an avid interest in all the proceedin
gs. The stowing of the equipment, provisions, scientific instruments, etc. was a hectic task and apart from the actual work, time had to be made to show dignitaries around the vessel, see relatives and attend the dental check-ups that had been organised by Scott. These dental checks proved a sensible precaution. Ninety-one teeth were removed and 170 holes filled at the cost of £62.45. Wilson is recorded as having a tooth stopped.2 Gilbert Scott, a royal marine member of the crew, said that some of the men who had many teeth pulled out had sore gums for weeks.3 Discovery sailed from the Thames and headed to the South Coast on the last day of July cheered on by enthusiastic crowds and hooting boats. On board were important visitors, friends and relatives and all along the coastline the interest continued, locals waved from the shore and craft saluted. Neither Wilson nor his parents were on board. Wilson, with Oriana’s help, was completing some last-minute illustrations and only joined the ship on the south coast. He had said ‘goodbye’ to his parents at Westal where, probably fortuitously, his father was fully occupied being host to a local meeting of the British Medical Association with a house full of guests.4 As Wilson’s departure grew nearer, Oriana naturally clung to her husband for as long as possible. She and Wilson had had ‘the very cream of this life’s happiness’ on their honeymoon: ‘Goodness me, we were happy there!’5 They had a few more precious days together on the South Coast before joining the boat for the final departure.

  The visit to Cowes was specifically planned for the ship and its complement to be inspected by the new king. Queen Victoria had died in January and King Edward VII and his entourage were in Cowes for the annual regatta. The Edwardian era was to prove a time of luxurious and wealthy display and the royal yacht was accompanied by a flotilla of glittering sleek yachts, whose beautiful outlines were in marked contrast to the solid, heavily-rigged Discovery. The King, as patron of the Antarctic expedition, came on Discovery with his retinue to inspect the ship and to meet Captain Scott, his officers and men. This was a significant compliment to Sir Clements. Accompanying the King was Queen Alexandra, a woman of charm and beauty, who was notable not only in her own right but also because of her web of relatives. She was the aunt of the last Russian tsar, Nicholas II, and sister of three European kings. Accompanied by their daughter, Princess Victoria, and dignitaries, the King and Queen toured the ship with interest: ‘The smartest pieces of apparatus, the prettiest solutions and the most interesting microscopic bits had been put out for their inspection’.6 The King made a speech, ‘short and to the point’ according to the engineer, Reginald Skelton, who thought that on the whole it was ‘rather a good show’.7 The Marine, Gilbert Scott, was more explicit. He wrote that King Edward said that he had ‘often bid farewell to men going on active service, but that he was glad to have the pleasure of saying goodbye to us who were going on an entirely peaceful expedition for the increase of science and natural knowledge’.8 Then, with difficulty, as the King was a stout man and had problems getting his hand into his tail pocket to get at the medal, Edward presented Scott with the Victorian Order, Class IV.9 A member of the crew, overcome by the presence of royalty, called the Queen ‘Miss’. Alexandra passed this off with grace, she was a kind woman. Thomas Hodgson, the biologist of the expedition, confided in his diary that the Queen looked very young but she was lame and deaf.10 (Alexandra suffered from a hereditary form of deafness known as otosclerosis). The officers, including Wilson, were asked to sign their names on the royal yacht’s visitor book. With all formalities completed and the royal party finally departed, casks of special king’s champagne and whisky which had been brought on board to lubricate the royal palate were found to have been mistakenly left behind; an excellent end to the day. These were sampled, very satisfactorily, a few days later, but Wilson, who was made the mess’s wine-officer, spoiled the fun by impounding the cases for medical purposes.