Ralph Vaughan Williams' Antarctic Inspiration

A look at the tragic expedition that inspired Vaughan Williams’ “Antarctic” Symphony, which the Seattle Symphony presents for the first time ever April 25, 27 & 28, 2024.

Image

A historic photo from the expedition by Herbert Ponting. More of his images will be projected onto the big screen when orchestra performs Vaughan Williams’ score.

By Vanessa Ague

For centuries, Antarctica was but a distant realm. Located at the furthest reaches of the earth, its icy tundra was a mystery, its terrain an image rendered in a dream. By the mid-19th century, adventurers were setting out to explore it, navigating vicious seas to get there. It became something of a race — who would arrive to the South Pole first and live to tell the tale? For Captain Robert Falcon Scott, a British Navy officer and explorer, visiting the region became his lodestone and being first to the South Pole his obsession. His initial journey was from 1901–1904. He returned less than a decade later for the fateful Terra Nova expedition, which is now remembered as a tale of heroism gone awry. 

That story is the subject of the 1948 film, Scott of the Antarctic, which chronicled the Terra Nova expedition to sprawling symphonic atmospheres composed by Ralph Vaughan Williams. In this score, he crafted broad palettes of sound that conjured the wide expanse of Antarctica, the wonder of exploration and the tragedy of giving everything and losing it all in the end. Scott’s saga captured the English composer’s interest, so much so that he revisited it for his Seventh Symphony, reworking the film score into a symphonic work. Coined Sinfonia antartica or “Antarctic” Symphony, the piece weaves together ethereal vocals, exultant horns and foreboding, icy melodies, painting a picture of both the exciting and harrowing parts of Scott’s expedition.  

“Vaughan Williams is a musical hero of mine,” said Vice President of Artistic Planning Raff Wilson. “He composed all kinds of music in his long career. Later in life he discovered and relished composing for film, and when he had finished this soundtrack, he must have realized that the music should be adapted for a life outside the cinema. It is full of wonderful effects — a big orchestra, the grand organ, ghostly voices and wind machine evoking the chilly sounds of Antarctica.” 

Once at the core of the human imagination, it was during the “Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration” (from the mid-19th century to 1917) that the frozen continent came into international focus, with 17 major Antarctic expeditions launched from 10 countries. These voyages of discovery were partially about scientific and geographic exploration, but also about adventuring and being the earliest pioneers of an untouched landscape. 

Scott’s sense of adventure drove him, as he hoped to be the first to reach the South Pole. But the Terra Nova expedition seemed doomed to fail. Having sailed halfway around the world, on their final push south from New Zealand in November 1910, they struck a frightful storm. Constructed for whaling, their vessel wasn’t built for such a voyage — its coal bunkers were too small, it was overloaded and risked being thrown off balance, and its load of sacks, ponies and dogs were packed so tightly that once the boat flooded, everything descended into chaos. It was a bad omen for what was to come.  

Yet the crew continued toward Antarctic shores. In January 1911, when they made it to Ross Island — located just off the coast of Antarctica — it was clear they wouldn’t have enough supplies to last the trip. Their coal had dwindled dramatically; since it was winter, they wound up needing far more than what was packed. Additionally, the stops they’d planned to make for food were off target. Despite these challenges, while stationed in Antarctica, they still achieved some of the work they had intended: scientists took measurements, seamen crafted odds and ends needed for the trip home, and expedition photographer Herbert Ponting took daily photos of the landscape and people traversing it, weathering every mishap and storm from dawn to dusk; his images remain central to our understanding of the expedition. The crew even published a newspaper, The South Polar Times

In November 1911, Scott and his team packed up and set out for their ultimate goal: the South Pole. As they traveled, their motorcars broke down, their food supply diminished, most of their ponies died and all throughout, the snow pelted them relentlessly. By the time the final party of five made it to the Pole, there was already a Norwegian flag marking the territory. Scott had arrived second. Saddened and disheveled, he and his crew turned around to make their way back to their base but met with three critical issues: the non-appearance of dog teams, an unexpectedly big drop in temperature and a fuel shortage. By March 1912, all five men had perished. Scott’s story and his poignant diary, which was found by a rescue party along with their bodies, became an emblem of heroic adventure and tragic failure.  

Such is the tale that fascinated Vaughan Williams in the mid-20th century and ultimately led to his “Antarctic” Symphony. The idea of a tragic hero has long been fodder for music, and in Vaughan Williams’ hands, Scott’s trajectory from champion to failure is as palpable as ever. The symphony begins with a looming ominousness, like a volcano that smokes in the distance of a barren tundra. Then, triumphant horns overtake the melodies, shouting from the rooftops like one might imagine Scott and his team felt at the start of their journey, with pure adrenaline pumping through their veins.  

Throughout the piece, Vaughan Williams balances the jubilant moments with underlying tension of Scott’s expedition. Thorny vocals swim in and out of triumphant motifs, adding hints of uncertainty amid all the victoriousness. Chromatic lines haunt brassy melodies and buoyant drums, reminding us that something is still looming in the murky unknown. By the time the third movement rolls around, things have become fully mysterious as well as a little harrowing; much of the movement is colored by slithering melodies played with softness and uncertainty, until a cymbal crashes and an organ sings above them all like an alarm. Through this music, Vaughan Williams captures the memory of this long-gone era — the frenzy, the victory and the missteps that ultimately led us closer than ever to the last frontier on Earth. 

The Seattle Symphony performs Vaughan Williams’ work for the first time next month, with conductor Gemma New on the podium. Read the program notes here. For tickets, visit seattlesymphony.org. 

Performances of Antarctic Symphony are generously sponsored by the Nesholm Family. 

Gemma New’s performances are generously sponsored by Heidi Charleson and Lou Woodworth.