Imagine being out at sea, before motorised engines and satellite navigation and all the other comforts we are accustomed to in this new age of technology and navigation. Relying on the stars and tools such as sextants, astrolabes and chronometers to map your location, and having no method of communicating with the other vessels you are travelling with once they are out of sight. While I had the privilege of exploring the collections of the Silentworld Foundation, one particular story of an early French expedition to Australia caught my eye. Despite having an interest in colonial Australian history, I was unaware of this expedition, led by Captain Nicolas Baudin, which set off in late 1800. This expedition mapped much of the Western Coast and Tasmania, and produced the first published map of Australia. It consisted of two vessels, the
Geographe and the Naturaliste, captained by Baudin and Jacques Hamelin respectively, with each vessel carrying around 120 men. The troubles they encountered were many, from overcrowding due to the large number of scientists on board, to bad weather and illnesses such as dysentery, but they made a tremendous impact on our knowledge of the Australian landscape, flora, fauna and the lifestyle of Indigenous Australians prior to full colonisation.

The item that first piqued my interest was this chronometer, a tool used to check longitude while at sea. Known as Chronometer no.35, this tool was constructed in 1798 by the famous French horologer Louis Berthoud. One of four chronometers used by Baudin on his expedition, he frequently referred to Chronometer n.35 to correct longitude. It really puts into perspective how little was known about navigation, and how much of a risk embarking on such a voyage could pose.

My interest in the expedition only grew as I read about the Captain, and the strained relations between him and his men. His crew, selected for him by institutions of science in France rather than being selected by him personally, disliked him greatly, even going so far as to remove him almost entirely from their own accounts of the journey. However, I was able to access Baudin’s personal account of the voyage at the Silentworld Foundation. His account was a comprehensive overview of the expedition, beginning with their departure from France and ending shortly before Baudin’s death in September of 1803, and showed him as a reflective man trying his best to lead a voyage of scientific discovery. This contrast between his self-portrayal and his depiction in the accounts of his crew led me to research this expedition further, as it was a voyage that saw many successes despite the animosity between the crew and their captain.

Another result of the delay was the use of too many supplies: the trip was supposed to take three months but took five, and by the time the Geographe and Nationaliste docked in Port Louis they were short on water and food, and morale was low. The state of affairs in Port Louis did not help matters much. The French Revolutionary Wars left the Ile de France (the then name for French occupied Mauritius and its surrounding dependent territories) with few supplies to spare, and morale on board was so low that, encouraged by privateers, around 40 sailors deserted. Baudin was finally able to set sail from Port Louis a month and a half after first arriving there, with significantly less crew and low supplies. However, the atmosphere on board was significantly better after the stop, with many of the elements of discontent left behind at Port Louis. The excitement for scientific discovery was building, an excitement which Baudin shared with the scientists. They finally anchored off the coast of the south-western tip of Australia, in what is now named Geographe Bay after Baudin’s vessel, and began mapping out the Western coast of Australia.

One member of the crew, whom Baudin had nothing but praise for, was the astronomer Bernier. Bernier replaced Frederic du Bissy, who was initially appointed astronomer for the voyage while it was still in its planning stages. According to Baudin, Bernier “in every respect is worth a hundred thousand ! times as much as the one [astronomer Bissy] who, luckily for us, remained at Ile-de-France”. The paperwork for the appointment of Bissy was one of the sources found within the Silentworld Foundation collections that initially drew me in to research this voyage, as it serves as a reminder of how much planning went into these scientific expeditions and how unexpected the reality of life on a ship could be to these scientists.

The scientists were not accustomed to life aboard the ship, and were frequently seasick, disappointed with the rations of biscuits, and careless with regards to weather and supplies while on shore. However, their work was quite remarkable. While the navigators and astronomers painstakingly charted the coastlines the scientists and artists drew, collected and recorded countless samples of Australian flora and fauna. The sheer volume of samples collected on this expedition is staggering to think about.
Over 18,000 specimens were compiled by the Paris Museum from the collections brought back from the expedition, not to mention the live animals including kangaroos, emus and black swans among others which were collected for the garden of Josephine Bonaparte, the wife of Napoleon Bonaparte. Carrying these all the way from western Australia to France was a struggle, as the specimens took over entire rooms on board the already cramped ships. Baudin also had a keen interest in science and nature, and frequently ordered the ships’ dredges lowered in order to check the quality of the ocean floor and examine any shells or small creatures they could find.

Having already lost the race to colonise Australia to the English, the French expedition was one of science and discovery (though this expedition was perceived as a threat to
the British claim to the land on at least one occasion). This viewpoint allowed Baudin to complete what some have called a fairly advanced ethnographic study of the Indigenous Australians of Tasmania, approaching them as people rather than savages. His point of view on the colonisation of Australia was made clear in a personal letter to the then governor of Sydney, Phillip King, where he stated the following:

“To my way of thinking, I have never been able to conceive that there was justice or even fairness on the part of Europeans in seizing, in the name of their governments, a land seen for the first time, when it is inhabited by men who have not always deserved the title of savages or cannibals.
A letter from Baudin to governor Phillip King of Sydney, c. December 1802 (citation 2)

This point of view was visible in his approach to interactions with Indigenous Australians as well, as he insisted that no violence was to be shown towards any people they met, instead greeting each person with embraces and gifts of glass beads and mirrors, and encouraging his men to peacefully interact with and attempt to understand the Indigenous Australians.

Baudin had few friends aboard his ship and deeply felt the losses of some of his closest friends. Upon the death of his good friend Renee Mauge, Baudin wrote in his journal

“at 9 o’clock I departed for the burial of a man whose death and dying words filled me with sorrow… [his] death is an irreparable loss for the expedition. This naturalist did not have the title of scientist, but, alone, he did more than all the scientists put together… I realise with pain that he and Citizen Reidle, the only two genuine friends that I had on board, have fallen victim to their friendship for me, this having been their sole motive in undertaking a voyage so fatal to them.”
Journal of Nicolas Baudin, 21st Feb 1802 (p.340)

These losses hardened Baudin, leaving him without any friends aboard a vessel with unruly scientists and crewmen that he frequently clashed with. Among this number, the scientist Francois Peron frequently appeared in Baudin’s journal as one of the least cooperative people aboard, a source of constant frustration for Baudin. Peron had little positive sentiment towards Baudin, in fact when Peron and Louis de Freycinet were writing the account of the expedition after Baudin’s death in 1803, they scarcely mentioned his name, opting instead to erase his impact on the expedition out of an intense dislike towards the man. They changed many of the names he gave to coves and rivers along the coast of Western Australia, giving him one small island and naming many major rivers and coves after themselves instead. Only recently has research highlighted his contribution to our understanding of the Australian landscape. The erasure of Baudin’s name from history seems like a disproportionate reaction if we go by Baudin’s journal, but what man would show himself in an unsavoury light in his own journal? Regardless of Baudin’s true nature, his work was remarkable for a number of reasons, and should be discussed and celebrated.