and records, or of the explorer's ability to use instruments and to calculate results. On the contrary, he says that "History demonstrates that the book which gives the final authoritative narrative is the test of an explorer's claims. In a similar way my claim of being first to reach the North Pole will rest upon the data presented between the covers of this book"; and again, that "the proof of an explorer's doings is his final book, which requires months and years to prepare." It is unfortunate for Dr. Cook that he could not prepare his book, 150,000 words of which he says he wrote in the Arctic regions, before Admiral Peary published his account of a similar journey to the same goal accomplished a year later. But, as Dr. Cook insists on his book being his sole witness as to credibility, we shall confine ourselves to it. We acknowledge that the volume, as a speech for the defence, makes out a superficially plausible case; but it is not a body of evidence, and it leaves us, after a careful perusal, in some doubt whether the author is trying to delude the public or has succeeded in deluding himself. Whichever be the truth, delusion is the prevalent atmosphere of the whole affair; and the animus of the writer is shown by the fact that he appears throughout as a sort of malevolent and malicious Mr. Dick, who cannot draft his own memorial without for ever dragging in the King Charles's Head of Admiral Peary. The book is published by the Polar Publishing Company of New York, apparently a company created ad hoc. It is difficult to believe that any firm of established reputation would have issued such unwarrantable attacks upon Admiral Peary as this work contains; and it says much for the recovery of self-control in that gallant explorer that he has had the strength of mind to ignore these charges and refrain from giving the author further notoriety by bringing him into a court of law. The attack on Peary strikes an impartial reader as the real object of the book, though the avowed purpose is to prove that Dr. Cook reached the Pole. The attack fails on account of its very intensity. For example, after referring to the fact that theft is unknown among Eskimo, he adds: Unknown, yes, save when white men without honor, without respect for property or the ethics of humanity, which the Eskimos instinctively have, invade their region and rob them and fellow-explorers with the brazenness of middle-aged, buccaneers (p. 446). He is indeed reluctant to say the worst about his enemy. "Although Mr. Peary did not scruple to lie about me, I still hesitate to tell the truth about him." But he does not hesitate to insinuate what he would have us believe the truth to be. In the white, frozen North a tragedy was enacted which would bring tears to the hearts of all who possess human tenderness and kindness. This has never been written. To write it would still further reveal the ruthlessness, the selfishness, the cruelty of the man who tried to ruin me. Yet here I prefer the charity of silence (pp. 519, 520). On the opposite page is a photograph of an Eskimo woman with a baby on her back, and beneath it the title ""The Mother of Seals' and her deserted child." In short, Milton's Satan and Goethe's Mephistopheles between them could hardly have conceived and carried out the manifold and wide-spread iniquities imputed to "the brutally selfish, brutally unscrupulous" rival, assisted by his "clique of honor-blind boosters." After pretty completely overcoming the hesitation to which we referred above, and describing Peary's enormities in some forty pages, Dr. Cook concludes, "I have been compelled to extreme measures of truth-telling that are abhorrent to me." That, at least, we can well believe. Peary, it is true, lost his temper when he returned looking "for crowns to fall," and found that they were falling in wreaths of roses on Cook; but no one can wonder at it, for he knew then all that Cook has now revealed to us of his animosity against Peary. We know that it is universally recognized that, whatever may be his faults of taste, Peary is a man of high character and honorable conduct; and the malignant and unjustifiable attack made upon him recoils upon his assailant. Before we go on to consider graver matters, we cannot help calling attention to the style in which the book is written, and to the ignorance or misuse of the English language which it displays. "In the making of this book," says the author, "I was relieved of much of the routine editorial work by Mr. T. Everett Harry. By his ceaseless study of the subject and his rearrangement of material, a book of better literary workmanship has been made." What its earlier embryonic condition must have been staggers the imagination, for even after all Mr. Harry's care the literary workmanship not unfrequently suggests the collaboration of a learned Babu, or that of the author of the famous Portuguese guide. Let us take a few examples of Dr. Cook's-or is it Mr. Harry's?-"English as she is spoke." When in a state of starvation, the author writes, "We were blinded to everything except the dictates of our palates” (p. 368). At the Pole, "Time was a negative problem" (290); and in its neighborhood, "over the horizon, mirages displayed celestial hysterics" (p. 317). A little later, "With a magnificent cardinal flame, the sun rose, gibbered in the sky, and sank behind the southern cliffs on November 3" (p. 408). Again, "The coast-line here is paradoxically curious, for, although the coast exceeds but barely more than 200 miles of latitude, it presents in reality a sea-line of about 4000 miles" (p. 46). Our author is apt to revel in metaphor; referring to Peary, he says, "I felt sure that the hand which did the besmearing was silhouetted against the blackness of its making." And here is a gem of journalistic Americanese: "the never-to-beforgotten days of the enervating chill of zero's lowest at -83° F." (p. 181). Finally, take the following piece of unreserved autobiography (p. 26): As a My boyhood was not happy. tiny child I was discontented, and from the earliest days of consciousness I felt the burden of two things which accompanied me through later life-an innate and abnormal desire for exploration, then the manifestation of my yearning, and the constant struggle to make ends meet, that sting of poverty which, while it tantalizes one with its horrid grind, sometimes drives men by reason of the strength developed in overcoming its concomitant obstacles to some extraordinary accomplishment. That child was certainly the father of this man, and the "extraordinary accomplishment" is before us. It is at the best what Tennyson called "confessions of a second-rate sensitive mind." We do not question that Dr. Cook has a great capacity for suffering or that he has suffered much. The pangs of jealousy, the stings of ambition, and the strenuous fight with a terrible climate and other hardships were enough to make him acutely miserable. Whether he reached the North Pole or not, whether he was capable of finding his positions or not, we have no reason to doubt that he spent two years in the far north, living on horrible food and in constant association with people who, whatever their many excellences, were very disagreeable companions for a white man of civilized habits. But what was the result of these privations? Did he reach the goal of his ambitions, those ambitions which he describes with some eloquence in the following passage (p. 64); As we sped over the magical waters, the wild golden air electric above me, I believe I felt an ecstasy of desire such as mystics achieved from fasting and prayer. It was the surge of an ambition which began to grow mightily within me, which I felt no obstacle could withstand, and which, later, I believe carried me forward with its wings of faith when my body wellnigh refused to move. The wings of faith are indeed mighty, but, before our own are moved to follow Dr. Cook in his course of triumph, we are bound to ask for his credentials. Defects of style are doubtless compatible with honesty; and, though the attack on Admiral Peary betrays a rancor and a disregard for truth and justice which throw grave discredit on the whole story, it is not enough in itself to disprove Dr. Cook's "Attainment of the Pole." Let us apply other tests. And first, what of his general accuracy of statement and scientific knowledge? Some light may be thrown on these points by the following passages: "Out of the inky water a walrus lifted its head. I saw its long, white, spiral ivory tusk and two phosphorescent eyes" (p. 124). What he saw was clearly a narwhal, not a walrus; and to show that this was not a mere slip of the pen, he repeats the mistake on the next page. His knowledge of physiological processes may be inferred from the observation that "With us sugar in the process of digestion turns into fat, and fat into body fuel"; and his knowledge of elementary anatomy from the remark (p. 275) that under a strong light "the iris was reduced to a mere pinhole." When the thermometer stood at -68° F., "Burning but three pounds of oil all night, the almost liquid air was reduced to a normal temperature of freezing point." Now, air liquefies at a temperature below -200° F. VOL. LVI. 2915 LIVING AGE. Strange things happen in northern latitudes, but few stranger can have happened than when Dr. Cook saw, among a group of ptarmigan, "two singing capons cooing notes of love to a shy chick" (p. 338). Like Joshua, he can do what he likes with the heavenly bodies. Having told us, at a certain stage of his journey, that the "perpetual sun" gave light and color but little warmth, he continues, "The sun rose into zones of fire and set in burning fields of ice" (p. 261). At his bidding mountains miraculously rise to unheard of heights. "As we crossed the big bay to the east of Cape Sparbo, our eyes were fixed on the two huge Archæn (sic) rocks which made remarkable landmarks, rising suddenly to an altitude of about 18,000 feet" (p. 378). We cannot help recalling some little miscalculations as to the altitudes which he claimed to have reached on Mount McKinley. On his return to civilization, the welcome which he received evidently turned his head. "An entire day," he says (p. 473), "was spent autographing photographs for members of the royal family"; and a little later (p. 496) he "shook hands until the flesh of one finger was actually worn through to the bone." After such experiences our sense of wonder becomes exhausted. It is not remarks of this kind that we require in such a story as this, but accurate observations of scientific fact. These are strangely lacking. A general vagueness of description mars the whole narrative of the alleged attainment of the Pole and the return to civilization. Dr. Cook cannot tell the date of his return to Annoatok or that of his arrival at Upernivik (which he peristently misspells "Upernavik"), nor even that of the sailing of the ship which brought him home. Though he lived for more than a year alone with the two young Eskimo, E-tuk-i-shook and Ah-we-lah, we learn nothing of their separate characters; they were, in description, as in their photographs, mere skin-clad shadows indistinguishable the one from the other. The dogs also are simply abstractions of dogs; the names of none of them are mentioned, and no dog stands out beyond its fellows. We learn that the Eskimo were timorous about travelling far on the sea-ice out of reach of land; therefore Dr. Cook assured them that various cloud-banks or mirages which accompanied them towards the Pole were real land. Hence, he explains, they asserted quite truly according to their lights that he was never more than "two sleeps" away from land. Only it is to be noted that he did not mention the innocent fraud he practised on his savage friends until they had told Peary about the "two sleeps." In the narrative telegraphed from Lerwick Dr. Cook says, referring apparently to the dates between April 16 and 21, "good astronomical observations were daily secured to fix advancing stages." In the book "a lucky series" of observations is referred to at this time, and a few of them are quoted and the workings shown. Had these been produced at once on Dr. Cook's return it would have been valuable evidence, for he did not know enough of astronomical observations to invent them; but after the lapse of two years they prove nothing. The author allows that Dunkle and Loose did work out just such a set of figures, for which he paid them, though he says he did not use their work. Of the approach to the Pole we read: We all were lifted to the paradise of winners as we stepped over the snows of a destiny for which we had risked life and willingly suffered the tortures of an icy hell. The ice under us, the goal for centuries of brave, heroic men, to reach which many had suffered terribly and terribly died, seemed almost sacred. Constantly and carefully I watched my instruments in recording this final reach. Nearer and nearer they recorded our approach. Step by step my heart filled with a strange rapture of conquest. At last we step over colored fields of sparkle, climbing walls of purple and gold-finally, under skies of crystal blue, with flaming clouds of glory, we touch the mark! The soul awakens to a definite triumph; there is sunrise within us, and all the world of night-darkened trouble fades. We are at the top of the world! The flag is flung to the frigid breezes of the North Pole! (p. 284). Dr. This is sheer rubbish. No instruments can indicate an approach to the Pole while the observer is walking along. Two photographs of the flag "flung to the frigid breezes" from the top of a snow-house show that no wind at all was blowing; in one it is held extended by an Eskimo; in the other it is hanging limp along the staff. Cook says, "My shadow, a dark purple-blue streak with ill-defined edges, measures twenty-six feet in length"; and again, "A picture of the snowhouse and ourselves taken at the same time and developed a year later gives the same length of shadow." The photographs, which are published, show no trace of any shadow; they appear to have been taken on a dull day with uniformly diffused light. We leave Dr. Cook on the horns of this dilemma. Either the observations of the sun's altitude and his own shadow are inventions, or the photographs published of the snow-house and flag at the North Pole were not taken on the day or at the place alleged. He may impale himself on either horn he pleases. Not one of the pictures in the book which could be of any value as evidence is satisfactory. There is no portrait of either of his faithful Eskimo friends which enables their features to be distinguished; they might very well be a pair of golliwogs from the pictures. The photographed facsimile (p. 312) of a copy of the document left at the Pole who but Dr. Cook would think of publishing the facsimile of a copy? -reads most distinctly in one place, "I reached at noon to-day 90 ft. a spot on the pole star 520 miles N. of Svarteboeg"; but the printed copy on p. 313"an exact copy of the original note," he tells us-runs, "I reached at noon to-day 90° N. a spot on the polar sea 520 miles north of Svarte voeg." How could he give "pole star" in manuscript and "polar sea" in print without commenting on the difference? It is of no importance except in showing the carelessness of the author or the editor. We must refer to one other photograph which seems to be of decisive value. It faces p. 256, in the middle of the narrative of the approach to the Pole, and is entitled, "Camping to eat and take observations." It shows two fur-clad figures, one erect (the upper part of the head cut off by the top of the picture), holding a sextant in a position which indicates a sun at an altitude of 45° at least, certainly impossible within a few degrees of the Pole. The shadow of this individual and that of the cookingpot are thrown towards the background of the picture, at right angles to the direction of the sun if the sextant is pointed properly; but the shadow of the second figure, which is seated, is thrown forward into the foreground. Here, if the photograph were genuine, we have proof of the sun shining simultaneously in front, behind and on one side; and yet, even in the North Polar region, the sun can only be in one place at one time. The reader may draw his own conclusions. About the 89th degree of latitude Dr. Cook says: a widened horizon would naturally be detected there. Anyone who has travelled by sea knows that the horizon may be widened by many miles by going from a lower deck to a higher, and yet look the same to the eye. Polar flattening is imperceptible, but it was by exactly similar reasoning that "Captain" Loose corrected his polar observations for dip of the horizon due to polar flattening! Again and again in the work before us Dr. Cook implies that his determination of the Pole was less accurate than it might have been on account of his not having correct time. Time, of course, has nothing whatever to do with finding the latitude. The seven altitudes he published at six hours' intervals (which could be measured easily enough by any ordinary watch) show, what must be the case at the Pole in spring, that the sun was getting progressively higher in the sky as it wheeled round the horizon. This is indeed the only practicable test of being at the Pole-to find that the sun is increasing (or if in the autumn, decreasing) in altitude from hour to hour at the same rate as it is changing its declination as shown in the Nautical Almanac. Dr. Cook professes to have measured the length of the shadow of a man or of a pole from hour to hour and to have found it to be of practically the same length at every hour of the twenty-four. This he seems to believe to be a more certain demonstration than sextant altitudes, which is absurd. The determination of latitude by means of shadows was not discovered by Dr. Cook. It was the method in use in the earliest days; and Pytheas of Massilia had fixed the latitude of that place very accurately by means of the length of the noon shadow from a gnomon before he started for the first Arctic voyage in the course of which he made the Isles of Britain known to the ancient world somewhere |