SIR MAX WAECHTER

It is generally admitted that the present condition of Europe is highly unsatisfactory. To any close observer it must be evident that Europe, as a whole, is gradually losing its position in the world. Other nations which are rapidly coming to the front will, in course of time, displace the European, unless the latter can pull themselves together and abandon the vicious system which now handicaps them In the economic rivalry of nations.

The cause of this comparative decline is, in my opinion, to be found in the fact that all the European countries are arming against one another, either for defense, or for aggression, for the attack is frequently the best form of defense. The motive for these excessive armaments can clearly be found in the jealousy and mistrust existing among the nations of Europe. Europe is spending on armaments something like four hundred million pounds sterling per year, and there is a tendency to increase this tremendous expenditure. In order to bring the magnitude of this sacrifice more vividly before the reader, let us assume that a European war is not likely to occur more frequently than about every thirty years. We then find that the incredible sum of twelve thousand million pounds sterling has been spent in peace in preparation for this war, a sum which greatly exceeds the total of all the European state debts. Such stupendous sums can not be raised without imposing crushing taxation, and without neglecting the other duties of the state, such as education, scientific research, and social reform.

One serious economic result of this heavy taxation is that European industry is placed at a considerable disadvantage in competing with that of other nations, notably the United States of America. The late Mr. Atkinson, an American authority, declared that, compared with the United States, we were handicapped to the extent of five per cent, in our production. Since then the figures have changed considerably in favor of America. I recently had an opportunity of discussing this point with a great German authority on political economy, and he fixed the advantage in favor of the United States at nearly ten per cent, as regards the cost of production.

But this is not all. The European countries withdraw permanently four millions of men, at their best age, from productive work, thus causing a terrible loss and waste. Besides, enterprise in Europe is crippled by fear of war. It may break out at any time, possibly at a few hours' notice. The present system of Europe must inevitably lead, sooner or later, to a European war—a catastrophe which nobody can contemplate without horror, considering the perfected means of destruction. Such a war would leave the vanquished utterly crushed, and the victor in such a state of exhaustion that any foreign Power could easily impose her will upon him.

The situation is certainly most alarming, and ought to receive the fullest attention. What, then, can be done to save Europe from these impending dangers? The large number of "Peace Societies" which have been established in different countries have done excellent spade work. Their main object has been to insure that disputes among nations should be referred to arbitration, with a view to making more difficult their resorting to arms. The great success of these societies demonstrates plainly that there is a strong tendency among the peoples in favor of peace. But no attempt has been made to reorganize the whole of Europe on a sound basis.

The Emperor of Russia has made a most praiseworthy effort to bring about a different state of affairs, by originating and establishing The Hague Conference, with a view to securing by this means the peace of the world. This conference has done excellent service, and is likely to be of increasing usefulness to mankind in the future; but the second meeting of the conference has amply proved that it can not succeed in its main object, which is the peace of the world. If the idea of bringing the whole world into unison can ever be realized, it is only by stages, of which the union of Europe would be the first.

Let us look at the position. Germany has been for centuries the battle-field of other states, and has narrowly escaped national annihilation. She has now at length succeeded in consolidating her strength so far as to be able to withstand attack from any probable combination of two of her powerful neighbors. Can Germany now be approached with a request to reduce her armaments, unless she is given the most solid guaranty against attack? It would be almost an insult to the German intelligence to make such a proposal without an adequate guaranty.

With France the case is similar. The third Republic has been eminently peaceful, and Frenchmen have devoted their energies and brilliant qualities principally to science, the fine arts, and social development. Who would dare to ask them to cut down their armaments in the present state of Europe, which makes it compulsory for every country to arm to the fullest extent? All the other states are in a similar position. They need not be discussed individually.

The only hope to be found is in such a coalition of the Powers as will make these excessive armaments unnecessary. If this can be effected, the reduction of armaments will take place naturally, and without any external pressure. But then the question arises, how can the permanency of such a coalition be guaranteed? The vital requisite to give stability to any international coalition is community of interests. Such a community of interests exists already, in a larger or smaller degree, among many states, though it is unknown to most people. Besides, it is not strong enough to prevent war in times of excitement.

In many countries definite war parties exist, and most extraordinary opinions can be gathered from their representatives. I was assured by some military leaders, and even by a diplomat in a responsible position, that war is a blessing! In disproof of this theory it may be desirable to state some plain facts. Mankind lives and exists on this earth solely and entirely by the exploitation of our planet, and the general average status of the peoples can be improved and raised to a higher level only by a more complete exploitation of the forces of nature. This process requires, in the present state of civilization, capital, intelligence, and manual labor—the handmaid of intelligence. War is bound to destroy an enormous amount of capital, and a great number of the ablest workers. It is evident, therefore, that every war must reduce the general well-being of the peoples who inhabit this planet. Besides, there is the misery inflicted upon millions of people, principally belonging to the poorer classes, who have always to bear the brunt of a war, whether it be started by the personal ambition of one man or by the misguided ambitions of a nation.

Some people argue that, from the days of Alexander the Great to those of Napoleon, combinations of states have always been brought about by armed force, and they believe this to be a natural law. I do not admit that the case of Napoleon is a proper illustration of such a law. On the contrary, his career seems to demonstrate clearly that the world is too far advanced to be driven into combination by force. And as to Alexander the Great, has the world really made no progress since his time? Force or war is a relic of a savage age, and will be relegated to the background with the advance of civilization.



PERSIA'S LOSS OF LIBERTY A.D. 1911

W. MORGAN SHUSTER[1]

[Footnote 1: Reprinted in condensed form from the original narrative in Hearst's Magazine, by permission.]

As told in the preceding volume, Persia in the year 1905 began a struggle for freedom from autocratic rule. This she finally achieved in decisive fashion and set up a parliamentary government. Her career of liberty seemed fairly assured. She had against her, however, an irresistible force. England and Russia had long been encroaching upon Persian territory. Russia, in especial, had snatched away province after province in the north. Of course Persia's revival would mean that these territorial seizures would be stopped. Hence Russia almost openly opposed each step in Persia's progress. In 1907, Russia and England entered into an agreement by which each, without consulting Persia, recognized that the other held some sort of rights over a part of Persian territory: a "sphere of Russian influence" was thus established in the north, and of British in the southeast.

The climax to this antagonism against Persia came in 1911. The desperate Persians appealed to the United States Government to send them an honest administrator to guide them, and President Taft recommended Mr. Shuster for the task. The work of Mr. Shuster soon won him the enthusiastic confidence and devotion of the Persians themselves. But in proportion as his reforms seemed more and more to strengthen the parliamentary government and bring hope to Persia, he found himself more and more opposed by the Russian officials. Finally Russia made his mere presence in the land an excuse for sending her armies to assault the Persians. Seldom has the murderous attack of a strong country upon a weak one been so open, brazen, and void of all moral justification. Thousands of Persians were slain by the Russian troops, and many more have since been executed for "rebellion" against the Russian authorities. The parliamentary government of Persia was completely destroyed; it finally disappeared in tumult and dismay on December 24, 1911.

The country was reduced to helpless submission to the Russian armies. Mr. Shuster's own account of the tragedy follows. He called it "The Strangling of Persia."

Of the many changing scenes during the eight months of my recent experiences in Persia, two pictures stand out in such sharp contrast as to deserve special mention.

The first is a small party of Americans, of which the writer was one, seated with their families in ancient post-chaises rumbling along the tiresome road from Enzeli, the Persian port on the Caspian Sea, toward Teheran. It was in the early days of May, 1911, and from these medieval vehicles, drawn by four ratlike ponies, in heat and dust, we gained our first physical impressions of the land where we had come to live for some years—to mend the broken finances of the descendants of Cyrus and Darius. We were fired with the ambition to succeed in our work, and, viewed through such eyes, the physical discomforts became unimportant. Hope sang loud in our hearts as the carriages crawled on through two hundred and twenty miles of alternate mountain and desert scenery.

The second picture is eight months later, almost to the day. On January 11, 1912, I stood in a circle of gloomy American and Persian friends in front of the Atabak palace where we had been living, about to step into the automobile that was to bear us back over the same road to Enzeli. The mountains behind Teheran were white with snow, the sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky, there was life-tonic in the air, but none in our hearts, for our work in Persia, hardly begun, had come to a sudden end.

Between the two dates some things had happened—things that may be written down, but will probably never be undone—and the hopes of a patient, long-exploited people of reclaiming their position in the world had been stamped out ruthlessly and unjustly by the armies of a so-called Christian and civilized nation.

Prior to 1906, the masses of the Persians had suffered in comparative silence from the ever-growing tyranny and betrayal of successive despots, the last of whom, Muhammad Ali Shah, a vice-sodden monster of the most perverted type, openly avowed himself the tool of Russia. The people, finally stung to a blind desperation and exhorted by their priests, rose in the summer of 1906, and by purely passive measures—such as taking sanctuary, or bast, in large numbers in sacred places and in the grounds of the British Legation at Teheran—succeeded in obtaining from Muzaffarn'd Din Shah, the father of Muhammad Ali, a constitution which he granted some six months before his death.

The pledge given in this document his son and successor swore to fulfil and then violated a dozen or more times, until the long-suffering constitutionalists, who called themselves "nationalists," finally compelled him, despite the intrigues and armed resistance of Russian agents and officers, to abdicate in favor of his young son, Sultan Ahmad Shah, the present constitutional monarch. This was in July, 1909.

It was this constitutional government, recognized as sovereign by the Powers, that had determined to set its house in order, and in practise to replace absolute monarchy with something approaching democracy. Whence the Persians, a strictly Oriental people, had derived their strange confidence in the potency of a democratic form of government to mitigate or cure their ills, no one can say. We might ask the Hindus of India, or the "Young Turks," or to-day the "Young Chinese" the same question. The fact is that the past ten years have witnessed a truly marvelous transformation in the ideas of Oriental peoples, and the East, in its capacity to assimilate Western theories of government, and in its willingness to fight for them against everything that tradition makes sacred, has of late years shown a phase heretofore almost unknown.

Persia has given a most perfect example of this struggle toward democracy, and, considering the odds against the nationalist element, the results accomplished have been little short of amazing.

Filled with the desire to perform its task, the Medjlis, or national parliament, had voted in the latter part of 1910 to obtain the services of five American experts to undertake the work of reorganizing Persia's finances. They applied to the American Government, and through the good offices of our State Department, their legation at Washington was placed in communication with men who were considered suitable for the task. The intervention of the State Department went no further than this, and the Persian Government, like the men finally selected, was told that the nomination by the American Government of suitable financial administrators indicated a mere friendly desire to aid and was of no political significance whatsoever.

The Persians had already tried Belgian and French functionaries and had seen them rapidly become mere Russian political agents or, at best, seen them lapse into a state of dolce far niente. Poor Persia had been sold out so many times in the framing of tariffs and tax laws, in loan transactions and concessions of various kinds that the nationalist government had grown desperate and certainly most distrustful of all foreigners coming from nations within the sphere of European diplomacy. What they sought was a practical administration of their finances in the interest of the Persian people and nation.

In this way the writer found himself in Teheran on the 12th of May last year, having agreed to serve as Treasurer-General of the Persian Empire, and to reorganize and conduct its finances.

It is difficult to describe the Persian political situation existing at that time without going too deeply into history. It is true that in a moment of temporary weakness after her defeat by Japan, Russia had signed a solemn convention with England whereby she engaged herself, as did England, to respect the independence and integrity of Persia. Later, by the stipulations of 1909, these two Powers solemnly agreed to prevent the ex-Shah, Muhammad Ali, from any political agitation against the constitutional government. But, as the world and Persia have seen, a trifle like a treaty or a convention never balks Russia when she has taken the pulse of her possible adversaries and found it weak. What is more painful to Anglo-Saxons is that the British Government has been no better nor more scrupulous of its pledges.

During the first half of July, we began to learn where some of the money was supposed to come from, and we were just beginning to control the government expenditures after a fashion when, on July 18th, late at night, the telegraph brought the news that Muhammad Ali, the ex-Shah, had landed with a small force at Gumesh-Teppeh, a small port on the Caspian, very near the Russian frontier. It was the proverbial bolt from the blue, for while rumors of such a possibility had been rife, most persons believed that Russia would not dare to violate so openly her solemn stipulation signed less than two years before.

PERSIA IS TAKEN UNAWARES

The Persian cabinet at Teheran was panic-stricken, and for ten days there ensued a period of confusion and terror that beggars description. There was no Persian army except on paper. The gendarmerie and police of the city did not number more than eighteen hundred men inadequately armed. The Russian Turcomans on the northeast frontier were reported to be flocking to the ex-Shah's standard, and it was commonly believed that he would be at the gates of Teheran in a few weeks. This belief was strengthened by the fact that his brother, Prince Salaru'd-Dawla, had entered Persia from the direction of Bagdad and was known to have a large gathering of Kurdish tribesmen ready to march toward Teheran.

After a time, however, reason prevailed and steps were taken to create an army to defend the constitutional government against the invaders. At this time, one of the old chiefs of the Bakhtiyari tribesmen, the Samsamu's-Saltana, was the prime minister holding the portfolio of war, and he called to arms several thousands of his fighting men, who promptly started for the capital. Ephraim Khan, at that time chief of police of Teheran, was another defender of the constitution who raised a volunteer force, and twice, acting with the Bakhtiyari forces, he signally defeated the troops of the ex-Shah. By September 5th, Muhammad Ali himself was in full flight through northeastern Persia toward the friendly Russian frontier. Whatever chances he may have formerly had were admitted to be gone.

The hound that Russia had unleashed, with his hordes of Turcoman brigands, upon the constitutional government of Persia had been whipped back into his kennel. No one was more surprised than Russia, unless indeed it was the Persians themselves. Russian officials everywhere in Persia had openly predicted an easy victory for Muhammad Ali. They had aided him in a hundred different ways, morally, financially, and by actual armed force.

They still hoped, however, that the forces of Prince Salaru'd-Dawla, which were marching from Hamadan toward Teheran, would take the capital. But on September 28th, the news came that Ephraim Khan, and the Bakhtiyaris had routed the Prince and his army, and the last hope from this source was gone.

In the mean time, another encounter with Russia had occurred. There was at Teheran an officer of the British-Indian army, Major Stokes, who for four years had been military attache to the British Legation. He knew Persia well; read, wrote, and spoke fluently the language and thoroughly understood the habits, customs, and viewpoint of the Persian people. He was the ideal man to assist in the formation of a tax-collecting force under the Treasury, without which there was no hope of collecting the internal taxes throughout the empire. Not only was Major Stokes the ideal man for this work, but he was the only man possessing the necessary qualifications.

I accordingly tendered Major Stokes the post of chief of the future Treasury gendarmerie, his services as military attache having come to an end. After some correspondence with the British Legation, I was informed late in July that the British Foreign Office held that he must resign his commission in the British-Indian army before accepting the post. This Major Stokes did, by cable, on July 31st, and the matter was regarded as settled.

What was my surprise, therefore, to learn, on the evening of August 8th, that the British Minister, following instructions from his Government, had that day presented a note to the Persian Foreign Office, warning the Persian Government that any attempt to employ Major Stokes in the "northern sphere" of Persia (which included Teheran, the capital) would probably be followed by retaliatory action (sic) by Russia which England would not be in a position to deprecate. Between individuals, such action would clearly be considered bad faith. Sir Edward Grey, British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, shortly thereafter explained that the appointment of Major Stokes would be a violation of what he termed the "spirit" of the Anglo-Russian Convention of 1907. Yet just two weeks before, when he consented to Stokes resigning to accept the post, he had never dreamed of such a thing.

The truth is that the semiofficial St. Petersburg press, like the Novoe Vremya, had begun to bluster about the affair, egged on by the Russian Foreign Office, and Sir Edward Grey was compelled to invent some pretext for his manifest dread of displeasing Britain's "good friend Russia" about anything. Hence the birth of that wondrous and fearsome child, that rubber child which could be stretched to cover any and all things, the "spirit of the convention." It was a wonderful discovery for the gentlemen of the so-called "forward party" of the Russian Government, since they now beheld not only a new means of evading the plain letter of their agreement, but gleefully found a woful lack of spirit in their partner to the convention, Great Britain.

The British Foreign Office pretended to believe that they had checked Russia's march to the Gulf; they knew better then, and they know still better now. There is but one thing on earth that will check that march, and that thing England is apparently not in a geographical or a policial position to furnish in sufficient numbers. The British public now know this, and unfortunately the "forward party" in Russia knows it, and that is why bearded faces at St. Petersburg crack open and emit rumbles of genuine merriment every time Sir Edward Grey stands up in the House of Commons and explains to his countrymen that he has most ample and categorical assurances from Russia that her sole purpose in sending two or three armies into Persia is to show her displeasure with an American finance official.

For that same reason, doubtless, she has recently massacred some hundreds of Persians in Tabriz, Enzeli, and Resht, and has hanged numbers of Islamic priests, provincial officials, and constitutionalists whom she classifies as the "dregs of revolution." That is why the Russian flag was hoisted over the government buildings at Tabriz, the capital of the richest province of the empire, while a Russian military governor dispensed justice at the bayonet-point and with the noose.

But to get back to events. After the crushing defeats of the ex-Shah's two forces and his flight, Russia was still faced by a constitutional regime in Persia—and by a somewhat solidified and more confident government and people at that.

Tools and puppets having dismally failed, enter the real thing. Russia now proceeded to intervene directly and to break up the constitutional government in Persia without risk of failure or hindrance. She did not even intend to await a pretext—she manufactured such things as she went along.

The first instance is the Shu'a'us-Saltana affair. On October 9th, some twelve days after the last defeat inflicted on the ex-Shah's forces, I was ordered by the cabinet to seize and confiscate the properties of Prince Shu'a'us-Saltana, another brother of the ex-Shah, who had returned to Persia with him and was actively commanding some of his troops. The same order was given as to the estates of Prince Salaru'd-Dawla, the other brother in rebellion.

Pursuant to this entirely proper and legal order, the purport of which had been communicated by the Persian Foreign Office to the Russian and British ministers several days previously, no objection having been even hinted, I sent out six small parties, each consisting of a civilian Treasury official and five Treasury gendarmes, to seize the different properties in and about Teheran. As a matter of courtesy, the British and Russian legations had been informed that all rights of foreigners in these properties would be fully safeguarded and respected.

The principal property was the Park of Shu'a'us-Saltana, a magnificent place in Teheran, with a palace filled with valuable furniture. When the Treasury officials and five gendarmes arrived there, they found on guard a number of Persian Cossacks of the Cossack Brigade. On seeing the order of confiscation, these men retired. My men then took possession and began making an official inventory. An hour later, two Russian vice-consuls, in full uniform, arrived with twelve Russian Cossacks from the Russian Consulate guard, and with imprecations, abuse, and threats to kill, drove off my men at the point of their rifles. Later in the day, these same vice-consuls actually arrested other small parties of Treasury gendarmes, took them on mules through the streets of Teheran to the Russian Consulate-General, and after insulting and threatening them with death if they ever returned to the confiscated property, allowed them to go.

On hearing this, I wrote and telegraphed to my friend, M. Poklewski-Koziell, the Russian minister, calling his attention to the outrageous actions of his Consul-General, M. Pokhitanow, and asking the minister to give orders to prevent any further unpleasantness on the following day, when I would again execute the government's order. The next day I sent a force of one hundred gendarmes in charge of two American Treasury officials, and the order was executed.

Two hours after we were in peaceable possession of the property, the same two Russian vice-consuls drove up to the gate and began insulting and abusing the Persian Treasury guards, endeavoring, of course, to provoke the gendarmes into some act against them. In other words, finding that they had lost in the matter of retaining possession of the property, these Russian officials deliberately sought to provoke my gendarmes into something that they could construe as an affront to Russian consular authority. The men, however, had received such strict and repeated instructions that they refused even to answer. They paid no attention to the taunts and abuse of these two dignified Russian officials, who thereupon drove off and perjured themselves to the effect that they had been affronted—in other words, that the incident which they had gone there to provoke actually had occurred. These false statements were reported to St. Petersburg by M. Pokhitanow independently of his minister, who, I have the strongest reason to believe, entirely disavowed the Consul-General's actions. The Russian government thereupon publicly discredited its minister and demanded from the Persian government an immediate apology for something that had never occurred. The apology, after some hesitation, was made on the advice of the British government. It was hoped that this evident self-abasement by Persia would appease even the Russian bureaucracy.

But it now seems that a compliance with Russia's demand was exactly what was not desired by her, since it removed all possible pretext for taking more drastic steps against Persia's national existence. Hence, at the very moment when the Persian Foreign Minister, in full uniform, was at the Russian legation complying with this first ultimatum, based, as it was, on absolutely false reports, the St. Petersburg cabinet was formulating new and even more unjust and absurd demands, which, as some of the public know, have resulted in the expulsion of the fifteen American finance officials and in the destruction of the last vestiges of constitutional government in the empire of Cyrus and Darius.

Russia called for my immediate dismissal from the post of Treasurer-General; she required that my fourteen American assistants already in Persia should be subject to the approval of the British and Russian legations at Teheran; that all other foreign officials in future employed by Persia be subjected to the approval of those two legations; that a large indemnity should be paid to Russia for the expense of moving her troops into Persia to hasten the acceptance of these two ultimatums; and that all other questions between Russia and Persia should be settled to the satisfaction of the former.

The acceptance by Persia of these demands meant, of course, a virtual cession of her sovereignty to Russia and Great Britain. It should be noted, also, that in this Russian ultimatum the name of the British government was freely used, although the British minister took no part in the presentation of the same. Sir Edward Grey was subsequently asked in the British Parliament as to this point, and explained, in effect, that he agreed with the Russian demands, with the possible exception of the indemnity.

The Russian minister informed the Persian Government that this ultimatum was based on the following two grounds: First, that I had appointed a certain Mr. Lecoffre, a British subject, to be a tax collector in the Russian sphere of influence; and, second, that I had caused to be printed and circulated in Persia a translation into Persian of my letter to the London Times of October 21, 1911, thereby greatly injuring Russian influence in northern Persia. These grounds might be classified as "unimportant, if true." The truth is, however, that they are both well known to have been utterly unfounded in fact. I did not appoint Mr. Lecoffre, a British subject, to a financial post in northern Persia. I found him in the Finance Department at Teheran (the capital, which is in the so-called Russian sphere) when I arrived there last May, and he had been occupying an important position there for nearly two years, without the slightest objection ever having been raised by the Russian Government. I proposed to transfer him to a somewhat less important position, but one in which I thought he could be of greater service.

As to the second ground or pretext, in effect, that I had caused to be printed and circulated a Persian translation of my letter to the Times, it was simply false. It was well known to be false—so well known, in fact, that a newspaper in Teheran, the Tamadun (Civilization) which did print it and circulate it, publicly admitted the fact the minute they heard that I was charged by Russia with having done so. So these two at best rather puerile pretexts upon which to base an ultimatum from a powerful nation to a weaker one lacked even the merit of truth.

This second ultimatum, despite all hypocritical attempts made to justify it, fairly stunned the Persian people. Accustomed as they had become in recent years to the high-handed and cynical actions of the St. Petersburg cabinet, they had not looked for such a foul blow as this. They had been realizing dimly that the peace of Europe was being threatened by the open hostility of Germany and England over the Moroccan incident, and that British foreign policy was apparently leaving Russia absolutely free to work her will in Asia, so long, at least, as Russia pretended to acknowledge the. Anglo-Russian entente of 1907; but the Persian people had too much, far too much, confidence in the sacredness of treaty stipulations and the solemnly pledged words of the great Christian nations of the world to imagine that their own whole national existence and liberty could be jeopardized overnight, and on a pretext so shallow and farcical as to excite world-wide ridicule. Their disillusionment came too late. The trap had been unwittingly set by hands that made unexpected moves on the European chessboard, and the Bear's paw had this time been skilful enough to spring it at the proper moment.

The Persian statesmen and chieftains who formed the cabinet at this time, whether because they perceived the gleaming, naked steel behind Russia's threats more clearly than their legislative compatriots of the Parliament or Medjlis, or whether they suffered from that abandon and tired feeling which comes from playing an unequal and always losing game, quickly decided that they would accept this second ultimatum with all its future oppression and cruelty for their people.

On December 1st, therefore, shortly before the time limit of forty-eight hours fixed by Russia for the acceptance of the terms had expired, the cabinet filed into the chamber of deputies to secure legislative approval of their intended course.

It was an hour before noon, and the Parliament grounds and buildings were filled with eager, excited throngs, while the galleries of the Medjlis chamber were packed with Persian notables of all ranks and with the representatives of many of the foreign legations. At noon the fate of Persia as a nation was to be known.

The cabinet, having made up its mind to yield, overlooked no point that would increase their chances of securing the approval of the Medjlis. Believing, evidently, that the ridiculously short time to elapse before the stroke of noon announced the expiration of the forty-eight-hour period would effectually prevent any mature consideration or discussion of their proposals, the premier, Samsamu's-Saltana, caused to be presented to the deputies a resolution authorizing the cabinet to accept Russia's demands.

The proposal was read amid a deep silence. At its conclusion, a hush fell upon the gathering. Seventy-six deputies, old men and young, priests, lawyers, doctors, merchants, and princes, sat tense in their seats.

A venerable priest of Islam arose. Time was slipping away and at noon the question would be beyond their vote to decide. This servant of God spoke briefly and to the point: "It may be the will of Allah that our liberty and our sovereignty shall be taken from us by force, but let us not sign them away with our own hands!" One gesture of appeal with his trembling hands, and he resumed his seat.

Simple words, these, yet winged ones. Easy to utter in academic discussions; hard, bitterly hard, to say under the eye of a cruel and overpowering tyrant whose emissaries watched the speaker from the galleries and mentally marked him down for future imprisonment, torture, exile, or worse.

Other deputies followed. In dignified appeals, brief because the time was short, they upheld their country's honor and proclaimed their hard-earned right to live and govern themselves.

A few minutes before noon the public vote was taken; one or two faint-hearted members sought a craven's refuge and slunk quietly from the chamber. As each name was called, the deputy rose in his place and gave his vote, there was no secret ballot here.

And when the roll-call was ended, every man, priest or layman, youth or octogenarian, had cast his own die of fate, had staked the safety of himself and family, and hurled back into the teeth of the great Bear from the north the unanimous answer of a desperate and downtrodden people who preferred a future of unknown terror to the voluntary sacrifice of their national dignity and of their recently earned right to work out their own salvation.

Amid tears and applause from the spectators, the crestfallen and frightened cabinet withdrew, while the deputies dispersed to ponder on the course which lay darkly before their people.

By this vote, the cabinet, according to the Persian constitution, ceased to exist as a legal entity.

Great crowds of people thronged the "Lalezar," one of the principal streets of Teheran, shouting death to the traitors and calling Allah to witness that they would give up their lives for their country.

A few days later, in a secret conference between the deputies of the Medjlis and the members of the deposed cabinet, a similar vote was given to reject the Russian demands. Meanwhile, thousands of Russian troops, with cossacks and artillery, were pouring into northern Persia, from Tiflis and Julfa by land and from Baku across the Caspian, to the Persian port of Enzeli, whence they took up their 220-mile march over the Elburz mountains toward Kasvin and Teheran.

In the government at Teheran, conference followed conference. Intrigues against the deputies gave way to threats. Through it all, with the increasing certainty of personal injury, the members of the Medjlis stood firmly by their vote.

It is impossible to describe within the limits of this article the days and nights of doubt, suspense, and anxiety that followed one another in the capital during this dark month of December. There was a lurking dread in the very air, and the snow-covered mountains themselves seemed afflicted with the mournful scenes through which the country was passing.

A boycott was proclaimed by the priests against Russian and English goods. In a day, the old-fashioned tramway of the city was deserted on the mere suspicion that it was owned in Russia, while an excited Belgian Minister rained protests and petitions on the Persian Foreign Office in an endeavor to show that the tramway was owned by his countrymen. Crowds of youths, students, and women filled the street, dragging absent-minded passengers from the cars, smashing the windows of shops that still displayed Russian goods, seeing that no one drank tea because it came from Russia, although produced in India, and going in processions before the gates of the foreign legations to demand justice of the representatives of the world powers for a people in the extremity of despair.

One day, the rumor would come that the chief "mullahs" or priests at Nadjef had proclaimed the "holy war" (jihad) against the Russians; on another, that the Russian troops had commenced to shoot up Kasvin on their march to Teheran.

At one time, when rumors were thick that the Medjlis would give in under the threats and attempted bribery which well-known Russian proteges were employing on many of its members, three hundred veiled and black-gowned Persian women, a large proportion with pistols concealed under their skirts or in the folds of their sleeves, marched suddenly to the Parliament grounds and demanded admission to the Chamber. The president of the Medjlis consented to receive a deputation from them. Once admitted into his presence, these honor-loving Persian mothers, wives, and daughters exhibited their weapons, and to show the grim seriousness of their words, they tore aside their veils, and threatened that they would kill their own husbands and sons, and end their own lives, if the deputies failed in their duty to uphold the dignity and the sovereignty of their beloved country.

When neither threats nor bribes availed against the Medjlis, Russia decreed its destruction by force.

In the early afternoon of December 24th, the deposed cabinet, having been themselves duly persuaded to take the step, executed a coup d'etat against the Medjlis, and by a demonstration of gendarmes and Bakhtiyari tribesmen, succeeded in expelling all the deputies and employees who were within the Parliament grounds; after which the gates were locked and barred, and a strong detachment of the so-called Royal Regiment left in charge. The deputies were threatened with death if they attempted to return there or to meet in any other spot, and the city of Teheran immediately passed under military control. The self-constituted directoire of seven who accomplished this dubious feat first ascertained that the considerable force of Bakhtiyari tribesmen, some 2,000, who had remained in the capital after the defeat of the ex-Shah's forces in September last, had been duly "fixed" by the same Russian agencies who had so early succeeded in persuading the members of the ex-cabinet that their true interests lay in siding with Russia. It is impossible to say just what proportions of fear and cupidity decided the members of the deposed cabinet to take the aliens' side against their country, but both emotions undoubtedly played a part. The premier was one of the leading chiefs or "khans" of the Bakhtiyaris, and another chief was the self-styled Minister of War. These chieftains have always been a strange and changing mixture of mountain patriot and city intriguer—of loyal soldier and mercenary looter. The mercenary instincts, possibly aided by a sense of their own comparative helplessness against Russian Cossacks and artillery, led them to accept the stranger's gold and fair promises, and they ended their checkered but theretofore relatively honorable careers by selling their country for a small pile of cash and the more alluring promise that the "grand viziership" (i.e., post of Minister of Finance) should be perpetual in their family or clan.

That same afternoon a large number of the "abolished" deputies came to my office. They were men whom I had grown to know well, men of European education, in whose courage, integrity, and patriotism I had the fullest confidence. To them, the unlawful action of their own countrymen was more than a political catastrophe; it was a sacrilege, a profanation, a heinous crime. They came in tears, with broken voices, with murder in their hearts, torn by the doubt as to whether they should kill the members of the directoire and drive out the traitorous tribesmen who had made possible the destruction of the government, or adopt the truly Oriental idea of killing themselves. They asked my advice, and, hesitating somewhat as to whether I should interfere to save the lives of notorious betrayers of their country, I finally persuaded them to do neither the one nor the other. There seemed to be no particular good in assassinating even their treacherous countrymen, as it would only have given color to the pretensions of Russia and England that the Persians were not capable of maintaining order.

AN EXHIBITION OF SELF-RESTRAINT

When the last representative element of the constitutional government, for which so many thousands had fought, suffered, and died, was wiped out in an hour without a drop of blood being shed, the Persian people gave to the world an exhibition of temperance, of moderation, of stern self-restraint, the like of which no other civilized country could show under similar trying circumstances.

The acceptance of Russia's terms by the Cabinet removed the last pretext for keeping in Northern Persia the 15,000 troops which by that time Russia had assembled there,—at Kasvin, Resht, Enzeli, Tabriz, Khoy, and other points in the so-called Russian sphere. Mons. Poklewski-Koziell, the Russian Minister, had in fact given an equivocal sort of a promise to the effect that "if no fresh incidents arose," the Russian troops would be withdrawn when Persia accepted the conditions of the ultimatum.

With this in mind, it is interesting to note the truly thorough precautions which were taken by Russia to prevent any such unfortunate necessity as the withdrawal of her troops from coming to pass.

December 24th, late in the evening, a message was received from the Persian Acting Governor at Tabriz in which he declared that the Russian troops, which had been stationed in that city since their entry during the siege in 1909, had suddenly started to massacre the inhabitants. Shortly after this the Indo-European telegraph lines stopped working, and all news from Tabriz ceased. It was subsequently stated that the wires had been cut by bullets. Additional Russian troops were immediately started for Tabriz from Julfa, which is some eight miles to the north of the Russian frontier.

The exact way in which the fighting began is not yet clear. The Persian government reports show that a number of Russian soldiers, claiming to be stringing a telephone wire, climbed upon the roof of the Persian police headquarters about ten o'clock at night on December 20th. When challenged by native guards, they replied with shots. Reenforcements were called up by both sides, and serious street fighting broke out early the following morning and continued for several days. The Acting Governor stated in his official reports that the Russian troops indulged in their usual atrocities, killing women and children and hundreds of other noncombatants on the streets and in their homes. There were at the time about 4,000 Russian soldiers, with two batteries of artillery, in and around the city. Nearly I,000 of the fidais ("self-devoted") of Tabriz took refuge in an old citadel of stone and mud, called the "Ark." They were without artillery or adequate provisions, and were poorly armed, but it was certain death for one of them to be seen on the streets.

The Russians bombarded the "Ark" for a day or more, killing a large proportion of its defenders. The superior numbers and the artillery of the Russians finally conquered, and there followed a reign of terror during which no Persian's life or honor was safe. At one time during this period the Russian Minister at Teheran, at the request of the members of the Persian cabinet, who were horror-stricken and in fear of their lives for having made terms with such a barbaric nation, telegraphed to the Russian general in command of the troops at Tabriz, telling him to cease fighting, and that the fidais would receive orders to do likewise, as matters were being arranged at the capital. The gallant general replied that he took his orders from the Viceroy of the Caucasus at Tiflis, and not from any one at Teheran. The massacre went on.

On New Year's day, which was the 10th of Muharram, a day of great mourning which is held sacred in the Persian religious calendar, the Russian military governor, who had hoisted Russian flags over the government buildings at Tabriz, hung the Sikutu'l-Islam, who was the chief priest of Tabriz, two other priests, and five others, among them several high officials of the Provincial Government. As one British journalist put it, the effect of this outrage on the Persians was that which would be produced on the English people by the hanging of the Archbishop of Canterbury on Good Friday. From this time on, the Russians at Tabriz continued to hang or shoot any Persian whom they chose to consider guilty of the crime of being a "Constitutionalist." When the fighting there was first reported, a high official of the Foreign Office at St. Petersburg, in an interview to the press, made the statement that Russia would take vengeance into her own hands until the "revolutionary dregs" had been exterminated.

One more significant fact: At the same time that the fighting broke out at Tabriz, the Russian troops at Resht and Enzeli, hundreds of miles away, shot down the Persian police and many inhabitants without warning or provocation of any kind. And the date also happened to be just after the Persian cabinet had definitely informed the Russian Legation that all the demands of Russia's ultimatum were accepted—a condition which the British Government had publicly assured the Persians would be followed by the withdrawal of the Russian invading forces, and which the Russian Government had officially confirmed, "unless fresh incidents should arise in the mean time to make the retention of the troops advisable."

I would suggest that the Powers—England and Russia—may think that they thus escape all responsibility for what goes on in Persia, but the world has long since grown familiar with such methods. Mere cant, however seriously put forth in official statements, no longer blinds educated public opinion as to the facts in these acts of international brigandage. The truth is that England and Russia are still playing a hand in the game of medieval diplomacy.

The puerility of talking of Persia having affronted Russian consular officers or of Persia's Treasurer-General having appointed a British subject to be a tax collector at Tabriz, as the reasons for Russia's aggressive and brutal policy in Persia, is only too apparent. Volumes would not contain the bare record of the acts of aggression, deceit, and cruelty which Russian agents have committed against Persian sovereignty and the constitutional government since the deposition of Muhammad Ali in 1909.



DISCOVERY OF THE SOUTH POLE A.D. 1911

ROALD AMUNDSEN

On December 16, 1911, a Norwegian exploring party headed by Captain Roald Amundsen reached the South Pole. The discovery thus followed with surprising closeness after Peary's triumph in reaching the North Pole in 1909.

Antarctic exploration had never attracted so much attention as that of the far north; partly because an almost impossible ice barrier a hundred feet high was known to extend across the southern ocean at about the parallel of the Antarctic Circle. In 1908, however, an English expedition under Lieutenant Shackleton managed to penetrate beyond this barrier in the region south of New Zealand and reached to within less than two hundred miles of the pole. They established the fact that in contrast to the deep waters which flow above the northern Pole, the southern Pole is raised upon an Antarctic mountain continent many thousand feet in height. Shackleton's success led to several other expeditions, and in 1910 three separate parties made almost simultaneous efforts to reach the Pole, one from Japan and one from England, as well as the Norwegian one.

We give here Captain Amundsen's own account of his expedition as first explained by him before the Berlin Geographical Society and published by the New York Geographical Society in their bulletin.

The glowing success of Amundsen's expedition throws into sharpest relief the tragedy of the parallel English expedition. Captain Scott, the leader of this party, also reached the Pole after a far more desperate struggle. But he reached it on January 18, 1912, only to find that his Norwegian rival had preceded him, and he and his entire party died of starvation and exhaustion on their return journey toward their camp.

The first aim of my expedition was the attainment of the South Pole. I have the honor to report the accomplishment of the plan.

I can only mention briefly here the expeditions which have worked in the region which we had selected for our starting-point. As we wished to reach the South Pole our first problem was to go south as far as possible with our ship and there establish our station. Even so, the sled journeys would be long enough. I knew that the English expedition would again choose their old winter quarters in McMurdo Sound, South Victoria Land, as their starting-point. From newspaper report it was known that the Japanese had selected King Edward VII. Land. In order to avoid these two expeditions we had to establish our station on the Great Ice Barrier as far as possible from the starting-points of the two other expeditions.

The Great Ice Barrier, also called the Ross Barrier, lies between South Victoria Land and King Edward VII. Land and has an extent of about 515 miles. The first to reach this mighty ice formation was Sir James Clark Ross in 1841. He did not dare approach the great ice wall, 100 feet high, with his two sailing ships, the Erebus and the Terror, whose progress southward was impeded by this mighty obstacle. He examined the ice wall from a distance, however, as far as possible. His observations showed that the Barrier is not a continuous, abrupt ice wall, but is interrupted by bays and small channels. On Ross's map a bay of considerable magnitude may be seen.

The next expedition was that of the Southern Cross in 1900. It is interesting to note that this party found the bay mentioned above at the same place where Ross had seen it in 1841, nearly sixty years before; that this expedition also was able to land a few miles to the east of the large bay in a small bay, named Balloon Bight, and from there to ascend the Ice Barrier, which heretofore had been considered an insurmountable obstacle to further advance toward the south.

In 1901 the Discovery steamed along the Barrier and confirmed in every respect what the Southern Cross had observed. Land was also discovered in the direction indicated by Ross, namely, King Edward VII. Land. Scott, too, landed in Balloon Bight, and, like his predecessors, saw the large bay to the west.

In 1908 Shackleton arrived there on the Nimrod. He, too, followed along the edge of the Ice Barrier. He came to the conclusion that disturbances had taken place in the Ice Barrier. The shore line of Balloon Bight, he thought, had changed and merged with the large bay to the west. This large bay, which he thought to be of recent origin, he named Bay of Whales. He gave up his original plan of landing there, as the Ice Barrier appeared to him too dangerous for the establishment of winter quarters.

It was not difficult to determine that the bay shown on Ross's map and the so-called Bay of Whales are identical; it was only necessary to compare the two maps. Except for a few pieces that had broken off from the Barrier, the bay had remained the same for the last seventy years. It was therefore possible to assume that the bay did not owe its origin to chance and that it must be underlaid by land, either in the form of sand banks or otherwise.

This bay we decided upon as our base of operations. It lies 400 miles from the English station in McMurdo Sound and 115 miles from King Edward VII. Land. We could therefore assume that we should be far enough from the English sphere of interest and need not fear crossing the route of the English expedition. The reports concerning the Japanese station on King Edward VII. Land were indefinite: we took it for granted, however, that a distance of 115 miles would suffice.

On August 9, 1910, we left Norway on the Fram, the ship that had originally been built for Nansen. We had ninety-seven superb Eskimo dogs and provisions for two years. The first harbor we reached was Madeira. There the last preparations were made for our voyage on the Ross Barrier—truly not an insignificant distance which we had to cover, namely, 16,000 nautical miles from Norway to the Bay of Whales. We had estimated that this trip would require five months. The Fram, which has justly been called the stanchest polar ship in the world, on this voyage across practically all of the oceans, proved herself to be extremely seaworthy. Thus we traversed without a single mishap the regions of the northeast and of the southeast trades, the stormy seas of the "roaring forties," the fogs of the fifties, the ice-filled sixties, and reached our field of work at the Ice Barrier on January 14, 1911. Everything had gone splendidly.

The ice in the Bay of Whales had just broken up, and we were able to advance considerably farther south than any of our predecessors had done. We found a quiet little nook behind a projecting ice cape; from here we could transfer our equipment to the Barrier with comparative safety. Another great advantage was that the Barrier at this place descended very gradually to the sea ice, so that we had the best possible surface for our sleds. Our first undertaking was to ascend the Barrier in order to get a general survey and to determine a suitable place for the erection of the house which we had brought with us. The supposition that this part of the Barrier rests on land seemed to be confirmed immediately by our surroundings. Instead of the smooth, flat surface which the outer wall of the Barrier presents, we here found the surface to be very uneven. We everywhere saw sharp hills, and points between which there were pressure-cracks and depressions filled with large masses of drift. These features were not of recent date. On the contrary, it was easy to see that they were very old and that they must have had their origin at a time which long preceded the period of Ross's visit.

Originally we had planned to establish our station several miles from the edge of the Barrier, in order not to subject ourselves to the danger of an unwelcome and involuntary sea trip, which might have occurred had the part of the Barrier on which we erected our house broken off. This precaution, however, was not necessary, as the features which we observed on our first examination of the area offered a sufficient guaranty for the stability of the Barrier at this point.

In a small valley, hardly two and a half miles from the ship's anchorage, we therefore selected a place for our winter quarters. It was protected from the wind on all sides. On the next day we began unloading the ship. We had brought with us material for house-building as well as equipment and provisions for nine men for several years. We divided into two groups, the ship's group and the land group. The first was composed of the commander of the ship, Captain Nilsen, and the nine men who were to stay on board to take the Fram out of the ice and to Buenos Aires. The other group consisted of the men who were to occupy the winter quarters and march on to the south. The ship's group had to unload everything from the ship upon the ice. There the land group took charge of the cargo and brought it to the building site. At first we were rather unaccustomed to work, as we had had little exercise on the long sea voyage. But before long we were all "broken in," and then the transfer to the site of our home "Framheim" went on rapidly; the house grew daily.

When all the material had been landed our skilled carpenters, Olav Bjaaland and Jorgen Stubberud, began building the house. It was a ready-made house, which we had brought with us; nothing had to be done but to put together the various numbered parts. In order that the house might brave all storms, its bottom rested in an excavation four feet beneath the surface. On January 28th, fourteen days after our arrival, the house was completed, and all provisions had been landed. A gigantic task had been performed; everything seemed to point toward a propitious future. But no time was to be lost; we had to make use of every minute.

The land group had in the mean time been divided into two parties, one of which saw to it that the provisions and equipment still lacking were taken out of the ship. The other party was to prepare for an excursion toward the south which had in view the exploration of the immediate environs and the establishment of a depot.

On February 10th the latter group marched south. There were four of us with eighteen dogs and three sleds packed with provisions. That morning of our start is still vividly in my memory. The weather was calm, the sky hardly overcast. Before us lay the large, unlimited snow plain, behind us the Bay of Whales with its projecting ice capes and at its entrance our dear ship, the Fram. On board the flag was hoisted; it was the last greeting from our comrades of the ship. No one knew whether and when we should see each other again. In all probability our comrades would no longer be there when we returned; a year would probably elapse before we could meet again. One more glance backward, one more parting greeting and then—forward.

Our first advance on the Barrier was full of excitement and suspense. So many questions presented themselves: What will be the nature of the region we have to cross? How will the sleds behave? Will our equipment meet the requirements of the situation? Have we the proper hauling power? If we were to accomplish our object, everything had to be of the best. Our equipment was substantially different from that of our English competitors. We placed our whole trust on Eskimo dogs and skis, while the English, as a result of their own experience, had abandoned dogs as well as skis, but, on the other hand, were well equipped with motor-sleds and ponies.

We advanced rapidly on the smooth, white snow plain. On February 14th we reached 80 deg. S. We had thus covered ninety-nine miles. We established a depot here mainly of 1,300 pounds of provisions which we intended to use on our main advance to the south in the spring. The return journey occupied two days; on the first we covered forty miles and on the second fifty-seven miles. When we reached our station the Fram had already left. The bay was lonely and deserted; only seals and penguins were in possession of the place.

The first excursion to the south, although brief, was of great importance to us. We now knew definitely that our equipment and our pulling power were eminently suited to the demands upon them. In their selection no mistake had been made. It was now for us to make use of everything to the best advantage.

Our sojourn at the station was only a short one. On February 22d we were ready again to carry supplies to a more southern depot. We intended to push this depot as far south as possible. On this occasion our expedition consisted of eight men, seven sleds, and forty-two dogs. Only the cook remained at "Framheim."

On February 27th, we passed the depot which we had established at 80 deg. S.; we found everything in the best of order. On March 4th we reached the eighty-first parallel and deposited there 1,150 pounds of provisions. Three men returned from here to the station while the five others continued toward the south and reached the eighty-second parallel on March 8th, depositing there 1,375 pounds of provisions. We then returned, and on March 22d were again at home. Before the winter began we made another excursion to the depot in 80 deg. S., and added to our supplies there 2,400 pounds of fresh salt meat and 440 pounds of other provisions. On April 11th we returned from this excursion; this ended all of our work connected with the establishment of depots. Up to that date we had carried out 6,700 pounds of provisions and had distributed these in three repositories.

The part of the Barrier over which we had gone heretofore has an average height of 165 feet and looked like a flat plain which continued with slight undulations without any marked features that could have served for orientation. It has heretofore been the opinion that on such an endless plain no provisions can be cached without risking their loss. If we were, however, to have the slightest chance of reaching our goal we had to establish depots, and that to as great an extent as possible. This question was discussed among us, and we decided to establish signs across our route, and not along it, as has been generally done heretofore. We therefore set up a row of signs at right angles to our route, that is, in an east-west direction from our depots. Two of these signs were placed on opposite sides of each of the three depots, at a distance of 5.6 miles (9 kilometers) from them; and between the signs and the depot two flags were erected for every kilometer. In addition, all flags were marked so that we might know the direction and distance of the depot to which it referred. This provision proved entirely trustworthy; we were able to find our depots even in dense fog. Our compasses and pedometers were tested at the station; we knew that we could rely upon them.

By our excursions to the depots we had gained a great deal. We had not only carried a large amount of provisions toward the south, but we had also gained valuable experience. That was worth more and was to be of value to us on our final advance to the Pole.

The lowest temperature we had observed on these depot excursions was -50 deg. Centigrade. The fact that it was still summer when we recorded this temperature warned us to see that our equipment was in good condition. We also realized that our heavy sleds were too unwieldy and that they could easily be made much lighter. This criticism was equally applicable to the greater part of our equipment.

Several days before the disappearance of the sun were devoted to hunting seal. The total weight of the seals killed amounted to 132,000 pounds. We therefore had ample provisions for ourselves as well as for our 115 dogs.

Our next problem was to supply a protective roof for our dogs. We had brought with us ten large tents in which sixteen men could easily find room. They were set up on the Ice Barrier; the snow was then dug out to a depth of six and a half feet inside the tents, so that each dog hut was nearly twenty feet high. The diameter of a dog hut on the ground was sixteen feet. We made these huts spacious so that they might be as airy as possible, and thus avert the frost which is so injurious to dogs. Our purpose was entirely attained, for even in the severest weather no dogs were frozen. The tents were always warm and comfortable. Twelve dogs were housed in each, and every man had to take care of his own pack.

After we had seen to the wants of the dogs we could then think of ourselves. As early as April the house was entirely covered by snow. In this newly drifted snow, passageways were dug connecting directly with the dog huts. Ample room was thus at our disposal without the need on our part of furnishing building material. We had workshops, a blacksmith shop, a room for sewing, one for packing, a storage room for coal, wood, and oil, a room for regular baths and one for steam baths. The winter might be as cold and stormy as it would; it could do us no harm.

On April 21st the sun disappeared and the longest night began which had ever been experienced by man in the Antarctic. We did not need to fear the long night, for we were well equipped with provisions for years and had a comfortable, well-ventilated, well-situated and protected house. In addition we had our splendid bathroom where we could take a bath every week. It really was a veritable sanatorium.

After these arrangements had been completed we began preparations for the main advance in the following spring. We had to improve our equipment and make it lighter. We discarded all our sleds, for they were too heavy and unwieldy for the smooth surface of the Ice Barrier. Our sleds weighed 165 pounds each. Bjaaland, our ski and sledmaker, took the sleds in hand, and when spring arrived he had entirely made over our sledge equipment. These sleds weighed only one-third as much as the old ones. In the same way it was possible to reduce the weight of all other items of our equipment. Packing the provisions for the sledge journey was of the greatest importance. Captain Johansen attended to this work during the winter. Each of the 42,000 loaves of hard bread had to be handled separately before it could be assigned to its proper place. In this way the winter passed quickly and agreeably. All of us were occupied all the time. Our house was warm, dry, light and airy, and we all enjoyed the best of health. We had no physician and needed none.

Meteorological observations were taken continuously. The results were surprising. We had thought that we should have disagreeable, stormy weather, but this was not the case. During the whole year of our sojourn at the station we experienced only two moderate storms. The rest of the time light breezes prevailed, mainly from an easterly direction. Atmospheric pressure was as a rule very low, but remained constant. The temperature sank considerably, and I deem it probable that the mean annual temperature which we recorded, -26 deg. Centigrade, is the lowest mean temperature which has ever been observed. During five months of the year we recorded temperatures below -50 deg. Centigrade. On August 23d the lowest temperature was recorded, -59 deg.. The aurora australis, corresponding to the northern lights of the Arctic, was observed frequently and in all directions and forms. This phenomenon changed very rapidly, but, except in certain cases, was not very intensive.

On August 24th the sun reappeared. The winter had ended. Several days earlier we had put everything in the best of order, and when the sun rose over the Barrier we were ready to start. The dogs were in fine condition.

From now on we observed the temperature daily with great interest, for as long as the mercury remained below -50 deg. a start was not to be thought of. In the first days of September all signs indicated that the mercury would rise. We therefore resolved to start as soon as possible. On September 8th the temperature was -30 deg.. We started immediately, but this march was to be short. On the next day the temperature began to sink rapidly, and several days later the thermometer registered -55 deg. Centigrade. We human beings could probably have kept on the march for some time under such a temperature, for we were protected against the cold by our clothing; but the dogs could not have long withstood this degree of cold. We were therefore glad when we reached the eightieth parallel. We deposited there our provisions and equipment in the depot which we had previously erected and returned to "Framheim."

The weather now became very changeable for a time—the transitional period from winter to summer; we never knew what weather the next day would bring. Frostbites from our last march forced us to wait until we definitely knew that spring had really come. On September 24th we saw at last positive evidence that spring had arrived: the seals began to clamber up on the ice. This sign was hailed with rejoicing—not a whit less the seal meat which Bjaaland brought on the same day. The dogs, too, enjoyed the arrival of spring. They were ravenous for fresh seal meat. On September 29th another unrefutable sign of spring appeared in the arrival of a flock of Antarctic petrels. They flew around our house inquisitively to the joy of all, not only of ourselves, but also of the dogs. The latter were wild with joy and excitement, and ran after the birds in hopes of getting a delicate morsel. Foolish dogs! Their chase ended with a wild fight among themselves.

On October 20th the weather had at last become so stable that we could start. We had, meanwhile, changed our original plan, which was that we should all advance southward together. We realized that we could travel with perfect safety in two groups, and thus accomplish much more. We arranged that three men should go to the east to explore King Edward VII. Land; the remaining five men were to carry out the main plan, the advance on the South Pole.

October 20th was a beautiful day. Clear, mild weather prevailed. The temperature was 1 deg. Centigrade above zero. Our sleds were light, and we could advance rapidly. We did not need to hurry our dogs, for they were eager enough themselves. We numbered five men and fifty-two dogs with four sleds. Together with the provisions which we had left in the three depots at the eightieth, the eighty-first, and the eighty-second parallels we had sufficient sustenance for 120 days.

Two days after our departure we nearly met with a serious accident. Bjaaland's sled fell into one of the numerous crevasses. At the critical moment we were fortunately able to come to Bjaaland's aid; had we been a moment later the sled with its thirteen dogs would have disappeared in the seemingly bottomless pit.

On the fourth day we reached our depot at 80 deg. S. We remained there two days and gave our dogs as much seal meat as they would eat.

Between the eightieth and the eighty-first parallel the Barrier ice along our route was even, with the exception of a few low undulations; dangerous hidden places were not to be found. The region between the eighty-first and the eighty-second parallel was of a totally different character. During the first nineteen miles we were in a veritable labyrinth of crevasses, very dangerous to cross. At many places yawning abysses were visible because large pieces of the surface had broken off; the surface, therefore, presented a very unsafe appearance. We crossed this region four times in all. On the first three times such a dense fog prevailed that we could only recognize objects a few feet away. Only on the fourth occasion did we have clear weather. Then we were able to see the great difficulties to which we had been exposed.

On November 5th we reached the depot at the eighty-second parallel and found everything in order. For the last time our dogs were able to have a good rest and eat their fill; and they did so thoroughly during their two days' rest.

Beginning at the eightieth parallel we constructed snow cairns which should serve as sign-posts on our return. In all we erected 150 such sign-posts, each of which required sixty snow blocks. About 9,000 snow blocks had therefore to be cut out for this purpose. These cairns did not disappoint us, for they enabled us to return by exactly the same route we had previously followed.

South of the eighty-second parallel the Barrier was, if possible, still more even than farther north; we therefore advanced quite rapidly. At every unit parallel which we crossed on our advance toward the south we established a depot. We thereby doubtlessly exposed ourselves to a certain risk, for there was no time to set up sign-posts around the depots. We therefore had to rely on snow cairns. On the other hand, our sleds became lighter, so that it was never hard for the dogs to pull them.

When we reached the eighty-third parallel we saw land in a southwesterly direction. This could only be South Victoria Land, probably a continuation of the mountain range which runs in a southeasterly direction and which is shown on Shackleton's map. From now on the landscape changed more and more from day to day: one mountain after another loomed up, one always higher than the other. Their average elevation was 10,000 to 16,000 feet. Their crest-line was always sharp; the peaks were like needles. I have never seen a more beautiful, wild, and imposing landscape. Here a peak would appear with somber and cold outlines, its head buried in the clouds; there one could see snow fields and glaciers thrown together in hopeless confusion. On November 11th we saw land to the south and could soon determine that a mountain range, whose position is about 86 deg. S. and 163 deg. W., crosses South Victoria Land in an easterly and northeasterly direction. This mountain range is materially lower than the mighty mountains of the rest of South Victoria Land. Peaks of an elevation of 1,800 to 4,000 feet were the highest. We could see this mountain chain as far as the eighty-fourth parallel, where it disappeared below the horizon.

On November 17th we reached the place where the Ice Barrier ends and the land begins. We had proceeded directly south from our winter quarters to this point. We were now in 85 deg. 7' S. and 165 deg. W. The place where we left the Barrier for the land offered no special difficulties. A few extended undulating reaches of ice had to be crossed which were interrupted by crevasses here and there. Nothing could impede our advance. It was our plan to go due south from "Framheim" and not to deviate from this direction unless we should be forced to by obstacles which nature might place in our path. If our plan succeeded it would be our privilege to explore completely unknown regions and thereby to accomplish valuable geographic work.

The immediate ascent due south into the mountainous region led us between the high peaks of South Victoria Land. To all intents and purposes no great difficulties awaited us here. To be sure, we should probably have found a less steep ascent if we had gone over to the newly discovered mountain range just mentioned. But as we maintained the principle that direct advance due south was the shortest way to our goal, we had to bear the consequences.

At this place we established our principal depot and left provisions for thirty days. On our four sleds we took provisions with us for sixty days. And now we began the ascent to the plateau. The first part of the way led us over snow-covered mountain slopes, which at times were quite steep, but not so much so as to prevent any of us from hauling up his own sled. Farther up, we found several glaciers which were not very broad but were very steep. Indeed, they were so steep that we had to harness twenty dogs in front of each sled. Later the glaciers became more frequent, and they lay on slopes so steep that it was very hard to ascend them on our skis. On the first night we camped at a spot which lay 2,100 feet above sea level. On the second day we continued to climb up the mountains, mainly over several small glaciers. Our next camp for the night was at an altitude of 4,100 feet above the sea.

On the third day we made the disagreeable discovery that we should have to descend 2,100 feet, as between us and the higher mountains to the south lay a great glacier which crossed our path from east to west. This could not be helped. The expedition therefore descended with the greatest possible speed and in an incredibly short time we were down on the glacier, which was named Axel Heiberg Glacier. Our camp of this night lay at about 3,100 feet above sea level. On the following day the longest ascent began; we were forced to follow Axel Heiberg Glacier. At several places ice blocks were heaped up so that its surface was hummocky and cleft by crevasses. We had therefore to make detours to avoid the wide crevasses which, below, expanded into large basins. These latter, to be sure, were filled with snow; the glacier had evidently long ago ceased to move. The greatest care was necessary in our advance, for we had no inkling as to how thick or how thin the cover of snow might be. Our camp for this night was pitched in an extremely picturesque situation at an elevation of about 5,250 feet above sea level. The glacier was here hemmed in by two mountains which were named "Fridtjof Nansen" and "Don Pedro Christophersen," both 16,000 feet high.

Farther down toward the west at the end of the glacier "Ole Engelstad Mountain" rises to an elevation of about 13,000 feet. At this relatively narrow place the glacier was very hummocky and rent by many deep crevasses, so that we often feared that we could not advance farther. On the following day we reached a slightly inclined plateau which we assumed to be the same which Shackleton describes. Our dogs accomplished a feat on this day which is so remarkable that it should be mentioned here. After having already done heavy work on the preceding days, they covered nineteen miles on this day and overcame a difference in altitude of 5,700 feet. On the following night we camped at a place which lay 10,800 feet above sea level. The time had now come when we were forced to kill some of our dogs. Twenty-four of our faithful comrades had to die. The place where this happened was named the "Slaughter House." On account of bad weather we had to stay here for four days. During this stay both we and the dogs had nothing except dog meat to eat. When we could at last start again on November 26th, the meat of ten dogs only remained. This we deposited at our camp; fresh meat would furnish a welcome change on our return. During the following days we had stormy weather and thick snow flurries, so that we could see nothing of the surrounding country. We observed, however, that we were descending rapidly. For a moment, when the weather improved for a short time, we saw high mountains directly to the east. During the heavy snow squall on November 28th we passed two peculiarly shaped mountains lying in a north-south direction; they were the only ones that we could see on our right hand. These "Helland-Hansen Mountains" were entirely covered by snow and had an altitude of 9,200 feet. Later they served as an excellent landmark for us.

On the next day the clouds parted and the sun burst forth. It seemed to us as if we had been transferred to a totally new country. In the direction of our advance rose a large glacier, and to the east of it lay a mountain range running from southeast to northwest. Toward the west, impenetrable fog lay over the glacier and obscured even our immediate surroundings. A measurement by hypsometer gave 8,200 feet for the point lying at the foot of this, the "Devil's Glacier." We had therefore descended 2,600 feet since leaving the "Slaughter House." This was not an agreeable discovery, as we, no doubt, would have to ascend as much again, if not more. We left provisions here for six days and continued our march.

From the camp of that night we had a superb view of the eastern mountain range. Belonging to it we saw a mountain of more wonderful form than I have ever seen before. The altitude of the mountain was 12,300 feet; its peaks roundabout were covered by a glacier. It looked as if Nature, in a fit of anger, had dropped sharp cornered ice blocks on the mountain. This mountain was christened "Helmer-Hansen Mountain," and became our best point of reference. There we saw also the "Oscar Wisting Mountains," the "Olav Bjaaland Mountains," the "Sverre Hassel Mountains," which, dark and red, glittered in the rays of the midnight sun and reflected a white and blue light. In the distance the mountains seen before loomed up romantically; they looked very high when one saw them through the thick clouds and masses of fog which passed over them from time to time and occasionally allowed us to catch glimpses of their mighty peaks and their broken glaciers. For the first time we saw the "Thorvald Nilsen Mountain," which has a height of 16,400 feet.

It took us three days to climb the "Devil's Glacier." On the first of December we had left behind us this glacier with its crevasses and bottomless pits and were now at an elevation of 9,350 feet above sea level. In front of us lay an inclined block-covered ice plateau which, in the fog and snow, had the appearance of a frozen lake. Traveling over this "Devil's Ball Room," as we called the plateau, was not particularly pleasant. Southeasterly storms and snow flurries occurred daily, during which we could see absolutely nothing. The floor on which we were walking was hollow beneath us; it sounded as if we were going over empty barrels. We crossed this disagreeable and uncanny region as quickly as was compatible with the great care we had to exercise, for during the whole time we were thinking of the unwelcome possibility of sinking through.

On December 6th we reached our highest point—according to hypsometric measurement 11,024 feet above sea level. From there on the interior plateau remained entirely level and of the same elevation. In 88 deg. 23' S. we had reached the place which corresponded to Shackleton's southernmost advance. We camped in 88 deg. 25' S. and established there our last—the tenth—depot, in which we left 220 pounds of provisions. Our way now gradually led downward. The surface was in excellent condition, entirely level, without a single hill or undulation or other obstacle. Our sleds forged ahead to perfection; the weather was beautiful; we daily covered seventeen miles. Nothing prevented us from increasing our daily distance. But we had time enough and ample provisions; we thought it wiser, also, to spare our dogs and not to work them harder than necessary. Without a mishap we reached the eighty-ninth parallel on December 11th. It seemed as if we had come into a region where good weather constantly prevails. The surest sign of continued calm weather was the absolutely level surface. We could push a tent-pole seven feet deep into the snow without meeting with any resistance. This proved clearly enough that the snow had fallen in equable weather; calm must have prevailed or a slight breeze may have blown at the most. Had the weather been variable—calms alternating with storms—snow strata of different density would have formed, a condition which we would immediately have noticed when driving in our tent-poles.

Our dead reckoning had heretofore always given the same results as our astronomical observations. During the last eight days of our march we had continuous sunshine. Every day we stopped at noon in order to measure the meridian altitude and every evening we made an observation for azimuth. On December 13th the meridian altitude gave 89 deg. 37', dead reckoning, 89 deg. 38'. In latitude 88 deg. 25' we had been able to make our last good observation of azimuth. Subsequently this method of observation became valueless. As these last observations gave practically the same result and the difference was almost a constant one, we used the observation made in 88 deg. 25' as a basis. We calculated that we should reach our goal on December 14th.