But what was there to be gained from an expedition to Greenland worth the risking of human life,—for a life-risk it unquestionably would be,—to say nothing of the cost thereof? What was there to be learned from the ice?
The question is soon answered.
The island of Greenland,—for it is now well ascertained that it is an island, and that the largest in the world,—this Sahara of the North, contains within its ice-plains the key to the history of the human race. For it is the largest homogeneous relic we possess of the glacial age. Such as Greenland now is, so large tracts of the world have been; and, what is of more interest to us, so has the whole of the north been. It is this mighty ice-realm that has caused a large proportion of the earth’s surface to assume its present appearance. The lowlands of Mid-Germany and Denmark have been scoured and transported thither from the rocks of Norway and Sweden. The Swedish rock at Lützen in Saxony is Swedish granite that the ice has carried with it. And the small glaciers still left in Norway, such as the Folgefond, Jostedalsbræ, Svartis,[6] etc., are merely “calves” of that ancient, stupendous mass of ice that time and heat have transported, even though it once lay more than a thousand metres in thickness over widely extended plains.
To investigate, therefore, the inland ice of Greenland is, in a word, to investigate the great glacial age; and one may learn from such a study many a lesson explanatory of our earth’s appearance at the present day, and ascertain what could exist, and what could not, under such conditions.
We know now that, during the glacial age, human beings lived on this earth, even close up to this gigantic glacier, that subsequently destroyed all life on its course. It may be safely asserted that the struggle with the ice, and with the variations of climate, have been important factors in making the human race what it will eventually be, the lords of nature.
The Esquimaux in their deerskin dress, the aborigines of Australia, the pigmy tribes of Africa’s primeval forests, are a living testimony of the tenacious powers of the soul and body of mankind,—civilization’s trusty outposts. An Esquimau living on blubber under fifty degrees of cold is just as much a man of achievement in this work-a-day world as an Edison, who, with every comfort at his disposal, forces nature to disclose her hidden marvels. But he who, born in the midst of civilization, and who forces his way to an outpost farther advanced than any mankind has yet attained, is greater, perhaps, than either, especially when in his struggle for existence he wrests from nature her inmost secrets.
This was the kernel of Nansen’s exploits—his first and his last.
Nansen was fully alive to the fact that his enterprise would involve human life; and he formed his plans in such wise that he would either attain his object or perish in the attempt. He would make the dangerous, uninhabited coast of East Greenland his starting-point as one which presented no enticement for retracing his steps. He would force his way onward. The instinct of self-preservation should impel him toward the west—the greater his advance in that direction the greater his hopes. Behind him naught but death; before him, life!
But he must have followers! Where were men to be found to risk their lives on such a venture? to form one of a madman’s retinue? And not only that, he must have men with him who, like himself, were well versed in all manly sports, especially in running on ski; men hard as iron, as he was; men who, like himself, were unencumbered with family ties. Where were such to be found? He sought long and diligently, and he found them.