There is no good reason for employing a rope upon easy rocks, and I believe that its needless use is likely to promote carelessness. On difficult rocks and on snow-slopes (frequently improperly called ice-slopes) it is a great advantage to be tied together, provided the rope is handled properly; but upon actual ice-slopes, such as that on the Col Dolent (p. 240), or upon slopes in which ice is mingled with small and loose rocks, such as the upper part of the Pointe des Ecrins, it is almost useless, because a slip made by one person might upset the entire party.(206) I am not prepared to say, however, that men should not be tied together upon similar slopes. Being attached to others usually gives confidence, and confidence decidedly a.s.sists stability. It is more questionable whether men should be in such places at all. If a man can keep on his feet upon an _escalier_ cut in an ice-slope, I see no reason why he should be debarred from making use of that particular form of staircase. If he cannot, let him keep clear of such places.(207)

There would be no advantage in discoursing upon the use of the rope at greater length. A single day upon a mountain's side will give a clearer idea of the value of a good rope, and of the numerous purposes for which it may be employed, than any one will obtain from reading all that has been written upon the subject; but no one will become really expert in its management without much experience.

From the Col d'Olen we proceeded down the Combe of the same name to the chalets of Prerayen, and pa.s.sed the night of the 6th under the roof of our old acquaintance, the wealthy herdsman. On the 7th we crossed the Va Cornere pa.s.s, _en route_ for Breil. My thoughts were fixed on the Matterhorn, and my guides knew that I wished them to accompany me. They had an aversion to the mountain, and repeatedly expressed their belief that it was useless to try to ascend it. "_Anything_ but Matterhorn, dear sir!" said Almer; "_anything_ but Matterhorn." He did not speak of difficulty or of danger, nor was he shirking _work_. He offered to go _anywhere_; but he entreated that the Matterhorn should be abandoned. Both men spoke fairly enough. They did not think that an ascent could be made; and for their own credit, as well as for my sake, they did not wish to undertake a business which, in their opinion, would only lead to loss of time and money.

I sent them by the short cut to Breil, and walked down to Val Tournanche to look for Jean-Antoine Carrel. He was not there. The villagers said that he, and three others, had started on the 6th to try the Matterhorn by the old way, on their own account. They will have no luck, I thought, for the clouds were low down on the mountains; and I walked up to Breil, fully expecting to meet them. Nor was I disappointed. About half-way up I saw a group of men cl.u.s.tered around a chalet upon the other side of the torrent, and, crossing over, found that the party had returned. Jean-Antoine and Caesar were there, C. E. Gorret, and J. J. Maquignaz. They had had no success. The weather, they said, had been horrible, and they had scarcely reached the glacier du Lion.

I explained the situation to Carrel, and proposed that we, with Caesar and another man, should cross the Theodule by moonlight on the 9th, and that upon the 10th we should pitch the tent as high as possible upon the east face. He was unwilling to abandon the old route, and urged me to try it again. I promised to do so provided the new route failed. This satisfied him, and he agreed to my proposal. I then went up to Breil, and discharged Almer and Biener-with much regret, for no two men ever served me more faithfully or more willingly.(208) On the next day they crossed to Zermatt.

The 8th was occupied with preparations. The weather was stormy; and black, rainy vapours obscured the mountains. Towards evening a young man came from Val Tournanche, and reported that an Englishman was lying there, extremely ill. Now was the time for the performance of my vow;(209) and on the morning of Sunday the 9th I went down the valley to look after the sick man. On my way I pa.s.sed a foreign gentleman, with a mule and several porters laden with baggage. Amongst these men were Jean-Antoine and Caesar, carrying some barometers. "Hullo!" I said, "what are you doing?" They explained that the foreigner had arrived just as they were setting out, and that they were a.s.sisting his porters. "Very well; go on to Breil, and await me there; we start at midnight as agreed." Jean-Antoine then said that he should not be able to serve me after Tuesday the 11th, as he was engaged to travel "with a family of distinction" in the valley of Aosta.

"And Caesar?" "And Caesar also." "Why did you not say this before?"

"Because," said he, "it was not settled. The engagement is of long standing, but _the day_ was not fixed. When I got back to Val Tournanche on Friday night, after leaving you, I found a letter naming the day." I could not object to the answer; but the prospect of being left guideless was provoking. They went up, and I down, the valley.

The sick man declared that he was better, though the exertion of saying as much tumbled him over on to the floor in a fainting fit. He was badly in want of medicine, and I tramped down to Chatillon to get it. It was late before I returned to Val Tournanche, for the weather was tempestuous, and rain fell in torrents. A figure pa.s.sed me under the church porch. "_Qui vive?_" "Jean-Antoine." "I thought you were at Breil." "No, sir: when the storms came on I knew we should not start to-night, and so came down to sleep here." "Ha, Carrel!" I said; "this is a great bore. If to-morrow is not fine we shall not be able to do anything together. I have sent away my guides, relying on you; and now you are going to leave me to travel with a party of ladies. That work is not fit for _you_ (he smiled, I supposed at the implied compliment); can't you send some one else instead?" "No, monsieur. I am sorry, but my word is pledged. I should like to accompany you, but I can't break my engagement." By this time we had arrived at the inn door. "Well, it is no fault of yours. Come presently with Caesar, and have some wine." They came, and we sat up till midnight, recounting our old adventures, in the inn of Val Tournanche.

The weather continued bad upon the 10th, and I returned to Breil. The two Carrels were again hovering about the above mentioned chalet, and I bade them adieu. In the evening the sick man crawled up, a good deal better; but his was the only arrival. The Monday crowd(210) did not cross the Theodule, on account of the continued storms. The inn was lonely. I went to bed early, and was awoke the next morning by the invalid inquiring if I had "heard the news." "No; what news?" "Why," said he, "a large party of guides went off this morning to try the Matterhorn, taking with them a mule laden with provisions."

I went to the door, and with a telescope saw the party upon the lower slopes of the mountain. Favre, the landlord, stood by. "What is all this about?" I inquired, "who is the leader of this party?" "Carrel." "What!

Jean-Antoine?" "Yes; Jean-Antoine." "Is Caesar there too?" "Yes, he is there." Then I saw in a moment that I had been bamboozled and humbugged; and learned, bit by bit, that the affair had been arranged long beforehand. The start on the 6th had been for a preliminary reconnaissance; the mule, that I pa.s.sed, was conveying stores for the attack; the "family of distinction" was Signor F. Giordano, who had just despatched the party to facilitate the way to the summit, and who, when the facilitation was completed, was to be taken to the top along with Signor Sella!(211)

I was greatly mortified. My plans were upset; the Italians had clearly stolen a march upon me, and I saw that the astute Favre chuckled over my discomfiture, because the route by the eastern face, if successful, would not benefit his inn. What was to be done? I retired to my room, and soothed by tobacco, re-studied my plans, to see if it was not possible to outmanuvre the Italians.

"They have taken a mule's load of provisions." "That is _one_ point in my favour, for they will take two or three days to get through the food, and, until that is done, no work will be accomplished." "How is the weather?" I went to the window. The mountain was smothered up in mist. "Another point in my favour." "They are to facilitate the way. Well, if they do that to any purpose, it will be a long job." Altogether, I reckoned that they could not possibly ascend the mountain and come back to Breil in less than seven days. I got cooler, for it was evident that the wily ones might be outwitted after all. There was time enough to go to Zermatt, to try the eastern face, and, should it prove impracticable, to come back to Breil before the men returned; and then, it seemed to me, as the mountain was not padlocked, one might start at the same time as the Messieurs, and yet get to the top before them.

The first thing to do was to go to Zermatt. Easier said than done. The seven guides upon the mountain included the ablest men in the valley, and none of the ordinary muleteer-guides were at Breil. Two men, at least, were wanted for my baggage, but not a soul could be found. I ran about, and sent about in all directions, but not a single porter could be obtained. One was with Carrel; another was ill; another was at Chatillon, and so forth. Even Meynet, the hunchback, could not be induced to come; he was in the thick of some important cheese-making operations. I was in the position of a general without an army; it was all very well to make plans, but there was no one to execute them. This did not much trouble me, for it was evident that so long as the weather stopped traffic over the Theodule pa.s.s, it would hinder the men equally upon the Matterhorn; and I knew that directly it improved company would certainly arrive.

About midday on Tuesday the 11th a large party hove in sight from Zermatt, preceded by a nimble young Englishman, and one of old Peter Taugwalder's sons.(212) I went at once to this gentleman to learn if he could dispense with Taugwalder. He said that he could not, as they were going to recross to Zermatt on the morrow, but that the young man should a.s.sist in transporting my baggage, as he had nothing to carry. We naturally got into conversation. I told my story, and learned that the young Englishman was Lord Francis Douglas,(213) whose recent exploit-the ascent of the Gabelhorn-had excited my wonder and admiration. He brought good news. Old Peter had lately been beyond the Hornli, and had reported that he thought an ascent of the Matterhorn was possible upon that side. Almer had left Zermatt, and could not be recovered, so I determined to seek for old Peter. Lord Francis Douglas expressed a warm desire to ascend the mountain, and before long it was determined that he should take part in the expedition.

Favre could no longer hinder our departure, and lent us one of his men. We crossed the Col Theodule on Wednesday morning the 12th of July, rounded the foot of the Ober Theodulgletscher, crossed the Furggengletscher, and deposited tent, blankets, ropes, and other matters in the little chapel at the Schwarzsee.(214) All four were heavily laden, for we brought across the whole of my stores from Breil. Of rope alone there was about 600 feet.

There were three kinds. First, 200 feet of the Manilla rope; second, 150 feet of a stouter, and probably stronger rope than the first; and third, more than 200 feet of a lighter and weaker rope than the first, of a kind that I used formerly (stout sash-line).

We descended to Zermatt, sought and engaged old Peter, and gave him permission to choose another guide. When we returned to the Monte Rosa Hotel, whom should we see sitting upon the wall in front but my old _guide chef_, Michel Croz. I supposed that he had come with Mr. B--, but I learned that that gentleman had arrived in ill health, at Chamounix, and had returned to England. Croz, thus left free, had been immediately engaged by the Rev. Charles Hudson, and they had come to Zermatt with the same object as ourselves-namely, to attempt the ascent of the Matterhorn!

Lord Francis Douglas and I dined at the Monte Rosa, and had just finished when Mr. Hudson and a friend entered the _salle a manger_. They had returned from inspecting the mountain, and some idlers in the room demanded their intentions. We heard a confirmation of Croz's statement, and learned that Mr. Hudson intended to set out on the morrow at the same hour as ourselves. We left the room to consult, and agreed it was undesirable that two independent parties should be on the mountain at the same time with the same object. Mr. Hudson was therefore invited to join us, and he accepted our proposal. Before admitting his friend-Mr. Hadow-I took the precaution to inquire what he had done in the Alps, and, as well as I remember, Mr. Hudson's reply was, "Mr. Hadow has done Mont Blanc in less time than most men." He then mentioned several other excursions that were unknown to me, and added, in answer to a further question, "I consider he is a sufficiently good man to go with us." Mr. Hadow was admitted without any further question, and we then went into the matter of guides. Hudson thought that Croz and old Peter would be sufficient. The question was referred to the men themselves, and they made no objection.

So Croz and I became comrades once more; and as I threw myself on my bed and tried to go to sleep, I wondered at the strange series of chances which had first separated us and then brought us together again. I thought of the mistake through which he had accepted the engagement to Mr. B--; of his unwillingness to adopt my route; of his recommendation to transfer our energies to the chain of Mont Blanc; of the retirement of Almer and Biener; of the desertion of Carrel; of the arrival of Lord Francis Douglas; and, lastly, of our meeting at Zermatt; and as I pondered over these things I could not help asking, "What next?" If any one of the links of this fatal chain of circ.u.mstances had been omitted, what a different story I should have to tell!

CHAPTER XIX.

THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN.

"Had we succeeded well, We had been reckoned 'mongst the wise: our minds Are so disposed to judge from the event."

EURIPIDES.

"It is a thoroughly unfair, but an ordinary custom, to praise or blame designs (which in themselves may be good or bad) just as they turn out well or ill. Hence the same actions are at one time attributed to earnestness and at another to vanity."

PLINY MIN.

We started from Zermatt on the 13th of July, at half-past 5, on a brilliant and perfectly cloudless morning. We were eight in number-Croz, old Peter and his two sons,(215) Lord F. Douglas, Hadow, Hudson,(216) and I. To ensure steady motion, one tourist and one native walked together.

The youngest Taugwalder fell to my share, and the lad marched well, proud to be on the expedition, and happy to show his powers. The wine-bags also fell to my lot to carry, and throughout the day, after each drink, I replenished them secretly with water, so that at the next halt they were found fuller than before! This was considered a good omen, and little short of miraculous.

On the first day we did not intend to ascend to any great height, and we mounted, accordingly, very leisurely; picked up the things which were left in the chapel at the Schwarzsee at 8.20, and proceeded thence along the ridge connecting the Hornli with the Matterhorn.(217) At half-past 11 we arrived at the base of the actual peak; then quitted the ridge, and clambered round some ledges, on to the eastern face. We were now fairly upon the mountain, and were astonished to find that places which from the Riffel, or even from the Furggengletscher, looked entirely impracticable, were so easy that we could _run about_.

Before twelve o'clock we had found a good position for the tent, at a height of 11,000 feet.(218) Croz and young Peter went on to see what was above, in order to save time on the following morning. They cut across the heads of the snow-slopes which descended towards the Furggengletscher, and disappeared round a corner; and shortly afterwards we saw them high up on the face, moving quickly. We others made a solid platform for the tent in a well-protected spot, and then watched eagerly for the return of the men.

The stones which they upset told that they were very high, and we supposed that the way must be easy. At length, just before 3 P.M., we saw them coming down, evidently much excited. "What are they saying, Peter?"

"Gentlemen, they say it is no good." But when they came near we heard a different story. "Nothing but what was good; not a difficulty, not a single difficulty! We could have gone to the summit and returned to-day easily!"

We pa.s.sed the remaining hours of daylight-some basking in the sunshine, some sketching or collecting; and when the sun went down, giving, as it departed, a glorious promise for the morrow, we returned to the tent to arrange for the night. Hudson made tea, I coffee, and we then retired each one to his blanket-bag; the Taugwalders, Lord Francis Douglas, and myself, occupying the tent, the others remaining, by preference, outside. Long after dusk the cliffs above echoed with our laughter and with the songs of the guides, for we were happy that night in camp, and feared no evil.

We a.s.sembled together outside the tent before dawn on the morning of the 14th, and started directly it was light enough to move. Young Peter came on with us as a guide, and his brother returned to Zermatt.(219) We followed the route which had been taken on the previous day, and in a few minutes turned the rib which had intercepted the view of the eastern face from our tent platform. The whole of this great slope was now revealed, rising for 3000 feet like a huge natural staircase.(220) Some parts were more, and others were less, easy; but we were not once brought to a halt by any serious impediment, for when an obstruction was met in front it could always be turned to the right or to the left. For the greater part of the way there was, indeed, no occasion for the rope, and sometimes Hudson led, sometimes myself. At 6.20 we had attained a height of 12,800 feet, and halted for half-an-hour; we then continued the ascent without a break until 9.55, when we stopped for 50 minutes, at a height of 14,000 feet. Twice we struck the N.E. ridge, and followed it for some little distance,(221)-to no advantage, for it was usually more rotten and steep, and always more difficult than the face.(222) Still, we kept near to it, lest stones perchance might fall.(223)

We had now arrived at the foot of that part which, from the Riffelberg or from Zermatt, seems perpendicular or overhanging, and could no longer continue upon the eastern side. For a little distance we ascended by snow upon the arete(224)-that is, the ridge-descending towards Zermatt, and then, by common consent, turned over to the right, or to the northern side. Before doing so, we made a change in the order of ascent. Croz went first, I followed, Hudson came third; Hadow and old Peter were last.

"Now," said Croz, as he led off, "now for something altogether different."

The work became difficult, and required caution. In some places there was little to hold, and it was desirable that those should be in front who were least likely to slip. The general slope of the mountain at this part was _less_ than 40, and snow had acc.u.mulated in, and had filled up, the interstices of the rock-face, leaving only occasional fragments projecting here and there. These were at times covered with a thin film of ice, produced from the melting and refreezing of the snow. It was the counterpart, on a small scale, of the upper 700 feet of the Pointe des Ecrins,-only there was this material difference; the face of the Ecrins was about, or exceeded, an angle of 50, and the Matterhorn face was less than 40.(225) It was a place over which any fair mountaineer might pa.s.s in safety, and Mr. Hudson ascended this part, and, as far as I know, the entire mountain, without having the slightest a.s.sistance rendered to him upon any occasion. Sometimes, after I had taken a hand from Croz, or received a pull, I turned to offer the same to Hudson; but he invariably declined, saying it was not necessary. Mr. Hadow, however, was not accustomed to this kind of work, and required continual a.s.sistance. It is only fair to say that the difficulty which he found at this part arose simply and entirely from want of experience.

This solitary difficult part was of no great extent.(226) We bore away over it at first, nearly horizontally, for a distance of about 400 feet; then ascended directly towards the summit for about 60 feet; and then doubled back to the ridge which descends towards Zermatt. A long stride round a rather awkward corner brought us to snow once more. The last doubt vanished! The Matterhorn was ours! Nothing but 200 feet of easy snow remained to be surmounted!

You must now carry your thoughts back to the seven Italians who started from Breil on the 11th of July. Four days had pa.s.sed since their departure, and we were tormented with anxiety lest they should arrive on the top before us. All the way up we had talked of them, and many false alarms of "men on the summit" had been raised. The higher we rose, the more intense became the excitement. What if we should be beaten at the last moment? The slope eased off, at length we could be detached, and Croz and I, dashing away, ran a neck-and-neck race, which ended in a dead heat.

At 1.40 P.M. the world was at our feet, and the Matterhorn was conquered.

Hurrah! Not a footstep could be seen.

It was not yet certain that we had not been beaten. The summit of the Matterhorn was formed of a rudely level ridge, about 350 feet long,(227) and the Italians might have been at its farther extremity. I hastened to the southern end, scanning the snow right and left eagerly. Hurrah! again; it was untrodden. "Where were the men?" I peered over the cliff, half doubting, half expectant. I saw them immediately-mere dots on the ridge, at an immense distance below. Up went my arms and my hat. "Croz! Croz!!

come here!" "Where are they, Monsieur?" "There, don't you see them, down there?" "Ah! the _coquins_, they are low down." "Croz, we must make those fellows hear us." We yelled until we were hoa.r.s.e. The Italians seemed to regard us-we could not be certain. "Croz, we _must_ make them hear us; they _shall_ hear us!" I seized a block of rock and hurled it down, and called upon my companion, in the name of friendship, to do the same. We drove our sticks in, and prized away the crags, and soon a torrent of stones poured down the cliffs. There was no mistake about it this time.

The Italians turned and fled.(228)

[Ill.u.s.tration: "CROZ! CROZ!! COME HERE!"]

Still, I would that the leader of that party could have stood with us at that moment, for our victorious shouts conveyed to him the disappointment of the ambition of a lifetime. He was _the_ man, of all those who attempted the ascent of the Matterhorn, who most deserved to be the first upon its summit. He was the first to doubt its inaccessibility, and he was the only man who persisted in believing that its ascent would be accomplished. It was the aim of his life to make the ascent from the side of Italy, for the honour of his native valley. For a time he had the game in his hands: he played it as he thought best; but he made a false move, and he lost it. Times have changed with Carrel. His supremacy is questioned in the Val Tournanche; new men have arisen; and he is no longer recognised as _the_ cha.s.seur above all others: though so long as he remains the man that he is to-day, it will not be easy to find his superior.

The others had arrived, so we went back to the northern end of the ridge.

Croz now took the tent-pole,(229) and planted it in the highest snow.

"Yes," we said, "there is the flag-staff, but where is the flag?" "Here it is," he answered, pulling off his blouse and fixing it to the stick. It made a poor flag, and there was no wind to float it out, yet it was seen all around. They saw it at Zermatt-at the Riffel-in the Val Tournanche. At Breil, the watchers cried, "Victory is ours!" They raised "bravos" for Carrel, and "vivas" for Italy, and hastened to put themselves _en fete_.

On the morrow they were undeceived. "All was changed; the explorers returned sad-cast down-disheartened-confounded-gloomy." "It is true," said the men. "We saw them ourselves-they hurled stones at us! The old traditions _are_ true,-there are spirits on the top of the Matterhorn!"(230)

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SUMMIT OF THE MATTERHORN IN 1865 (NORTHERN END).]

We returned to the southern end of the ridge to build a cairn, and then paid homage to the view.(231) The day was one of those superlatively calm and clear ones which usually precede bad weather. The atmosphere was perfectly still, and free from all clouds or vapours. Mountains fifty-nay a hundred-miles off, looked sharp and near. All their details-ridge and crag, snow and glacier-stood out with faultless definition. Pleasant thoughts of happy days in bygone years came up unbidden, as we recognised the old, familiar forms. All were revealed-not one of the princ.i.p.al peaks of the Alps was hidden.(232) I see them clearly now-the great inner circles of giants, backed by the ranges, chains, and _ma.s.sifs_. First came the Dent Blanche, h.o.a.ry and grand; the Gabelhorn and pointed Rothhorn; and then the peerless Weisshorn: the towering Mischabelhorner, flanked by the Allaleinhorn, Strahlhorn, and Rimpfischhorn; then Monte Rosa-with its many Spitzes-the Lyskamm and the Breithorn. Behind was the Bernese Oberland governed by the Finsteraarhorn, and then the Simplon and St. Gothard groups; the Disgrazia and the Orteler. Towards the south we looked down to Chiva.s.so on the plain of Piedmont, and far beyond. The Viso-one hundred miles away-seemed close upon us; the Maritime Alps-one hundred and thirty miles distant-were free from haze. Then came my first love-the Pelvoux; the Ecrins and the Meije; the cl.u.s.ters of the Graians; and lastly, in the west, gorgeous in the full sunlight, rose the monarch of all-Mont Blanc.

Ten thousand feet beneath us were the green fields of Zermatt, dotted with chalets, from which blue smoke rose lazily. Eight thousand feet below, on the other side, were the pastures of Breil. There were black and gloomy forests, bright and cheerful meadows; bounding waterfalls and tranquil lakes; fertile lands and savage wastes; sunny plains and frigid _plateaux_. There were the most rugged forms, and the most graceful outlines-bold, perpendicular cliffs, and gentle, undulating slopes; rocky mountains and snowy mountains, sombre and solemn, or glittering and white, with walls-turrets-pinnacles-pyramids-domes-cones-and spires! There was every combination that the world can give, and every contrast that the heart could desire.

We remained on the summit for one hour-