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We become thoughtful

“It looks a long way off,” observed the moralist, gazing despondently upwards. “Do you say that the object of our expedition is to climb up to that eminence yonder? I fear lest some of the weaker members of the party should fail.” (The moralist was now the penultimate member of the party, the absolute rear being brought up by one of the guides, who was pushing him up with the head of his axe. The youth to whom he was in the habit of addressing his discourses had in a revengeful mood offered similar assistance; but the youth wore such a saturnine look when he made the suggestion, that it was declined hastily with thanks.) “I think that if I took a little wine” – here he took all that was left – “this feeling of disinclination to move might conceivably pass off, and I could then encourage some of the others on what is clearly to them an arduous expedition. Ah me! but these little stones are excessively sharp to the feet; let us turn off on to the snow. I have heard that it is possible to walk uphill on such a medium, and yet scarce recognise the fact.” By this time most of the party were well on to the first summit, and the glories of the sunset, from a point of view which it would be hard to match in all the mountains, were beginning to display themselves to the full. The higher we ascended the more did the eternal mass of white snow on the other side of the valley develop and tower above us. Two or three of the more active members were floundering in the deep snow along the ridge uniting the two summits, and finding it, if the truth be told, no small matter to keep pace with the niece, who skimmed lightly over the surface. Gallantry and the desire to keep up their reputation forbade that they should fall to the rear, or allow the rope to tighten unduly; but their superior mountaineering experience seemed not a little in danger of being counterbalanced by their superior weight. All over the rocks on the Sixt side a thin grey veil of mist seemed to hang, making the cliffs appear still more vertical than nature had moulded them, and tinting the crags at the same time with a deep purple colour.

A vision on the summit

In the foreground, looking south, the long jagged line of the Aiguilles Rouges cut off the view into the Chamouni valley, and threw up still higher and more into relief the minor peaks of the Mont Blanc chain. We huddled together on the summit, while there seemed hardly time to turn to all points of the compass to survey the effects. The emotional members of the party came out strong, and the young lady of varied accomplishments, who was adjudged by the others to be of poetic temperament, as she was fond of alluding rather vaguely to unknown Italian geniuses, burst forth into ecstasies. However, one or two of us had rather lost faith in her historical knowledge and her profound acquaintance with mediæval art on hearing her discourse learnedly to the vacuous youth on Savonarola as an artist of great repute, and on discovering that in the family circle she was held in submission by an Italianised English governess – discreetly left at the hotel. A formidable person, this preceptress, of austere demeanour, with a dyspeptic habit, highly pomatumed ringlets, and evangelistic tendencies – a triple combination not infrequently met with. Still, no one paid any attention to the accomplished young lady, for an object in the foreground of the great picture riveted the gaze of most of us. The niece had advanced a few steps from the rest of the party, and stood a little apart on the summit ridge of the mountain, her slight form brought out in strong relief against the many-tinted sky. The folds of her dress fluttered back in the light breeze, and the night wind as it came sighing over the crest had loosened her veil and tossed it upwards. Mechanically as she raised her hand to draw it back, the thin arm and hand seemed to point upwards to something beyond what we could see. Instinctively the others all drew back a few paces, and closed in together as they watched the motionless form. The sunset glories were more than we could realise, but somehow we felt that she was gazing with fixed eyes far, far beyond these – into a pure and passionless region, beyond the mental grasp of the profoundest theologian depending on his own acquired knowledge. As we looked, though she moved no limb, her breath came faster and faster. One or two of us made a start forwards, but at that moment the last red glow vanished from the belt of fleecy cloud hanging in mid-sky. Lower down, the limestone cliffs seemed strangely desolate as the icy hand of night spread over them. The breeze suddenly dropped and died away. She stamped her foot on the snow, and with a quick movement of the head seemed to come back again to the scene around. “Let us go,” she said, half petulantly. Silently the party arranged themselves in order as we wended our way back along the ridge. We had seen a sight that lingered in the mind, and that was not easily to be erased from the memory. As we walked along we gradually drew closer and closer together, prompted by some feeling that all seemed to share alike – as if the recollection of what we had just seen had dazed the mind, and brought us face to face with some influence beyond our ordinary thoughts, and as if with nearer union we should not feel so powerless and insignificant. But the glories of that sunset from the Mont Buet, a scene within the reach of all of very moderate walking ability, were far beyond the power of any language to describe, and beyond the province of any discreet writer to attempt. The twilight gathered in fast, and the snow already felt more crisp under foot. The roll-call was held, and it was discovered that the only absentees were the moralist and his propelling companion. At this point two of the skilled mountaineers of the party recognised their opportunity, and were not slow to seize it. Secretly they had felt that no suitable occasion had hitherto offered of displaying their prowess, so they volunteered to perform a glissade for the amusement and instruction of the others. The ladies clapped their hands gleefully, and the youth, who did not know how to glissade, looked sinister. Accordingly the skilful ones made their way to a steep snow slope, and started off with great speed and dexterity, amidst the admiring plaudits of the less acrobatically minded members. But the course of their true descent did not run entirely smooth, for before half the downward journey was accomplished the foremost member was observed suddenly to propel himself wildly into the air, performing a remarkable antic – similar to those known of street Arabs as cart-wheels – and the remainder of the journey to the foot of the slope was performed with about the grace of a floating log descending a mountain torrent. Nor was this all; the rearmost man, apparently also possessed by an identical frenzy, leaped forth into the air at precisely the same spot and in precisely the same manner. Had it not been that they were known to be highly skilful and adroit mountaineers the impression might have gained ground that the circumstances of this part of the descent were not wholly under their own control. Ever anxious to investigate the true cause of strange occurrences, to their credit be it said that when they had collected their wits and emptied their pockets of snow, they mounted up again to the scene of the disaster, and discovered the explanation in an entirely imaginary stone, which had, beyond doubt, tripped them up.

The mountaineers perform

Somewhat crestfallen, the energetic pair rejoined the rest of the troupe and a search was instituted for the moralist. This worthy was discovered, astonishingly weary of body but surprisingly active of mind, wedged in a narrow rocky niche, so that he looked like the figure of a little “Joss” in the carved model of a Japanese temple. It was found necessary to pull him vigorously by the legs, in order to straighten out those members sufficiently for him to progress upon them. However, he seemed to have more to say about the sunset than anybody else, and his description of the beauties thereof was so glowing and eloquent, that the idea crossed our minds that possibly some of the descriptions we had read in Alpine writings of similar scenes might be as authentic as that with which he favoured us. “A great point in the Alps,” remarked the moralist, after he had been securely fastened by a rope to a guide for fear we should lose him again, so that he looked like a dancing bear – “a great point in walking amongst the Alps is that we learn to use our eyes and look around us. I have observed that those who perambulate our native flagstones appear perpetually to be absorbed in the contemplation of what lies at their feet. Now here, stimulated by the beauties around, man holds, as he should do, his head erect, and steps out boldly.” At this point a little delay was occasioned owing to the abrupt disappearance of the speaker through a crust of snow. Some curious rumblings below our feet seemed to imply that he had descended to a considerable depth, and was in great personal discomfort. In the dim light we could scarcely see what had actually happened, but concluded to pull vigorously at the rope as the best means of getting our temporarily absent friend out of his difficulties. This we succeeded in doing, and a strenuous haul on the cord was rewarded by the sudden appearance of two boots through the snow-crust at our feet – a phenomenon so unexpected that we relaxed our efforts, with the result that the boots immediately disappeared again. A second attempt was more successful; an arm and a leg this time came to the surface simultaneously, and the moralist was delivered from the snowy recesses broadside on. We rearranged his raiment, shook the snow out of the creases of his clothes, tied a bath towel round his head, which, for some obscure reason, he had brought with him – the towel, not his head – and harnessed him this time securely between two members of the party. Possibly from the effects of his misadventure, he remained silent for some time, or his flow of conversation may have been hindered by the fact that his supporters ran him violently down steep places whenever he showed symptoms of commencing a fresh dissertation. It was no easy task to find the little hut in the darkness, and it was not until after we had blundered about a good deal that we caught sight of the beacon light, consisting of a very cheap dip exhibited in the window, as a sign that entertainment for man and beast might be found within. The moralist, who was always to the fore when the subject of refreshment was mentioned, discovered a milking-stool, and drawing it in great triumph to the best place in front of the stove, sat down on it, with the immediate result that he was precipitated backwards into the ash-pan. There we left him, as being a suitable place for repentance.

A banquet at the chalet

The rest of the party gathered for supper round the festive board, which was rather uncertain on its legs, and inclined to tip up. Owing to some miscarriage, the larder of the cabane was not well stocked, and all the entertainment that could be furnished consisted of one bent-up little sausage, exceeding black and dry, and a very large teapot. However, there was plenty of fresh milk provided after a short interval, though the latter article was not obtained without considerable difficulty, and remonstrances proceeding from an adjoining shed, probably due to somnolence on the part of the animal from which the supply was drawn. Presently a great commotion, as of numerous bodies rolling down a steep ladder, was heard, and there appeared at the door a large collection of small shock-headed children, who gaped at us in silent wonder. Anxious to ascertain the physical effects that might be induced by the consumption of the sausage, the moralist, who amongst his many talents had apparently a turn for experimental physiology, cut off a block and placed it in the open mouth of the eldest of the children. This unexpected favour led to the boy’s swallowing the morsel whole, and he shortly afterwards retired with a somewhat pained expression of countenance; the other members of the family followed shortly after in tears, in consequence of the Italianised young lady, who possessed a strong fund of human sympathy and a love for the picturesque, having made an attempt to conciliate their good-will by patting their respective heads, and asking them their names in a conjectural patois. We were now ready to start again, and demanded of our hostess what there was to pay. This request led her to go to the foot of the ladder, which represented a staircase, and call out for the proprietor. A little black-headed man in response instantly precipitated himself down the steps, shot into the apartment, and, without any preliminary calculation, named the exact price. On receiving his money he scuttled away again like a frightened rabbit, brought the change, jerked it down on the table, and darted off again to his slumbers. The whole transaction occupied some five-and-twenty seconds.

Part of the programme consisted in descending back to Argentière by lantern-light, but the resources of the establishment could only produce one battered machine, and it was no easy task with this illumination to keep the members of the party from straying away from the narrow path. Indeed, several members did part from the rest, curiously enough in pairs; but before long we left the narrow defile, and as we passed from under the shelter of the slope on our right, and could see across the Chamouni valley, we came suddenly in view of the great mass of the Aiguille Verte, so suddenly, indeed, that it made us start back for the moment; for, illumined by a grey ghostly light, the mountain seemed at first to hang right over us. There is, perhaps, no finer view of the Aiguille Verte to be obtained than from this point; certainly no finer effects of light and shade than were granted by the conditions under which we saw it, could have been devised to show the peak off to the best advantage. So long did we delay to dwell on the fairy-like scene, that the vacuous youth, accompanied by the young lady of varied accomplishments, caught us up and joined us quite suddenly, to their exceeding confusion. The youth, without being invited to do so, explained, blushing violently the while, that they had lost the path in the darkness, and had only been able to regain the track by lighting a series of lucifer matches – an entire fiction on his part, but condoned, as evincing more readiness of wit than we had previously given him credit for. We heard also that their way had been barred by a swamp and a mountain stream, which, like gossip, can have had no particular origin. The young lady, mindful of the absence of her preceptress and consequently heedless of grammar, described the situation neatly as being “awfully bogs.”

The end of the journey

If the expedition had shown us no more than this moonlight effect, the reward would have been ample. In truth, from first to last the expedition was one which it would be hard to match for variety of interest in all the sub-Alpine district. At Argentière we rejoined the carriages, and found the horses just a little more inclined for exertion than they had been in the morning; their joy at going home seemed to be tempered by the fact that they recognised that they would inevitably be called upon to start from the same point at no very distant period; and that to return home was but to go back to the starting-point for further laborious excursions. But their equine tempers seemed thoroughly soured. The Italianised young lady was taken in charge by her elder sister, who had completed her education, and knew consequently the hollowness of the world and the folly of younger sisters’ flirtations, and securely lodged in the landau. The youth, after an ineffectual attempt to find a place in the same carriage, climbed to the box seat of the other vehicle, and relieved his feelings by cracking the driver’s whip with great dexterity; in fact, we discovered that this was one of his principal accomplishments. Not the least satisfactory part of the climb, in the estimation of some members of the party, was the fact that the moralist had lost his note-book during his imprisonment in the crevasse.

CHAPTER IX.
A FRAGMENT

An unauthentic MS. – Solitude on the mountain: its advantages to the historian of the Alps – A rope walk – The crossing of the Schrund – A novel form of avalanche and an airy situation – A towering obstacle – The issue of the expedition in the balance – A very narrow escape – The final rush – Victory! – The perils of the descent – I plunge in medias res– A flying descent.

The following account is somewhat of a puzzle. It appears to contain certain facts of so startling a nature, that the ascent to which they refer must unquestionably have been of a very exciting character. The details are not so wholly unlike descriptions which have passed the searching discrimination of editors, in publications relating more or less to Alpine matters, as to warrant the assumption that they are fabrications. They do not appear, as far as the writer can ascertain, to have been seen in print hitherto; but as all Alpine writings relate but rigid matters of fact and actual occurrences, there seems no objection to publishing the manuscript, notwithstanding that its authorship is only conjectural. It is unfortunate that its fragmentary nature leaves one somewhat in doubt as to the actual peak to which the description refers. It has been suggested by a plausible commentator, judging from internal evidence and the style of writing, that the manuscript of which the fragment consists formed part of an account originally intended for some work not published in this country, or even, possibly, was primarily designed to fill the columns of one of our own daily newspapers during the silly season.

I rise equal to the occasion

“… The day was cloudless, serene, and bright. Only in the immediate foreground did the heavy banks, betokening a tourmente, sweep around with relentless fury. Far above, the towering crags of the majestic peak pierced the sky. How to get there! And alone! The situation was sublime; yet more, it was fascinating; once again, it was enthralling. Far below lay the prostrate bodies of my companions, worn out, wearied, gorged with petit vin and sardines. A thought flashed across my mind. Why should I not scale alone these heights which had hitherto defied the most consummate intrépides? In a moment the resolution was taken. For me, for me alone, should the laurel wreaths be twined. For me should the booming cannon, charged with fifty centimes’ worth of uncertain powder, betoken victory. For me alone should the assortment of cheap flags which had done duty on many previous occasions of rejoicing, be dragged forth. What was the expense to a hero when the glow of so magnificent an achievement should swell his heart and loosen his purse-strings? The account might reach a sum of two and a half, nay, even five francs; but what of that? I girded myself with the trusty rope, and, attaching one end lightly to a projecting crag twenty feet above, hauled myself in a moment on to the eminence. Involuntarily I shot a glance downwards. The scene was fearful – one to make the most resolute quail. But there was no time for thought, still less for accurate description. A fearfully steep couloir, flanked by two yawning bergschrunds, stretched away horizontally right and left. How to cross them! It was the work of a moment. Unfastening the knot in the rope above me, I threw myself, heart and soul, into the work. Where heart and soul are, there must, in the ante-mortem state, be the body also. This is logic. Thus I entered the chasm. Battling desperately with the huge icicles that threatened me at every step, I forced my way through the snow bridge and breathed again. The first schrund was accomplished. Next the rope was fastened to my trusty axe, and with an herculean effort I threw it far above me; fortunately it caught in a notch, and in a few seconds I had climbed, with the agility of a monkey, up the tightened cord. Goodness gracious! (sapristi!) what do I hear? A sudden roar below betokened an immediate danger. Horror! sweeping and roaring up the slope from the glacier beneath, I beheld a huge avalanche. I will conceal nothing. I own that the appalling situation and its terribly dramatic nature forced me to ejaculate a cry. I do not claim originality for it. I said, ‘Oh! my mother!’ (Oh! ma mère!) This relieved me. Now was the time indeed for coolness. Fortunate, most fortunate, that I was alone. Thrusting the spike of the axe into the solid rock face like the spear of Ithuriel, in the twinkling of an eye I had fastened one end of the rope to the projecting head of the axe, and the other to my waist, and launched myself over the ridge into space. Fortunate, most fortunate again, as in the hurry of the moment I had attached the rope below my own centre of gravity, that I was light-headed. Had this not been the case, assuredly I should have dangled feet uppermost over the abyss. Not a moment too soon. The avalanche dashed up the slope, grinding the axe to powder, but by good luck entangling the rope between the massive blocks and carrying it up, with myself attached, nearly 100 metres – I should say 300 feet – above where I had previously stood. I had accomplished in a moment what might have cost hours of toil. Again it was sublime. The thought crossed my mind that the sublime often approaches the ridiculous. But the rocks, previously broken up, had been ground by the sweeping avalanche into a surface smooth as polished steel. How to descend these again! Banish the thought! The mountain was not yet climbed. Upwards, past yawning séracs, towering bergschrunds, slippery crevasses, gaping arêtes, I made my way. For a few hundred feet I bounded upwards with great rapidity. Despite the rugged nature of the rocks everything went smoothly. Of a sudden a terrible obstacle was presented to my gaze. I felt that all my hopes seemingly were dashed. A stupendous cleft, riving the mountain’s side to an unfathomable depth, barred further progress. From top to bottom both sides of the chasm overhung; and far below, where they joined, the angle of meeting was so sharp that I felt that I must infallibly be wedged in without hope of extrication if I fell. For a few moments I hesitated, but only for a few. Close by was a tower of rock, smooth and vertical, some twelve feet high – the height of two men, in fact. No handhold save on the top. This was but a simple matter. Had any one else been with me, I should have stood on his shoulders; as it was I stood on my own head. Thus I climbed to the summit of the pointed obelisk of rock. Exactly opposite, on the farther side of the cleft, was a similar rock cone, but the distance was too great to spring across. I was in a dilemma – on one horn of it, in fact; how to get to the other! I adopted an ingenious plan. Taking my trusty axe, I placed the pointed end in a little notch in the rock, and then, with herculean strength, bent the staff and wedged the head also into a notch. The trusty axe was now bent like a bow. Again I hesitated before trusting myself to the bow; in fact, it was long before I drew it. But a former experience stood me in good stead. Once before, driven by a less powerful impetus – merely that of a human leg – I had flown through a greater distance. I made up my mind, and, summoning all my fortitude, placed my back against the arc and, lightly touching one end, released the spring. Instantly I felt myself propelled straight into mid-air, and before I had time to realise the success of my scheme, was flung against the pinnacle on the opposite side and embraced it. What were my feelings on finding that this huge pinnacle had no more stability than a ninepin, and as my weight came on to it slowly heeled over! Nor was this all. Slowly, like the pendulum of a metronome, it rolled back again, and I found to my horror that I was clinging to the apex of the rock, and dangling right over the chasm! I cannot recall that in all my adventures I had ever been in a precisely similar situation. However, a hasty calculation satisfied me that the rocking crag must again right itself. As I expected, it did so, and as the pinnacle of rock swung back once more to the perpendicular I sprang from it with all my force. The impetus landed me safe, but the crag toppled over into the abyss. Here I noted an interesting scientific fact. Taking out my watch, I was able to estimate, by the depth of the cleft, the height I had already climbed. The boulder took a minute and a half in falling before it reached anywhere. I own that the escape was a narrow one, and even my unblushing cheek paled a little at the thought of it. But I could not be far now, I hoped, from the summit; and, indeed, the condition of a dead bird which it so happened lay on the rocks – in a passive sense – convinced me that the summit of the lofty peak was close at hand. But few obstacles now remained. Another step or two revealed a glassy unbroken rock cone leading to the summit. It seemed impossible at first to surmount it, but my resources were not yet at an end. Dragging off my boots, I tore out with my teeth the long nails and drove them in one after another. By this means I ascended the first half of the final peak; but then the supply of nails was exhausted, and I felt that time would not permit me to draw out the lower nails and place them in succession above the others. Luckily I still carried with me a flask of the execrable petit vin supplied by Mons. – of the inn below. I applied a little to the rock. The effect was magical. In a moment the hard face was softened to the consistence of cheese, and with my trusty axe I had no difficulty in scraping out small steps. The worst was now over. Just as the shades of night were gathering softly around, I stepped with the proud consciousness of victory on to the very highest point. This indeed was sublime. The toil of years was accomplished; it seemed almost a dream. Nerved to frenzy, with a mighty sweep of the axe I struck off a huge block from the summit to carry away as a token of conquest, and planting the weapon in the hole, tore off garment after garment to make a suitable flag; only did I desist on reflecting that it would become barely possible for me to descend if I acted thus. Intoxicated with victory, I shouted and sang for a while, and then turned to the descent. The night was fast closing in, but this mattered not, for I made light of all the obstacles, and they were so numerous that I succeeded perfectly by this means in seeing my way. Faster and faster I sped along, descending with ease over the blocks and fragments of the morning’s avalanche. Now and again the descent was assisted by fastening the rope securely to projecting crags, and then allowing myself to slide down to its full length. Then I went up again, untied the rope, fastened it anew below, and repeated the manœuvre. Thus at midnight I reached the edge of the cliff, at the foot of which my companions had been left in the morning. I feared they might be anxious for my safety, the more especially that I had not yet paid them for their services. Peering over the edge of the vertical precipice into the murky darkness, I called out. There was no response. Then I said ‘Pst,’ and tapped the glassy slope with my pocket knife. Even this plan failed to attract their attention. I shouted with still more force. Finally, standing up on the edge of the cliff, I sent forth a shout so terribly loud that it must have waked even a sleeping adder. A fatal error! for the reverberation of my voice was echoed back with such fearful force from a neighbouring crag that the shock struck me backwards, and in a moment I was flying through mid-air – to annihilation.”

* * * * * *

“There is a blank in this narrative which I can never fill up. This only do I know; that when I came again to my senses, I was warmly ensconced in a blanket, whilst my companions stood around in a circle shivering, as they gazed at me with amazement. Their account, which I can scarcely credit, was that as they were engaged in stretching out and shaking a blanket preparatory to spreading their bed for the night, an apparently heaven-sent form had descended from above into the very middle of it; the shock tore the blanket from their grasp, and in a twinkling I lay wrapt up safe and comfortable at their feet.”

A highly coloured account

Such is the fragment. It has been thought better to present it as far as possible in its original form, and without any editing. That the account is a little highly coloured perhaps in parts may be allowed, but some licence may legitimately be accorded to an author who is no empty dreamer, but has evidently experienced some rather exciting episodes.