Chapter 9

A strange guideFrom four in the morning of the next day till seven in the evening, when we reached our bivouac again, we were climbing without intermission; not that our imbecile friend took any very active share in the day’s amusement. He was roped as last man in the caravan, and Hartley had to drag him up the glacier. He was as slow of foot as he was of understanding, and took no interest in the expedition. Twice we pointed out to him half-hidden crevasses and begged that he would be careful. Twice did he acknowledge our courtesy by disappearing abruptly into the snowy depths. Then he favoured us with a short biographical sketch of his wife, her attributes, and her affection for himself: he narrated the chief characteristics of his children, and dilated on the responsible position that as father of a family (probably all crétins, if there be any truth in the hereditary transmission of parental qualities) he considered that he occupied. Finally, as he appeared disposed to give us at length a memoir of his grandfather deceased, we decided to unrope him and let[pg 200]him have his own way in peace. For seven hours did he crouch under a little rock, not daring to move either up or down, or even to take the knapsack off his back.For the first time on this occasion did we succeed in climbing on to the main peak well above the level of the ridge we had so often reached, by means of leaving the gully at a much earlier point than usual. We followed the exact line that we had marked out mentally on the last occasion. At first progress was easy, but we could only make our way very slowly, seeing that we had but one short rope and only one guide; for we had injudiciously left the longer spare rope with our feeble-minded guide below, and no shouts or implorations could induce him to make his way up to us, nor had we leisure to go down to him; so we had to make the best of matters as they were. We soon found a place where the ladder might be of service, and spent some time in placing it in a position in which it remains I believe till this day.Now, personal considerations had to a great extent to be lost sight of in the desire to make the most of the day, and the result was that Hartley must have had a very bad time of it. Unfortunately perhaps for him he was by far the lightest member of the party; accordingly we argued that he was far less likely to break the rickety old ladder than we were. Again,[pg 201]as the lightest weight, he was most conveniently lowered down first over awkward places when they occurred.Our“jeune premier”In the times which are spoken of as old, and which have also, for some not very definable reason, the prefix good, if you wanted your chimneys swept you did not employ an individual now dignified by the title of a Ramoneur, but you adopted the simpler plan of calling in a master sweep. This person would come attended by a satellite, who wore the outward form of a boy and was gifted with certain special physical attributes. Especially was it necessary that the boy should be of such a size and shape as to fit nicely to the chimney, not so loosely on the one hand as to have any difficulty in ascending by means of his knees and elbows, nor so tightly on the other as to run any peril of being wedged in. The boy was then inserted into the chimney and did all the work, while the master remained below or sat expectant on the roof to encourage, to preside over, and subsequently to profit by, his apprentice’s exertions. We adopted much the same principle. Hartley, as the lightest, was cast for therôleof the“jeune premier”or boy, while Burgener and I on physical grounds alone filled the part, however unworthily, of the master sweep. As a play not infrequently owes its success to one actor, so did our“jeune premier,”sometimes very literally, pull us[pg 202]through on the present occasion. Gallantly indeed did he fulfil his duty. Whether climbing up a ladder slightly out of the perpendicular, leaning against nothing in particular and with overhanging rocks above; whether let down by a rope tied round his waist, so that he dangled like the sign of the“Golden Fleece”outside a haberdasher’s shop, or hauled up smooth slabs of rock with his raiment in an untidy heap around his neck; in each and all of these exercises he was equally at home, and would be let down or would come up smiling. One place gave us great difficulty. An excessively steep wall of rock presented itself and seemed to bar the way to a higher level. A narrow crack ran some little way up the face, but above the rock was slightly overhanging, and the water trickling from some higher point had led to the formation of a huge bunch of gigantic icicles, which hung down from above. It was necessary to get past these, but impossible to cut them away, as they would have fallen on us below. Burgener climbed a little way up the face, planted his back against it, and held on to the ladder in front of him, while I did the same just below: by this means we kept the ladder almost perpendicular, but feared to press the highest rung heavily against the icicles above lest we should break them off. We now invited Hartley to mount up. For the first few steps it was easy enough; but the leverage was more and more against us as he climbed[pg 203]higher, seeing that he could not touch the rock, and the strain on our arms below was very severe. However, he got safely to the top and disappeared from view. The performance was a brilliant one, but, fortunately, had not to be repeated; as on a subsequent occasion, by a deviation of about fifteen or twenty feet, we climbed to the same spot in a few minutes with perfect ease and without using any ladder at all. On this occasion, however, we must have spent fully an hour while Hartley performed his feats, which were not unworthy of a Japanese acrobat. Every few feet of the mountain at this part gave us difficulty, and it was curious to notice how, on this the first occasion of travelling over the rock face, we often selected the wrong route in points of detail. We ascended from twenty to fifty feet, then surveyed right and left, up and down, before going any further. The minutes slipped by fast, but I have no doubt now that if we had had time we might have ascended to the final arête on this occasion. We had often to retrace our steps, and whenever we did so found some slightly different line by which time could have been saved. Though the way was always difficult nothing was impossible, and when the word at last was given, owing to the failing light, to descend, we had every reason to be satisfied with the result of the day’s exploration. There seemed to be little doubt that we had traversed the most difficult part of the[pg 204]mountain, and, indeed, we found on a later occasion, with one or two notable exceptions, that such was the case.An acrobatic performanceHowever, at the time we did not think that, even if it were possible, it would be at all advisable to make our next attempt without a second guide. A telegram had been sent to Kaspar Maurer, instructing him to join us at the bivouac with all possible expedition. The excitement was thus kept up to the very last, for we knew not whether the message might have reached him, and the days of fine weather were precious.It was late in the evening when we reached again the head of the glacier, and the point where we had left the feeble creature who had started with us as a second guide. On beholding us once more he wept copiously, but whether his tears were those of gratitude for release from the cramped position in which he had spent his entire day, or of joy at seeing us safe again, or whether they were the natural overflow of an imbecile intellect stirred by any emotion whatever, it were hard to say; at any rate he wept, and then fell to a description of some interesting details concerning the proper mode of bringing up infants, and the duties of parents towards their children: the most important of which, in his estimation, was that the father of a family should run no risk whatever on a mountain. Reaching our bivouac, we[pg 205]looked anxiously down over the glacier for any signs of Kaspar Maurer. Two or three parties were seen crawling homewards towards the Montanvert over the ice-fields, but no signs of our guide were visible. As the shades of night, however, were falling, we were able indistinctly to see in the far-off distance a little black dot skipping over the Mer de Glace with great activity. Most eagerly did we watch the apparition, and when finally it headed in our direction and all doubt was removed as to the personality, we felt that our constant ill-luck was at last on the eve of changing. However, it was not till two days later that we left Chamouni once more for the nineteenth and, as it proved, for the last time to try the peak.Our nineteenth attemptOn September 11, we sat on the rocks a few feet above the camping-place. Never before had we been so confident of success. The next day’s climb was no longer to be one of exploration. We were to start as early as the light would permit, and we were to go up and always up, if necessary till the light should fail. Possibly we might have succeeded long before if we had had the same amount of determination to do so that we were possessed with on this occasion. We had made up our minds to succeed, and felt as if all our previous attempts had been but a sort of training for this special occasion. We had gone so far as to instruct our friends below to look[pg 206]out for us on the summit between twelve and two the next day. We had even gone to the length of bringing a stick wherewith to make a flag-staff on the top. Still one, and that a very familiar source of disquietude, harassed us as our eyes turned anxiously to the west. A single huge band of cloud hung heavily right across the sky, and looked like a harbinger of evil, for it was of a livid colour above, and tinged with a deep crimson red below. My companion was despondent at the prospect it suggested, and the guides tapped their teeth with their forefingers when they looked in that direction; but it was suggested by a more sanguine person that its form and very watery look suggested a Band of Hope. An insinuating smell of savoury soup was wafted up gently from below—Stealing and giving odour.We took courage; then descended to the tent, and took sustenance.There was no difficulty experienced in making an early start the next day, and the moment the grey light allowed us to see our way we set off. On such occasions, when the mind is strung up to a high pitch of excitement, odd and trivial little details and incidents fix themselves indelibly on the memory. I can recall as distinctly now, as if it had only happened a moment ago, the exact tone of voice in which Burgener, on looking out of the tent, announced that[pg 207]the weather would do. Burgener and Kaspar Maurer were now our guides, for our old enemy with the family ties had been paid off and sent away with a flea in his ear—an almost unnecessary adjunct, as anyone who had slept in the same tent with him could testify. Notwithstanding that Maurer was far from well, and rather weak, we mounted rapidly at first, for the way was by this time familiar enough, and we all meant business.The rocks of the DruOur position now was this. By our exploration on the last occasion we had ascertained that it was possible to ascend to a great height on the main mass of the mountain. From the slope of the rocks, and from the shape of the mountain, we felt sure that the final crest would be easy enough. We had then to find a way still up the face, from the point where we had turned back on our last attempt, to some point on the final ridge of the mountain. The rocks on this part we had never been able to examine very closely, for it is necessary to cross well over to the south-eastern face while ascending from the ridge between the Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte. A great projecting buttress of rock, some two or three hundred feet in height, cuts off the view of that part of the mountain over which we now hoped to make our way. By turning up straight behind this buttress, we hoped to hit off and reach the final crest just above the point where it merges into the precipitous north-eastern wall visible from[pg 208]the Chapeau. This part of the mountain can only be seen from the very head of the Glacier de la Charpoua just under the mass of the Aiguille Verte. But this point of view is too far off for accurate observations, and the strip of mountain was practically, therefore, aterra incognitato us.What next?We followed the gully running up from the head of the glacier towards the ridge above mentioned, keeping well to the left. Before long it was necessary to cross the gully on to the main peak. To make the topography clearer a somewhat prosaic and domestic simile may be employed. The Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte are connected by a long sharp ridge, towards which we were now climbing; and this ridge is let in as it were into the south-eastern side of the Aiguille du Dru, much as a comb may be stuck into the middle of a hairbrush, the latter article representing the main peak. Here we employed the ladder which had been placed in the right position the day previously. Right glad were we to see the rickety old structure which had now spent four years on the mountain, and was much the worse for it. It creaked and groaned dismally under our weight and ran sharp splinters into us at all points of contact, but yet there was a certain companionship about the old ladder, and we seemed almost to regret that it was not destined to share more in our prospective success. A few steps on and we came to a rough cleft some five-and-twenty feet[pg 209]in depth, which had to be descended. A double rope was fastened to a projecting crag, and we swung ourselves down as if we were barrels of split peas going into a ship’s hold; then to the ascent again, and the excitement waxed stronger as we drew nearer to the doubtful part of the mountain. Still, we did not anticipate insuperable obstacles; for I think we were possessed with a determination to succeed, which is a sensation often spoken of as a presentiment of success. A short climb up an easy broken gully, and of a sudden we seemed to be brought to a standstill. A little ledge at our feet curled round a projecting crag on the left.“What are we to do now?”said Burgener, but with a smile on his face that left no doubt as to the answer. He lay flat down on the ledge and wriggled round the projection, disappearing suddenly from view as if the rock had swallowed him up. A shout proclaimed that his expectations had not been deceived, and we were bidden to follow; and follow we did, sticking to the flat face of the rock with all our power, and progressing like the skates down the glass sides of an aquarium tank. When the last man joined us we found ourselves all huddled together on a very little ledge indeed, while an overhanging rock above compelled us to assume the anomalous attitude enforced on the occupant of a little-ease dungeon. What next? An eager look up solved part of the doubt.“There is the way,”said Burgener, leaning[pg 210]back to get a view.“Oh, indeed,”we answered. No doubt there was a way, and we were glad to hear that it was possible to get up it. The attractions of the route consisted of a narrow flat gully plastered up with ice, exceeding straight and steep and crowned at the top with a pendulous mass of enormous icicles. The gully resembled a half-open book standing up on end. Enthusiasts in rock-climbing who have ascended the Riffelhorn from the Görner Glacier side will have met with a similar gully, but, as a rule, free from ice, which, in the present instance, constituted the chief difficulty. The ice, filling up the receding angle from top to bottom, rendered it impossible to find hand-hold on the rocks, and it was exceedingly difficult to cut steps in such a place, for the slabs of ice were prone to break away entire. However, the guides said they could get up, and asked us to keep out of the way of chance fragments of ice which might fall down as they ascended. So we tucked ourselves away on one side, and they fell to as difficult a business as could well be imagined. The rope was discarded, and slowly they worked up, their backs and elbows against one sloping wall, their feet against the other. But the angle was too wide to give security to this position, the more especially that with shortened axes they were compelled to hack out enough of the ice to reveal the rock below. In such places the ice is but loosely adherent, being raised up from the face much[pg 211]as pie-crust dissociates itself from the fruit beneath under the influence of the oven. Strike lightly with the axe, and a hollow sound is yielded without much impression on the ice; strike hard, and the whole mass breaks away. But the latter method is the right one to adopt, though it necessitates very hard work. No steps are really reliable when cut in ice of this description.A narrow escapeThe masses of ice, coming down harder and harder as they ascended without intermission, showed how they were working, and the only consolation that we had during a time that we felt to be critical, was that the guides were not likely to expend so much labour unless they thought that some good result would come of it. Suddenly there came a sharp shout and cry; then a crash as a great slab of ice, falling from above, was dashed into pieces at our feet and leaped into the air; then a brief pause, and we knew not what would happen next. Either the gully had been ascended or the guides had been pounded, and failure here might be failure altogether. It is true that Hartley and I had urged the guides to find a way some little distance to the right of the line on which they were now working; but they had reported that, though easy below, the route we had pointed out was impossible above.5A faint scratching noise close above[pg 212]us, as of a mouse perambulating behind a wainscot. We look up. It is the end of a rope. We seize it, and our pull from below is answered by a triumphant yell from above as the line is drawn taut. Fastening the end around my waist, I started forth. The gully was a scene of ruin, and I could hardly have believed that two axes in so short a time could have dealt so much destruction. Nowhere were the guides visible, and in another moment there was a curious sense of solitariness as I battled with the obstacles, aided in no small degree by the rope. The top of the gully was blocked up by a great cube of rock, dripping still where the icicles had just been broken off. The situation appeared to me to demand deliberation, though it was not accorded.“Come on,”said voices from above.“Up you go,”said a voice from below. I leaned as far back as I could, and felt about for a hand-hold. There was none. Everything seemed smooth. Then right, then left; still none. So I smiled feebly to myself, and called out,“Wait a minute.”This was of course taken as an invitation to pull vigorously, and, struggling and kicking like a spider irritated by tobacco smoke, I topped the rock and lent a hand on the rope for Hartley to follow. Then we learnt that a great mass of ice had broken away under Maurer’s feet while they were in the gully, and that he must have fallen had not Burgener pinned him to the rock with one hand. From the[pg 213]number of times that this escape was described to us during that day and the next, I am inclined to think that it was rather a near thing. At the time, and often since, I have questioned myself as to whether we could have got up this passage without the rope let down from above. I think either of us could have done it in time with a companion. It was necessary for two to be in the gully at the same time, to assist each other. It was necessary also to discard the rope, which in such a place could only be a source of danger. But no amateur should have tried the passage on that occasion without confidence in his own powers, and without absolute knowledge of the limit of his own powers. If the gully had been free from ice it would have been much easier.The final scramble“The worst is over now,”said Burgener. I was glad to hear it, but, looking upwards, had my doubts. The higher we went the bigger the rocks seemed to be. Still there was a way, and it was not so very unlike what I had, times out of mind, pictured to myself in imagination. Another tough scramble and we stood on a comparatively extensive ledge. With elation we observed that we had now climbed more than half of the only part of the mountain of the nature of which we were uncertain. A few steps on and Burgener grasped me suddenly by the arm.“Do you see the great red rock up yonder?”he whispered, hoarse with excitement—“in ten minutes we shall be there and on[pg 214]the arête, and then——”Nothing could stop us now; but a feverish anxiety to see what lay beyond, to look on the final slope which we knew must be easy, impelled us on, and we worked harder than ever to overcome the last few obstacles. The ten minutes expanded into something like thirty before we really reached the rock. Of a sudden the mountain seemed to change its form. For hours we had been climbing the hard, dry rocks. Now these appeared suddenly to vanish from under our feet, and once again our eyes fell on snow which lay thick, half hiding, half revealing, the final slope of the ridge. A glance along it showed that we had not misjudged. Even the cautious Maurer admitted that, as far as we could see, all appeared promising. And now, with the prize almost within our grasp, a strange desire to halt and hang back came on. Burgener tapped the rock with his axe, and we seemed somehow to regret that the way in front of us must prove comparatively easy. Our foe had almost yielded, and it appeared something like cruelty to administer the finalcoup de grâce. We could already anticipate the half-sad feeling with which we should reach the top itself. It needed but little to make the feeling give way. Some one cried“Forwards,”and instantly we were all in our places again, and the leader’s axe crashed through the layers of snow into the hard blue ice beneath. A dozen steps, and then a short bit of rock scramble;[pg 215]then more steps along the south side of the ridge, followed by more rock, and the ridge beyond, which had been hidden for a minute or two, stretched out before us again as we topped the first eminence. Better and better it looked as we went on.“See there,”cried Burgener suddenly,“the actual top!”Our foe is vanquishedThere was no possibility of mistaking the two huge stones we had so often looked at from below. They seemed, in the excitement of the moment, misty and blurred for a brief space, but grew clear again as I passed my hand over my eyes and seemed to swallow something. A few feet below the pinnacles and on the left was one of those strange arches formed by a great transverse boulder, so common near the summits of these aiguilles, and through the hole we could see blue sky. Nothing could lay beyond, and, still better, nothing could be above. On again, while we could scarcely stand still in the great steps the leader set his teeth to hack out. Then there came a short troublesome bit of snow scramble, where the heaped-up cornice had fallen back from the final rock. There we paused for a moment, for the summit was but a few feet from us, and Hartley, who was ahead, courteously allowed me to unrope and go on first. In a few seconds I clutched at the last broken rocks, and hauled myself up on to the sloping summit. There for a moment I stood alone gazing down on Chamouni. The holiday dream of five years was accomplished;[pg 216]the Aiguille du Dru was climbed. Where in the wide world will you find a sport able to yield pleasure like this?Mountaineers are often asked,“What did you do when you got to the top?”With regard to this peak the same question has often been put to me, and I have often answered it, but, it must be confessed, always suppressing one or two facts. I do not know why I should conceal them now any longer, the more especially as I think there is a moral to be drawn from my experience, or I would still keep it locked up. I had tried so hard and so long to get up this little peak, that some reaction of mind was not improbable; but it took a turn which I had never before and have never since experienced in the slightest degree. For a second or two—it cannot have been longer—all the past seemed blotted out, all consciousness of self, all desire of life was lost, and I was seized with an impulse almost incontrollable to throw myself down the vertical precipice which lay immediately at my feet. I know not now, though the feeling is still and always will be intensely vivid, how it was resisted, but at the sound of the voices below the faculties seemed to return each to its proper place, and with the restoration of thementalbalance the momentary idea of violently overturning the physical balance vanished. What has happened to one may have happened to others. It appeared[pg 217]to me quite different from what is known as mountain vertigo. In fact, I never moved at all from where I stood, and awoke, as it were, to find myself looking calmly down the identical place. It may be that the mental equilibrium under similar circumstances has not always been so fortunately restored, and that thus calamities on the mountains may have taken place. In another minute the rest of the party ascended, and we were all reposing on the hard-won summit.On the summitFar below a little white speck representing Couttet’s Hotel was well in view, and towards this we directed our telescope. We could make out a few individuals wandering listlessly about, but there did not seem to be much excitement; in front of the Imperial Hotel, however, we were pleased to imagine that we saw somebody gazing in our direction. Accordingly, with much pomp and ceremony, the stick—which it may be stated was borrowed without leave—was fixed into a little cleft and tightly wedged in; then, to my horror, Burgener, with many chuckles at his own foresight and at the completeness of his equipment, produced from a concealed pocket a piece of scarlet flannel strongly suggestive of a baby’s under garment, and tied it on to the stick. I protested in vain; in a moment the objectionable rag was floating proudly in the breeze. However, it seemed to want airing. Determined that our ascent should be placed[pg 218]beyond doubt in the eyes of any subsequent visitors, we ransacked our stores, and were enabled to leave the following articles:—One half-pint bottle containing our names, preserved by a paper stopper from the inclemency of the weather; two wooden wedges of unknown use, two ends of string, three burnt fusees, divers chips, one stone man of dwarf proportions, the tenpenny stick, and the infant’s petticoat.There is a popular belief that the main object of climbing up a mountain is to get a view from the top. It may therefore be a matter of regret to some, but it will certainly be a matter of great congratulation to many others, that of the view obtained I can say but little. Chamouni looked very nice, however, from this distance. Turning towards the Aiguille Verte we were astonished to notice that this great mass appeared to tower far less above us than might have been expected from its much greater height and close proximity. On the other hand, the lower south-eastern peak of the Aiguille du Dru seemed much more below us than we had imagined would be the case. It is a moot point in mountaineering circles how much difference between two closely contiguous points is necessary in order that they may be rated as individual peaks. At the time we estimated the difference between the two peaks of our Aiguille to be about 80 feet, but Hartley, who has since climbed the lower point, estimates that the difference between the two must be at the very[pg 219]least 120 feet. Still, the comparative meagreness of the panorama did not affect our spirits, nor detract in any appreciable degree from the completeness of the expedition. The Aiguille du Dru is essentially an expedition only for those who love a good climb for climbing’s sake. Every step, every bit of scrambling, was—and is still—a pleasure.The return journeyWe had reached the top at half-past twelve, so that our estimate of the time required had been a very accurate one. After spending three-quarters of an hour on the summit we turned to the descent with regret, and possessed with much the same feeling as a schoolboy on Black Monday, who takes an affectionate farewell of all sorts of inanimate objects. Very difficult the descent proved to be. We were so anxious, now that our efforts had been finally crowned with success, that the whole expedition should pass off without the least misadventure, that we went much more slowly, and took more elaborate precautions than under ordinary circumstances would have been deemed necessary. From the start we had agreed that, whatever the hour, nothing should persuade us to hurry the least in the descent. On such mountains, however, as the Aiguille du Dru it is easier on the whole to get down than to get up, especially if a good supply of spare rope be included in the equipment. At three places we found it advisable to fix ropes in order to assist our progress. It was curious to observe how[pg 220]marvellously the aspect of the mountain was changed as we looked down the places up which we had climbed so recently; and there were so many deviations from the straight line, that the way was very difficult to find at all. Indeed, Burgener alone could hit it off with certainty, and, though last on the rope, directed the way without ever making the slightest mistake at any part. We followed precisely the same route as in ascending, and noticed few if any places where this route was capable of improvement, or even of alteration.Not till nearly five o’clock did we regain our abandoned store of provisions; the sight of the little white packets, and especially of a certain can of tinned meat, seen at a considerable distance below, incited us to great exertions, for since ten in the morning we had partaken of nothing but a sandwich crushed out of all recognisable shape. Ignoring the probability of being benighted on the rocks, we caroused merrily on seltzer water and the contents of the tin can. It seemed almost a pity to quit for good these familiar rocks on which we had spent such a glorious time, and the sun was sinking low behind the Brévent range, and the rocks were all darkened in the grey shadows, before the guides could persuade us to pack up and resume our journey. Very little time was lost in descending when we had once started, but before we had reached a certain little sloping ledge[pg 221]furnished with a collection of little pointed stones, and known as the breakfast place, the darkness had overtaken us. The glacier lay only a few feet below, when the mist which had been long threatening swept up and closed in around us. The crevasses at the head of the glacier were so complicated, and the snow bridges so fragile, that we thought it wiser not to go on at once, but to wait till the snow should have had time to harden. So we sat down under an overhanging rock, and made believe that we enjoyed the fun. Hartley wedged a stone under his waist, as if he were the hind wheel of a waggon going uphill, and imitated the inaction and attitude of a person going to sleep. The guides retired to a little distance and, as is their wont when inactive, fell to a warm discussion over the dimensions of the different chamois they had shot, each of course outvying the other in turn. The game has this merit at least, when there is plenty of spare time at disposal, that if the players only begin low enough down in the animal scale it is practically unlimited.BenightedBefore long the situation ceased to be amusing, as we found that we had managed to get wet through in the gully, and that the slowly falling temperature was exceedingly unpleasant. I converted a cowhide knapsack into a temporary foot-warmer, much to the detriment of such articles of food as were still stored in its recesses, and tucked a boot under each arm to keep the leather from hardening. Then we fell[pg 222]to discussing what we would have next day for breakfast, and for some two hours found a certain amount of solace in disputing over the merits of divers dainty dishes. Even this fertile subject failed at length to give adequate satisfaction. The ledge became colder and colder, and new spiky little points appeared to develop every moment. The argument of the sportsmen grew fainter, and we became slowly chilled through. For a while the mind became more active, but less logical, and fanciful visions crowded thickly through it. On such occasions it is seldom possible to fix the thoughts on events immediately past. To my drowsy gaze the mist seemed to take the form of our native fogs, while the condition of the ledge suggested obtrusively a newly macadamised road. Almost at will I could transport myself in imagination to the metropolis I had so recently left, or back again to the wild little ledge on which we were stranded. Following up the train of sensations, it was easy to conceive how reason might fail altogether, and how gradually, as the senses became numbed one by one, delirium might supervene from cold and exposure—as has often happened to arctic travellers. The thoughts flew off far afield, and pictured the exact contrast of the immediate surroundings. I saw a brilliantly lighted street with long rows of flaming lamps. The windows of the clubhouses shone out as great red and orange squares and oblongs. Carriages dashed by, cabs oscillated down[pg 223]the roads. Elegantly attired youths about to commence their wakeful period (why are men who only know the seamy side of life called“men of the world”? Is it so bad a world, my masters?) were strolling off to places of entertainment. A feeble, ragged creature crept along in the shadows. A worn, bright-eyed girl, just free from work which had begun at early dawn, dragged her aching limbs homewards, but stopped a moment to glance with envy at a mamma and two fair daughters crossing the pavement to their carriage; light, life, bustle, crowding everywhere. Faster and faster follow the shifting scenes till the visions jostle and become confused——A crack, a distant sound of a falling shower of stones, a hiss as they fall on to the snow slopes below. The eyes open, but the mind only half awakes, and almost immediately dreams again, with changed visions of comfortable rooms, in which the flickering light of a coal fire now throws up, now half conceals the close-drawn curtains, or the familiar form of books and pictures; visions of some formless individual with slippered feet disposed at judicious distance from the blazing coals, of soft carpets and deep arm-chairs moulded by long use into the precise intaglio adapted to the human frame; visions of a warm flood of subdued light, of things steaming gently with curling wreaths of vapour. All these passed in order before the mind, called up by the incantation of discomfort out of the cauldron of[pg 224]misery, like unto the regal display manifested to that impulsive and somewhat over-married individual, Macbeth.Shifting scenesBut before long it was most difficult to picture these pleasant sights so vividly as to become altogether oblivious of an exceedingly chilly personality, and ultimately human nature triumphed, and theegoin a rather frozen state became again paramount. I had begun to calculate the number of hours we might have to remain where we were, and the probable state in which we should be next morning, when of a sudden the mist lifted, and disclosed the glacier just below feebly lit up by the rising moon. We sprang instantly to our feet, almost as instantaneously returning to our former positions by reason of the exceeding stiffness and cramp begotten of the cold. The guides, leaving their discussion at a point where the last speaker had, in imagination, shot a chamois about the size of an elephant, descended to inspect the ice. The snow bridges were pronounced secure, and we were soon across the crevasses, but found to our disgust that we had rather overdone the waiting. The slope was hard frozen, and in the dim light it was found necessary to cut steps nearly the whole way down the glacier. For five hours and a half were we thus engaged, and did not reach our camp till 2.30A.M.Never did the tent look so comfortable as on that morning. If, as was[pg 225]remarked of Mrs. Gamp’s apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, to the contented mind a cottage is a palace, so to the weary frame may a tent be a luxurious hotel. We rushed over the loose rocks by the snout of the glacier, and ran helter-skelter for our bivouac. From the circumstance that the invariable struggle for the best pillow was usually brief, and that one of the party was discovered next morning wrong end foremost in his sleeping bag with his boots still on his feet, I am disposed to think that we were not long in dropping off to sleep; but the unstudied attitudes of the party suggested rather four revellers returning from a Greenwich dinner in a four-wheeled cab over a cobbled road than a company of sober mountaineers. By seven o’clock, however, the predominant thought of breakfast so asserted itself that we woke up and looked out.The camp breaks upThe first object that met our gaze was a large sheet of paper, affixed to the rock just in front of the tent, and bearing the simple inscription“Hooray!”This led us to surmise that our success was already known below; for the author of the legend had returned to Chamouni the previous evening, after having seen us on the summit. To each man was apportioned the burden he should bear of the camp equipage. Such a collection of pots and pans and other paraphernalia had we amassed gradually during our stay, that our appearance as we crossed the glacier[pg 226]suggested rather that of certain inhabitants of Lagado mentioned in Gulliver’s voyage to Laputa. By nine o’clock we had deposited our burdens at the Montanvert and, disregarding the principles of the sages above referred to, ventured to corrode our lungs by articulating our wants to the landlord. This worthy received us with more than his usual affability, for the tidings of our success had in truth already reached the inn. A bottle of conical form was produced, the cork drawn with a monstrous explosion, and some very indifferent fluid poured out as a token of congratulation. In spite of, perhaps in consequence of, these early libations, we skipped down the well-worn and somewhat unsavoury path with great nimbleness, and in an hour or so found ourselves on the level path leading along the valley to Chamouni by the English church. There, I am pleased to record, the first man to congratulate us was our old friend M. Gabriel Loppé, without whose kindly sympathy and constant encouragement I doubt if we should have ever persevered to our successful end. It mattered little to us that but few of the Chamouni guides gave us credit for having really ascended the peak, for most of them maintained that we had merely reached a point on the south-east face of the lower summit; indeed, to those not so familiar with the details of the mountain as we were, it might well seem hard to realise that the crag jutting out on the right, as seen from Chamouni, is really the actual summit.[pg 227]Such is the record of the most fascinating rock climb with which I am acquainted. From beginning to end it is interesting. There is no wearisome tramping over loose moraine and no great extent of snow-field to traverse. The rocks are wondrously firm and big, and peculiarly unlike those on other mountains, even on many of the aiguilles about Chamouni.Mountaineering moralityAn odd code of mountaineering morality has gradually sprung into existence, and ideas as to what is fair and sportsmanlike in mountain climbing are somewhat peculiar. People speak somewhat vaguely of“artificial aid,”and are wont to criticise in very severe language the employment of such assistance, at the same time finding it rather hard, if driven into a corner, to define what they mean by the term. It would seem that artificial aid may signify the driving of iron pegs into rocks when nature has provided insufficient hand or foot-hold. Such a proceeding is considered highly improper. To cut a step in ice is right, but to chisel out a step on rock is in the highest degree unjustifiable. Again, a ladder may be used without critical animadversion to bridge a crevasse, but its employment over a rock cleft is tabooed. A certain amount of mountaineering equipment is not only considered proper, but those who go on the mountains without it are spoken of with great asperity, and called very hard names; but the equipment must not include anything beyond hobnails, rope, axes, and possibly a ladder for[pg 228]a crevasse; any other contrivance is sniffed at contemptuously as artificial aid. Rockets and such like are usually only mentioned in order to be condemned; while grapnels, chains, and crampons are held to be the inventions of the fiend. Why these unwritten laws should exist in such an imaginary code it is hard to see. Perhaps we must not consider too curiously on the matter. For my own part, if it could be proved that by no possible means could a given bad passage be traversed without some such aid, nor turned by another route, I should not hesitate to adopt any mechanical means to the desired end. As a matter of fact, in the Alps scarcely any such places exist for those who have taken the trouble to learn how to climb, and there are none on the Aiguille du Dru. We used our ladder often enough in exploring the mountain, but when we actually ascended it we employed it in one place only, saving thereby at least an hour of invaluable time. Indeed, subsequent explorers have found such to be the case; and Mr. W. E. Davidson, in a recent ascent of the mountain, was able to find his way without invoking the assistance of either ladder or fixed ropes. In a marvellously short space of time, too, did he get up and down the peak on which we had spent hours without number. Still, this is the fate of all mountains. The mountaineers who make the third ascent are, usually, able to sweep away the blushing honours that the first[pg 229]climbers might fondly hope they had invested the mountain with. A word, a stroke of the pen, will do it. The peaks do not yield gradually from their high estate, but fall, like Lucifer, from summit to ultimate destination, and are suddenly converted from“the most difficult mountain in the Alps”to“Oh yes; a fine peak, but not a patch upon Mount So-and-so.”It is but with the mountains as with other matters of this life, save in this respect, that once deposed they never can hope to reign again supreme. Statements concerning our fellow-creatures when of a depreciatory, and still more when of a scandal-flavoured, nature, are always believed by nine people out of ten to be, if not absolutely true, at any rate well-founded enough for repetition. A different estimate of the standard of veracity to be met with in this world is assumed when the remarks are favourable. Even so may it be, in some instances, with the mountains. The prestige that clings to a maiden peak is like the bark on a wand: peel it off, and it cannot be replaced; the bough withers, and is cast to one side, its character permanently altered.

A strange guideFrom four in the morning of the next day till seven in the evening, when we reached our bivouac again, we were climbing without intermission; not that our imbecile friend took any very active share in the day’s amusement. He was roped as last man in the caravan, and Hartley had to drag him up the glacier. He was as slow of foot as he was of understanding, and took no interest in the expedition. Twice we pointed out to him half-hidden crevasses and begged that he would be careful. Twice did he acknowledge our courtesy by disappearing abruptly into the snowy depths. Then he favoured us with a short biographical sketch of his wife, her attributes, and her affection for himself: he narrated the chief characteristics of his children, and dilated on the responsible position that as father of a family (probably all crétins, if there be any truth in the hereditary transmission of parental qualities) he considered that he occupied. Finally, as he appeared disposed to give us at length a memoir of his grandfather deceased, we decided to unrope him and let[pg 200]him have his own way in peace. For seven hours did he crouch under a little rock, not daring to move either up or down, or even to take the knapsack off his back.For the first time on this occasion did we succeed in climbing on to the main peak well above the level of the ridge we had so often reached, by means of leaving the gully at a much earlier point than usual. We followed the exact line that we had marked out mentally on the last occasion. At first progress was easy, but we could only make our way very slowly, seeing that we had but one short rope and only one guide; for we had injudiciously left the longer spare rope with our feeble-minded guide below, and no shouts or implorations could induce him to make his way up to us, nor had we leisure to go down to him; so we had to make the best of matters as they were. We soon found a place where the ladder might be of service, and spent some time in placing it in a position in which it remains I believe till this day.Now, personal considerations had to a great extent to be lost sight of in the desire to make the most of the day, and the result was that Hartley must have had a very bad time of it. Unfortunately perhaps for him he was by far the lightest member of the party; accordingly we argued that he was far less likely to break the rickety old ladder than we were. Again,[pg 201]as the lightest weight, he was most conveniently lowered down first over awkward places when they occurred.Our“jeune premier”In the times which are spoken of as old, and which have also, for some not very definable reason, the prefix good, if you wanted your chimneys swept you did not employ an individual now dignified by the title of a Ramoneur, but you adopted the simpler plan of calling in a master sweep. This person would come attended by a satellite, who wore the outward form of a boy and was gifted with certain special physical attributes. Especially was it necessary that the boy should be of such a size and shape as to fit nicely to the chimney, not so loosely on the one hand as to have any difficulty in ascending by means of his knees and elbows, nor so tightly on the other as to run any peril of being wedged in. The boy was then inserted into the chimney and did all the work, while the master remained below or sat expectant on the roof to encourage, to preside over, and subsequently to profit by, his apprentice’s exertions. We adopted much the same principle. Hartley, as the lightest, was cast for therôleof the“jeune premier”or boy, while Burgener and I on physical grounds alone filled the part, however unworthily, of the master sweep. As a play not infrequently owes its success to one actor, so did our“jeune premier,”sometimes very literally, pull us[pg 202]through on the present occasion. Gallantly indeed did he fulfil his duty. Whether climbing up a ladder slightly out of the perpendicular, leaning against nothing in particular and with overhanging rocks above; whether let down by a rope tied round his waist, so that he dangled like the sign of the“Golden Fleece”outside a haberdasher’s shop, or hauled up smooth slabs of rock with his raiment in an untidy heap around his neck; in each and all of these exercises he was equally at home, and would be let down or would come up smiling. One place gave us great difficulty. An excessively steep wall of rock presented itself and seemed to bar the way to a higher level. A narrow crack ran some little way up the face, but above the rock was slightly overhanging, and the water trickling from some higher point had led to the formation of a huge bunch of gigantic icicles, which hung down from above. It was necessary to get past these, but impossible to cut them away, as they would have fallen on us below. Burgener climbed a little way up the face, planted his back against it, and held on to the ladder in front of him, while I did the same just below: by this means we kept the ladder almost perpendicular, but feared to press the highest rung heavily against the icicles above lest we should break them off. We now invited Hartley to mount up. For the first few steps it was easy enough; but the leverage was more and more against us as he climbed[pg 203]higher, seeing that he could not touch the rock, and the strain on our arms below was very severe. However, he got safely to the top and disappeared from view. The performance was a brilliant one, but, fortunately, had not to be repeated; as on a subsequent occasion, by a deviation of about fifteen or twenty feet, we climbed to the same spot in a few minutes with perfect ease and without using any ladder at all. On this occasion, however, we must have spent fully an hour while Hartley performed his feats, which were not unworthy of a Japanese acrobat. Every few feet of the mountain at this part gave us difficulty, and it was curious to notice how, on this the first occasion of travelling over the rock face, we often selected the wrong route in points of detail. We ascended from twenty to fifty feet, then surveyed right and left, up and down, before going any further. The minutes slipped by fast, but I have no doubt now that if we had had time we might have ascended to the final arête on this occasion. We had often to retrace our steps, and whenever we did so found some slightly different line by which time could have been saved. Though the way was always difficult nothing was impossible, and when the word at last was given, owing to the failing light, to descend, we had every reason to be satisfied with the result of the day’s exploration. There seemed to be little doubt that we had traversed the most difficult part of the[pg 204]mountain, and, indeed, we found on a later occasion, with one or two notable exceptions, that such was the case.An acrobatic performanceHowever, at the time we did not think that, even if it were possible, it would be at all advisable to make our next attempt without a second guide. A telegram had been sent to Kaspar Maurer, instructing him to join us at the bivouac with all possible expedition. The excitement was thus kept up to the very last, for we knew not whether the message might have reached him, and the days of fine weather were precious.It was late in the evening when we reached again the head of the glacier, and the point where we had left the feeble creature who had started with us as a second guide. On beholding us once more he wept copiously, but whether his tears were those of gratitude for release from the cramped position in which he had spent his entire day, or of joy at seeing us safe again, or whether they were the natural overflow of an imbecile intellect stirred by any emotion whatever, it were hard to say; at any rate he wept, and then fell to a description of some interesting details concerning the proper mode of bringing up infants, and the duties of parents towards their children: the most important of which, in his estimation, was that the father of a family should run no risk whatever on a mountain. Reaching our bivouac, we[pg 205]looked anxiously down over the glacier for any signs of Kaspar Maurer. Two or three parties were seen crawling homewards towards the Montanvert over the ice-fields, but no signs of our guide were visible. As the shades of night, however, were falling, we were able indistinctly to see in the far-off distance a little black dot skipping over the Mer de Glace with great activity. Most eagerly did we watch the apparition, and when finally it headed in our direction and all doubt was removed as to the personality, we felt that our constant ill-luck was at last on the eve of changing. However, it was not till two days later that we left Chamouni once more for the nineteenth and, as it proved, for the last time to try the peak.Our nineteenth attemptOn September 11, we sat on the rocks a few feet above the camping-place. Never before had we been so confident of success. The next day’s climb was no longer to be one of exploration. We were to start as early as the light would permit, and we were to go up and always up, if necessary till the light should fail. Possibly we might have succeeded long before if we had had the same amount of determination to do so that we were possessed with on this occasion. We had made up our minds to succeed, and felt as if all our previous attempts had been but a sort of training for this special occasion. We had gone so far as to instruct our friends below to look[pg 206]out for us on the summit between twelve and two the next day. We had even gone to the length of bringing a stick wherewith to make a flag-staff on the top. Still one, and that a very familiar source of disquietude, harassed us as our eyes turned anxiously to the west. A single huge band of cloud hung heavily right across the sky, and looked like a harbinger of evil, for it was of a livid colour above, and tinged with a deep crimson red below. My companion was despondent at the prospect it suggested, and the guides tapped their teeth with their forefingers when they looked in that direction; but it was suggested by a more sanguine person that its form and very watery look suggested a Band of Hope. An insinuating smell of savoury soup was wafted up gently from below—Stealing and giving odour.We took courage; then descended to the tent, and took sustenance.There was no difficulty experienced in making an early start the next day, and the moment the grey light allowed us to see our way we set off. On such occasions, when the mind is strung up to a high pitch of excitement, odd and trivial little details and incidents fix themselves indelibly on the memory. I can recall as distinctly now, as if it had only happened a moment ago, the exact tone of voice in which Burgener, on looking out of the tent, announced that[pg 207]the weather would do. Burgener and Kaspar Maurer were now our guides, for our old enemy with the family ties had been paid off and sent away with a flea in his ear—an almost unnecessary adjunct, as anyone who had slept in the same tent with him could testify. Notwithstanding that Maurer was far from well, and rather weak, we mounted rapidly at first, for the way was by this time familiar enough, and we all meant business.The rocks of the DruOur position now was this. By our exploration on the last occasion we had ascertained that it was possible to ascend to a great height on the main mass of the mountain. From the slope of the rocks, and from the shape of the mountain, we felt sure that the final crest would be easy enough. We had then to find a way still up the face, from the point where we had turned back on our last attempt, to some point on the final ridge of the mountain. The rocks on this part we had never been able to examine very closely, for it is necessary to cross well over to the south-eastern face while ascending from the ridge between the Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte. A great projecting buttress of rock, some two or three hundred feet in height, cuts off the view of that part of the mountain over which we now hoped to make our way. By turning up straight behind this buttress, we hoped to hit off and reach the final crest just above the point where it merges into the precipitous north-eastern wall visible from[pg 208]the Chapeau. This part of the mountain can only be seen from the very head of the Glacier de la Charpoua just under the mass of the Aiguille Verte. But this point of view is too far off for accurate observations, and the strip of mountain was practically, therefore, aterra incognitato us.What next?We followed the gully running up from the head of the glacier towards the ridge above mentioned, keeping well to the left. Before long it was necessary to cross the gully on to the main peak. To make the topography clearer a somewhat prosaic and domestic simile may be employed. The Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte are connected by a long sharp ridge, towards which we were now climbing; and this ridge is let in as it were into the south-eastern side of the Aiguille du Dru, much as a comb may be stuck into the middle of a hairbrush, the latter article representing the main peak. Here we employed the ladder which had been placed in the right position the day previously. Right glad were we to see the rickety old structure which had now spent four years on the mountain, and was much the worse for it. It creaked and groaned dismally under our weight and ran sharp splinters into us at all points of contact, but yet there was a certain companionship about the old ladder, and we seemed almost to regret that it was not destined to share more in our prospective success. A few steps on and we came to a rough cleft some five-and-twenty feet[pg 209]in depth, which had to be descended. A double rope was fastened to a projecting crag, and we swung ourselves down as if we were barrels of split peas going into a ship’s hold; then to the ascent again, and the excitement waxed stronger as we drew nearer to the doubtful part of the mountain. Still, we did not anticipate insuperable obstacles; for I think we were possessed with a determination to succeed, which is a sensation often spoken of as a presentiment of success. A short climb up an easy broken gully, and of a sudden we seemed to be brought to a standstill. A little ledge at our feet curled round a projecting crag on the left.“What are we to do now?”said Burgener, but with a smile on his face that left no doubt as to the answer. He lay flat down on the ledge and wriggled round the projection, disappearing suddenly from view as if the rock had swallowed him up. A shout proclaimed that his expectations had not been deceived, and we were bidden to follow; and follow we did, sticking to the flat face of the rock with all our power, and progressing like the skates down the glass sides of an aquarium tank. When the last man joined us we found ourselves all huddled together on a very little ledge indeed, while an overhanging rock above compelled us to assume the anomalous attitude enforced on the occupant of a little-ease dungeon. What next? An eager look up solved part of the doubt.“There is the way,”said Burgener, leaning[pg 210]back to get a view.“Oh, indeed,”we answered. No doubt there was a way, and we were glad to hear that it was possible to get up it. The attractions of the route consisted of a narrow flat gully plastered up with ice, exceeding straight and steep and crowned at the top with a pendulous mass of enormous icicles. The gully resembled a half-open book standing up on end. Enthusiasts in rock-climbing who have ascended the Riffelhorn from the Görner Glacier side will have met with a similar gully, but, as a rule, free from ice, which, in the present instance, constituted the chief difficulty. The ice, filling up the receding angle from top to bottom, rendered it impossible to find hand-hold on the rocks, and it was exceedingly difficult to cut steps in such a place, for the slabs of ice were prone to break away entire. However, the guides said they could get up, and asked us to keep out of the way of chance fragments of ice which might fall down as they ascended. So we tucked ourselves away on one side, and they fell to as difficult a business as could well be imagined. The rope was discarded, and slowly they worked up, their backs and elbows against one sloping wall, their feet against the other. But the angle was too wide to give security to this position, the more especially that with shortened axes they were compelled to hack out enough of the ice to reveal the rock below. In such places the ice is but loosely adherent, being raised up from the face much[pg 211]as pie-crust dissociates itself from the fruit beneath under the influence of the oven. Strike lightly with the axe, and a hollow sound is yielded without much impression on the ice; strike hard, and the whole mass breaks away. But the latter method is the right one to adopt, though it necessitates very hard work. No steps are really reliable when cut in ice of this description.A narrow escapeThe masses of ice, coming down harder and harder as they ascended without intermission, showed how they were working, and the only consolation that we had during a time that we felt to be critical, was that the guides were not likely to expend so much labour unless they thought that some good result would come of it. Suddenly there came a sharp shout and cry; then a crash as a great slab of ice, falling from above, was dashed into pieces at our feet and leaped into the air; then a brief pause, and we knew not what would happen next. Either the gully had been ascended or the guides had been pounded, and failure here might be failure altogether. It is true that Hartley and I had urged the guides to find a way some little distance to the right of the line on which they were now working; but they had reported that, though easy below, the route we had pointed out was impossible above.5A faint scratching noise close above[pg 212]us, as of a mouse perambulating behind a wainscot. We look up. It is the end of a rope. We seize it, and our pull from below is answered by a triumphant yell from above as the line is drawn taut. Fastening the end around my waist, I started forth. The gully was a scene of ruin, and I could hardly have believed that two axes in so short a time could have dealt so much destruction. Nowhere were the guides visible, and in another moment there was a curious sense of solitariness as I battled with the obstacles, aided in no small degree by the rope. The top of the gully was blocked up by a great cube of rock, dripping still where the icicles had just been broken off. The situation appeared to me to demand deliberation, though it was not accorded.“Come on,”said voices from above.“Up you go,”said a voice from below. I leaned as far back as I could, and felt about for a hand-hold. There was none. Everything seemed smooth. Then right, then left; still none. So I smiled feebly to myself, and called out,“Wait a minute.”This was of course taken as an invitation to pull vigorously, and, struggling and kicking like a spider irritated by tobacco smoke, I topped the rock and lent a hand on the rope for Hartley to follow. Then we learnt that a great mass of ice had broken away under Maurer’s feet while they were in the gully, and that he must have fallen had not Burgener pinned him to the rock with one hand. From the[pg 213]number of times that this escape was described to us during that day and the next, I am inclined to think that it was rather a near thing. At the time, and often since, I have questioned myself as to whether we could have got up this passage without the rope let down from above. I think either of us could have done it in time with a companion. It was necessary for two to be in the gully at the same time, to assist each other. It was necessary also to discard the rope, which in such a place could only be a source of danger. But no amateur should have tried the passage on that occasion without confidence in his own powers, and without absolute knowledge of the limit of his own powers. If the gully had been free from ice it would have been much easier.The final scramble“The worst is over now,”said Burgener. I was glad to hear it, but, looking upwards, had my doubts. The higher we went the bigger the rocks seemed to be. Still there was a way, and it was not so very unlike what I had, times out of mind, pictured to myself in imagination. Another tough scramble and we stood on a comparatively extensive ledge. With elation we observed that we had now climbed more than half of the only part of the mountain of the nature of which we were uncertain. A few steps on and Burgener grasped me suddenly by the arm.“Do you see the great red rock up yonder?”he whispered, hoarse with excitement—“in ten minutes we shall be there and on[pg 214]the arête, and then——”Nothing could stop us now; but a feverish anxiety to see what lay beyond, to look on the final slope which we knew must be easy, impelled us on, and we worked harder than ever to overcome the last few obstacles. The ten minutes expanded into something like thirty before we really reached the rock. Of a sudden the mountain seemed to change its form. For hours we had been climbing the hard, dry rocks. Now these appeared suddenly to vanish from under our feet, and once again our eyes fell on snow which lay thick, half hiding, half revealing, the final slope of the ridge. A glance along it showed that we had not misjudged. Even the cautious Maurer admitted that, as far as we could see, all appeared promising. And now, with the prize almost within our grasp, a strange desire to halt and hang back came on. Burgener tapped the rock with his axe, and we seemed somehow to regret that the way in front of us must prove comparatively easy. Our foe had almost yielded, and it appeared something like cruelty to administer the finalcoup de grâce. We could already anticipate the half-sad feeling with which we should reach the top itself. It needed but little to make the feeling give way. Some one cried“Forwards,”and instantly we were all in our places again, and the leader’s axe crashed through the layers of snow into the hard blue ice beneath. A dozen steps, and then a short bit of rock scramble;[pg 215]then more steps along the south side of the ridge, followed by more rock, and the ridge beyond, which had been hidden for a minute or two, stretched out before us again as we topped the first eminence. Better and better it looked as we went on.“See there,”cried Burgener suddenly,“the actual top!”Our foe is vanquishedThere was no possibility of mistaking the two huge stones we had so often looked at from below. They seemed, in the excitement of the moment, misty and blurred for a brief space, but grew clear again as I passed my hand over my eyes and seemed to swallow something. A few feet below the pinnacles and on the left was one of those strange arches formed by a great transverse boulder, so common near the summits of these aiguilles, and through the hole we could see blue sky. Nothing could lay beyond, and, still better, nothing could be above. On again, while we could scarcely stand still in the great steps the leader set his teeth to hack out. Then there came a short troublesome bit of snow scramble, where the heaped-up cornice had fallen back from the final rock. There we paused for a moment, for the summit was but a few feet from us, and Hartley, who was ahead, courteously allowed me to unrope and go on first. In a few seconds I clutched at the last broken rocks, and hauled myself up on to the sloping summit. There for a moment I stood alone gazing down on Chamouni. The holiday dream of five years was accomplished;[pg 216]the Aiguille du Dru was climbed. Where in the wide world will you find a sport able to yield pleasure like this?Mountaineers are often asked,“What did you do when you got to the top?”With regard to this peak the same question has often been put to me, and I have often answered it, but, it must be confessed, always suppressing one or two facts. I do not know why I should conceal them now any longer, the more especially as I think there is a moral to be drawn from my experience, or I would still keep it locked up. I had tried so hard and so long to get up this little peak, that some reaction of mind was not improbable; but it took a turn which I had never before and have never since experienced in the slightest degree. For a second or two—it cannot have been longer—all the past seemed blotted out, all consciousness of self, all desire of life was lost, and I was seized with an impulse almost incontrollable to throw myself down the vertical precipice which lay immediately at my feet. I know not now, though the feeling is still and always will be intensely vivid, how it was resisted, but at the sound of the voices below the faculties seemed to return each to its proper place, and with the restoration of thementalbalance the momentary idea of violently overturning the physical balance vanished. What has happened to one may have happened to others. It appeared[pg 217]to me quite different from what is known as mountain vertigo. In fact, I never moved at all from where I stood, and awoke, as it were, to find myself looking calmly down the identical place. It may be that the mental equilibrium under similar circumstances has not always been so fortunately restored, and that thus calamities on the mountains may have taken place. In another minute the rest of the party ascended, and we were all reposing on the hard-won summit.On the summitFar below a little white speck representing Couttet’s Hotel was well in view, and towards this we directed our telescope. We could make out a few individuals wandering listlessly about, but there did not seem to be much excitement; in front of the Imperial Hotel, however, we were pleased to imagine that we saw somebody gazing in our direction. Accordingly, with much pomp and ceremony, the stick—which it may be stated was borrowed without leave—was fixed into a little cleft and tightly wedged in; then, to my horror, Burgener, with many chuckles at his own foresight and at the completeness of his equipment, produced from a concealed pocket a piece of scarlet flannel strongly suggestive of a baby’s under garment, and tied it on to the stick. I protested in vain; in a moment the objectionable rag was floating proudly in the breeze. However, it seemed to want airing. Determined that our ascent should be placed[pg 218]beyond doubt in the eyes of any subsequent visitors, we ransacked our stores, and were enabled to leave the following articles:—One half-pint bottle containing our names, preserved by a paper stopper from the inclemency of the weather; two wooden wedges of unknown use, two ends of string, three burnt fusees, divers chips, one stone man of dwarf proportions, the tenpenny stick, and the infant’s petticoat.There is a popular belief that the main object of climbing up a mountain is to get a view from the top. It may therefore be a matter of regret to some, but it will certainly be a matter of great congratulation to many others, that of the view obtained I can say but little. Chamouni looked very nice, however, from this distance. Turning towards the Aiguille Verte we were astonished to notice that this great mass appeared to tower far less above us than might have been expected from its much greater height and close proximity. On the other hand, the lower south-eastern peak of the Aiguille du Dru seemed much more below us than we had imagined would be the case. It is a moot point in mountaineering circles how much difference between two closely contiguous points is necessary in order that they may be rated as individual peaks. At the time we estimated the difference between the two peaks of our Aiguille to be about 80 feet, but Hartley, who has since climbed the lower point, estimates that the difference between the two must be at the very[pg 219]least 120 feet. Still, the comparative meagreness of the panorama did not affect our spirits, nor detract in any appreciable degree from the completeness of the expedition. The Aiguille du Dru is essentially an expedition only for those who love a good climb for climbing’s sake. Every step, every bit of scrambling, was—and is still—a pleasure.The return journeyWe had reached the top at half-past twelve, so that our estimate of the time required had been a very accurate one. After spending three-quarters of an hour on the summit we turned to the descent with regret, and possessed with much the same feeling as a schoolboy on Black Monday, who takes an affectionate farewell of all sorts of inanimate objects. Very difficult the descent proved to be. We were so anxious, now that our efforts had been finally crowned with success, that the whole expedition should pass off without the least misadventure, that we went much more slowly, and took more elaborate precautions than under ordinary circumstances would have been deemed necessary. From the start we had agreed that, whatever the hour, nothing should persuade us to hurry the least in the descent. On such mountains, however, as the Aiguille du Dru it is easier on the whole to get down than to get up, especially if a good supply of spare rope be included in the equipment. At three places we found it advisable to fix ropes in order to assist our progress. It was curious to observe how[pg 220]marvellously the aspect of the mountain was changed as we looked down the places up which we had climbed so recently; and there were so many deviations from the straight line, that the way was very difficult to find at all. Indeed, Burgener alone could hit it off with certainty, and, though last on the rope, directed the way without ever making the slightest mistake at any part. We followed precisely the same route as in ascending, and noticed few if any places where this route was capable of improvement, or even of alteration.Not till nearly five o’clock did we regain our abandoned store of provisions; the sight of the little white packets, and especially of a certain can of tinned meat, seen at a considerable distance below, incited us to great exertions, for since ten in the morning we had partaken of nothing but a sandwich crushed out of all recognisable shape. Ignoring the probability of being benighted on the rocks, we caroused merrily on seltzer water and the contents of the tin can. It seemed almost a pity to quit for good these familiar rocks on which we had spent such a glorious time, and the sun was sinking low behind the Brévent range, and the rocks were all darkened in the grey shadows, before the guides could persuade us to pack up and resume our journey. Very little time was lost in descending when we had once started, but before we had reached a certain little sloping ledge[pg 221]furnished with a collection of little pointed stones, and known as the breakfast place, the darkness had overtaken us. The glacier lay only a few feet below, when the mist which had been long threatening swept up and closed in around us. The crevasses at the head of the glacier were so complicated, and the snow bridges so fragile, that we thought it wiser not to go on at once, but to wait till the snow should have had time to harden. So we sat down under an overhanging rock, and made believe that we enjoyed the fun. Hartley wedged a stone under his waist, as if he were the hind wheel of a waggon going uphill, and imitated the inaction and attitude of a person going to sleep. The guides retired to a little distance and, as is their wont when inactive, fell to a warm discussion over the dimensions of the different chamois they had shot, each of course outvying the other in turn. The game has this merit at least, when there is plenty of spare time at disposal, that if the players only begin low enough down in the animal scale it is practically unlimited.BenightedBefore long the situation ceased to be amusing, as we found that we had managed to get wet through in the gully, and that the slowly falling temperature was exceedingly unpleasant. I converted a cowhide knapsack into a temporary foot-warmer, much to the detriment of such articles of food as were still stored in its recesses, and tucked a boot under each arm to keep the leather from hardening. Then we fell[pg 222]to discussing what we would have next day for breakfast, and for some two hours found a certain amount of solace in disputing over the merits of divers dainty dishes. Even this fertile subject failed at length to give adequate satisfaction. The ledge became colder and colder, and new spiky little points appeared to develop every moment. The argument of the sportsmen grew fainter, and we became slowly chilled through. For a while the mind became more active, but less logical, and fanciful visions crowded thickly through it. On such occasions it is seldom possible to fix the thoughts on events immediately past. To my drowsy gaze the mist seemed to take the form of our native fogs, while the condition of the ledge suggested obtrusively a newly macadamised road. Almost at will I could transport myself in imagination to the metropolis I had so recently left, or back again to the wild little ledge on which we were stranded. Following up the train of sensations, it was easy to conceive how reason might fail altogether, and how gradually, as the senses became numbed one by one, delirium might supervene from cold and exposure—as has often happened to arctic travellers. The thoughts flew off far afield, and pictured the exact contrast of the immediate surroundings. I saw a brilliantly lighted street with long rows of flaming lamps. The windows of the clubhouses shone out as great red and orange squares and oblongs. Carriages dashed by, cabs oscillated down[pg 223]the roads. Elegantly attired youths about to commence their wakeful period (why are men who only know the seamy side of life called“men of the world”? Is it so bad a world, my masters?) were strolling off to places of entertainment. A feeble, ragged creature crept along in the shadows. A worn, bright-eyed girl, just free from work which had begun at early dawn, dragged her aching limbs homewards, but stopped a moment to glance with envy at a mamma and two fair daughters crossing the pavement to their carriage; light, life, bustle, crowding everywhere. Faster and faster follow the shifting scenes till the visions jostle and become confused——A crack, a distant sound of a falling shower of stones, a hiss as they fall on to the snow slopes below. The eyes open, but the mind only half awakes, and almost immediately dreams again, with changed visions of comfortable rooms, in which the flickering light of a coal fire now throws up, now half conceals the close-drawn curtains, or the familiar form of books and pictures; visions of some formless individual with slippered feet disposed at judicious distance from the blazing coals, of soft carpets and deep arm-chairs moulded by long use into the precise intaglio adapted to the human frame; visions of a warm flood of subdued light, of things steaming gently with curling wreaths of vapour. All these passed in order before the mind, called up by the incantation of discomfort out of the cauldron of[pg 224]misery, like unto the regal display manifested to that impulsive and somewhat over-married individual, Macbeth.Shifting scenesBut before long it was most difficult to picture these pleasant sights so vividly as to become altogether oblivious of an exceedingly chilly personality, and ultimately human nature triumphed, and theegoin a rather frozen state became again paramount. I had begun to calculate the number of hours we might have to remain where we were, and the probable state in which we should be next morning, when of a sudden the mist lifted, and disclosed the glacier just below feebly lit up by the rising moon. We sprang instantly to our feet, almost as instantaneously returning to our former positions by reason of the exceeding stiffness and cramp begotten of the cold. The guides, leaving their discussion at a point where the last speaker had, in imagination, shot a chamois about the size of an elephant, descended to inspect the ice. The snow bridges were pronounced secure, and we were soon across the crevasses, but found to our disgust that we had rather overdone the waiting. The slope was hard frozen, and in the dim light it was found necessary to cut steps nearly the whole way down the glacier. For five hours and a half were we thus engaged, and did not reach our camp till 2.30A.M.Never did the tent look so comfortable as on that morning. If, as was[pg 225]remarked of Mrs. Gamp’s apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, to the contented mind a cottage is a palace, so to the weary frame may a tent be a luxurious hotel. We rushed over the loose rocks by the snout of the glacier, and ran helter-skelter for our bivouac. From the circumstance that the invariable struggle for the best pillow was usually brief, and that one of the party was discovered next morning wrong end foremost in his sleeping bag with his boots still on his feet, I am disposed to think that we were not long in dropping off to sleep; but the unstudied attitudes of the party suggested rather four revellers returning from a Greenwich dinner in a four-wheeled cab over a cobbled road than a company of sober mountaineers. By seven o’clock, however, the predominant thought of breakfast so asserted itself that we woke up and looked out.The camp breaks upThe first object that met our gaze was a large sheet of paper, affixed to the rock just in front of the tent, and bearing the simple inscription“Hooray!”This led us to surmise that our success was already known below; for the author of the legend had returned to Chamouni the previous evening, after having seen us on the summit. To each man was apportioned the burden he should bear of the camp equipage. Such a collection of pots and pans and other paraphernalia had we amassed gradually during our stay, that our appearance as we crossed the glacier[pg 226]suggested rather that of certain inhabitants of Lagado mentioned in Gulliver’s voyage to Laputa. By nine o’clock we had deposited our burdens at the Montanvert and, disregarding the principles of the sages above referred to, ventured to corrode our lungs by articulating our wants to the landlord. This worthy received us with more than his usual affability, for the tidings of our success had in truth already reached the inn. A bottle of conical form was produced, the cork drawn with a monstrous explosion, and some very indifferent fluid poured out as a token of congratulation. In spite of, perhaps in consequence of, these early libations, we skipped down the well-worn and somewhat unsavoury path with great nimbleness, and in an hour or so found ourselves on the level path leading along the valley to Chamouni by the English church. There, I am pleased to record, the first man to congratulate us was our old friend M. Gabriel Loppé, without whose kindly sympathy and constant encouragement I doubt if we should have ever persevered to our successful end. It mattered little to us that but few of the Chamouni guides gave us credit for having really ascended the peak, for most of them maintained that we had merely reached a point on the south-east face of the lower summit; indeed, to those not so familiar with the details of the mountain as we were, it might well seem hard to realise that the crag jutting out on the right, as seen from Chamouni, is really the actual summit.[pg 227]Such is the record of the most fascinating rock climb with which I am acquainted. From beginning to end it is interesting. There is no wearisome tramping over loose moraine and no great extent of snow-field to traverse. The rocks are wondrously firm and big, and peculiarly unlike those on other mountains, even on many of the aiguilles about Chamouni.Mountaineering moralityAn odd code of mountaineering morality has gradually sprung into existence, and ideas as to what is fair and sportsmanlike in mountain climbing are somewhat peculiar. People speak somewhat vaguely of“artificial aid,”and are wont to criticise in very severe language the employment of such assistance, at the same time finding it rather hard, if driven into a corner, to define what they mean by the term. It would seem that artificial aid may signify the driving of iron pegs into rocks when nature has provided insufficient hand or foot-hold. Such a proceeding is considered highly improper. To cut a step in ice is right, but to chisel out a step on rock is in the highest degree unjustifiable. Again, a ladder may be used without critical animadversion to bridge a crevasse, but its employment over a rock cleft is tabooed. A certain amount of mountaineering equipment is not only considered proper, but those who go on the mountains without it are spoken of with great asperity, and called very hard names; but the equipment must not include anything beyond hobnails, rope, axes, and possibly a ladder for[pg 228]a crevasse; any other contrivance is sniffed at contemptuously as artificial aid. Rockets and such like are usually only mentioned in order to be condemned; while grapnels, chains, and crampons are held to be the inventions of the fiend. Why these unwritten laws should exist in such an imaginary code it is hard to see. Perhaps we must not consider too curiously on the matter. For my own part, if it could be proved that by no possible means could a given bad passage be traversed without some such aid, nor turned by another route, I should not hesitate to adopt any mechanical means to the desired end. As a matter of fact, in the Alps scarcely any such places exist for those who have taken the trouble to learn how to climb, and there are none on the Aiguille du Dru. We used our ladder often enough in exploring the mountain, but when we actually ascended it we employed it in one place only, saving thereby at least an hour of invaluable time. Indeed, subsequent explorers have found such to be the case; and Mr. W. E. Davidson, in a recent ascent of the mountain, was able to find his way without invoking the assistance of either ladder or fixed ropes. In a marvellously short space of time, too, did he get up and down the peak on which we had spent hours without number. Still, this is the fate of all mountains. The mountaineers who make the third ascent are, usually, able to sweep away the blushing honours that the first[pg 229]climbers might fondly hope they had invested the mountain with. A word, a stroke of the pen, will do it. The peaks do not yield gradually from their high estate, but fall, like Lucifer, from summit to ultimate destination, and are suddenly converted from“the most difficult mountain in the Alps”to“Oh yes; a fine peak, but not a patch upon Mount So-and-so.”It is but with the mountains as with other matters of this life, save in this respect, that once deposed they never can hope to reign again supreme. Statements concerning our fellow-creatures when of a depreciatory, and still more when of a scandal-flavoured, nature, are always believed by nine people out of ten to be, if not absolutely true, at any rate well-founded enough for repetition. A different estimate of the standard of veracity to be met with in this world is assumed when the remarks are favourable. Even so may it be, in some instances, with the mountains. The prestige that clings to a maiden peak is like the bark on a wand: peel it off, and it cannot be replaced; the bough withers, and is cast to one side, its character permanently altered.

A strange guideFrom four in the morning of the next day till seven in the evening, when we reached our bivouac again, we were climbing without intermission; not that our imbecile friend took any very active share in the day’s amusement. He was roped as last man in the caravan, and Hartley had to drag him up the glacier. He was as slow of foot as he was of understanding, and took no interest in the expedition. Twice we pointed out to him half-hidden crevasses and begged that he would be careful. Twice did he acknowledge our courtesy by disappearing abruptly into the snowy depths. Then he favoured us with a short biographical sketch of his wife, her attributes, and her affection for himself: he narrated the chief characteristics of his children, and dilated on the responsible position that as father of a family (probably all crétins, if there be any truth in the hereditary transmission of parental qualities) he considered that he occupied. Finally, as he appeared disposed to give us at length a memoir of his grandfather deceased, we decided to unrope him and let[pg 200]him have his own way in peace. For seven hours did he crouch under a little rock, not daring to move either up or down, or even to take the knapsack off his back.For the first time on this occasion did we succeed in climbing on to the main peak well above the level of the ridge we had so often reached, by means of leaving the gully at a much earlier point than usual. We followed the exact line that we had marked out mentally on the last occasion. At first progress was easy, but we could only make our way very slowly, seeing that we had but one short rope and only one guide; for we had injudiciously left the longer spare rope with our feeble-minded guide below, and no shouts or implorations could induce him to make his way up to us, nor had we leisure to go down to him; so we had to make the best of matters as they were. We soon found a place where the ladder might be of service, and spent some time in placing it in a position in which it remains I believe till this day.Now, personal considerations had to a great extent to be lost sight of in the desire to make the most of the day, and the result was that Hartley must have had a very bad time of it. Unfortunately perhaps for him he was by far the lightest member of the party; accordingly we argued that he was far less likely to break the rickety old ladder than we were. Again,[pg 201]as the lightest weight, he was most conveniently lowered down first over awkward places when they occurred.Our“jeune premier”In the times which are spoken of as old, and which have also, for some not very definable reason, the prefix good, if you wanted your chimneys swept you did not employ an individual now dignified by the title of a Ramoneur, but you adopted the simpler plan of calling in a master sweep. This person would come attended by a satellite, who wore the outward form of a boy and was gifted with certain special physical attributes. Especially was it necessary that the boy should be of such a size and shape as to fit nicely to the chimney, not so loosely on the one hand as to have any difficulty in ascending by means of his knees and elbows, nor so tightly on the other as to run any peril of being wedged in. The boy was then inserted into the chimney and did all the work, while the master remained below or sat expectant on the roof to encourage, to preside over, and subsequently to profit by, his apprentice’s exertions. We adopted much the same principle. Hartley, as the lightest, was cast for therôleof the“jeune premier”or boy, while Burgener and I on physical grounds alone filled the part, however unworthily, of the master sweep. As a play not infrequently owes its success to one actor, so did our“jeune premier,”sometimes very literally, pull us[pg 202]through on the present occasion. Gallantly indeed did he fulfil his duty. Whether climbing up a ladder slightly out of the perpendicular, leaning against nothing in particular and with overhanging rocks above; whether let down by a rope tied round his waist, so that he dangled like the sign of the“Golden Fleece”outside a haberdasher’s shop, or hauled up smooth slabs of rock with his raiment in an untidy heap around his neck; in each and all of these exercises he was equally at home, and would be let down or would come up smiling. One place gave us great difficulty. An excessively steep wall of rock presented itself and seemed to bar the way to a higher level. A narrow crack ran some little way up the face, but above the rock was slightly overhanging, and the water trickling from some higher point had led to the formation of a huge bunch of gigantic icicles, which hung down from above. It was necessary to get past these, but impossible to cut them away, as they would have fallen on us below. Burgener climbed a little way up the face, planted his back against it, and held on to the ladder in front of him, while I did the same just below: by this means we kept the ladder almost perpendicular, but feared to press the highest rung heavily against the icicles above lest we should break them off. We now invited Hartley to mount up. For the first few steps it was easy enough; but the leverage was more and more against us as he climbed[pg 203]higher, seeing that he could not touch the rock, and the strain on our arms below was very severe. However, he got safely to the top and disappeared from view. The performance was a brilliant one, but, fortunately, had not to be repeated; as on a subsequent occasion, by a deviation of about fifteen or twenty feet, we climbed to the same spot in a few minutes with perfect ease and without using any ladder at all. On this occasion, however, we must have spent fully an hour while Hartley performed his feats, which were not unworthy of a Japanese acrobat. Every few feet of the mountain at this part gave us difficulty, and it was curious to notice how, on this the first occasion of travelling over the rock face, we often selected the wrong route in points of detail. We ascended from twenty to fifty feet, then surveyed right and left, up and down, before going any further. The minutes slipped by fast, but I have no doubt now that if we had had time we might have ascended to the final arête on this occasion. We had often to retrace our steps, and whenever we did so found some slightly different line by which time could have been saved. Though the way was always difficult nothing was impossible, and when the word at last was given, owing to the failing light, to descend, we had every reason to be satisfied with the result of the day’s exploration. There seemed to be little doubt that we had traversed the most difficult part of the[pg 204]mountain, and, indeed, we found on a later occasion, with one or two notable exceptions, that such was the case.An acrobatic performanceHowever, at the time we did not think that, even if it were possible, it would be at all advisable to make our next attempt without a second guide. A telegram had been sent to Kaspar Maurer, instructing him to join us at the bivouac with all possible expedition. The excitement was thus kept up to the very last, for we knew not whether the message might have reached him, and the days of fine weather were precious.It was late in the evening when we reached again the head of the glacier, and the point where we had left the feeble creature who had started with us as a second guide. On beholding us once more he wept copiously, but whether his tears were those of gratitude for release from the cramped position in which he had spent his entire day, or of joy at seeing us safe again, or whether they were the natural overflow of an imbecile intellect stirred by any emotion whatever, it were hard to say; at any rate he wept, and then fell to a description of some interesting details concerning the proper mode of bringing up infants, and the duties of parents towards their children: the most important of which, in his estimation, was that the father of a family should run no risk whatever on a mountain. Reaching our bivouac, we[pg 205]looked anxiously down over the glacier for any signs of Kaspar Maurer. Two or three parties were seen crawling homewards towards the Montanvert over the ice-fields, but no signs of our guide were visible. As the shades of night, however, were falling, we were able indistinctly to see in the far-off distance a little black dot skipping over the Mer de Glace with great activity. Most eagerly did we watch the apparition, and when finally it headed in our direction and all doubt was removed as to the personality, we felt that our constant ill-luck was at last on the eve of changing. However, it was not till two days later that we left Chamouni once more for the nineteenth and, as it proved, for the last time to try the peak.Our nineteenth attemptOn September 11, we sat on the rocks a few feet above the camping-place. Never before had we been so confident of success. The next day’s climb was no longer to be one of exploration. We were to start as early as the light would permit, and we were to go up and always up, if necessary till the light should fail. Possibly we might have succeeded long before if we had had the same amount of determination to do so that we were possessed with on this occasion. We had made up our minds to succeed, and felt as if all our previous attempts had been but a sort of training for this special occasion. We had gone so far as to instruct our friends below to look[pg 206]out for us on the summit between twelve and two the next day. We had even gone to the length of bringing a stick wherewith to make a flag-staff on the top. Still one, and that a very familiar source of disquietude, harassed us as our eyes turned anxiously to the west. A single huge band of cloud hung heavily right across the sky, and looked like a harbinger of evil, for it was of a livid colour above, and tinged with a deep crimson red below. My companion was despondent at the prospect it suggested, and the guides tapped their teeth with their forefingers when they looked in that direction; but it was suggested by a more sanguine person that its form and very watery look suggested a Band of Hope. An insinuating smell of savoury soup was wafted up gently from below—Stealing and giving odour.We took courage; then descended to the tent, and took sustenance.There was no difficulty experienced in making an early start the next day, and the moment the grey light allowed us to see our way we set off. On such occasions, when the mind is strung up to a high pitch of excitement, odd and trivial little details and incidents fix themselves indelibly on the memory. I can recall as distinctly now, as if it had only happened a moment ago, the exact tone of voice in which Burgener, on looking out of the tent, announced that[pg 207]the weather would do. Burgener and Kaspar Maurer were now our guides, for our old enemy with the family ties had been paid off and sent away with a flea in his ear—an almost unnecessary adjunct, as anyone who had slept in the same tent with him could testify. Notwithstanding that Maurer was far from well, and rather weak, we mounted rapidly at first, for the way was by this time familiar enough, and we all meant business.The rocks of the DruOur position now was this. By our exploration on the last occasion we had ascertained that it was possible to ascend to a great height on the main mass of the mountain. From the slope of the rocks, and from the shape of the mountain, we felt sure that the final crest would be easy enough. We had then to find a way still up the face, from the point where we had turned back on our last attempt, to some point on the final ridge of the mountain. The rocks on this part we had never been able to examine very closely, for it is necessary to cross well over to the south-eastern face while ascending from the ridge between the Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte. A great projecting buttress of rock, some two or three hundred feet in height, cuts off the view of that part of the mountain over which we now hoped to make our way. By turning up straight behind this buttress, we hoped to hit off and reach the final crest just above the point where it merges into the precipitous north-eastern wall visible from[pg 208]the Chapeau. This part of the mountain can only be seen from the very head of the Glacier de la Charpoua just under the mass of the Aiguille Verte. But this point of view is too far off for accurate observations, and the strip of mountain was practically, therefore, aterra incognitato us.What next?We followed the gully running up from the head of the glacier towards the ridge above mentioned, keeping well to the left. Before long it was necessary to cross the gully on to the main peak. To make the topography clearer a somewhat prosaic and domestic simile may be employed. The Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte are connected by a long sharp ridge, towards which we were now climbing; and this ridge is let in as it were into the south-eastern side of the Aiguille du Dru, much as a comb may be stuck into the middle of a hairbrush, the latter article representing the main peak. Here we employed the ladder which had been placed in the right position the day previously. Right glad were we to see the rickety old structure which had now spent four years on the mountain, and was much the worse for it. It creaked and groaned dismally under our weight and ran sharp splinters into us at all points of contact, but yet there was a certain companionship about the old ladder, and we seemed almost to regret that it was not destined to share more in our prospective success. A few steps on and we came to a rough cleft some five-and-twenty feet[pg 209]in depth, which had to be descended. A double rope was fastened to a projecting crag, and we swung ourselves down as if we were barrels of split peas going into a ship’s hold; then to the ascent again, and the excitement waxed stronger as we drew nearer to the doubtful part of the mountain. Still, we did not anticipate insuperable obstacles; for I think we were possessed with a determination to succeed, which is a sensation often spoken of as a presentiment of success. A short climb up an easy broken gully, and of a sudden we seemed to be brought to a standstill. A little ledge at our feet curled round a projecting crag on the left.“What are we to do now?”said Burgener, but with a smile on his face that left no doubt as to the answer. He lay flat down on the ledge and wriggled round the projection, disappearing suddenly from view as if the rock had swallowed him up. A shout proclaimed that his expectations had not been deceived, and we were bidden to follow; and follow we did, sticking to the flat face of the rock with all our power, and progressing like the skates down the glass sides of an aquarium tank. When the last man joined us we found ourselves all huddled together on a very little ledge indeed, while an overhanging rock above compelled us to assume the anomalous attitude enforced on the occupant of a little-ease dungeon. What next? An eager look up solved part of the doubt.“There is the way,”said Burgener, leaning[pg 210]back to get a view.“Oh, indeed,”we answered. No doubt there was a way, and we were glad to hear that it was possible to get up it. The attractions of the route consisted of a narrow flat gully plastered up with ice, exceeding straight and steep and crowned at the top with a pendulous mass of enormous icicles. The gully resembled a half-open book standing up on end. Enthusiasts in rock-climbing who have ascended the Riffelhorn from the Görner Glacier side will have met with a similar gully, but, as a rule, free from ice, which, in the present instance, constituted the chief difficulty. The ice, filling up the receding angle from top to bottom, rendered it impossible to find hand-hold on the rocks, and it was exceedingly difficult to cut steps in such a place, for the slabs of ice were prone to break away entire. However, the guides said they could get up, and asked us to keep out of the way of chance fragments of ice which might fall down as they ascended. So we tucked ourselves away on one side, and they fell to as difficult a business as could well be imagined. The rope was discarded, and slowly they worked up, their backs and elbows against one sloping wall, their feet against the other. But the angle was too wide to give security to this position, the more especially that with shortened axes they were compelled to hack out enough of the ice to reveal the rock below. In such places the ice is but loosely adherent, being raised up from the face much[pg 211]as pie-crust dissociates itself from the fruit beneath under the influence of the oven. Strike lightly with the axe, and a hollow sound is yielded without much impression on the ice; strike hard, and the whole mass breaks away. But the latter method is the right one to adopt, though it necessitates very hard work. No steps are really reliable when cut in ice of this description.A narrow escapeThe masses of ice, coming down harder and harder as they ascended without intermission, showed how they were working, and the only consolation that we had during a time that we felt to be critical, was that the guides were not likely to expend so much labour unless they thought that some good result would come of it. Suddenly there came a sharp shout and cry; then a crash as a great slab of ice, falling from above, was dashed into pieces at our feet and leaped into the air; then a brief pause, and we knew not what would happen next. Either the gully had been ascended or the guides had been pounded, and failure here might be failure altogether. It is true that Hartley and I had urged the guides to find a way some little distance to the right of the line on which they were now working; but they had reported that, though easy below, the route we had pointed out was impossible above.5A faint scratching noise close above[pg 212]us, as of a mouse perambulating behind a wainscot. We look up. It is the end of a rope. We seize it, and our pull from below is answered by a triumphant yell from above as the line is drawn taut. Fastening the end around my waist, I started forth. The gully was a scene of ruin, and I could hardly have believed that two axes in so short a time could have dealt so much destruction. Nowhere were the guides visible, and in another moment there was a curious sense of solitariness as I battled with the obstacles, aided in no small degree by the rope. The top of the gully was blocked up by a great cube of rock, dripping still where the icicles had just been broken off. The situation appeared to me to demand deliberation, though it was not accorded.“Come on,”said voices from above.“Up you go,”said a voice from below. I leaned as far back as I could, and felt about for a hand-hold. There was none. Everything seemed smooth. Then right, then left; still none. So I smiled feebly to myself, and called out,“Wait a minute.”This was of course taken as an invitation to pull vigorously, and, struggling and kicking like a spider irritated by tobacco smoke, I topped the rock and lent a hand on the rope for Hartley to follow. Then we learnt that a great mass of ice had broken away under Maurer’s feet while they were in the gully, and that he must have fallen had not Burgener pinned him to the rock with one hand. From the[pg 213]number of times that this escape was described to us during that day and the next, I am inclined to think that it was rather a near thing. At the time, and often since, I have questioned myself as to whether we could have got up this passage without the rope let down from above. I think either of us could have done it in time with a companion. It was necessary for two to be in the gully at the same time, to assist each other. It was necessary also to discard the rope, which in such a place could only be a source of danger. But no amateur should have tried the passage on that occasion without confidence in his own powers, and without absolute knowledge of the limit of his own powers. If the gully had been free from ice it would have been much easier.The final scramble“The worst is over now,”said Burgener. I was glad to hear it, but, looking upwards, had my doubts. The higher we went the bigger the rocks seemed to be. Still there was a way, and it was not so very unlike what I had, times out of mind, pictured to myself in imagination. Another tough scramble and we stood on a comparatively extensive ledge. With elation we observed that we had now climbed more than half of the only part of the mountain of the nature of which we were uncertain. A few steps on and Burgener grasped me suddenly by the arm.“Do you see the great red rock up yonder?”he whispered, hoarse with excitement—“in ten minutes we shall be there and on[pg 214]the arête, and then——”Nothing could stop us now; but a feverish anxiety to see what lay beyond, to look on the final slope which we knew must be easy, impelled us on, and we worked harder than ever to overcome the last few obstacles. The ten minutes expanded into something like thirty before we really reached the rock. Of a sudden the mountain seemed to change its form. For hours we had been climbing the hard, dry rocks. Now these appeared suddenly to vanish from under our feet, and once again our eyes fell on snow which lay thick, half hiding, half revealing, the final slope of the ridge. A glance along it showed that we had not misjudged. Even the cautious Maurer admitted that, as far as we could see, all appeared promising. And now, with the prize almost within our grasp, a strange desire to halt and hang back came on. Burgener tapped the rock with his axe, and we seemed somehow to regret that the way in front of us must prove comparatively easy. Our foe had almost yielded, and it appeared something like cruelty to administer the finalcoup de grâce. We could already anticipate the half-sad feeling with which we should reach the top itself. It needed but little to make the feeling give way. Some one cried“Forwards,”and instantly we were all in our places again, and the leader’s axe crashed through the layers of snow into the hard blue ice beneath. A dozen steps, and then a short bit of rock scramble;[pg 215]then more steps along the south side of the ridge, followed by more rock, and the ridge beyond, which had been hidden for a minute or two, stretched out before us again as we topped the first eminence. Better and better it looked as we went on.“See there,”cried Burgener suddenly,“the actual top!”Our foe is vanquishedThere was no possibility of mistaking the two huge stones we had so often looked at from below. They seemed, in the excitement of the moment, misty and blurred for a brief space, but grew clear again as I passed my hand over my eyes and seemed to swallow something. A few feet below the pinnacles and on the left was one of those strange arches formed by a great transverse boulder, so common near the summits of these aiguilles, and through the hole we could see blue sky. Nothing could lay beyond, and, still better, nothing could be above. On again, while we could scarcely stand still in the great steps the leader set his teeth to hack out. Then there came a short troublesome bit of snow scramble, where the heaped-up cornice had fallen back from the final rock. There we paused for a moment, for the summit was but a few feet from us, and Hartley, who was ahead, courteously allowed me to unrope and go on first. In a few seconds I clutched at the last broken rocks, and hauled myself up on to the sloping summit. There for a moment I stood alone gazing down on Chamouni. The holiday dream of five years was accomplished;[pg 216]the Aiguille du Dru was climbed. Where in the wide world will you find a sport able to yield pleasure like this?Mountaineers are often asked,“What did you do when you got to the top?”With regard to this peak the same question has often been put to me, and I have often answered it, but, it must be confessed, always suppressing one or two facts. I do not know why I should conceal them now any longer, the more especially as I think there is a moral to be drawn from my experience, or I would still keep it locked up. I had tried so hard and so long to get up this little peak, that some reaction of mind was not improbable; but it took a turn which I had never before and have never since experienced in the slightest degree. For a second or two—it cannot have been longer—all the past seemed blotted out, all consciousness of self, all desire of life was lost, and I was seized with an impulse almost incontrollable to throw myself down the vertical precipice which lay immediately at my feet. I know not now, though the feeling is still and always will be intensely vivid, how it was resisted, but at the sound of the voices below the faculties seemed to return each to its proper place, and with the restoration of thementalbalance the momentary idea of violently overturning the physical balance vanished. What has happened to one may have happened to others. It appeared[pg 217]to me quite different from what is known as mountain vertigo. In fact, I never moved at all from where I stood, and awoke, as it were, to find myself looking calmly down the identical place. It may be that the mental equilibrium under similar circumstances has not always been so fortunately restored, and that thus calamities on the mountains may have taken place. In another minute the rest of the party ascended, and we were all reposing on the hard-won summit.On the summitFar below a little white speck representing Couttet’s Hotel was well in view, and towards this we directed our telescope. We could make out a few individuals wandering listlessly about, but there did not seem to be much excitement; in front of the Imperial Hotel, however, we were pleased to imagine that we saw somebody gazing in our direction. Accordingly, with much pomp and ceremony, the stick—which it may be stated was borrowed without leave—was fixed into a little cleft and tightly wedged in; then, to my horror, Burgener, with many chuckles at his own foresight and at the completeness of his equipment, produced from a concealed pocket a piece of scarlet flannel strongly suggestive of a baby’s under garment, and tied it on to the stick. I protested in vain; in a moment the objectionable rag was floating proudly in the breeze. However, it seemed to want airing. Determined that our ascent should be placed[pg 218]beyond doubt in the eyes of any subsequent visitors, we ransacked our stores, and were enabled to leave the following articles:—One half-pint bottle containing our names, preserved by a paper stopper from the inclemency of the weather; two wooden wedges of unknown use, two ends of string, three burnt fusees, divers chips, one stone man of dwarf proportions, the tenpenny stick, and the infant’s petticoat.There is a popular belief that the main object of climbing up a mountain is to get a view from the top. It may therefore be a matter of regret to some, but it will certainly be a matter of great congratulation to many others, that of the view obtained I can say but little. Chamouni looked very nice, however, from this distance. Turning towards the Aiguille Verte we were astonished to notice that this great mass appeared to tower far less above us than might have been expected from its much greater height and close proximity. On the other hand, the lower south-eastern peak of the Aiguille du Dru seemed much more below us than we had imagined would be the case. It is a moot point in mountaineering circles how much difference between two closely contiguous points is necessary in order that they may be rated as individual peaks. At the time we estimated the difference between the two peaks of our Aiguille to be about 80 feet, but Hartley, who has since climbed the lower point, estimates that the difference between the two must be at the very[pg 219]least 120 feet. Still, the comparative meagreness of the panorama did not affect our spirits, nor detract in any appreciable degree from the completeness of the expedition. The Aiguille du Dru is essentially an expedition only for those who love a good climb for climbing’s sake. Every step, every bit of scrambling, was—and is still—a pleasure.The return journeyWe had reached the top at half-past twelve, so that our estimate of the time required had been a very accurate one. After spending three-quarters of an hour on the summit we turned to the descent with regret, and possessed with much the same feeling as a schoolboy on Black Monday, who takes an affectionate farewell of all sorts of inanimate objects. Very difficult the descent proved to be. We were so anxious, now that our efforts had been finally crowned with success, that the whole expedition should pass off without the least misadventure, that we went much more slowly, and took more elaborate precautions than under ordinary circumstances would have been deemed necessary. From the start we had agreed that, whatever the hour, nothing should persuade us to hurry the least in the descent. On such mountains, however, as the Aiguille du Dru it is easier on the whole to get down than to get up, especially if a good supply of spare rope be included in the equipment. At three places we found it advisable to fix ropes in order to assist our progress. It was curious to observe how[pg 220]marvellously the aspect of the mountain was changed as we looked down the places up which we had climbed so recently; and there were so many deviations from the straight line, that the way was very difficult to find at all. Indeed, Burgener alone could hit it off with certainty, and, though last on the rope, directed the way without ever making the slightest mistake at any part. We followed precisely the same route as in ascending, and noticed few if any places where this route was capable of improvement, or even of alteration.Not till nearly five o’clock did we regain our abandoned store of provisions; the sight of the little white packets, and especially of a certain can of tinned meat, seen at a considerable distance below, incited us to great exertions, for since ten in the morning we had partaken of nothing but a sandwich crushed out of all recognisable shape. Ignoring the probability of being benighted on the rocks, we caroused merrily on seltzer water and the contents of the tin can. It seemed almost a pity to quit for good these familiar rocks on which we had spent such a glorious time, and the sun was sinking low behind the Brévent range, and the rocks were all darkened in the grey shadows, before the guides could persuade us to pack up and resume our journey. Very little time was lost in descending when we had once started, but before we had reached a certain little sloping ledge[pg 221]furnished with a collection of little pointed stones, and known as the breakfast place, the darkness had overtaken us. The glacier lay only a few feet below, when the mist which had been long threatening swept up and closed in around us. The crevasses at the head of the glacier were so complicated, and the snow bridges so fragile, that we thought it wiser not to go on at once, but to wait till the snow should have had time to harden. So we sat down under an overhanging rock, and made believe that we enjoyed the fun. Hartley wedged a stone under his waist, as if he were the hind wheel of a waggon going uphill, and imitated the inaction and attitude of a person going to sleep. The guides retired to a little distance and, as is their wont when inactive, fell to a warm discussion over the dimensions of the different chamois they had shot, each of course outvying the other in turn. The game has this merit at least, when there is plenty of spare time at disposal, that if the players only begin low enough down in the animal scale it is practically unlimited.BenightedBefore long the situation ceased to be amusing, as we found that we had managed to get wet through in the gully, and that the slowly falling temperature was exceedingly unpleasant. I converted a cowhide knapsack into a temporary foot-warmer, much to the detriment of such articles of food as were still stored in its recesses, and tucked a boot under each arm to keep the leather from hardening. Then we fell[pg 222]to discussing what we would have next day for breakfast, and for some two hours found a certain amount of solace in disputing over the merits of divers dainty dishes. Even this fertile subject failed at length to give adequate satisfaction. The ledge became colder and colder, and new spiky little points appeared to develop every moment. The argument of the sportsmen grew fainter, and we became slowly chilled through. For a while the mind became more active, but less logical, and fanciful visions crowded thickly through it. On such occasions it is seldom possible to fix the thoughts on events immediately past. To my drowsy gaze the mist seemed to take the form of our native fogs, while the condition of the ledge suggested obtrusively a newly macadamised road. Almost at will I could transport myself in imagination to the metropolis I had so recently left, or back again to the wild little ledge on which we were stranded. Following up the train of sensations, it was easy to conceive how reason might fail altogether, and how gradually, as the senses became numbed one by one, delirium might supervene from cold and exposure—as has often happened to arctic travellers. The thoughts flew off far afield, and pictured the exact contrast of the immediate surroundings. I saw a brilliantly lighted street with long rows of flaming lamps. The windows of the clubhouses shone out as great red and orange squares and oblongs. Carriages dashed by, cabs oscillated down[pg 223]the roads. Elegantly attired youths about to commence their wakeful period (why are men who only know the seamy side of life called“men of the world”? Is it so bad a world, my masters?) were strolling off to places of entertainment. A feeble, ragged creature crept along in the shadows. A worn, bright-eyed girl, just free from work which had begun at early dawn, dragged her aching limbs homewards, but stopped a moment to glance with envy at a mamma and two fair daughters crossing the pavement to their carriage; light, life, bustle, crowding everywhere. Faster and faster follow the shifting scenes till the visions jostle and become confused——A crack, a distant sound of a falling shower of stones, a hiss as they fall on to the snow slopes below. The eyes open, but the mind only half awakes, and almost immediately dreams again, with changed visions of comfortable rooms, in which the flickering light of a coal fire now throws up, now half conceals the close-drawn curtains, or the familiar form of books and pictures; visions of some formless individual with slippered feet disposed at judicious distance from the blazing coals, of soft carpets and deep arm-chairs moulded by long use into the precise intaglio adapted to the human frame; visions of a warm flood of subdued light, of things steaming gently with curling wreaths of vapour. All these passed in order before the mind, called up by the incantation of discomfort out of the cauldron of[pg 224]misery, like unto the regal display manifested to that impulsive and somewhat over-married individual, Macbeth.Shifting scenesBut before long it was most difficult to picture these pleasant sights so vividly as to become altogether oblivious of an exceedingly chilly personality, and ultimately human nature triumphed, and theegoin a rather frozen state became again paramount. I had begun to calculate the number of hours we might have to remain where we were, and the probable state in which we should be next morning, when of a sudden the mist lifted, and disclosed the glacier just below feebly lit up by the rising moon. We sprang instantly to our feet, almost as instantaneously returning to our former positions by reason of the exceeding stiffness and cramp begotten of the cold. The guides, leaving their discussion at a point where the last speaker had, in imagination, shot a chamois about the size of an elephant, descended to inspect the ice. The snow bridges were pronounced secure, and we were soon across the crevasses, but found to our disgust that we had rather overdone the waiting. The slope was hard frozen, and in the dim light it was found necessary to cut steps nearly the whole way down the glacier. For five hours and a half were we thus engaged, and did not reach our camp till 2.30A.M.Never did the tent look so comfortable as on that morning. If, as was[pg 225]remarked of Mrs. Gamp’s apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, to the contented mind a cottage is a palace, so to the weary frame may a tent be a luxurious hotel. We rushed over the loose rocks by the snout of the glacier, and ran helter-skelter for our bivouac. From the circumstance that the invariable struggle for the best pillow was usually brief, and that one of the party was discovered next morning wrong end foremost in his sleeping bag with his boots still on his feet, I am disposed to think that we were not long in dropping off to sleep; but the unstudied attitudes of the party suggested rather four revellers returning from a Greenwich dinner in a four-wheeled cab over a cobbled road than a company of sober mountaineers. By seven o’clock, however, the predominant thought of breakfast so asserted itself that we woke up and looked out.The camp breaks upThe first object that met our gaze was a large sheet of paper, affixed to the rock just in front of the tent, and bearing the simple inscription“Hooray!”This led us to surmise that our success was already known below; for the author of the legend had returned to Chamouni the previous evening, after having seen us on the summit. To each man was apportioned the burden he should bear of the camp equipage. Such a collection of pots and pans and other paraphernalia had we amassed gradually during our stay, that our appearance as we crossed the glacier[pg 226]suggested rather that of certain inhabitants of Lagado mentioned in Gulliver’s voyage to Laputa. By nine o’clock we had deposited our burdens at the Montanvert and, disregarding the principles of the sages above referred to, ventured to corrode our lungs by articulating our wants to the landlord. This worthy received us with more than his usual affability, for the tidings of our success had in truth already reached the inn. A bottle of conical form was produced, the cork drawn with a monstrous explosion, and some very indifferent fluid poured out as a token of congratulation. In spite of, perhaps in consequence of, these early libations, we skipped down the well-worn and somewhat unsavoury path with great nimbleness, and in an hour or so found ourselves on the level path leading along the valley to Chamouni by the English church. There, I am pleased to record, the first man to congratulate us was our old friend M. Gabriel Loppé, without whose kindly sympathy and constant encouragement I doubt if we should have ever persevered to our successful end. It mattered little to us that but few of the Chamouni guides gave us credit for having really ascended the peak, for most of them maintained that we had merely reached a point on the south-east face of the lower summit; indeed, to those not so familiar with the details of the mountain as we were, it might well seem hard to realise that the crag jutting out on the right, as seen from Chamouni, is really the actual summit.[pg 227]Such is the record of the most fascinating rock climb with which I am acquainted. From beginning to end it is interesting. There is no wearisome tramping over loose moraine and no great extent of snow-field to traverse. The rocks are wondrously firm and big, and peculiarly unlike those on other mountains, even on many of the aiguilles about Chamouni.Mountaineering moralityAn odd code of mountaineering morality has gradually sprung into existence, and ideas as to what is fair and sportsmanlike in mountain climbing are somewhat peculiar. People speak somewhat vaguely of“artificial aid,”and are wont to criticise in very severe language the employment of such assistance, at the same time finding it rather hard, if driven into a corner, to define what they mean by the term. It would seem that artificial aid may signify the driving of iron pegs into rocks when nature has provided insufficient hand or foot-hold. Such a proceeding is considered highly improper. To cut a step in ice is right, but to chisel out a step on rock is in the highest degree unjustifiable. Again, a ladder may be used without critical animadversion to bridge a crevasse, but its employment over a rock cleft is tabooed. A certain amount of mountaineering equipment is not only considered proper, but those who go on the mountains without it are spoken of with great asperity, and called very hard names; but the equipment must not include anything beyond hobnails, rope, axes, and possibly a ladder for[pg 228]a crevasse; any other contrivance is sniffed at contemptuously as artificial aid. Rockets and such like are usually only mentioned in order to be condemned; while grapnels, chains, and crampons are held to be the inventions of the fiend. Why these unwritten laws should exist in such an imaginary code it is hard to see. Perhaps we must not consider too curiously on the matter. For my own part, if it could be proved that by no possible means could a given bad passage be traversed without some such aid, nor turned by another route, I should not hesitate to adopt any mechanical means to the desired end. As a matter of fact, in the Alps scarcely any such places exist for those who have taken the trouble to learn how to climb, and there are none on the Aiguille du Dru. We used our ladder often enough in exploring the mountain, but when we actually ascended it we employed it in one place only, saving thereby at least an hour of invaluable time. Indeed, subsequent explorers have found such to be the case; and Mr. W. E. Davidson, in a recent ascent of the mountain, was able to find his way without invoking the assistance of either ladder or fixed ropes. In a marvellously short space of time, too, did he get up and down the peak on which we had spent hours without number. Still, this is the fate of all mountains. The mountaineers who make the third ascent are, usually, able to sweep away the blushing honours that the first[pg 229]climbers might fondly hope they had invested the mountain with. A word, a stroke of the pen, will do it. The peaks do not yield gradually from their high estate, but fall, like Lucifer, from summit to ultimate destination, and are suddenly converted from“the most difficult mountain in the Alps”to“Oh yes; a fine peak, but not a patch upon Mount So-and-so.”It is but with the mountains as with other matters of this life, save in this respect, that once deposed they never can hope to reign again supreme. Statements concerning our fellow-creatures when of a depreciatory, and still more when of a scandal-flavoured, nature, are always believed by nine people out of ten to be, if not absolutely true, at any rate well-founded enough for repetition. A different estimate of the standard of veracity to be met with in this world is assumed when the remarks are favourable. Even so may it be, in some instances, with the mountains. The prestige that clings to a maiden peak is like the bark on a wand: peel it off, and it cannot be replaced; the bough withers, and is cast to one side, its character permanently altered.

A strange guide

A strange guide

From four in the morning of the next day till seven in the evening, when we reached our bivouac again, we were climbing without intermission; not that our imbecile friend took any very active share in the day’s amusement. He was roped as last man in the caravan, and Hartley had to drag him up the glacier. He was as slow of foot as he was of understanding, and took no interest in the expedition. Twice we pointed out to him half-hidden crevasses and begged that he would be careful. Twice did he acknowledge our courtesy by disappearing abruptly into the snowy depths. Then he favoured us with a short biographical sketch of his wife, her attributes, and her affection for himself: he narrated the chief characteristics of his children, and dilated on the responsible position that as father of a family (probably all crétins, if there be any truth in the hereditary transmission of parental qualities) he considered that he occupied. Finally, as he appeared disposed to give us at length a memoir of his grandfather deceased, we decided to unrope him and let[pg 200]him have his own way in peace. For seven hours did he crouch under a little rock, not daring to move either up or down, or even to take the knapsack off his back.

For the first time on this occasion did we succeed in climbing on to the main peak well above the level of the ridge we had so often reached, by means of leaving the gully at a much earlier point than usual. We followed the exact line that we had marked out mentally on the last occasion. At first progress was easy, but we could only make our way very slowly, seeing that we had but one short rope and only one guide; for we had injudiciously left the longer spare rope with our feeble-minded guide below, and no shouts or implorations could induce him to make his way up to us, nor had we leisure to go down to him; so we had to make the best of matters as they were. We soon found a place where the ladder might be of service, and spent some time in placing it in a position in which it remains I believe till this day.

Now, personal considerations had to a great extent to be lost sight of in the desire to make the most of the day, and the result was that Hartley must have had a very bad time of it. Unfortunately perhaps for him he was by far the lightest member of the party; accordingly we argued that he was far less likely to break the rickety old ladder than we were. Again,[pg 201]as the lightest weight, he was most conveniently lowered down first over awkward places when they occurred.

Our“jeune premier”

Our“jeune premier”

In the times which are spoken of as old, and which have also, for some not very definable reason, the prefix good, if you wanted your chimneys swept you did not employ an individual now dignified by the title of a Ramoneur, but you adopted the simpler plan of calling in a master sweep. This person would come attended by a satellite, who wore the outward form of a boy and was gifted with certain special physical attributes. Especially was it necessary that the boy should be of such a size and shape as to fit nicely to the chimney, not so loosely on the one hand as to have any difficulty in ascending by means of his knees and elbows, nor so tightly on the other as to run any peril of being wedged in. The boy was then inserted into the chimney and did all the work, while the master remained below or sat expectant on the roof to encourage, to preside over, and subsequently to profit by, his apprentice’s exertions. We adopted much the same principle. Hartley, as the lightest, was cast for therôleof the“jeune premier”or boy, while Burgener and I on physical grounds alone filled the part, however unworthily, of the master sweep. As a play not infrequently owes its success to one actor, so did our“jeune premier,”sometimes very literally, pull us[pg 202]through on the present occasion. Gallantly indeed did he fulfil his duty. Whether climbing up a ladder slightly out of the perpendicular, leaning against nothing in particular and with overhanging rocks above; whether let down by a rope tied round his waist, so that he dangled like the sign of the“Golden Fleece”outside a haberdasher’s shop, or hauled up smooth slabs of rock with his raiment in an untidy heap around his neck; in each and all of these exercises he was equally at home, and would be let down or would come up smiling. One place gave us great difficulty. An excessively steep wall of rock presented itself and seemed to bar the way to a higher level. A narrow crack ran some little way up the face, but above the rock was slightly overhanging, and the water trickling from some higher point had led to the formation of a huge bunch of gigantic icicles, which hung down from above. It was necessary to get past these, but impossible to cut them away, as they would have fallen on us below. Burgener climbed a little way up the face, planted his back against it, and held on to the ladder in front of him, while I did the same just below: by this means we kept the ladder almost perpendicular, but feared to press the highest rung heavily against the icicles above lest we should break them off. We now invited Hartley to mount up. For the first few steps it was easy enough; but the leverage was more and more against us as he climbed[pg 203]higher, seeing that he could not touch the rock, and the strain on our arms below was very severe. However, he got safely to the top and disappeared from view. The performance was a brilliant one, but, fortunately, had not to be repeated; as on a subsequent occasion, by a deviation of about fifteen or twenty feet, we climbed to the same spot in a few minutes with perfect ease and without using any ladder at all. On this occasion, however, we must have spent fully an hour while Hartley performed his feats, which were not unworthy of a Japanese acrobat. Every few feet of the mountain at this part gave us difficulty, and it was curious to notice how, on this the first occasion of travelling over the rock face, we often selected the wrong route in points of detail. We ascended from twenty to fifty feet, then surveyed right and left, up and down, before going any further. The minutes slipped by fast, but I have no doubt now that if we had had time we might have ascended to the final arête on this occasion. We had often to retrace our steps, and whenever we did so found some slightly different line by which time could have been saved. Though the way was always difficult nothing was impossible, and when the word at last was given, owing to the failing light, to descend, we had every reason to be satisfied with the result of the day’s exploration. There seemed to be little doubt that we had traversed the most difficult part of the[pg 204]mountain, and, indeed, we found on a later occasion, with one or two notable exceptions, that such was the case.

An acrobatic performance

An acrobatic performance

However, at the time we did not think that, even if it were possible, it would be at all advisable to make our next attempt without a second guide. A telegram had been sent to Kaspar Maurer, instructing him to join us at the bivouac with all possible expedition. The excitement was thus kept up to the very last, for we knew not whether the message might have reached him, and the days of fine weather were precious.

It was late in the evening when we reached again the head of the glacier, and the point where we had left the feeble creature who had started with us as a second guide. On beholding us once more he wept copiously, but whether his tears were those of gratitude for release from the cramped position in which he had spent his entire day, or of joy at seeing us safe again, or whether they were the natural overflow of an imbecile intellect stirred by any emotion whatever, it were hard to say; at any rate he wept, and then fell to a description of some interesting details concerning the proper mode of bringing up infants, and the duties of parents towards their children: the most important of which, in his estimation, was that the father of a family should run no risk whatever on a mountain. Reaching our bivouac, we[pg 205]looked anxiously down over the glacier for any signs of Kaspar Maurer. Two or three parties were seen crawling homewards towards the Montanvert over the ice-fields, but no signs of our guide were visible. As the shades of night, however, were falling, we were able indistinctly to see in the far-off distance a little black dot skipping over the Mer de Glace with great activity. Most eagerly did we watch the apparition, and when finally it headed in our direction and all doubt was removed as to the personality, we felt that our constant ill-luck was at last on the eve of changing. However, it was not till two days later that we left Chamouni once more for the nineteenth and, as it proved, for the last time to try the peak.

Our nineteenth attempt

Our nineteenth attempt

On September 11, we sat on the rocks a few feet above the camping-place. Never before had we been so confident of success. The next day’s climb was no longer to be one of exploration. We were to start as early as the light would permit, and we were to go up and always up, if necessary till the light should fail. Possibly we might have succeeded long before if we had had the same amount of determination to do so that we were possessed with on this occasion. We had made up our minds to succeed, and felt as if all our previous attempts had been but a sort of training for this special occasion. We had gone so far as to instruct our friends below to look[pg 206]out for us on the summit between twelve and two the next day. We had even gone to the length of bringing a stick wherewith to make a flag-staff on the top. Still one, and that a very familiar source of disquietude, harassed us as our eyes turned anxiously to the west. A single huge band of cloud hung heavily right across the sky, and looked like a harbinger of evil, for it was of a livid colour above, and tinged with a deep crimson red below. My companion was despondent at the prospect it suggested, and the guides tapped their teeth with their forefingers when they looked in that direction; but it was suggested by a more sanguine person that its form and very watery look suggested a Band of Hope. An insinuating smell of savoury soup was wafted up gently from below—

Stealing and giving odour.

Stealing and giving odour.

We took courage; then descended to the tent, and took sustenance.

There was no difficulty experienced in making an early start the next day, and the moment the grey light allowed us to see our way we set off. On such occasions, when the mind is strung up to a high pitch of excitement, odd and trivial little details and incidents fix themselves indelibly on the memory. I can recall as distinctly now, as if it had only happened a moment ago, the exact tone of voice in which Burgener, on looking out of the tent, announced that[pg 207]the weather would do. Burgener and Kaspar Maurer were now our guides, for our old enemy with the family ties had been paid off and sent away with a flea in his ear—an almost unnecessary adjunct, as anyone who had slept in the same tent with him could testify. Notwithstanding that Maurer was far from well, and rather weak, we mounted rapidly at first, for the way was by this time familiar enough, and we all meant business.

The rocks of the Dru

The rocks of the Dru

Our position now was this. By our exploration on the last occasion we had ascertained that it was possible to ascend to a great height on the main mass of the mountain. From the slope of the rocks, and from the shape of the mountain, we felt sure that the final crest would be easy enough. We had then to find a way still up the face, from the point where we had turned back on our last attempt, to some point on the final ridge of the mountain. The rocks on this part we had never been able to examine very closely, for it is necessary to cross well over to the south-eastern face while ascending from the ridge between the Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte. A great projecting buttress of rock, some two or three hundred feet in height, cuts off the view of that part of the mountain over which we now hoped to make our way. By turning up straight behind this buttress, we hoped to hit off and reach the final crest just above the point where it merges into the precipitous north-eastern wall visible from[pg 208]the Chapeau. This part of the mountain can only be seen from the very head of the Glacier de la Charpoua just under the mass of the Aiguille Verte. But this point of view is too far off for accurate observations, and the strip of mountain was practically, therefore, aterra incognitato us.

What next?

What next?

We followed the gully running up from the head of the glacier towards the ridge above mentioned, keeping well to the left. Before long it was necessary to cross the gully on to the main peak. To make the topography clearer a somewhat prosaic and domestic simile may be employed. The Aiguille du Dru and the Aiguille Verte are connected by a long sharp ridge, towards which we were now climbing; and this ridge is let in as it were into the south-eastern side of the Aiguille du Dru, much as a comb may be stuck into the middle of a hairbrush, the latter article representing the main peak. Here we employed the ladder which had been placed in the right position the day previously. Right glad were we to see the rickety old structure which had now spent four years on the mountain, and was much the worse for it. It creaked and groaned dismally under our weight and ran sharp splinters into us at all points of contact, but yet there was a certain companionship about the old ladder, and we seemed almost to regret that it was not destined to share more in our prospective success. A few steps on and we came to a rough cleft some five-and-twenty feet[pg 209]in depth, which had to be descended. A double rope was fastened to a projecting crag, and we swung ourselves down as if we were barrels of split peas going into a ship’s hold; then to the ascent again, and the excitement waxed stronger as we drew nearer to the doubtful part of the mountain. Still, we did not anticipate insuperable obstacles; for I think we were possessed with a determination to succeed, which is a sensation often spoken of as a presentiment of success. A short climb up an easy broken gully, and of a sudden we seemed to be brought to a standstill. A little ledge at our feet curled round a projecting crag on the left.“What are we to do now?”said Burgener, but with a smile on his face that left no doubt as to the answer. He lay flat down on the ledge and wriggled round the projection, disappearing suddenly from view as if the rock had swallowed him up. A shout proclaimed that his expectations had not been deceived, and we were bidden to follow; and follow we did, sticking to the flat face of the rock with all our power, and progressing like the skates down the glass sides of an aquarium tank. When the last man joined us we found ourselves all huddled together on a very little ledge indeed, while an overhanging rock above compelled us to assume the anomalous attitude enforced on the occupant of a little-ease dungeon. What next? An eager look up solved part of the doubt.“There is the way,”said Burgener, leaning[pg 210]back to get a view.“Oh, indeed,”we answered. No doubt there was a way, and we were glad to hear that it was possible to get up it. The attractions of the route consisted of a narrow flat gully plastered up with ice, exceeding straight and steep and crowned at the top with a pendulous mass of enormous icicles. The gully resembled a half-open book standing up on end. Enthusiasts in rock-climbing who have ascended the Riffelhorn from the Görner Glacier side will have met with a similar gully, but, as a rule, free from ice, which, in the present instance, constituted the chief difficulty. The ice, filling up the receding angle from top to bottom, rendered it impossible to find hand-hold on the rocks, and it was exceedingly difficult to cut steps in such a place, for the slabs of ice were prone to break away entire. However, the guides said they could get up, and asked us to keep out of the way of chance fragments of ice which might fall down as they ascended. So we tucked ourselves away on one side, and they fell to as difficult a business as could well be imagined. The rope was discarded, and slowly they worked up, their backs and elbows against one sloping wall, their feet against the other. But the angle was too wide to give security to this position, the more especially that with shortened axes they were compelled to hack out enough of the ice to reveal the rock below. In such places the ice is but loosely adherent, being raised up from the face much[pg 211]as pie-crust dissociates itself from the fruit beneath under the influence of the oven. Strike lightly with the axe, and a hollow sound is yielded without much impression on the ice; strike hard, and the whole mass breaks away. But the latter method is the right one to adopt, though it necessitates very hard work. No steps are really reliable when cut in ice of this description.

A narrow escape

A narrow escape

The masses of ice, coming down harder and harder as they ascended without intermission, showed how they were working, and the only consolation that we had during a time that we felt to be critical, was that the guides were not likely to expend so much labour unless they thought that some good result would come of it. Suddenly there came a sharp shout and cry; then a crash as a great slab of ice, falling from above, was dashed into pieces at our feet and leaped into the air; then a brief pause, and we knew not what would happen next. Either the gully had been ascended or the guides had been pounded, and failure here might be failure altogether. It is true that Hartley and I had urged the guides to find a way some little distance to the right of the line on which they were now working; but they had reported that, though easy below, the route we had pointed out was impossible above.5A faint scratching noise close above[pg 212]us, as of a mouse perambulating behind a wainscot. We look up. It is the end of a rope. We seize it, and our pull from below is answered by a triumphant yell from above as the line is drawn taut. Fastening the end around my waist, I started forth. The gully was a scene of ruin, and I could hardly have believed that two axes in so short a time could have dealt so much destruction. Nowhere were the guides visible, and in another moment there was a curious sense of solitariness as I battled with the obstacles, aided in no small degree by the rope. The top of the gully was blocked up by a great cube of rock, dripping still where the icicles had just been broken off. The situation appeared to me to demand deliberation, though it was not accorded.“Come on,”said voices from above.“Up you go,”said a voice from below. I leaned as far back as I could, and felt about for a hand-hold. There was none. Everything seemed smooth. Then right, then left; still none. So I smiled feebly to myself, and called out,“Wait a minute.”This was of course taken as an invitation to pull vigorously, and, struggling and kicking like a spider irritated by tobacco smoke, I topped the rock and lent a hand on the rope for Hartley to follow. Then we learnt that a great mass of ice had broken away under Maurer’s feet while they were in the gully, and that he must have fallen had not Burgener pinned him to the rock with one hand. From the[pg 213]number of times that this escape was described to us during that day and the next, I am inclined to think that it was rather a near thing. At the time, and often since, I have questioned myself as to whether we could have got up this passage without the rope let down from above. I think either of us could have done it in time with a companion. It was necessary for two to be in the gully at the same time, to assist each other. It was necessary also to discard the rope, which in such a place could only be a source of danger. But no amateur should have tried the passage on that occasion without confidence in his own powers, and without absolute knowledge of the limit of his own powers. If the gully had been free from ice it would have been much easier.

The final scramble

The final scramble

“The worst is over now,”said Burgener. I was glad to hear it, but, looking upwards, had my doubts. The higher we went the bigger the rocks seemed to be. Still there was a way, and it was not so very unlike what I had, times out of mind, pictured to myself in imagination. Another tough scramble and we stood on a comparatively extensive ledge. With elation we observed that we had now climbed more than half of the only part of the mountain of the nature of which we were uncertain. A few steps on and Burgener grasped me suddenly by the arm.“Do you see the great red rock up yonder?”he whispered, hoarse with excitement—“in ten minutes we shall be there and on[pg 214]the arête, and then——”Nothing could stop us now; but a feverish anxiety to see what lay beyond, to look on the final slope which we knew must be easy, impelled us on, and we worked harder than ever to overcome the last few obstacles. The ten minutes expanded into something like thirty before we really reached the rock. Of a sudden the mountain seemed to change its form. For hours we had been climbing the hard, dry rocks. Now these appeared suddenly to vanish from under our feet, and once again our eyes fell on snow which lay thick, half hiding, half revealing, the final slope of the ridge. A glance along it showed that we had not misjudged. Even the cautious Maurer admitted that, as far as we could see, all appeared promising. And now, with the prize almost within our grasp, a strange desire to halt and hang back came on. Burgener tapped the rock with his axe, and we seemed somehow to regret that the way in front of us must prove comparatively easy. Our foe had almost yielded, and it appeared something like cruelty to administer the finalcoup de grâce. We could already anticipate the half-sad feeling with which we should reach the top itself. It needed but little to make the feeling give way. Some one cried“Forwards,”and instantly we were all in our places again, and the leader’s axe crashed through the layers of snow into the hard blue ice beneath. A dozen steps, and then a short bit of rock scramble;[pg 215]then more steps along the south side of the ridge, followed by more rock, and the ridge beyond, which had been hidden for a minute or two, stretched out before us again as we topped the first eminence. Better and better it looked as we went on.“See there,”cried Burgener suddenly,“the actual top!”

Our foe is vanquished

Our foe is vanquished

There was no possibility of mistaking the two huge stones we had so often looked at from below. They seemed, in the excitement of the moment, misty and blurred for a brief space, but grew clear again as I passed my hand over my eyes and seemed to swallow something. A few feet below the pinnacles and on the left was one of those strange arches formed by a great transverse boulder, so common near the summits of these aiguilles, and through the hole we could see blue sky. Nothing could lay beyond, and, still better, nothing could be above. On again, while we could scarcely stand still in the great steps the leader set his teeth to hack out. Then there came a short troublesome bit of snow scramble, where the heaped-up cornice had fallen back from the final rock. There we paused for a moment, for the summit was but a few feet from us, and Hartley, who was ahead, courteously allowed me to unrope and go on first. In a few seconds I clutched at the last broken rocks, and hauled myself up on to the sloping summit. There for a moment I stood alone gazing down on Chamouni. The holiday dream of five years was accomplished;[pg 216]the Aiguille du Dru was climbed. Where in the wide world will you find a sport able to yield pleasure like this?

Mountaineers are often asked,“What did you do when you got to the top?”With regard to this peak the same question has often been put to me, and I have often answered it, but, it must be confessed, always suppressing one or two facts. I do not know why I should conceal them now any longer, the more especially as I think there is a moral to be drawn from my experience, or I would still keep it locked up. I had tried so hard and so long to get up this little peak, that some reaction of mind was not improbable; but it took a turn which I had never before and have never since experienced in the slightest degree. For a second or two—it cannot have been longer—all the past seemed blotted out, all consciousness of self, all desire of life was lost, and I was seized with an impulse almost incontrollable to throw myself down the vertical precipice which lay immediately at my feet. I know not now, though the feeling is still and always will be intensely vivid, how it was resisted, but at the sound of the voices below the faculties seemed to return each to its proper place, and with the restoration of thementalbalance the momentary idea of violently overturning the physical balance vanished. What has happened to one may have happened to others. It appeared[pg 217]to me quite different from what is known as mountain vertigo. In fact, I never moved at all from where I stood, and awoke, as it were, to find myself looking calmly down the identical place. It may be that the mental equilibrium under similar circumstances has not always been so fortunately restored, and that thus calamities on the mountains may have taken place. In another minute the rest of the party ascended, and we were all reposing on the hard-won summit.

On the summit

On the summit

Far below a little white speck representing Couttet’s Hotel was well in view, and towards this we directed our telescope. We could make out a few individuals wandering listlessly about, but there did not seem to be much excitement; in front of the Imperial Hotel, however, we were pleased to imagine that we saw somebody gazing in our direction. Accordingly, with much pomp and ceremony, the stick—which it may be stated was borrowed without leave—was fixed into a little cleft and tightly wedged in; then, to my horror, Burgener, with many chuckles at his own foresight and at the completeness of his equipment, produced from a concealed pocket a piece of scarlet flannel strongly suggestive of a baby’s under garment, and tied it on to the stick. I protested in vain; in a moment the objectionable rag was floating proudly in the breeze. However, it seemed to want airing. Determined that our ascent should be placed[pg 218]beyond doubt in the eyes of any subsequent visitors, we ransacked our stores, and were enabled to leave the following articles:—One half-pint bottle containing our names, preserved by a paper stopper from the inclemency of the weather; two wooden wedges of unknown use, two ends of string, three burnt fusees, divers chips, one stone man of dwarf proportions, the tenpenny stick, and the infant’s petticoat.

There is a popular belief that the main object of climbing up a mountain is to get a view from the top. It may therefore be a matter of regret to some, but it will certainly be a matter of great congratulation to many others, that of the view obtained I can say but little. Chamouni looked very nice, however, from this distance. Turning towards the Aiguille Verte we were astonished to notice that this great mass appeared to tower far less above us than might have been expected from its much greater height and close proximity. On the other hand, the lower south-eastern peak of the Aiguille du Dru seemed much more below us than we had imagined would be the case. It is a moot point in mountaineering circles how much difference between two closely contiguous points is necessary in order that they may be rated as individual peaks. At the time we estimated the difference between the two peaks of our Aiguille to be about 80 feet, but Hartley, who has since climbed the lower point, estimates that the difference between the two must be at the very[pg 219]least 120 feet. Still, the comparative meagreness of the panorama did not affect our spirits, nor detract in any appreciable degree from the completeness of the expedition. The Aiguille du Dru is essentially an expedition only for those who love a good climb for climbing’s sake. Every step, every bit of scrambling, was—and is still—a pleasure.

The return journey

The return journey

We had reached the top at half-past twelve, so that our estimate of the time required had been a very accurate one. After spending three-quarters of an hour on the summit we turned to the descent with regret, and possessed with much the same feeling as a schoolboy on Black Monday, who takes an affectionate farewell of all sorts of inanimate objects. Very difficult the descent proved to be. We were so anxious, now that our efforts had been finally crowned with success, that the whole expedition should pass off without the least misadventure, that we went much more slowly, and took more elaborate precautions than under ordinary circumstances would have been deemed necessary. From the start we had agreed that, whatever the hour, nothing should persuade us to hurry the least in the descent. On such mountains, however, as the Aiguille du Dru it is easier on the whole to get down than to get up, especially if a good supply of spare rope be included in the equipment. At three places we found it advisable to fix ropes in order to assist our progress. It was curious to observe how[pg 220]marvellously the aspect of the mountain was changed as we looked down the places up which we had climbed so recently; and there were so many deviations from the straight line, that the way was very difficult to find at all. Indeed, Burgener alone could hit it off with certainty, and, though last on the rope, directed the way without ever making the slightest mistake at any part. We followed precisely the same route as in ascending, and noticed few if any places where this route was capable of improvement, or even of alteration.

Not till nearly five o’clock did we regain our abandoned store of provisions; the sight of the little white packets, and especially of a certain can of tinned meat, seen at a considerable distance below, incited us to great exertions, for since ten in the morning we had partaken of nothing but a sandwich crushed out of all recognisable shape. Ignoring the probability of being benighted on the rocks, we caroused merrily on seltzer water and the contents of the tin can. It seemed almost a pity to quit for good these familiar rocks on which we had spent such a glorious time, and the sun was sinking low behind the Brévent range, and the rocks were all darkened in the grey shadows, before the guides could persuade us to pack up and resume our journey. Very little time was lost in descending when we had once started, but before we had reached a certain little sloping ledge[pg 221]furnished with a collection of little pointed stones, and known as the breakfast place, the darkness had overtaken us. The glacier lay only a few feet below, when the mist which had been long threatening swept up and closed in around us. The crevasses at the head of the glacier were so complicated, and the snow bridges so fragile, that we thought it wiser not to go on at once, but to wait till the snow should have had time to harden. So we sat down under an overhanging rock, and made believe that we enjoyed the fun. Hartley wedged a stone under his waist, as if he were the hind wheel of a waggon going uphill, and imitated the inaction and attitude of a person going to sleep. The guides retired to a little distance and, as is their wont when inactive, fell to a warm discussion over the dimensions of the different chamois they had shot, each of course outvying the other in turn. The game has this merit at least, when there is plenty of spare time at disposal, that if the players only begin low enough down in the animal scale it is practically unlimited.

Benighted

Benighted

Before long the situation ceased to be amusing, as we found that we had managed to get wet through in the gully, and that the slowly falling temperature was exceedingly unpleasant. I converted a cowhide knapsack into a temporary foot-warmer, much to the detriment of such articles of food as were still stored in its recesses, and tucked a boot under each arm to keep the leather from hardening. Then we fell[pg 222]to discussing what we would have next day for breakfast, and for some two hours found a certain amount of solace in disputing over the merits of divers dainty dishes. Even this fertile subject failed at length to give adequate satisfaction. The ledge became colder and colder, and new spiky little points appeared to develop every moment. The argument of the sportsmen grew fainter, and we became slowly chilled through. For a while the mind became more active, but less logical, and fanciful visions crowded thickly through it. On such occasions it is seldom possible to fix the thoughts on events immediately past. To my drowsy gaze the mist seemed to take the form of our native fogs, while the condition of the ledge suggested obtrusively a newly macadamised road. Almost at will I could transport myself in imagination to the metropolis I had so recently left, or back again to the wild little ledge on which we were stranded. Following up the train of sensations, it was easy to conceive how reason might fail altogether, and how gradually, as the senses became numbed one by one, delirium might supervene from cold and exposure—as has often happened to arctic travellers. The thoughts flew off far afield, and pictured the exact contrast of the immediate surroundings. I saw a brilliantly lighted street with long rows of flaming lamps. The windows of the clubhouses shone out as great red and orange squares and oblongs. Carriages dashed by, cabs oscillated down[pg 223]the roads. Elegantly attired youths about to commence their wakeful period (why are men who only know the seamy side of life called“men of the world”? Is it so bad a world, my masters?) were strolling off to places of entertainment. A feeble, ragged creature crept along in the shadows. A worn, bright-eyed girl, just free from work which had begun at early dawn, dragged her aching limbs homewards, but stopped a moment to glance with envy at a mamma and two fair daughters crossing the pavement to their carriage; light, life, bustle, crowding everywhere. Faster and faster follow the shifting scenes till the visions jostle and become confused——A crack, a distant sound of a falling shower of stones, a hiss as they fall on to the snow slopes below. The eyes open, but the mind only half awakes, and almost immediately dreams again, with changed visions of comfortable rooms, in which the flickering light of a coal fire now throws up, now half conceals the close-drawn curtains, or the familiar form of books and pictures; visions of some formless individual with slippered feet disposed at judicious distance from the blazing coals, of soft carpets and deep arm-chairs moulded by long use into the precise intaglio adapted to the human frame; visions of a warm flood of subdued light, of things steaming gently with curling wreaths of vapour. All these passed in order before the mind, called up by the incantation of discomfort out of the cauldron of[pg 224]misery, like unto the regal display manifested to that impulsive and somewhat over-married individual, Macbeth.

Shifting scenes

Shifting scenes

But before long it was most difficult to picture these pleasant sights so vividly as to become altogether oblivious of an exceedingly chilly personality, and ultimately human nature triumphed, and theegoin a rather frozen state became again paramount. I had begun to calculate the number of hours we might have to remain where we were, and the probable state in which we should be next morning, when of a sudden the mist lifted, and disclosed the glacier just below feebly lit up by the rising moon. We sprang instantly to our feet, almost as instantaneously returning to our former positions by reason of the exceeding stiffness and cramp begotten of the cold. The guides, leaving their discussion at a point where the last speaker had, in imagination, shot a chamois about the size of an elephant, descended to inspect the ice. The snow bridges were pronounced secure, and we were soon across the crevasses, but found to our disgust that we had rather overdone the waiting. The slope was hard frozen, and in the dim light it was found necessary to cut steps nearly the whole way down the glacier. For five hours and a half were we thus engaged, and did not reach our camp till 2.30A.M.Never did the tent look so comfortable as on that morning. If, as was[pg 225]remarked of Mrs. Gamp’s apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, to the contented mind a cottage is a palace, so to the weary frame may a tent be a luxurious hotel. We rushed over the loose rocks by the snout of the glacier, and ran helter-skelter for our bivouac. From the circumstance that the invariable struggle for the best pillow was usually brief, and that one of the party was discovered next morning wrong end foremost in his sleeping bag with his boots still on his feet, I am disposed to think that we were not long in dropping off to sleep; but the unstudied attitudes of the party suggested rather four revellers returning from a Greenwich dinner in a four-wheeled cab over a cobbled road than a company of sober mountaineers. By seven o’clock, however, the predominant thought of breakfast so asserted itself that we woke up and looked out.

The camp breaks up

The camp breaks up

The first object that met our gaze was a large sheet of paper, affixed to the rock just in front of the tent, and bearing the simple inscription“Hooray!”This led us to surmise that our success was already known below; for the author of the legend had returned to Chamouni the previous evening, after having seen us on the summit. To each man was apportioned the burden he should bear of the camp equipage. Such a collection of pots and pans and other paraphernalia had we amassed gradually during our stay, that our appearance as we crossed the glacier[pg 226]suggested rather that of certain inhabitants of Lagado mentioned in Gulliver’s voyage to Laputa. By nine o’clock we had deposited our burdens at the Montanvert and, disregarding the principles of the sages above referred to, ventured to corrode our lungs by articulating our wants to the landlord. This worthy received us with more than his usual affability, for the tidings of our success had in truth already reached the inn. A bottle of conical form was produced, the cork drawn with a monstrous explosion, and some very indifferent fluid poured out as a token of congratulation. In spite of, perhaps in consequence of, these early libations, we skipped down the well-worn and somewhat unsavoury path with great nimbleness, and in an hour or so found ourselves on the level path leading along the valley to Chamouni by the English church. There, I am pleased to record, the first man to congratulate us was our old friend M. Gabriel Loppé, without whose kindly sympathy and constant encouragement I doubt if we should have ever persevered to our successful end. It mattered little to us that but few of the Chamouni guides gave us credit for having really ascended the peak, for most of them maintained that we had merely reached a point on the south-east face of the lower summit; indeed, to those not so familiar with the details of the mountain as we were, it might well seem hard to realise that the crag jutting out on the right, as seen from Chamouni, is really the actual summit.

Such is the record of the most fascinating rock climb with which I am acquainted. From beginning to end it is interesting. There is no wearisome tramping over loose moraine and no great extent of snow-field to traverse. The rocks are wondrously firm and big, and peculiarly unlike those on other mountains, even on many of the aiguilles about Chamouni.

Mountaineering morality

Mountaineering morality

An odd code of mountaineering morality has gradually sprung into existence, and ideas as to what is fair and sportsmanlike in mountain climbing are somewhat peculiar. People speak somewhat vaguely of“artificial aid,”and are wont to criticise in very severe language the employment of such assistance, at the same time finding it rather hard, if driven into a corner, to define what they mean by the term. It would seem that artificial aid may signify the driving of iron pegs into rocks when nature has provided insufficient hand or foot-hold. Such a proceeding is considered highly improper. To cut a step in ice is right, but to chisel out a step on rock is in the highest degree unjustifiable. Again, a ladder may be used without critical animadversion to bridge a crevasse, but its employment over a rock cleft is tabooed. A certain amount of mountaineering equipment is not only considered proper, but those who go on the mountains without it are spoken of with great asperity, and called very hard names; but the equipment must not include anything beyond hobnails, rope, axes, and possibly a ladder for[pg 228]a crevasse; any other contrivance is sniffed at contemptuously as artificial aid. Rockets and such like are usually only mentioned in order to be condemned; while grapnels, chains, and crampons are held to be the inventions of the fiend. Why these unwritten laws should exist in such an imaginary code it is hard to see. Perhaps we must not consider too curiously on the matter. For my own part, if it could be proved that by no possible means could a given bad passage be traversed without some such aid, nor turned by another route, I should not hesitate to adopt any mechanical means to the desired end. As a matter of fact, in the Alps scarcely any such places exist for those who have taken the trouble to learn how to climb, and there are none on the Aiguille du Dru. We used our ladder often enough in exploring the mountain, but when we actually ascended it we employed it in one place only, saving thereby at least an hour of invaluable time. Indeed, subsequent explorers have found such to be the case; and Mr. W. E. Davidson, in a recent ascent of the mountain, was able to find his way without invoking the assistance of either ladder or fixed ropes. In a marvellously short space of time, too, did he get up and down the peak on which we had spent hours without number. Still, this is the fate of all mountains. The mountaineers who make the third ascent are, usually, able to sweep away the blushing honours that the first[pg 229]climbers might fondly hope they had invested the mountain with. A word, a stroke of the pen, will do it. The peaks do not yield gradually from their high estate, but fall, like Lucifer, from summit to ultimate destination, and are suddenly converted from“the most difficult mountain in the Alps”to“Oh yes; a fine peak, but not a patch upon Mount So-and-so.”It is but with the mountains as with other matters of this life, save in this respect, that once deposed they never can hope to reign again supreme. Statements concerning our fellow-creatures when of a depreciatory, and still more when of a scandal-flavoured, nature, are always believed by nine people out of ten to be, if not absolutely true, at any rate well-founded enough for repetition. A different estimate of the standard of veracity to be met with in this world is assumed when the remarks are favourable. Even so may it be, in some instances, with the mountains. The prestige that clings to a maiden peak is like the bark on a wand: peel it off, and it cannot be replaced; the bough withers, and is cast to one side, its character permanently altered.

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