THE OROMANIACAL QUEST

'It's true my prospects all look blue—But don't let that unsettle you!Never you mind.Roll on!' (It rolls on.)

And as it rolls on down the distances of my mind, it leaves me, being in a very contrary frame of mind, somewhat comforted. Moreover, it opens up new channels for thought, and those exquisite lines on golf that occur somewhere inParadise Lostare of course at once suggested, but I am too lazy to find the context:—

'So eagerly with horrid voice the FiendCries "Fore!" as he o'er the far bunker drivesThe errant ball; it with the setting sunDropp'd from the zenith like a falling star,Alas! untruly urged, it lies in Hell.'

Then I muse over all the golf-courses that I have played on or seen, from St. Andrews to an improvised one above Astor amongst the stately pines on the Himalayan mountains, when the snow peaks and the glaciers, glistening in the marvelloussunshine, play hide-and-seek with the white fleecy clouds that drift over their summits.

Those wonderful mountains! what magnificent outlines, what grandeur, what mystery, what!... Stop! can I be growing sentimental? It must have been the dinner that has produced this particular physiological sensation.

However, the sensation is passing, and my thoughts have flown back naturally to the subject of dinners. Yes, many dinners—what a subject!—glorious, unapproachable, exhaustless dinners! I could write pages, volumes, in praise of dinners; but not for the vulgar, not for the uninitiated—that surely were sacrilege. Dinners that with subtle and insinuating address came and went, leaving behind them fascinating and precious memories, even though 'good digestion did not wait on appetite.' Dinners, too, eaten under the stars. Yes, now I think of it, thatwasa dinner! when four of us ate a whole sheep, after two weary days and nights spent starving on the icy slopes of Nanga Parbat.

Mountaineering, truly thou art a marvellous and goodly provoker of hunger! Those mortals who may be in search of sensations—big, boisterous, blustering sensations not to be denied—should sacrifice often on thy altars, O Goddess of the Hills!

In the mountains, however, these sensations, these inspired ecstasies of mind and body, may be pushed sometimes rather far; then the recoil comes, and with it contrast, which however is often agreeable. But these memories of unpleasant Alpine half-hours grow faint as one sits in a satisfying arm-chair—they are easily discounted in a process of mental dissipation, by which one cheats oneself; and finally, it is easy to believe that there is no sport like mountaineering. Of course this conclusion is fallacious—conclusions sometimes are. Again my thoughts are interrupted. Outside in the cold, the rain, and the darkness some poor wretch is making night hideous by attempting to sing—

'There is a 'appy land, for for awye.'

Most true! most philosophical! The Islands of the Blest usually are some distance away. We have been told by the poet that neither are they to be attained by omnibuses, nor to be approached by

'A ram-you-damn-you liner with a brace of bucking screws.'

Therefore why disturb the darkness, O most miserable one, by dismal reiteration of a well-known fact? But still the song moans out its Cockney dialect, false notes, and falser sentiment; and thesinger, drenched to the skin, possibly starving, with probably only one desire, and that for drink, goes his way. I hear the melancholy music die into the distance. Of a truth his sensations cannot be pleasant; but with these few coppers changed into the equivalent of alcohol perhaps he also may

'Life's leaden metal into gold transmute,'

and cheat himself into the belief that life is worth living. That last sentence, now I come to read it over again, seems perhaps a trifle cynical;seems, certainly, but are we not told that things often 'are not what they seem'? I have heard the late poet laureate accused (and by a Scotchwoman, too!) of writing slang.

'Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly towards the west.'

My thoughts, too, are 'sloping' in a westerly direction. I am on a personally-conducted tour—my brain is in command, and I am the spectator.

If only I can forget that those letters have to be answered, and if no other miserable wretch comes to sing touching refrains outside in the rain, my brain and I shall thoroughly enjoy each other's company; whilst the firelight sheds its dim radiance over glimpses of the metamorphised past and the indeterminable future, till all is so blendedtogether that I cannot tell whether these things have been or are to be.

I see long stretches of Rannoch moor as Stevenson saw it, 'where the mists rise and die away, and showed us that country lying as waste as the sea; only the moorfowl and the peewees crying upon it, and far over to the east a herd of deer moving like dots. Much of it is red with heather; much of the rest broken up with bogs and hags and peaty pools; some had been burnt black in a heath fire; and in another place there are quite a forest of dead firs, standing like skeletons.'

Northward over the moor ponderous Ben Alder lifts his bleak and barren top in massive strength above lonely Loch Ericht, whilst beyond the loch, Schehallion's slender summit, deep blue in the evening sky, tells of that fierce day when the body of the dead Graham lay on the hillside and the sun went down on a lost cause.

Southward are the peaks of the Black Mount and the peaceful hills that feed the upper waters of Glen Lyon; then Buchaille Etive and all those wild, rocky mountains further west, dominating wild Glencoe, stir the memory with the story of how Campbell of Glen Lyon betrayed and murdered the whole of the M'Ians with treachery as black as the cliffs of the Aonach Dubh and as cruel asthe winter winds that sweep mercilessly across the corries and pinnacles of Bidean nam Bian, the peak of the storms. Or in imagination I follow Alan Breck with Davie Balfour as they flee by the sea-loch that separates Appin from Mamore up and across to the great moor, toiling and resting, but ever onward, till amongst the labyrinth of glens in the heart of the forest of Ben Alder they found Cluny Macpherson. Yes, Rannoch moor is wild and desolate; and could the grey blocks of stone or the bare slabs of granite that lie amongst the brown heather speak, surely there would be many more tales of bygone adventures to listen to and wonder over.

From Rannoch my mind wanders across the stretches of blue water, past stormy Ardnamurchan to the island of Mull. I am on the summit of Ben More; below lies a ridge smothered in snow and ice. I am trying all I can with words of sweet persuasion to entice my companion, Colin Phillip, down what is obviously the shortest route to the next peak, A Chioch. But he says it is impossible, he will not trust himself on that slope of snow and ice. Now my thoughts fly to the shores of Loch Earn. I am listening to one, a geologist, who expounds to me the marvels of the prehistoric glacier; he also, with words of sweet persuasion,is trying to make me believe that Loch Morar was excavated by a glacier. Those wonderful geological truths, how simple, how all-sufficient they are to explain to the uninitiated the why and wherefore of the ancient mountains; but put not your trust in them; they suffer by the process of evolution, and are changed. Without doubt, in those days Phillip believed that I was totally ignorant of mountaineering; whilst now, perhaps, that geologist thinks that I am equally ignorant of the truth. Whether it is the truth about Loch Morar that I mean, or about that geologist's statement, or about my own, I really don't know.

In imagination I am hurried on; I see myself, footsore and weary, wandering through Ardgour and Moidart, or across from Invercannich through Affric's wild glens down to Shiel House, by the western sea; now I am glissading down Beinn Alligin, or hacking my way through a cornice, apparently hundreds of feet high, on Aonach Mor, my companion Travers meanwhile slowly freezing on the brink of anabsolutelyperpendicular ice slope, the daylight waning, and our retreat cut off. Then comes a glimpse of the platform at Kingshouse station. I am addressing winged words to Colin Phillip, and he is engaged in a contentious refutation of my argument. The subject is not atall interesting—only the comparative usefulness of painting and photography as a means for reproducing mountain form; but the result is most disgraceful, for presently we are seen sitting at different ends of the platform waiting for the train, and thinking—well, it doesn't matter what we thought. Was it yesterday, or when, that all these things happened? Still it cannot be so very long ago that Phillip climbed Sgurr Alasdair, the finest peak of the Coolin in Skye. Would that on that occasion, just below the summit, I had possessed a camera, for then could I have shown Phillip that photography at least was capable of very faithfully reproducing his manly and superior form, as he was seen approaching the cairn, even though it might be useless in giving us the true proportions of inferior mountains. Neither do I think that I should be overstepping the bounds of prudence should I assert that Colin Phillip has a marked dislike for stone walls. I have hopes, however, that some day a happy combination of the despised camera—the stone wall and Phillip—may yield interesting results. Little did Phillip think, that evening at Kingshouse, that a time would come when the maligned camera would turn—turn its eye on Phillip and on that stone wall—and wink with malicious pleasure.

But in spite of winged words, weary feet, and endless eggs and bacon, these were fine times—from Sutherland to the Galloway Highlands, from Mull to the mountains on Deeside, Colin Phillip and I have wandered in fair weather and in foul.

We have waxed enthusiastic over the Cairngorm mountains. We have watched the last light of day fade far away over the Atlantic behind the islands of the west; and although we may have disagreed in many things, yet we have always acknowledged that for wild beauty, for colour, for atmospheric effects and lonely grandeur, we know of no country that is equal to the Highlands of Scotland.

But a younger century has arrived, and

'The old order changeth, yielding place to new.'

Somewhere have I seen some remarks about the Coolin, where no mention is made of the mountains as being capable of stirring the imagination or gratifying the mind; no, the subject was 'the ridiculously easy nature of the climbing in Skye,' 'the gabbro of the Coolin being too good,' and so on, the New Mountaineer merely looking upon these peaks and ribs of splintered rock as a useful spot where gymnastic feats might be performed, and even compares the Coolin unfavourably with the decomposing granite slabs at the head of GlenSannox. Truly the glory of the mountains is departing. The progressive, democratical[P]finger of the 'New Mountaineer' is laid with equal irreverence and mockery on Sgurr nan Gillean and Cir Mhor, and this spirit of irresponsible criticism 'fulfils itself in many ways.' It is not the first time that the Coolin have been 'slandered.' Have they not been called 'inferior mountains'? (Modern Painters). Now the climbers 'run' over the Pinnacle Ridge of Sgurr nan Gillean, and no doubt the next generation (if they have wise fathers) will be induced to take their maternal grandmothers up the inaccessible summit of Sgurr Dearg. One by one the recollections of all our most cherished climbs will be punctured, flat and unprofitable as a collapsed bicycle tire; they will rotate over the rough roads of bygone memories, whilst that progressive democratical finger will guide the new nickel-plated, pneumatic-cushioned, electrically-driven modern mountaineer on his fascinating career. But to return. I am still sitting in my comfortable arm-chair, and looking at my own fingers to see whether they possess a progressive democratical appearance.

Before me passes the vision of a mountain, a beautiful, many-headed mountain, hidden awayfrom democratical enemies of mountaineering, and without the line of vulgarity. Carefully enclosed on its western face lies a corrie named Coire Mhic Fhearchair. I see a party wandering up its glacier-worn entrance. At its head the mist lies low down, but not low enough to hide the precipices that encircle the lochan in its centre. On the right, snow-filled gullies sweep with graceful curves from a dome-shaped peak.

But it is the rock escarpment at the back of the corrie that fascinates their gaze. As the mists begin to clear one by one, they suggest climbs on its face, for there are 1250 feet of bare rock in front of them, broken up into three distinct buttresses with two splendid gullies dividing them. At last they choose the right-hand gully, and, having roped themselves, proceed to cut steps up the steep snow that has drifted into it and obliterated any perpendicular pitches there may be. I am sorry that there are no perpendicular pitches—it is most unfortunate; for I should like to see that party performing all these daring feats so well known to, and beloved by, the professional rock climber, 'How things began to look rather blue.' 'How for a minute or two one of the party remained spread-eagled on the face of a cliff almost despairing of getting up, the desired crackbeing a good two feet out of reach, till, with a supreme effort, he was propelled from below by a sudden and powerful jerk, his outstretched fingers seize the desired crack.' Nor can I describe how 'the heavy man of the party, his finger tips playing upon the face of the cliff with the delicacy of touch of a professional pianist, his every movement suggestive of the bounding lightness of the airy thistle-down,' followed. No, I am sorry I have no such wildly exciting adventures to relate, nor such poetical fancies wherewith to eke out a plain story. I see that party merely climbing up that gully, in a most uninteresting yet simple manner, by cutting steps. They come to where it ends against a perpendicular and overhanging cliff at least a couple of hundred feet high. Only 200 feet, but higher they cannot go, for none of the party are sufficiently muscular to propel the leader with a jerk upwards that paltry 200 feet. Therefore they climb out to their left, along a narrow and somewhat broken ledge, on to the middle buttress, where a place is found large enough for them all to sit down. They gaze upwards at the last 300 feet that separate them from the summit, but it is steep, very steep, 'A.P.'[Q]Also, it is late in the afternoon; so they comfort themselves by buildinga cairn, and eating all these delicious things that are so good on a mountain-side—meat sandwiches which have remained from lunch, and taste so full of mustard and so delightfully dry; old, old prunes encrusted with all kinds of additional nutriment from the bottom of some one's pocket; a much-worn stick of chocolate, or perhaps an acidulated drop—on such fare does the hardy mountaineer feed. I see them once more in the gully, but they descend more rapidly than they climbed up it, for the more daring of the party glissade down the lower part, and so home.

On the morrow, however, I see three of the party again setting forth for that precipice. This time, instead of approaching it from the north-west by the Allt Toll a'Ghiubhais, they hire a machine, and drive as far as the foot of Sgurr Bàn on the southern side; then mounting to the peak just to the west of Sgurr Bàn by a well-made deer path, they soon arrive at the summit of the middle buttress, overlooking Coire Mhic Fhearchair. They climb out to the very end of the nose and look down, straight below, and only 300 feet away is the little cairn built on the preceding afternoon, but, as I have remarked before, that 300 feet is very steep. A photograph taken from the most southerly of the three buttresses, so as to get the middle buttressin profile, shows the angle of the last 200 feet to be about 85 degrees, not quite but very nearly 'A.P.' However, they think that they may as well see how far they can descend. The rocks on the left-hand (southern) side of the buttress are obligingly broken up, so that by a series of small climbs the party are enabled to get from one small platform to the next, always edging towards the outside of the buttress. At last they all congregate together. A perpendicular slab, which has partly come away from the front of the crags, bars their way to the right, and, below, a quite perpendicular drop of about 200 feet on to the ledge quietly but firmly impresses on them the fact that that way is not for them. But always in mountaineering, just as things become quite hopeless and 'blue,' then it is the duty of the person who describes the adventure to appeal to the feelings of the public (who, presumably, are unacquainted with that particular climb). It is his duty to picture these unfortunate individuals, fearful that their retreat is cut off, yet unable to proceed; how, having dangled on the ends of ropes, swinging backwards and forwards in the breeze, they return to the ledge baffled; or having climbed on each other's shoulders, they find 'the desired crack two good feet out of reach,' and there is not always onein the party powerful enough to 'propel' the leader 'from below by a sudden and powerful jerk, so that he can with outstretched fingers clutch that desired crack.' But still, with a little imagination, we can see these things. A good imagination is necessary, I may say very necessary, to the enthusiastic climber; much pleasure is otherwise lost.

The party I see, evidently has none of this precious imagination. They are obviously wasting their opportunities most shamefully on that rock face. I see one of them climb out on to the face just under the great loose slab, and disappear round the corner; then the rest follow, and find themselves on the topmost of a series of ledges, and about 200 feet above the small cairn below. I will not describe that traverse, but will merely mention that the party seem quite pleased with it. Then they begin the descent. First they get down a narrow slit between a slab and the buttress, and with a drop of about 10 feet get into the next ledge. Next they have to climb down another slab, bulging over into space, or a perpendicular gully gives them an interesting piece of climbing. About 120 feet from the bottom they build a small cairn, and then, without much further difficulty, they finally find themselves where they had ended their climb on the afternoon of the day before. They donot, however, descend to the bottom of the gully, but about half-way down, traversing out to the left, they make for the ridge connecting Sail Mhòr with the rest of the mountain. It is now evening, and I ought, if orthodox, here 'to burst out in sentences which swell to paragraphs, and in paragraphs which spread over pages; to plunge into ecstasies about infinite abysses and overpowering splendours, to compare mountains to archangels, lying down in eternal winding-sheets of snow, and to convert them into allegories about man's highest destinies and aspirations. This is good when it is well done. Yet most humble writers will feel that if they try to imitate Mr. Ruskin's eloquence, they will pay the penalty of becoming ridiculous. It is not every one who can with impunity compare Alps to archangels.'[R]Yet there is always something about sunsets which is horribly fascinating—from a literary point of view; it is so easy to become suddenly enthusiastic and describe how 'The sun-god once more plunges into the baths of ocean.' The sea too is always useful at such moments. 'Banks of sullen mist, brooding like a purple curtain,' etc., sounds well; and one must not forget 'the shadows of approaching night,'—they form a fitting background for the gloomy and introspective spirit whichought to seize upon one at this particular psychological moment. 'The tumbled fragments of the hills, hoary with memories of forgotten years,' come next, with a vague suggestion of solitude, which should be further emphasised by allusions to 'the present fading away, and being lost in the vast ocean of time, a lifetime being merely a shadow in the presence of these changeless hills.' Then, to end up, mass the whole together, and call it an 'inscrutable pageant'; pile on the shadows, which must grow blacker and blacker, till 'naught remains but the mists of the coming night and darkness'; and if you have an appropriate quotation, put it in!

To all ingeniously elaborate students in the most divine mysteries of the oromaniacal quest: an account in which is set forth the eminent secrets of the adepts; whereunto is added a perfect and full discoverie of the way to attaine to the Philosopher's heavenly chaos.

'Whose noble practise doth them teachTo vaile their secrets wyth mystie speach.'The Hunting of the Greene Lyon.

After that the three most respectable Travellers and Searchers after vast protuberances of the earth, in the land of the Caledones, had with haste, joyousness, and precision arrived at those parts, where with observation, snow-covered mountains together with rocks and ice in abundance, and also many other things may be perceived which commend themselves to true worshippers of that most mystagorical and delectable pursuit—the oromaniacal Quest into the secret and hidden Mysteries of sublime Mountains—they at once determined to so haste, walk, run, climb, and otherwise betake themselves to the uppermost parts of the hills, that by continual patience a new entrance towards the topmost pinnacle should be discovered, whichshould in all respects yield that quintessential pleasure they believed could be extracted from such pursuit of the enigmatical Process.

There be, however, many who deny that the Quintessence of the true enjoyment can so be attained. These indeed do maintain that it resides in that subtill art, the striking of a ball violently with a stick, but this also is a mystery; therefore I will not launch my little skiff further into the wide ocean of the dispute, neither will I argue with such fellows, for do they not offend philosophically, and therefore should be admonished to the end that they meddle not with the Quest of the true Brethren?

Thou askest, Why? I say thou hast not tasted of these things! Hast thou not tarried with those that are below, or, ascending, hast thou not proceeded upwards by help of mules, jackasses, and other auxiliaries, or even in these swift, luxurious and delectable vehicles drawn by the demon of water ten times heated in the furnace? I bid thee search that treasure-house of clouds, fountains, fogs, and steep places on thine own ten toes, and peradventure thou shalt find that which is above resembleth not that which is beneath, neither are the high places of the earth like unto the groves and hedgerows, or the places where people do mostcongregate, in towns, villages, courts, gardens, to the end that they may hold discourse, spagyrising, philosophising, lanternising, whereby is the engendering of fools a most mystical matter furthered—also the concocting of many poculations; truly these fellows are vulgar tosspots, they attaine not the first Matter, nor the whole operation of the Work; neither do they approach to the enchanted Treasure-House sought for by that worthy Quintessencer and most respectable Traveller, Master Beroalde of fragrant and delectable memory.[S]Also are these fellows most injurious to well-deserving Philosophers, for they comprehend not the writings, and through 'misunderstanding of the possibilities of Nature do commit foul mistakes in their operations, and therefore reap a ridiculous harvest.' Our Record is writ neither for simple, vulgar, and pitiful sophisters, nor for such owls, bats, and night-birds, who, blinded by the full light of the Quest lye hidden in gloomy nooks, crannies, and holes below.

But return we to our purpose. When our three travellers had arrived at that place in the northland, hight Castrum Guillelmi, they tarried there awhile seeking diligently if perchance even in that place the great Mysterie, the quintessential Pleasure of devout Philosophers, could by searching beattained. 'Good,' said they; 'Now are we near the Fulfilment, the Entrance into Secret Places, the Consummation, the Marriage of the Impossible with the Real, the Knowledge of this Mastery.' So it came to pass that on the day following, early and with great joyousness, did they start forth by the straight road.

Nor did they issue forth unprepared, for they bore with them the proper, peculiar, fit, exact, and lawful insignia of the brotherhood, a mystic thread, coiled even as the sable serpent, likewise staves curiously shapen did they take in their hands, for 'peradventure,' said they, 'the way may be steep and full of toil, the dangers many; behold go we not forth in a savage land, where liveth the white dragon and eke basilisks, spoken of by the ingenious J. J. Scheuchzerus, doctor of medicine, what time he did wander in the far country of the Helvetii? Good, now come we to it! for saith not Aristotle in hisPhysicks, "Ab actionibus procedit speculatio," "Now are all things propitious, let us seek the Delphinian oracle"; Phœbus like unto the fiery Dragon shines bravely, conquering the hydropical vapours and transforming them into subtill aerial sublimations; soon shall we come to the high places where abideth the great water the Lochan Meal an't Suidhe. It shall we leave on the dexterhand, for the path lieth not there but onwards, straight without twist or turn along the valley at the feet of the red Mountains, whose hue is multiplied, transmuted, and purified even unto seven times seven, a wonder to the sight, and tincted by the ruddy colour of Sol the golden, what time he goeth down at eventide, slavering the deep waters of the western sea so that they be all of a gore bloud.'

But let not these things turn us from the true Quest, the hidden Mysteries, which in the opinion of the vulgar rude are by many deemed nought but delusions. For over against and opposite across the valley, abideth the Immensity of greatness, the majestic Silence, the prodigious Dampness, the Depth, in shape like a great Dome, whereof the base is in the Flouds and the Waters, whence issueth forth delectable springs welling up for ever, continually ascending yet ever flowing downwards; here perchance shall we find the Mysterie of the heavenly Chaos, and the great Abyss, the way to attaine to Happiness, even the quintessential mystagorical Delight and oromaniacal Quest, so highly extolled yet so deeply concealed by the true Philosophers.

Thus did they fare onward toward the midst of the valley placed between the red Hill and thegreat Mountain. Then behold before them rose hugeous rocks and bulky stones standing on end facing to the north where the ice and snow tarry from one winter even unto the following; for in those places the sun shines not, neither are found the comfortable, soft, juicy, and fœculent breezes of the South; there the brood of the black Crow and the white smoak or vapour, and comprehensive congelations of the Mistus Scotorum are produced. So were the Brethren sore amazed, but as yet could not see even the first matter of the Work.

'See,' said one, 'the way leadeth upward where the Spirit arising like unto a volatisation, a separation or sublimation or wind, has much bewhited the mighty petrolific ridge full of points towers and pinnacles. There the pursuit may be pursued, there the volatisation which is an ascension may be compleatly demonstrated, and the operation of the great Work may be begun. First must we fashion in the snow and ice great stairs of steps, by aid of which, through prolongation, extension, reduplication, and multiplication shall we be brought on to the Ridge even at the beginning.' So did they enter upon the Work in this lowest period of obscurity, multiplying the steps in a certain mystic manner which had been revealed tothem; and it came to pass that they attained at last on to the Ridge, whereon might be perceived far above, towers, pinnacles, points, and other pleasant places, suitable and useful for the furtherance of the Quest.

First did they traverse a narrow edge of snow fashioned by the wind. Then said one, 'Follow me, but look not either to the right or to the left, for there lyeth the Abyss.' So they followed him, with the mystic thread fastened to their girdles. They saw how that, far above, the heavens were separated from the white snow, which was curled and twisted, also falling, overhanging, and extended, so that they could perceive no way whereby they might pass through.

But above and beyond lay the summit of the great Mountain, where clouds are concocted in the natural furnace; there also may be seen in the proper season, 'The whole operation of the Sons of Wisdom, the great Procession and the Generation of Storms, the Marriage of the Stars and the Seven Circulations of the Elements.' So did they fare onwards; and by inspection were they aware how others had travelled on the same way, for on the stones and rocks were certain petrographical scratchings and curious markings deeply graven and very evident. But presently came they to agreat Rock, a majestic Tower. Here were they perforce compelled to depart to the right hand, placing themselves in steep and perilous positions on slopes of ice, which downwards seemed to end in empty air, even in the great void.

Then were the Three exceeding joyful, for is it not written in the secret books of the Brethren, Many operations must they perform amidst the great mountains and the snowy ice, especially and creditably, ere they be so transmuted, mystagorified and metagrabolised, that they may be numbered with the True, the Pious, the Elect, even amongst those who are considered worthy of the most mystical and allegorical symbol, A.C., by many variously interpreted. For some hold that it signifies, 'Adepti Cragorum,' whilst others 'Angelorum Confederatio,' for these latter maintain that the Quest can only be rightly pursued, or satisfactorily continued, by the aid of wings; but in this matter they are deceived, and argue foolishly after the wisdom of the flesh. Still all things have an end at last—good Wine, Pinnacles, Spires, cabalistic Emblems, and oromaniacal Wanderings, even the green sauce of the Philosophers and the pythagoric Mustard of the Great Master himself, spoken of by Alcofribas Nasier in his merrie work. So did the Three find the perilous passage across the headlong steep of that ruinous place finish.

Then did they pass onward to the Labyrinth, the rocky chaos, and greatly did they marvel at the exceeding steepness thereof; so that only by great perseverance, turning now to the left and now to the right, were they able to break themselves free from the bonds and entanglements, and climb sagaciously upwards to the summit of the great Tower. Whereon did they find a heaped up accumulation of stones curiously erected, a cabalistic Pyramid, set there doubtless by a former seeker in the Work, to the end that true searchers might not despair, but continue the matter of the Work with fresh hope and industry. But when they had gazed for a short space, they perceived how that the Consummation, the great Fulfilment, was nigh at hand. Behind and far below, imprinted in the snow, were the steps by which they had mounted upwards, winding now this way, now that, looking like scarce seen veins in whitest marble. But before them lay the narrow Way, the Ridge, the Cleft, and the White Slope, leading even unto the utmost Height, the sovereign Summit of the mightie Mountain. Thither therefore did their footsteps trend.

First did they pass along the narrow Way, treading with exceeding care and exactness, for there was but foothold for one alone; the path being no broader than a man's hand. Next did they descend into the Cleft, which thing is also emblematical and symbolical of the precious secret of all Philosophies, for without this key can no one unlock the Hermetic Garden, the Arcanum of the Alchemists, spoken of by Paracelsus in hisArchidoxis.

Now before them stretched the white Slope, which lay beneath the topmost summit, and steeper became the path, going upwards with a great steepness; now whilst the three Travellers did toil and seek, endeavouring to meet the perils of the way, yet almost despairing, lo! from out the clouds a thread descended and a voice was heard afar off: 'Fear not, now have ye attained to the Consummation, enter into the mystagorical, quintessential, and delectable Pleasure-House of devout Oromaniacs!'

Thus therefore do the true Philosophers distinguish that which is superior from that which is inferior, for it is a thing deeply concealed by the envious, let therefore the same be thy subject to work upon, thy first Basis, for the white must first come out of the red, and black following with multiplicative virtue rise above according to the nature of all things. Hear then the meaning ofthe four Degrees. Thy first Degree maketh to sweat but gently. In the second much travail followeth, whereby thy sweat increaseth, whilsttertius excedit et cum tolerantia laedit, for our way ascendeth speedilie where the black rocks fall and rise continually. Congelation and Circulation cometh next, when in the fourth Degree the blackness wears away, which, believe me, is a gallant sight. 'Then shalt thou see thy Matter appear, shining, sparkling, and white even like to a most glorious heaven-born Mercury the subject of wonders. Then if thou art fortunate shall the fumes cease and our congelation will glitter incomparably and wonderfully, and thickening more and more it will sprout like the tender frost in a most amiable lustre. Now thou needest no further instruction, only this let me tell you, understand this well, and you will not be amazed any longer with the distinction of our Operations. For all is but a successive action and passion of him who seeks for the Work. Which carrying him up and down like a wheel, returns thither whence it proceeded, and then beginneth again and turns so long till it finds its rest. So he thus attains aplusquamperfection through the marvellous co-operation of Art and Nature.'[T]

'Who knoweth not this in knowledge is blind,He may forth wander as mist in the wind,Wotting never with profit where to light,Because he understands not our words aright.'

Therefore, with what joy, think you, did the Three progress onward after the long and troublous ascent? Afterscrambling,

for know ye that by these methods alone are the most divine Mysteries of the Quest reached.

So at last they came even unto the very topmost Point, and were aware how that Priests from the heavenly Temple, which is placed on the top of that Mountain, had come forth to guide them, withoutfurther difficulty, across a level plain of white snow to the gates of the Temple itself. But the perils of the way were not ended. At the threshold were there many steps leading down and underground to the Temple's innermost recesses, through a domed vault or doorway built of the plastered snow. Now were these steps both slippery and very treacherous, having been fashioned in a truly sopho-spagyric manner, likewise did they seem reduplicated and multiplied even by the Pythagorical Tetrad. Moreover, above the portal were there magical characters engraven, even after the same fashion as those seen by the wise Pantagruel what time he sought the Oracle of the Bottle in the land of Lanterns.

But beyond the portal a very thick mistie and cimmerian darkness, an eclipsation, apprehended them, and the Three did stumble now this way and now that, so did they greatly fear even at this very end of their Quest, that beasts and creeping things of monstrous shape awaited them, dangers far worse than those on the steep places of the Mountain.

'Art thou here?' said one. 'Prithee guide my steps!' quoth another. 'Alas, we are undone!' cried a third. 'Zoons, why are ye afraid?' answered a voice; 'when ye have passed the three-squareCorner and the Darkness ye are safe in the Sanctum Sanctorum even of the Elect, in the Philosopher's heavenly Chaos, where may ye understand all Mysteries. But first answer ye me, whence come ye?' 'From without and below.' 'And how?' 'By the seven-fold stairs nigh unto the great Abyss where liveth the brood of the black Crow, and the engendering of the Mistus Scotorum proceedeth perpetually.' 'Good, but how did ye proceed?' 'Thence came we by the rocky Labyrinth, and by the perilous Passage to the great Tower, and the mystic Pyramid, which is set on the further side of the narrow Way and the Cleft, emblematic of hidden things; thence by the white Slope to the topmost Summit. So have we sought the divine mysteries of this great Quest with much toil, so may we attaine to the Philosopher's heavenly Chaos.'

Then said the voice, 'Enter into the abode of Knowledge, through the open Entrance to the shut Palace of the King,[U]into the outer chamber of the most sophistical Retreat of the Sons of Wisdom, where are perpetually and endlessly produced many reasonable meteorological prognostications; also divinations, concentrations, observations, and conglomerations are recorded in divers registers,all of them most deducible, for are they not stored with great care in sundry leathern bags for the delectation of wise men? Thou hast been led as it were by the hand through many a desert and waste spot, now lift up your eyes and behold where you are; welcome into the garden of the Philosophers, which is walled about with a very high wall.' So were they shown by the dwellers in the Temple many and marvellous wonders. In the centre stood a furnace for all transmutations and agitations by heat; whilst on shelves did they see great store of divers bottles, pans, boxes, and bags, wherein could be found succulent sauces and philosophical essences, to the end that the delectable concoctions of the pious might be completed.

Likewise great numbers of books. In some could be found treatises of the true science, also devices, hieroglyphic interpretations and perspicuous renderings of great wisdom, in others histories of joyous diversions. Also were there 'curious and ingenious engines for all sorts of motions, where were represented and imitated all articulate sounds and letters, and conveyed in trunks and strange lines and distances. Also helps for the sight representing things afar off in the heavens and remote places, as near, and making feigneddistances.'[V]Likewise mathematical instruments, exquisitely made, for the discovering of small and minute bodies in the air. 'Also divices for natural divination of tempests, great inundations, temperatures of the yeare and diverse other things."[W]Also were they shown many and marvellous things pertaining to the harmony of the heavenly spheres. Then did they drink the mixed draught, the comfortable potation, joyously, philosophically, and with discernment, for at last had they attained to the divine Secrets of the Philosophers, even unto the mystagorical Delight, the great Fulfilment of the Spagyrick Quest of devout Oromaniacs.

PROBABLY BY ARISTOTLE, ENTITLED,περι αθλητικησ, ;κ.τ.λ.OR A TREATISE CONCERNING THE SPORTS AND PASTIMESOF THE ATHENIAN YOUTH WITH REGARD TO THEIR ETHICALSIGNIFICANCE.

We come now to investigate the position of the mountaineer, or climber of hills. Now, we may rightly call him the true mountaineer or climber of hills, who possesses the true love of mountain climbing, which, being a mean between two extremes, may be fitly termed a virtue. First, indeed, it is right to call the love of mountain climbing an active virtue, and not one of contemplation, for to no one is the ascent of a hill possible by contemplation alone; still, the virtue of a mountain climber is for a truth not wholly active, but is partly contemplative, as we shall show further on.

Moreover, the love of hill climbing, like fortitude or other virtues, has its defects, its mean, and its excess. Now, as we have said, virtue being a mean of which the extremes are the excess or the deficiency, he who is defective in this matter is one who either has not this love of climbing, or isindifferent in the matter; this man, indeed, is pitied by the hill climber, and indeed may be called the 'irrational man.' Now by the 'irrational man' we do not mean him who is unreasonable without qualification, but rather the man who is possessed of unreason from the point of view of the mountaineer, and truly amongst 'irrational men' are to be found the fathers of families, many learned men and others. Moreover, the 'irrational man' prefers rather to ascend hills by means of the telescope, or in a railway train, and if interrogated on the subject, expresses great scorn for those who rise at midnight, or in the early hours of the morning, for the purpose of imperilling their lives on the end of a rope. Again, he goes not to places where there are no hostels, alleging that he likes to be comfortable and enjoy himself. The scarcity of inns, however, in mountainous countries is a matter which, in these times, has in some few instances been remedied, for we are credibly informed that on the topmost summit of the lofty Mount Snowdon, in the Principality of Wales, an hostel exists, where the 'irrational man' may find gratification for his baser appetites, and perhaps may also at the same time experience, in a limited manner, that happiness which in its full degree is experienced by the true lover of hill climbing, whom we may call the'mountaineer.'[X]Further, the 'irrational man' is inclined often to treat the adventures of the 'mountaineer' as travellers' tales, but in this respect he is unable rightly to distinguish between the true climber of hills and the 'pseudo-mountaineer' who haunts the smoking-rooms of certain hostels. This man climbs, but in imagination only. He will relate how he has ascended certain high and difficult, nay, even inaccessible peaks, and will brand the names of many hills on staves, that when he returns to his native land he may win much reverence. But although the 'pseudo-mountaineer' pretends to greater things than he has accomplished, and is, therefore, a depraved person, on the whole, perhaps, he appears more a vain than a bad man, for it is not for the sake of money that he would have the unwary traveller and the people of his nation believe his stories, but for the sake of honour and glory, which in itself is praiseworthy.

Now both the 'pseudo-mountaineer' and the 'irrational man' err by way of defect, being indifferent to the true joys of mountaineering. But the 'mountaineer' is he who has this virtue in the right measure. He delights not in climbing thishill or that, but in climbing itself. He loves to wander in mountainous lands; ascents of great mountains, clad in frozen snow, to him are not unprofitable. Mountain-huts ill-ventilated, nights spent under rocks, amidst snow, wind, mist, or rain, these things will he endure. Moreover, to help him, will he even pay much money to the more hardy inhabitants of the hills, who are able to guide him with skill and safety through the inhospitable fastnesses, which he loves to explore. Thus much knowledge will he gain, making observations on the heights of hills, the efficacy of meat lozenges, the movement of glaciers by day, and thepulex irritansby night. He is a searcher after sensations. But when, owing to misfortune, he finds that his desire for climbing is in inverse ratio to his opportunity for so doing, then will he spend his leisure hours in adorning his maps with red lines, or he will write papers, yea, even books, describing his former exploits, so that perchance other 'mountaineers' may receive benefit therefrom.

But, as we have already said, the love of mountain climbing, like fortitude and other virtues, has its mean and its defect; as to the mean, we have seen that it is the virtue of the 'mountaineer,' whilst the defect constitutes the habit of the'pseudo mountaineer' and the 'irrational man.' But the extreme is found in the man who has the desire to climb hills out of all reason, therefore we call him the 'oromaniac,' or he who is incontinent in the matter. He it is who ascends hills on the wrong side, and cares not to travel in the line of least resistance; also should he hear that a pinnacle of rock is inaccessible, he is at once seized with a great desire to climb that pinnacle. For he climbs not mountains for the exercise, or the love of climbing itself, but for the mere base desire to beat all records or to outdo an enemy, or that he may see his name blazoned in the local papers. And not unfrequently do accidents befall such an one, and he hurts himself grievously; hence come those accidents which we may call indefinite, for of this kind of accident there is often no definite cause, for the cause of it is casual, and that is indefinite. Thus such an one may have fallen. Now if it was not his intention so to do, and he either slipped or was otherwise moved in a direction suddenly downwards, it happened accidentally. The accident, therefore was generated, and is, but not so far as itself is, but as something else is. Moreover, in this kind of accident, as we have already stated, it often happens that the 'oromaniac' suffers many woes; breaking sometimes a limb, or, if still moreunfortunate, his neck, or he suffers mutilation[Y]in respect to his garments. Again, accidents may be called that which is inherent to something, and of which something may be truly asserted; as for instance, if any one going up one mountain in a mist should, after much fatigue, find himself at the summit of another, the ascent would be an accident to him who climbs the mountain. Nor, if any one climbs one mountain, does he for the most part climb another. Accident is after another manner denominated, that which essentially belongs—'The inseparable,' for instance, the mountains themselves. Hence, indeed, it happens that accidents of this kind are perpetual, which is not the case with any others. Now concerning the love of mountain climbing, and the excess and deficiency thereof, as well as the mean which is also a virtue, and concerning also accidents both separable and inseparable of mountain climbing, let this suffice.

The great flood of the Indus in 1841 seems to have been one of the most tremendous cataclysms recorded as having occurred on the continent of India. The exact reason of it was for many years unknown. Major Cunningham suggested that it was due to the bursting of an ice-dammed lake on the Shayok river. Major Becher seems, however, to have been the first who expressed a belief that it was caused by a landslip blocking the Indus near Gor. In a letter (Journ. Asiat. Soc. Bengal, vol. xxviii. p. 219) he writes that a mountain called Ultoo Kunn, near Gor, owing to an earthquake, subsided into the valley of the main Indus. Drew, in his book on Kashmir (p. 415), gives the following description: 'The flood of 1841 was in this wise. It occurred, as near as I can make out, in the beginning of June of that year. At Atak, a place twelve or fifteen miles below where the latitude-parallel of 34° crosses the Indus, the river had been observed during several months, indeed from December of the previous year onwards, to be unusually low; in the spring it had risen a little from the snow melting, but only a little, so that at the end of May (when in ordinary years the volume has greatly increased) it was still extraordinarily low. This in itself should have been enough to warn the people who dwelt by its banks, but so little was it thought of that a portion of the Sikh army was encamped on the low plain of Chach which bordered the river. One day in the beginning of June, at two in the afternoon, the waters were seen by those who were there encamped to be coming upon them, down the various channels, and to be swelling out of these to overspread the plain in a dark, muddy mass, which swept everything before it. The camp was completely overwhelmed; five hundredsoldiers at once perished; only those who were within near reach of the hill-sides could hope for safety. Neither trees nor houses could avail to keep those surprised in the plain out of the power of the flood, for trees and houses themselves were swept away; every trace of cultivation was effaced; and the tents, the baggage, and the artillery, all were involved in the ruin. The result was graphically described by a native eye-witness, whose words were, "As a woman with a wet towel sweeps away a legion of ants, so the river blotted out the army of the Raja."' Drew was probably the first to actually visit the place where the block occurred. And a villager from Gor pointed out to him the exact spot where the debris of the landslip blocked the river. These floods seem to be of somewhat frequent occurrence. In 1844 one came from the Tshkoman valley above Gilgit. In 1858 another did great damage at Naushahra. The Indus at Attock (Atak) on 10th August was very low. In the early morning it rose ten feet in two hours, and five hours later it had risen no less that fifty feet, and continued rising till it stood no less than ninety feet higher than in the morning. It is probable that this flood came from the Hunza valley.

Smaller floods in the narrow Himalayan valleys are of frequent occurrence. For instance at Tashing, in 1850, a large lake was formed in the Rupal nullah by the snout of the Tashing glacier crossing the valley till it was jammed against the rock wall on the opposite side, thus blocking the Rupal torrent. Probably this will again happen, for when we were there in 1895 the Tashing glacier had once more blocked the valley to the depth of at least 200 feet, the Rupal stream finding its way underneath the ice; should this passage become in any way stopped, a huge lake must at once form behind the glacier.

The extreme narrowness, and often the great depth, of many of these Himalayan valleys will always be favourable to the production of these floods. Should a landslip occur, or should a glacier, such as the Tashing glacier, block the valley, a flood must be the inevitable result. On the Indus there are manyplaces where a dam might easily be formed. In the bend underneath Haramosh, at Lechre under Nanga Parbat, or further down below Chilas in that unknown country where the Indus begins to flow in a southerly direction. For there on the map the Indus is made to flow between two peaks,not three miles apart: one is marked 16,942 feet, and the other 15,250 feet, thus making the depth of this ravine over 12,000 feet.

LIST OF SOME OF THE MOUNTAINS IN THEHIMALAYA THAT ARE OVER 24,000 FEET IN HEIGHT

The following list of mountains that are more than 24,000 feet has been taken from various maps. It gives most of the peaks that have been trigonometrically measured, but probably there are at least as many more in those great mountain ranges, the Hindu Kush, the Mustagh, the Kuen Lun, and the Himalaya, that are over 24,000 feet high.

The next highest peak in the world outside Asia is Aconcagua, 23,393 feet high.

LITERATURE DEALING WITH THE HIMALAYA

Bogle, G., Account of Tibet. Philosophical Transactions, No. 67,part 2, and Annual Register, 1778.Turner, Capt. S., Account of an Embassy to the Court of theTeshoo Lama, in Tibet, 1 vol., 1806.Webb and Raper, Journey to explore the sources of the Ganges.Asiatic Researches, vol. x.Colebrooke, H., On the height of the Himala Mountains. AsiaticResearches, vol. xi.Moorcroft, W., Journey to the Lake Mánasarówara. AsiaticResearches, vol. xii.Kirkpatrick, Col. W., An Account of the Kingdom of Nepaul,1 vol., 1811.Hamilton, Francis, M.D., An Account of the Kingdom ofNepal, 1 vol., 1819.Fraser, J. B., Tour through part of the Snowy Range of theHimālā Mountains, 1 vol., 1820.Hodgson, B. H., Essays on Nepál and Tibet, etc., 2 vols., 1874;also no less than 170 papers to various periodicals, chieflythe Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal. Cp. Reporton the Mineralogical Survey of the Himala Mountains.J. A. S. B. xi., part 1, p. x.Vigne, G. T., Travels in Cashmir, Ladak, etc., 2 vols., 1835.Thomson, T., M.D., Western Himalaya and Tibet, 1 vol., 1852.Moorcroft, W. and G. Trebeck, Travels in the HimalayanProvinces, etc., 2 vols., 1841.Gerard, Capt. A., Account of Koonawur, in the Himalaya, 1 vol.,1841.Gerard and Lloyd, Tours in the Himalaya, 2 vols., 1840.Cunningham, Sir A., Ladák, Physical, Statistical, and Historical,1 vol., 1854.Strachey, R., Physical Geography of Kumaon and Gurhwal andthe adjoining parts of Tibet. R. G. S. Journal, xxi., p. 57.Strachey, Capt. H., Physical Geography of Western Tibet.R. G. S. Journal, xxiii., p. 2, published separately, 1 vol.,1854; also Journey to Lake Mánasarówar, 1 vol., 1848.'Mountaineer' (Wilson), A Summer Ramble in the Himalayasand Cashmere, 1 vol., 1860.Hooker, Sir J. D., Himalayan Journals, 2 vols., 1854.Saunders, Trelawny W., Sketch of the Mountains and RiverBasins of India, in two maps, with explanatory memoirs.Geographical Department, India Office, 1870.Gordon, Lieut.-Col. T. E., The Roof of the World, 1 vol., 1876.Wilson, Andrew, The Abode of Snow, 1 vol., 1875.Indian Alps and How we Crossed Them. By a Lady Pioneer,1 vol., 1876.Markham, Clements R., A Memoir on the Indian Surveys, 1vol., 1871; 2nd ed., 1878.Montgomerie, Major T. G., Reports on the Trans-HimalayanExplorations, 1865-1867, 1869, and 1871 (Indian Survey).Shaw, R., Visits to High Tartary, Yârkand, and Kâshgar,1 vol., 1871.Torrens, Lieut.-Col. H. D., Travels in Ladak, Tartary, andKashmir, 1 vol., 1862.Bellew, Dr. H. W., Kashmir and Kashgar, 1 vol., 1875.Drew, F., Jummoo and Kashmir Territories, 1 vol., 1875.Bogle, G., and T. Manning, Narratives of their Journeys toTibet and Lhasa, edited by Clements R. Markham, 1 vol.,1876.Godwin-Austen, Col. H. H., Royal Geographical Society Journal,vol. xxxiv., p. 19.Knight, Capt., Diary of a Pedestrian in Cashmere and Tibet,1 vol., 1863.Schlagintweit, H. and B., The Last Journeys and Death ofAdolph Schlagintweit, 1854.Conway, Sir W. M., Climbing in the Karakoram Himalayas,1 vol., 1894.Knight, E. F., Where Three Empires Meet, 1 vol., 1893.MacCormick, A. D., An Artist in the Himalayas, 1 vol., 1895.Waddell, L. A., Among the Himalayas, 1 vol., 1899.Younghusband, F. E., The Heart of a Continent, 1 vol., 1896.Boeck, K., Indische Gletcherfahrten, 1900.Deasy, H. H. P., In Tibet and Chinese Turkestan, 1 vol., 1901.Durand, A., Making of a Frontier, 1 vol., 1900.Holdich, Col. Sir T. H., Indian Borderland, 1 vol., 1901.Bose, P. N., Glaciers of Kabru, 1 vol., 1901.Workman, Mrs. F. B. and Dr. W. H., In the Ice-World ofHimalaya, 1 vol., 1900.

INDEX

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