Part 18 (1/2)
There is no good reason for employing a rope upon easy rocks, and I believe that its needless use is likely to promote carelessness. On difficult rocks and on snow-slopes (frequently improperly called ice-slopes) it is a great advantage to be tied together, provided the rope is handled properly; but upon actual ice-slopes, such as that on the Col Dolent (p. 240), or upon slopes in which ice is mingled with small and loose rocks, such as the upper part of the Pointe des Ecrins, it is almost useless, because a slip made by one person might upset the entire party.(206) I am not prepared to say, however, that men should not be tied together upon similar slopes. Being attached to others usually gives confidence, and confidence decidedly a.s.sists stability. It is more questionable whether men should be in such places at all. If a man can keep on his feet upon an _escalier_ cut in an ice-slope, I see no reason why he should be debarred from making use of that particular form of staircase. If he cannot, let him keep clear of such places.(207)
There would be no advantage in discoursing upon the use of the rope at greater length. A single day upon a mountain's side will give a clearer idea of the value of a good rope, and of the numerous purposes for which it may be employed, than any one will obtain from reading all that has been written upon the subject; but no one will become really expert in its management without much experience.
From the Col d'Olen we proceeded down the Combe of the same name to the chalets of Prerayen, and pa.s.sed the night of the 6th under the roof of our old acquaintance, the wealthy herdsman. On the 7th we crossed the Va Cornere pa.s.s, _en route_ for Breil. My thoughts were fixed on the Matterhorn, and my guides knew that I wished them to accompany me. They had an aversion to the mountain, and repeatedly expressed their belief that it was useless to try to ascend it. ”_Anything_ but Matterhorn, dear sir!” said Almer; ”_anything_ but Matterhorn.” He did not speak of difficulty or of danger, nor was he s.h.i.+rking _work_. He offered to go _anywhere_; but he entreated that the Matterhorn should be abandoned. Both men spoke fairly enough. They did not think that an ascent could be made; and for their own credit, as well as for my sake, they did not wish to undertake a business which, in their opinion, would only lead to loss of time and money.
I sent them by the short cut to Breil, and walked down to Val Tournanche to look for Jean-Antoine Carrel. He was not there. The villagers said that he, and three others, had started on the 6th to try the Matterhorn by the old way, on their own account. They will have no luck, I thought, for the clouds were low down on the mountains; and I walked up to Breil, fully expecting to meet them. Nor was I disappointed. About half-way up I saw a group of men cl.u.s.tered around a chalet upon the other side of the torrent, and, crossing over, found that the party had returned. Jean-Antoine and Caesar were there, C. E. Gorret, and J. J. Maquignaz. They had had no success. The weather, they said, had been horrible, and they had scarcely reached the glacier du Lion.
I explained the situation to Carrel, and proposed that we, with Caesar and another man, should cross the Theodule by moonlight on the 9th, and that upon the 10th we should pitch the tent as high as possible upon the east face. He was unwilling to abandon the old route, and urged me to try it again. I promised to do so provided the new route failed. This satisfied him, and he agreed to my proposal. I then went up to Breil, and discharged Almer and Biener-with much regret, for no two men ever served me more faithfully or more willingly.(208) On the next day they crossed to Zermatt.
The 8th was occupied with preparations. The weather was stormy; and black, rainy vapours obscured the mountains. Towards evening a young man came from Val Tournanche, and reported that an Englishman was lying there, extremely ill. Now was the time for the performance of my vow;(209) and on the morning of Sunday the 9th I went down the valley to look after the sick man. On my way I pa.s.sed a foreign gentleman, with a mule and several porters laden with baggage. Amongst these men were Jean-Antoine and Caesar, carrying some barometers. ”Hullo!” I said, ”what are you doing?” They explained that the foreigner had arrived just as they were setting out, and that they were a.s.sisting his porters. ”Very well; go on to Breil, and await me there; we start at midnight as agreed.” Jean-Antoine then said that he should not be able to serve me after Tuesday the 11th, as he was engaged to travel ”with a family of distinction” in the valley of Aosta.
”And Caesar?” ”And Caesar also.” ”Why did you not say this before?”
”Because,” said he, ”it was not settled. The engagement is of long standing, but _the day_ was not fixed. When I got back to Val Tournanche on Friday night, after leaving you, I found a letter naming the day.” I could not object to the answer; but the prospect of being left guideless was provoking. They went up, and I down, the valley.
The sick man declared that he was better, though the exertion of saying as much tumbled him over on to the floor in a fainting fit. He was badly in want of medicine, and I tramped down to Chatillon to get it. It was late before I returned to Val Tournanche, for the weather was tempestuous, and rain fell in torrents. A figure pa.s.sed me under the church porch. ”_Qui vive?_” ”Jean-Antoine.” ”I thought you were at Breil.” ”No, sir: when the storms came on I knew we should not start to-night, and so came down to sleep here.” ”Ha, Carrel!” I said; ”this is a great bore. If to-morrow is not fine we shall not be able to do anything together. I have sent away my guides, relying on you; and now you are going to leave me to travel with a party of ladies. That work is not fit for _you_ (he smiled, I supposed at the implied compliment); can't you send some one else instead?” ”No, monsieur. I am sorry, but my word is pledged. I should like to accompany you, but I can't break my engagement.” By this time we had arrived at the inn door. ”Well, it is no fault of yours. Come presently with Caesar, and have some wine.” They came, and we sat up till midnight, recounting our old adventures, in the inn of Val Tournanche.
The weather continued bad upon the 10th, and I returned to Breil. The two Carrels were again hovering about the above mentioned chalet, and I bade them adieu. In the evening the sick man crawled up, a good deal better; but his was the only arrival. The Monday crowd(210) did not cross the Theodule, on account of the continued storms. The inn was lonely. I went to bed early, and was awoke the next morning by the invalid inquiring if I had ”heard the news.” ”No; what news?” ”Why,” said he, ”a large party of guides went off this morning to try the Matterhorn, taking with them a mule laden with provisions.”
I went to the door, and with a telescope saw the party upon the lower slopes of the mountain. Favre, the landlord, stood by. ”What is all this about?” I inquired, ”who is the leader of this party?” ”Carrel.” ”What!
Jean-Antoine?” ”Yes; Jean-Antoine.” ”Is Caesar there too?” ”Yes, he is there.” Then I saw in a moment that I had been bamboozled and humbugged; and learned, bit by bit, that the affair had been arranged long beforehand. The start on the 6th had been for a preliminary reconnaissance; the mule, that I pa.s.sed, was conveying stores for the attack; the ”family of distinction” was Signor F. Giordano, who had just despatched the party to facilitate the way to the summit, and who, when the facilitation was completed, was to be taken to the top along with Signor Sella!(211)
I was greatly mortified. My plans were upset; the Italians had clearly stolen a march upon me, and I saw that the astute Favre chuckled over my discomfiture, because the route by the eastern face, if successful, would not benefit his inn. What was to be done? I retired to my room, and soothed by tobacco, re-studied my plans, to see if it was not possible to outmanuvre the Italians.
”They have taken a mule's load of provisions.” ”That is _one_ point in my favour, for they will take two or three days to get through the food, and, until that is done, no work will be accomplished.” ”How is the weather?” I went to the window. The mountain was smothered up in mist. ”Another point in my favour.” ”They are to facilitate the way. Well, if they do that to any purpose, it will be a long job.” Altogether, I reckoned that they could not possibly ascend the mountain and come back to Breil in less than seven days. I got cooler, for it was evident that the wily ones might be outwitted after all. There was time enough to go to Zermatt, to try the eastern face, and, should it prove impracticable, to come back to Breil before the men returned; and then, it seemed to me, as the mountain was not padlocked, one might start at the same time as the Messieurs, and yet get to the top before them.
The first thing to do was to go to Zermatt. Easier said than done. The seven guides upon the mountain included the ablest men in the valley, and none of the ordinary muleteer-guides were at Breil. Two men, at least, were wanted for my baggage, but not a soul could be found. I ran about, and sent about in all directions, but not a single porter could be obtained. One was with Carrel; another was ill; another was at Chatillon, and so forth. Even Meynet, the hunchback, could not be induced to come; he was in the thick of some important cheese-making operations. I was in the position of a general without an army; it was all very well to make plans, but there was no one to execute them. This did not much trouble me, for it was evident that so long as the weather stopped traffic over the Theodule pa.s.s, it would hinder the men equally upon the Matterhorn; and I knew that directly it improved company would certainly arrive.
About midday on Tuesday the 11th a large party hove in sight from Zermatt, preceded by a nimble young Englishman, and one of old Peter Taugwalder's sons.(212) I went at once to this gentleman to learn if he could dispense with Taugwalder. He said that he could not, as they were going to recross to Zermatt on the morrow, but that the young man should a.s.sist in transporting my baggage, as he had nothing to carry. We naturally got into conversation. I told my story, and learned that the young Englishman was Lord Francis Douglas,(213) whose recent exploit-the ascent of the Gabelhorn-had excited my wonder and admiration. He brought good news. Old Peter had lately been beyond the Hornli, and had reported that he thought an ascent of the Matterhorn was possible upon that side. Almer had left Zermatt, and could not be recovered, so I determined to seek for old Peter. Lord Francis Douglas expressed a warm desire to ascend the mountain, and before long it was determined that he should take part in the expedition.
Favre could no longer hinder our departure, and lent us one of his men. We crossed the Col Theodule on Wednesday morning the 12th of July, rounded the foot of the Ober Theodulgletscher, crossed the Furggengletscher, and deposited tent, blankets, ropes, and other matters in the little chapel at the Schwarzsee.(214) All four were heavily laden, for we brought across the whole of my stores from Breil. Of rope alone there was about 600 feet.
There were three kinds. First, 200 feet of the Manilla rope; second, 150 feet of a stouter, and probably stronger rope than the first; and third, more than 200 feet of a lighter and weaker rope than the first, of a kind that I used formerly (stout sash-line).
We descended to Zermatt, sought and engaged old Peter, and gave him permission to choose another guide. When we returned to the Monte Rosa Hotel, whom should we see sitting upon the wall in front but my old _guide chef_, Michel Croz. I supposed that he had come with Mr. B--, but I learned that that gentleman had arrived in ill health, at Chamounix, and had returned to England. Croz, thus left free, had been immediately engaged by the Rev. Charles Hudson, and they had come to Zermatt with the same object as ourselves-namely, to attempt the ascent of the Matterhorn!
Lord Francis Douglas and I dined at the Monte Rosa, and had just finished when Mr. Hudson and a friend entered the _salle a manger_. They had returned from inspecting the mountain, and some idlers in the room demanded their intentions. We heard a confirmation of Croz's statement, and learned that Mr. Hudson intended to set out on the morrow at the same hour as ourselves. We left the room to consult, and agreed it was undesirable that two independent parties should be on the mountain at the same time with the same object. Mr. Hudson was therefore invited to join us, and he accepted our proposal. Before admitting his friend-Mr. Hadow-I took the precaution to inquire what he had done in the Alps, and, as well as I remember, Mr. Hudson's reply was, ”Mr. Hadow has done Mont Blanc in less time than most men.” He then mentioned several other excursions that were unknown to me, and added, in answer to a further question, ”I consider he is a sufficiently good man to go with us.” Mr. Hadow was admitted without any further question, and we then went into the matter of guides. Hudson thought that Croz and old Peter would be sufficient. The question was referred to the men themselves, and they made no objection.
So Croz and I became comrades once more; and as I threw myself on my bed and tried to go to sleep, I wondered at the strange series of chances which had first separated us and then brought us together again. I thought of the mistake through which he had accepted the engagement to Mr. B--; of his unwillingness to adopt my route; of his recommendation to transfer our energies to the chain of Mont Blanc; of the retirement of Almer and Biener; of the desertion of Carrel; of the arrival of Lord Francis Douglas; and, lastly, of our meeting at Zermatt; and as I pondered over these things I could not help asking, ”What next?” If any one of the links of this fatal chain of circ.u.mstances had been omitted, what a different story I should have to tell!
CHAPTER XIX.
THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN.
”Had we succeeded well, We had been reckoned 'mongst the wise: our minds Are so disposed to judge from the event.”
EURIPIDES.
”It is a thoroughly unfair, but an ordinary custom, to praise or blame designs (which in themselves may be good or bad) just as they turn out well or ill. Hence the same actions are at one time attributed to earnestness and at another to vanity.”
PLINY MIN.
We started from Zermatt on the 13th of July, at half-past 5, on a brilliant and perfectly cloudless morning. We were eight in number-Croz, old Peter and his two sons,(215) Lord F. Douglas, Hadow, Hudson,(216) and I. To ensure steady motion, one tourist and one native walked together.