Albert Frederick Mummery

“ To ascend the Matterhorn in a steam lift, and all the time remember that brave men have been killed by mere stress of difficulty on its gaunt, ice-bound cliffs, will be to the Cockney and his congeners unmixed delight. When they read of the early mountaineers, of their bivouacs, their nights spent in chalets, their frozen toes, and even of whole parties carried to destruction by a single slip, the halo of danger and suffering will seem to envelop them as they sit in their comfortable railway carriages, and they will feel themselves most doughty warriors. ”

“ There is something strangely impressive in gazing over a great ice wall into inky darkness and absolute silence. The sense of boundless depth and utter mystery seems to pervade one's whole being. The utmost light of our lantern failed in any way to pierce the gloom, and despondency was settling down on us, and we were making up our minds to a night on the snow, when a rift in the clouds let a glint of moonlight fall on the glacier and the existence of firm land, or rather glacier, was disclosed some fifty feet below, accessible by a sort of peninsula of ice. ”

“ THE MATTERHORN-ZMUTT RIDGE.
At the age of fifteen the crags of the Via Mala and the snows of the Théodule roused a passion within me that has grown with years, and has to no small extent moulded my life and thought. It has led me into regions of such fairy beauty that the fabled wonders of Zanadu seem commonplace beside them; it has brought me friends who may be relied on in fair weather and in foul; and it has stored my mind with memories that are treasures, corruptible neither by moth nor rust, sickness nor old age. ”

“ A fitting reward has been allotted me; though the delight of wandering among the great snow-fields, of climbing the jagged ridges, and of plunging down through the primeval forest of some Caucasian valley, cannot be rivalled by the rarest fabric built of memory, yet the piecing together of old incidents, the interweaving of the laughter and the fears, the desperate struggles and the wild triumph of old-won victories, has tinged many a winter evening with the gorgeous colouring of Alpine sunsets and has knitted more firmly the bonds of well-tried friendships ”

“ Above, long slopes of snow and screes led up to the little glacier which hes below the col separating the peak from the great buttress I had climbed two or three weeks before.
We dug out the screes with our axes and made an excellent platform for the tent, then the fire was lit and we rejoiced over hot soup, English biscuits and Caucasian mutton. Before us was the great ice-embattled wall of Shkara and Janga, rising high into the warm tinted air, whilst below the silent glacier gloomed dark and cold, as the gathering mists of evening crawled slowly along its slopes. ”

“ Once more we began to ascend, when suddenly, with one consent, we leaned on our axes and gazed mutely at the "aged pinnacle" before us. The rising sun had just touched its summit, and the snowy Zmutt ridge was blazing with crimson light. We watched the red sun creeping ever down the slopes till, at length, it reached the broad glacier below, then Burgener struck his axe into the snow and we breasted the slope: the day had begun. ”

“ Above us frowned the great ice cliffs of the glacier, cutting off nearly all view of the mountain. To their right, and out of reach of any fragments that might fall from them, was a long ridge of rock leading to the foot of the snow arête. Having lit our fire and set the pot to boil, we sat down at the edge of the cliff overlooking the Zmutt glacier, and soon discovered Gentinetta and another man making their way rapidly through the crevasses. Meanwhile the sun had set, and with the gathering darkness the last lingering clouds dispersed as by magic. ”

“ As a consequence of this terrible weakness, I have been no less than seven times on the top of the Matterhorn. I have sat on the summit with my wife when a lighted match would not flicker in the windless air, and I have been chased from its shattered crest and down the Italian ridge by the mad fury of thunder, lightning, and whirling snow. Yet each memory has its own peculiar charm, and the wild music of the hurricane is hardly a less delight than the glories of a perfect day. ”

“ The sense of independence and self-confidence induced by the great precipices and vast silent fields of snow is something wholly delightful. Every step is health, fun, and frolic. The troubles and cares of life, together with the essential vulgarity of a plutocratic society, axe left far below—foul miasmas that cling to the lowest bottoms of reeking valleys. Above, in the clear air and searching sunlight, we are afoot with the quiet gods, and men can know each other and themselves for what they are. ”

“ Whenever one stone gave way, those above it came sweeping down in a perfect avalanche, so exciting Burgener's fears that he kept shrieking, "You kill your man if you not more careful are." My own impression was that I should not merely "kill my man," but that the whole party and most of the mountain would be hurled to the glacier beneath. It was, therefore, with a most joyful heart that I at length found myself seated securely on a rock overlooking the snow slope on the left of the arete, and could watch in comfort the miseries of my companions below. ”

“ The true mountaineer is a wanderer, and by a wanderer I do not mean a man who expends his whole time in travelling to and fro in the mountains on the exact tracks of his predecessors—much as a bicyclist rushes along the turnpike roads of England—but I mean a man who loves to be where no human being has been before, who delights in gripping rocks that have previously never felt the touch of human fingers, or in hewing his way up ice-filled gullies whose grim shadows have been sacred to the mists and avalanches since "Earth rose out of chaos." ”

“ No feeling can be more glorious than advancing to attack some gaunt precipitous wall with "comrades staunch as the founders of our race." Nothing is more exhilarating than to know that the fingers of one hand can still be trusted with the lives of a party, and that the lower limbs are free from all trace of "knee-dissolving fear," even though the friction of one hobnail on an outward shelving ledge alone checks the hurtling of the body through thin air, and of the soul (let us hope) to the realms above. ”

“ Probably most mountaineers would agree that the charm of mountain scenery is to be found in every step taken in the upper world. The strange interfolding of the snows, the gaunt, weird crags of the ridges, the vast, blue, icicle-fringed crevasse, or the great smooth slabs sloping-downwards through apparently bottomless space, are each and all no less lovely than the boundless horizon of the summit view. ”

“ Let the snow-storm blow the reek of the oil-can from our nostrils, and the thundering avalanche and the roaring tempest drown the puny tinkle of cast-iron bells and the blare of cheap German bands. Let us even cherish a hope that the higher Alps will resist the navvy and the engineer for our time, and that we may still be left to worship peacefully at the great shrines of our fathers. ”

“ In other words, the true mountaineer is the man who attempts new ascents. Equally, whether he succeeds or fails, he delights in the fun and jollity of the struggle. The gaunt, bare slabs, the square, precipitous steps in the ridge, and the black, bulging ice of the gully, are the very breath of life to his being. ”

“ It may be admitted that the mountains occasionally push things a trifle too far, and bring before their votaries a vision of the imminence of dissolution that the hangman himself with all his paraphernalia of scaffold, gallows, and drop, could hardly hope to excel. But grim and hopeless as the cliffs may sometimes look when ebbing twilight is chased by shrieking wind and snow and the furies are in mad hunt along the ridges, there is ever the feeling that brave companions and a constant spirit will cut the gathering web of peril, "forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit." ”

“ To set one's utmost faculties, physical and mental, to fight some grim precipice, or force some gaunt, ice-clad gully, is work worthy of men; to toil up long slopes of screes behind a guide who can "lie in bed and picture every step of the way up, with all the places for hand and foot," is work worthy of the fibre less contents of fashionable clothes, dumped with all their scents and ointments, starched linen and shiny boots, at Zermatt by the railway. ”

“ The idea which cleaves unto the orthodox mountaineer that a single ascent, on one day, in one year, enables that same mountaineer to know and realise how that peak looks on all other days, in all other years, suggests that he is still wallowing in the lowest bogs of Philistinism. It is true the crags and pinnacles are the same, but their charm and beauty lies in the ever changing light and shade, in the mists which wreath around them, in the huge cornices and pendent icicles, in all the varying circumstance of weather, season, and hour. ”

“ Those who are so completely masters of their environment that they can laugh and rollick on the ridges, free from all constraint of ropes or fear of danger, are far more able to appreciate the glories of the "eternal hills" than those who can only move in constant terror of their lives, amidst the endless chatter and rank tobacco smoke of unwashed guides.
The fact that a man enjoys scrambling up a steep rock in no way makes him insensible of all that is beautiful in nature. The two sets of feelings are indeed wholly unconnected. A man may love climbing and care naught for mountain scenery ”

“ We traversed by easy ledges, amongst the slush of melting snow, to a broad-topped crag, that projected far over a precipitous gully, plunging down towards the Glacier de Trélaporte. On the top of this rock we unpacked our provisions, and made our first long halt. We excused our laziness, for it was getting late, by saying the "crack" cannot be ascended till the day is further advanced and the shadows less bitterly cold. Our ledge was of the most sensational character. The cliff above overhung, and the tiny streams from the melting snow on the ridge fell far outside us in sheets of sunlit rain. ”

“ The guideless climber is free from all these baneful and blighting influences. So long as there is time in hand, and very often when there is not, he prefers to lie on sheltered rocks and watch the ever changing shadows on the distant hills, or to peer down enormous depths on to the restless mists floating above the glacier. Toiling up snow slopes or screes at his top pace never commends itself to him—at such times every flat stone suggests a halt and every tiny stream deep draughts of water. ”

“ Instead of returning by our pass of two days since, we struck up a small glacier leading to a gap a few hundred yards further from Shkara, and perhaps 500 feet higher. Access to it is rather easier for a loaded Tartar, and the descent on the Bezingi side is admirably suited for a glissade.
As we reached the crest a fierce blast of wind buried us in a cloud of frozen snow and flakes of ice, torn from the slopes behind us. We fled before its resistless rush, and, glissading, running, and tumbling head over heels, shot down to the glacier below. ”

“ Beaching the edge of the glacier, we were met by a tangled labyrinth of crevasses. Whilst Zurfluh was studying their peculiarities, I made a short détour to see if the sack was anywhere visible. Greatly to my delight, I soon espied it, high seated on an isolated sérac. My companion, ignorant of the vision that had blessed my eyes, and ever pessimistic in his thoughts, urged me to waste no time in a useless search, "for," said he, the sack is not merely knocked to atoms, but it is of necessity buried in the depths of a crevasse." ”

“ A biting northerly wind swept across the ridge, and kept the huge expanse of cloud below us in constant movement. At moments vast masses would be upheaved, and, caught by the wind, sailed away, throwing extraordinary shadows on the fleecy floor below. This, like some previous halts, was brought to an end by a sudden uprush of icy cloud and a sprinkle of snow. At 2.15 p.m. we left the top and sped hastily down the slope. In ever worsening weather, we sprawled and scrambled along the ridge as fast as we could go. ”

“ His eloquence, however, was as nothing compared with the mute oratory of the slope. We could realise in every limb the pain of lifting a leg till the knee almost touches the chin, then the agony of tightening the various muscles till one's weight is fairly raised upon it, followed by the heartbreaking squash as the snow gives way, and a hole eighteen inches deep remains almost the only result of the effort. ”

“ At length the upper snows of the Glacier des Courtes rose to our level, and we tramped across their sun-softened surface till we reached the Col Triolet (10.30 a.m.) .
We discovered a pool of delicious water, formed in a tiny hollow between the névé and the rocky ridge of the pass, and forthwith knapsacks and all encumbrances were discarded, and we drank our fill with the keen enjoyment of thirsty men. Hastings, as usual, extracted unimagined luxuries from his knapsack, and we proceeded to enjoy an aldermanic banquet with far more than aldermanic appetites and digestion. ”