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Page 19
THE MATTERHORN
The Matterhorn is peculiar. I do not know of another mountain like it
on the earth. There are such splintered and precipitous spires on the
moon. How it came to be such I treated of fully in _Sights and
Insights_. It is approximately a three-sided mountain, fourteen
thousand seven hundred and eighteen feet high, whose sides are so steep
as to be unassailable. Approach can be made only along the angle at
the junction of the planes.
[Illustration: The Matterhorn.]
It was long supposed to be inaccessible. Assault after assault was
made on it by the best and most ambitious Alp climbers, but it kept its
virgin height untrodden. However, in 1864, seven men, almost
unexpectedly, achieved the victory; but in descending four of them were
precipitated, down an almost perpendicular declivity, four thousand
feet. They had achieved the summit after hundreds of others had
failed. They had reveled in the upper glories, deposited proof of
their visit, and started to return. According to law, they were roped
together. According to custom, in a difficult place all remain still,
holding the rope, except one who carefully moves on. Croz, the first
guide, was reaching up to take the feet of Mr. Haddow and help him down
to where he stood. Suddenly Haddow's strength failed, or he slipped
and struck Croz on the shoulders, knocking him off his narrow footing.
They two immediately jerked off Rev. Mr. Hudson. The three falling
jerked off Lord Francis Douglas. Four were loose and falling; only
three left on the rocks. Just then the rope somehow parted, and all
four dropped that great fraction of a mile. The mountain climber makes
a sad pilgrimage to the graves of three of them in Zermatt; the fourth
probably fell in a crevasse of the glacier at the foot, and may be
brought to the sight of friends in perhaps two score years, when the
river of ice shall have moved down into the valleys where the sun has
power to melt away the ice. This accident gave the mountain a
reputation for danger to which an occasional death on it since has
added.
Each of these later unfortunate occurrences is attributable to personal
perversity or deficiency. Peril depends more on the man than on
circumstances. One is in danger on a wall twenty feet high, another
safe on a precipice of a thousand feet. No man has a right to peril
his life in mere mountain climbing; that great sacrifice must be
reserved for saving others, or for establishing moral principle.
The morning after coming from Monte Rosa myself and son left Zermatt at
half past seven for the top of the Matterhorn, twelve hours distant,
under the guidance of Peter Knubel, his brother, and Peter Truffer,
three of the best guides for this work in the country. In an hour the
dwellings of the mountain-loving people are left behind, the tree limit
is passed soon after, the grass cheers us for three hours, when we
enter on the wide desolation of the moraines. Here is a little chapel.
I entered it as reverently and prayed as earnestly for God's will, not
mine, to be done as I ever did in my life, and I am confident that amid
the unutterable grandeur that succeeded I felt his presence and help as
fully as at any other time.
At ten minutes of two we were roped together and feeling our way
carefully in the cut steps on a glacier so steep that, standing erect,
one could put his hand upon it. We were on this nearly an hour. Just
as we left it for the rocks a great noise above, and a little to the
south, attracted attention. A vast mass of stone had detached itself
from the overhanging cliff at the top, and falling on the steep slope
had broken into a hundred pieces. These went bounding down the side in
long leaps. Wherever one struck a cloud of powdered stone leaped into
the air, till the whole mountain side smoked and thundered with the
grand cannonade. The omen augured to me that the mountain was going to
do its best for our reception and entertainment. Fortunately these
rock avalanches occur on the steep, unapproachable sides, and not at
the angle where men climb.
How the mountain grew upon us as we clung to its sides! When the great
objects below had changed to littleness the heights above seemed
greater than ever. At half past four we came to a perpendicular height
of twenty feet, with a slight slope above. Down this precipice hung a
rope; there was also an occasional projection of an inch or two of
stone for the mailed foot. At the top, on a little shelf, under
hundreds of feet of overhanging rock, some stones had been built round
and over a little space for passing the night. The rude cabin occupied
all the width of the shelf, so that passing to its other end there was
not room to walk without holding on by one's hands in the crevices of
the wall. We were now at home; had taken nine hours to do what could
be done in eight. What an eyrie in which to sleep! Below us was a
sheer descent, of a thousand or two feet, to the glacier. Above us
towered the crest of the mountain, seemingly higher than ever. The
sharp shadow of the lofty pyramid lengthened toward Monte Rosa. Italy
lifted up its mountains tipped with sunshine to cheer us. The Obernese
Alps, beyond the Rhone, answered with numerous torches to light us to
our sleep. According to prearrangement, at eight o'clock we kindled a
light on our crag to tell our friends in Zermatt that we had
accomplished the first stage of our journey. They answered instantly
with a cheery blaze, and we lay down to sleep.
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