From time to time, when some accident has happened in the Alps, the press and the public have been pleased to take such unfortunate occurrence as a text, and to preach serious sermons to mountaineers. We have been called hard names in our time; we have been accused of fostering an amusement of no earthly-practical good, and one which has led to “miserable” waste of valuable life. Gentle expressions of animadversion, such as “criminal folly,” “reckless venture, which has no better purpose than the gratification of a caprice or the indulgence of a small ambition,” “a [pg 301]subject of humiliating interest,” and the like, have at times been freely used. But it is well known to authors and to dramatists that criticisms of a nature known as “smashing” are not, on the whole, always to be deplored, and are occasionally the best to enhance the success of the work. The novel or play, however unreservedly condemned by the reviewer, has got some chance of living if it be hinted that some of the situations in it are a little risquées; and to a great many the idea seems constantly present that mountaineering owes its principal attraction to the element of risk inseparable from its pursuit. As an absolute matter of fact such is not the case. Apart from this, however, mountaineers may be thankful that the critics in question have, when they noticed our doings at all, condemned us very heartily indeed, and thundered forth their own strictures on our folly in sonorous terms; in fact, attacks of this nature have by no means impaired the vitality of such associations as Alpine clubs, but rather, like attacks of distemper in dogs, have increased their value.
It would be easy enough, from the mountaineer’s point of view, and in a work which, at the best, can interest only those who have some sympathy with climbing as a pure pastime, to pass over these hard words, and to reckon them as merely the vapourings of envious mortals not initiated into [pg 302]the mysteries of the mountaineering craft; but such criticisms may lead or perhaps reflect public opinion, and are not, therefore, to be treated lightly. It might be held that for any notice to be taken at all is complimentary, and we might seek shelter in the epigrammatic saying that he who has no enemies has no character; that though hope may spring eternal in the human breast, jealousy is a trait still more constantly found. But this line of argument is not one to be adopted. The tu quoque style of defence is not one well calculated to gain a verdict. No doubt the question has been treated often enough before, and in discussing it the writer may seem but to be doing what nowadays the climber is forced to do in the Alps—namely, wander again, perhaps ramble, over ground that has been well trodden many times before. But the conditions have changed greatly since mountaineering first became a popular pastime, and since the first editions of “Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers” were rapidly sold out. It is, the writer fears, only too true in these latter days that mountaineers may be classified as Past and Present. Whether a third class may be added of “the Future” is a question—to be answered, I hope, in the affirmative.
Growth of the amusement
The Alpine Club was founded in 1857 by a few ardent devotees to what was then an entirely new form of pastime. The original members of that club could never have even dreamed of the wide [pg 303]popularity mountaineering was destined to acquire, or the influence that the establishment of the Alpine Club was to have on it; and, like the fish in an aquarium, they can hardly have known what they were in for. In the present day there are Alpine clubs in almost every country in Europe, and in some countries there are several, numbering their members in some cases by thousands. Nor is it only on the continent of Europe that there are mountaineering clubs. Not that the writer ventures to assert that every member of this multitude is devoted to the high Alps, or that it is in the least degree essential to climb high and difficult mountains in order to learn the fascination of their natural beauties. It may be pointed out, however, that the “miserable waste of valuable life” is in the greatest part not on the great peaks and passes, but on little hills. Every year we read of accidents on mountains such as the Faulhorn, the Monte Salvatore in the Alps, or Snowdon, Helvellyn and the like in our own country. Possibly these disasters might never have taken place had the experience of mountaineering craft gained in high regions been properly appreciated and utilised. The good surgeon is he who, utilising all his own and all his predecessors’ experience, recognises, and makes provision against, all the risks that may conceivably be involved in the most trifling operation he may be called upon to perform; and holiday ramblers in our [pg 304]own land and in sub-Alpine regions might, not without advantage, profit by the example.
Novelty and exploration
Five-and-twenty years ago in Switzerland there were numberless heights untrodden, passes uncrossed, and regions unexplored. Then, moreover, there were comparatively but few to cross the passes or climb the mountains; but those few did mighty deeds. Peak after peak fell before them, while slowly but surely they opened up new regions and brought unexpected beauties to light. In those days climbing as an art was but in its infancy, restricted to a few amateurs specially qualified to pursue it, and to a very limited number of guides—merely those, in fact (not such a numerous class as people seem generally to imagine), who had made chamois-hunting one of the principal objects of their lives. Gradually the art became more developed, and with the increase of power thus acquired came increase of confidence. From the fact that the training in the mountaineering art was gradual, it was necessarily thorough—a fact that a good many climbers would do well to bear in mind in these latter days. Then, of course, the charm of novelty, so dear to the mountaineer, was seldom absent; he could strike out right or left and find virgin soil; but in quest of novelty search had to be made before long in remote regions. It followed that exploration was not limited, and the early pioneers of mountaineering could, and did learn more [pg 305]of the geography and varied beauties of the Alps in a single season than their followers do, in the present day, in five or six.
After a while the fashion of mountaineering altered sensibly, and a strong conservatism sprang up. Certain districts became more and more frequented; certain peaks acquired special popularity, either because they were conveniently placed and ready of access; or because there was a certain touch of romance about them, as in the case of the Matterhorn; or because they had acquired the reputation of being difficult, and it was thought that a successful ascent would stamp the climber at once as a skilful person and a very daring creature. Thus places like Zermatt, Grindelwald, Chamouni, and the Æggischhorn became the great centres of mountaineering, and have remained so ever since. Independent exploration gradually gave way to the charm of meeting others bent on the same pursuit of climbing; but this feeling was not without its drawbacks, and tended to check what has been called cosmopolitanism in mountaineering. How few, even among those who visit the Alps regularly, know anything whatever of such large, important, and interesting districts as the Silvretta group, the Rheinwald group, or the Lepontine Alps! while districts like Zermatt are thronged and crowded, and the mountains absolutely done to death. Not that it [pg 306]is hard to understand how this narrowing of the field of mountaineering has been brought about. There comes a time of life to most men when they find more pleasure in meeting old friends than in making new acquaintances; and the same feeling would appear to extend to the mountains.
It must be confessed here that the writer is disposed to look upon mountaineering in the Alps, in the sense in which it has hitherto been known, as a pastime that will before long become extinct. In some soils trees grow with extraordinary rapidity and vigour, but do not strike their roots very deep, and so are prone to early decay. Still, it does not follow that, even should these pessimist forebodings prove true, and climbing be relegated to the limbo of archaic pursuits, the Alps will not attract their thousands as they have done for many years. The dearth of novelty is sometimes held to be the principal cause that will eventually lead to the decay of mountaineering. There is a reasonable probability, however, to judge from the Registrar-General’s reports, that the world will still be peopled some time hence, and possibly a generation will then arise of mountaineering revivalists who, never having tasted the flavour of novelty in Alpine climbing, will not perceive that its absence is any loss. Yet in the Alps alone many seem to forget that, while they are exhausting in every detail a few spots, there are numerous and [pg 307]varied expeditions of similar nature still to be accomplished, the scenes of which lie within a few hours of London. It is of course only to mountaineering as a semi-fashionable craze that these remarks apply. The knowledge of the art, acquired primarily in the Alps, which has led to the development of mountaineering as a science will not be wasted, and the training acquired in holiday expeditions, when amusement or the regaining of health was the principal object, can be turned to valuable practical account elsewhere. So shall there be a future for mountaineering. No doubt but few may be able to find the opportunity, unless indeed they make it somewhat of a profession, of exploring the great mountainous districts still almost untouched—such, for instance, as the Himalayas. But it is in some such direction as this that the force of the stream, somewhat tending to dry up in its original channel, will, it may be hoped, spread in the future.
The upward limit
It has already been shown, by the results of many modern expeditions, that the old views that obtained with respect to the upward limit of mountaineering must, to say the least, be considerably modified. From early times the question of the effects of rarefied air in high regions on mountaineers has attracted attention. As a matter of fact the subject is still barely in its infancy. A few remarks on this point [pg 308]may not perhaps be thought too technical, for they bear, I hope, on the mountaineering of the future.