THE MATTERHORN, AND ITS VICTIMS.
The Matterhorn, or Mont Cervin, a peak of the Pennine Alps, fourteen thousand seven hundred and eighty feet high, is unique amongst the mountains of the Alps, for elsewhere throughout their length and breadth there is no single peak that approaches to it in massive grandeur of shape. Standing alone, apart from the neighbouring peaks, holding itself proudly aloof, as it were, from the common herd, it is truly a monarch among mountains. To look upon it is to realise at once the feeling of awe and reverence with which, even to this day, the peasants of the valley regard it—a feeling which in former years had perhaps more to do with its reputed inaccessibility than anything else; whilst other peaks whose ascent is now thought to be more difficult, were falling one by one before the early pioneers of the Alpine Club. In that time—with very few exceptions—even the boldest hunters of Zermatt and the Val Tournanche shrank from attempting the ascent, for time-honoured legends said that the Matterhorn was haunted, that evil spirits made it their trysting-place; and when the storm raged high, and the lightning played about its crags, danced and shrieked around it in unholy glee. Then, too, the Matterhorn has a history of its own, such as no other mountain save Mont Blanc possesses.
Every one who has read Mr Whymper’s Scrambles amongst the Alps—a book which has probably done more to stimulate the love of climbing than any written before or since—knows how he alone—when other mountaineers tried and failed, coming back always with the same tale, that the summit was inaccessible—persisted that it could be reached; and how, though driven back many and many a time, he refused to accept defeat, till at length, after an expenditure of time and money which some would deem completely thrown away in such a cause, his indomitable perseverance met with its due reward. As Mr Whymper’s adventures in connection with the ascent of the Matterhorn have been already related in this Journal under the title ‘Ascent of the Matterhorn,’ January 10, 1880, we need only refer to them here in so far as is necessary for the sequence of the narrative.
There were several attempts made to ascend the Matterhorn previous to 1858; but the first known were those of the four Val Tournanche guides—Jean Antoine Carrel, J. J. Carrel, Victor Carrel, Gabriel Maquignaz, with the Abbé Gorret, in that and in the following year. These attempts were all made on the Italian side, from Breuil; and it does not appear that at any time a greater height than twelve thousand six hundred and fifty feet was attained. Very little definite information, however, has ever been obtainable on the subject.
The next attempt of which we have record was a remarkable one, for it was made by three brothers, the Messrs Parker of Liverpool, and without guides. The attempt was made in 1860 from Zermatt, and these daring climbers attacked the eastern face, looked upon at that time as quite beyond the powers of any human being to climb. They succeeded in ascending to a height of some twelve thousand feet, and were then driven back by bad weather. In the same year, another attempt was made from Breuil by Professor Tyndall and Mr Vaughan Hawkins, with the guides J. J. Carrel and Bennen; but they did not make much advance upon what had been done during the attempts of the Val Tournanche guides; and it is doubtful if a greater height than thirteen thousand feet was reached.
In 1861, the Messrs Parker tried again, but did not succeed in getting much higher than they did in the previous year; while on the Italian side, the two Carrels, J. A. and J. J., made another attempt, which was unsuccessful.
Then began the attempts of Mr Whymper, and from that moment until the last successful expedition, with two exceptions, his name was associated with all the attempts that were made upon the mountain. The two exceptions were those of Mr T. S. Kennedy and of Professor Tyndall in 1862. The first was unique, as having been made in the winter—on the 7th of January. Mr Kennedy seems to have thought that the ascent might prove practicable in winter, if not in summer; but his experience was a severe one. A fierce wind, bitter cold, and a superabundance of snow, prevented his getting very far; and, like all the rest, he returned completely discomfited. The attempt of Professor Tyndall on the Italian side, in July of that year, was perhaps the nearest to success of any that had yet been made. He had two celebrated Swiss guides with him, Bennen and Walter; and he also took, but only as porters, three Val Tournanche men, of whom J. A. Carrel was one. This expedition was only stopped when within eight hundred feet of the top. Professor Tyndall came back so deeply impressed with the difficulties surrounding the ascent, that he made no effort to renew his attempt. In fact, he does not appear to have gone on the mountain again till he ascended it in 1868, three years after the first ascent had been made. Professor Tyndall’s want of success appears in great measure to have been due to the jealousy existing between the guides of the two rival nationalities, Swiss and Italian.
The first attempt by Mr Whymper was made from Breuil on the 29th of August 1861, the same day as the attempt by the two Carrels. Mr Whymper was accompanied by an Oberland guide, who proved a somewhat inefficient companion; and they failed to get higher than the ‘Chimney,’ twelve thousand six hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level. He made other five attempts in 1862, one in 1863, and two in 1865. In the ninth and last, he was successful.
In Mr Whymper’s ninth and successful attempt the united party consisted of Lord Francis Douglas, Mr Hudson, Mr Hadow—a friend of Mr Hudson’s—and the guides Michel Croz and the two Taugwalders, father and son. They started from Zermatt on July 13, 1865, and camped out above the Hörnli ridge. The weather was fine and with everything in their favour, next day, they climbed with ease the apparently inaccessible precipices, and reached the actual summit at 1.40 P.M.
In the account of the expedition which Mr Whymper has given to the world, he graphically describes the wild delight which they all felt at a success so much beyond their hopes, and how for a full hour they sat drinking-in the sweets of victory before preparing to descend. It is almost needless to re-tell a story which we have previously related, and which is so well known as the terrible tragedy which took place during the descent—how Mr Hadow slipped, struck Croz from his steps, and dragged down Mr Hudson and Lord Francis Douglas; how the rope snapped midway between Lord Francis Douglas and old Taugwalder; and how Mr Whymper and the two Taugwalders watched, horrified, whilst their unfortunate companions slid rapidly downwards, spreading out their hands in a vain endeavour to save themselves, till they finally disappeared over the edge of the precipice, falling a distance of four thousand feet on to the glacier below! The bodies of Messrs Hudson, Hadow, and Croz were subsequently recovered, and now lie buried in the graveyard of the Zermatt village church; but of Lord Francis Douglas, nothing could be seen. Beyond a boot, a pair of gloves, and the torn and bloodstained sleeve of a coat, no trace of him has ever since been found. What became of his body is to this day a mystery.