AN ACCOUNT OP
THE ^SOEN^T OF
IVCOISTT BL^NC
OCTOBER 3d AND 4th, 1866.
BY O. P. BTJEIi.
REPUBLISHED FROM THE TROY DAILY TIMES AND THE PUBLIC SPIRIT.

kc\ I 3

AN ACC-OUN"T

THE A.SOEISrT

MONT BLANC

OCTOBER 3d AND 4th, 1866.

]Sr the 24:th of September, a fair day's walk from Martigny
over the picturesque col or pass known as the Tate ISToiTC,
brought us at evening to the valley of the Arve in which
the little village of Chslmonix lies enclosed by the loftiest of all
the Alpine ranges. It was rather late in the season to visit these
high mountainous regions, but a desire to make our exit from
the Alps amid the grandest of its scenery, had induced us so to
plan our route as to reserve Mont Blanc and its range of moun
tains to the very last. The equinoctial storm had for some days
hung upon our flanks — constantly threatening but still holding
back, and we were induced to hope that we had outmarched the
storm, and that a few days more of fair weather were still in
store for us. But scarcely had we reached the valley of Chamo-
nlx, before the dreaded rain broke out upon us, and we made
rapid haste for shelter by the hospitable fire in the hotel de
I'lJnion. The rain continued through the night and all'the next
day — hiding all the scenery of the valley and forbidding all
egress from our comfortable shelter. Many times did we turn
an enquiring face towards the sky, and in the direction of Mont
Blanc, but in vain, There was nothing to be seen but clouds and ¦
mist, and there were no indications of a cessation of the rain.
But the weather prophets told us there was no calculation of
1

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.

weather to be relied upon this year ; and so when in the after
noon the rain somewhat abated, we recovered hope that we
might at least look upon Mont Blanc. Even in the lull of a
storm, there is much of grandeur and beauty amid these moun
tain scenes. Vast columns of mist rolled up the sides of the
mountains in every fantastic shape. Above the circles which
they wreathed, peered the white crests of the lesser of the chain.
We could catch a glimpse now and then, through the fissures of
the clouds, of the glaciers descending from Mont Blanc. But the
monarch still disdained to show his snowy crown, and the clouds
and mists again folded tliemselves closely together and hid the
mountain from summit to lowest base. It seemed as though he
had wrapped his winter's mantle closely about him and bid the
world a long good night.
The succeeding day the storm still continued. The torrents
poured down broad and swift from the mountains. A party
which had gone out but a little way towards one of the glaciers
to recover some article they had left behind, had to retreat, find
ing bridges swept away and all approaches for even a short
distance wholly impracticable. The storm Avas a severe disap-
pointmen-t to us. We were not without hopes of being able to
try the ascent of Mont Blanc, and now we were fated not even
to SEE the mountain. For thirty years', Albert Smith declares,
the hope of making the ascent had been ever present to his mind.
If such were the case, it would seem that he was very foolish to
put it off so long. Our tramp through Switzerland, although
not made for the specific purpose of preparing or " training" for
the ascent of Mont Blanc, yet constantly suggested that event as
the grand close of our pedestrian campaign. We had been on
foot for many weeks in every part of the Alps, and had climbed
peaks and passes until mountaineering had become a familiar and
easy pastime, and we felt in grand condition for a more arduous
undertaking, and very ready to test our powers upon this — the
loftiest mountain of Europe. So it was, with a reluctant will,
that we abandoned our hope and quitted Chamonix.
But the returning clear and settled weather of October, and
an irresistable desire to make the ascent, led us back from the
beautiful lake of Luzerne, and after two days' constarit traveling,
tedious because retracing our steps, we alighted from the dili
gence at Chamonix again, on the evening of the 2d of October.
We at once proceeded to make arrangements for the ascent.

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.

determined to start in the morning if the weather continued
favorable. Our guides were selected, and to them it was left to fix
the time of departure. We held ourselves in readiness at any
minute, and only insisted upon one condition — that a start should
be made at such time only as appeared to favor a complete ascent
— the merely going up halfway and then returning, did not seem
to us worth our pains. The morning of the 3d opened rather
doubtfully it seemed to us ; the sky was somewhat clouded,
while the day preceding had been clear. But our chief guide
came early to our room and pronoimced a decided opinion that
there would be no storm, and so it was determined to make a
start. The ascent is sometimes made in two days and sometimes
in three. We thouglit two quite sufficient, and so our first day's
journejf would take us to a point known as the Grands Mulcts.
For this portion of the journey, the only preparations worth
while mentioning were, first, heavy shoes with broad hob nails
driven into the soles so as to clinch the ice, and second, Alpine
stocks, staffs of pine or ash about six feet long, with a spike fixed
at the lower end — for protection in many ways in crossing ice
and snow.
Everytliing being in readiness, at about 9-J o'clock wo started
on our journey. The landlord of the hotel shook hands with us
earnestly on our departure and bade us good bye. But as he
said nothing about providing for our unpaid bill at his hotel, his
affecting farewell failed to raise any misgivings in our minds as
to the result of our journey. The party consisted of Dr. McLean
and myself, Ambrose and Edward Simond, guides, and Isaac
Larraz, porter. In order to understand the bearings of our route,
it should be borne in mind that the summit of Mont Blanc is
very nearly exactly South from the village of Chamonix. The
air Ihie Southerly course being taken as a datum, it will not be
difficult to understand the occasional departure therefrom. We
proceeded for perhaps a half an hour along the road which runs
from Chamonix to the hamlet of Bossons, and as we passed
through this little settlement, the men and women who were ac
quainted with our guides learned from them the purpose of our
journey, and wished us " hon voyaged Turning then to the left
and on to our Southerlj'^ course, we crossed the pastures to the
base of the mountain range. The ascent was very abrupt, but we
took it leisurely and easily. Our path led through woods of
larch and fir, and by the beautiful cascade of the Pelerins. Here

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.

Stands the chalet where Albert Snnith made his first halt in his
famous ascent in 1851, with twenty guides, as many porters, and
" one boy." Here dwelt the pretty Julie, the sprightly liostess
of the place, whom a scandalous guide book writer reports that
Albert, his twenty guides, as many porters and " one boy," all
affectionately kissed as though never to see her again. But the
story is a libel. Julie had a sweetheart among the guides and of
course he kissed her — and perhaps Albert did also — but there it
stopped. She is a staid married woman now, and keeps a tavern
in a village of the valley.
Above the woods there is an expanse of wretched browsing
land upon which a few goats were securing a precarious sub
sistence. Our path continued straight on up, and we made no
considerable halt until at lU o'clock, when we reached the chalet
of Pierre Pontue, at an altitude of 2500 feet above the village
of Chamonix. This is the last habitation on the route, and was
built by the guides for their convenience in making the ascent.
From this place such provisions as are needed are carried by the
porters across the glaciers to the Grands Mulcts. At Pierre
Pontue we made a halt and lunched. The vicM' from this spot
of the valley beneath is very fine. The chalet stands on a bluff,
and the steepness of the declivity made it seem as though Cha
monix were right under us, thousands of feet below. The course
of the Arve we could readily trace, rising many miles to the
right in the steep sides of the Col de Balme, and pouring angrily
down into the valley of Chamonix, which Gcjethe termed the Cup
of the Arve, whose sides are 'the mountains. From the Chalet
we took with us a third guide, Silven Couttet, the proprietor of
the Pierre Pontue and of the hut on the Grands Mulcts. From
Mont Blanc there descends towards the valley of the Chamonix
an iiTimense glacier— the Bossons — mau}^ luiles in breadth at the
broadest part. This is bounded on either side by high, precipi
tous walls of rock. Those on the right from the valley make up
the Montague de la Cote— the path taken by Balmat, De Sau-
sure, and the earliest ascensionists. The rocky walls on the left
of the glacier (ascending) make up the base of the lofty Aiguille
du Midi, and along this ridge lay our route. For about an hour
our course led us straight up this vwky ledge, skirting the valley
of an extinct glacier, which had long since receded, leaving its
traces in the long, confused lines of rock and stones — the mo
raines, as they are termed by the Geologists. Beyond the valley

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.

lay the glacier of the Bossons. There was of course no marked
ijath, and we picked our way along from one crag to another,
availing ourselves of the crooks and crannies in the rocks to
plant our footsteps, and at times when crossing a steep shelving
ledge, clinching the rocks with our hands. An ascent along this
ledge for upwards of an hour brought us to the source of the
moraine, and here we turned abruptly to the right from our
straight Southerly course, and crossed the valley of the extinct
glacier. Eight before us lay the glacier of the Bossons, its walls
of ice towering up hundreds of feet above us on the brink of the
precipice which bounds the valley on the farther side. After
leaving the chalet of Pierre Pontue, we had passed beyond the
region of abundant vegetation. But a thousand feet farther iq3,
and on the very verge of the everlasting snows, I discovered a
" forget-nie-uot" in beautiful bloom. I was surprised to find this
little blue flower so far up on these rugged heights, and blooming
near these snow-fields as sturdily and cheerfully as though it had
been nursed by some watchful, tender gardener. There probably
could not be found anywhere on earth, a flower blooming higher
up than the spot where this little forget-me-not waved so smi
lingly in the winds of these mountains. And there it was — the
last to bid us an adieu as we plunged into the wilderness of snow,
and the first to greet our return.
We were proceeding leisurely on our Avay across the moraine,
when (jf a sudden we A\'ere aroused by the thunder of an aval
anche just beyond the valley. We paused involuntarily in our
Bte})s, and looked eagerly to\vards the glacier. After the lapse
of a fe^v moments, we could distinctly trace the falling ice and
snow, and the debris of the avalanche piled up- in the valley.
The fall had been from an elevation of from three to four hun-,
dred feet, and was much lower down on the glacier than the
ctiurse of our route. After perhaps an hour's walk across the
moraine, we entered upon the glacier, and a magnificent specta
cle opened before us. I had seen, I think, all the famous glaciers
of 'Switzerland, but this surpassed them all in wild beauty. It
is a difficult thing to describe glaciers, and the diversity among
tliem is so great, that no general description is sufficient. Some
w-riter has likened this glacier to a troubled sea suddenly frozen.
It is a vast chaos of ice thrown down from the mountain in in
numerable heaps and masses, piled up in every wild and fantas
tic shape — vast arches, domes, pinnacles, galleries and grottoes.

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.

It seems as though the genii-architects had been at work,
fashioning these ice boulders into all strange and monstrous
shapes. But it is only the lower glacier which is thus thrown
and broken— the upper portion above the Grands Mulcts is smooth,
and consists of ice hills and plateaus. In the midst of this ice
wilderness, and dividing the glacier into two channels, rises a
precipitous ledge, which is called the Grands Mulcts, and this was
now our objective point. The tramp across the glacier was for
sometime neither difficult nor fatiguing, but sis we approached the
junction of the two channels, it became more embarrassing. The
masses of ice were frec|uently separated by deep, yawning cre
vasses. When these were not wide A\'e could leap them, but at
other times we had to follow along the edge of the crevasse until
we found a bridge, usually a block of ice or a mass of hardened
snow wedged tightly in between the Avails of the crevasse, and over
this •we crossed. Sometimes the Avails upon the further side Avere
tipped so as to present a steep slope, "\7hen such surfaces Avere
met with, the guide, in advance, chopped steps in the ice, and in
this way Ave mounted up. These fissures and crevasses are con
stantly changing, and of course the paths amongst them are ever
changing, also. Every advance guide must find out a path for
himself and those Avhom he leads. At times our march would
be brought to a stand-still on some icy boulder, by the opening
up of some ucav crevasse, and then earnest Avoukl be the cousulta-
ti(m among the guides. But so skillfully had our c()urse been
chosen, that in no instance Avere Ave compelled Avholly to retrace
our steps. At one point Ave had completed a long and steep
ascent for nearly an hour up a hill of snoAv and ice, and all at
once Ave came upon a crevasse hundreds of feet in depth. There
Avas no bridge, and the chasm Avas broad. There appeared to be
no Avay of crossing the gulf. It seemed as though avc must
retrace om- steps and undo all the hard work of laborious ascent.
But to return Avould be difficult, and Avould cause a tedious and
embarrassing delay. So avc followed sloAvly along the edge of
the crevasse, until finally avc came to a narrow and rather dubious
bridge of frozen snow. Our guides debated many minutes whether
or not to risk the bridge. But the great delay and equal uncer
tainty of retracing and following souie other route, determined us
to venture. The younger Simond was in the van, and he fastened
a rope securely around liis body, and Ave all planted ourselves
firmly upon the ice and grasped the rope. Simond slowly juovcd

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 7
on, trying the snow with his pick, and lightly and noiselessly
stepped upon the bridge and passed on OA'er. Each of the party
then followed in his footstexss, one only moving at a time, and
firmly secured by the rope, which Avas stoutly grasped by the
others on either bank. And so we all passed over. The distance
on the glacier to the Grands Mulcts is perhaps a mile ; but so
slowly and cautiously had we to move, feeling our path, chopping
steps, and aiding each other over crcA'asses and ice ridges, that
the crossing required two full hours. At length Ave reached the
rocks of the Grands Mulcts, and clambered up to the little cabin.
It Avas now four o'clock, and Ave had many good hours for rest
before entering upon the second and more difficult stage of our
journey. The cabin of the Grands Mulcts is a little shanty perched on
an abrupt precipice, and looks down on one side hundreds of feet
to the glacier below, and on another side abuts right against the
rocks. It was built by the guides of Chamonix' for a shelter on
their ascents, each guide carrying up a plank to aid in the con
struction. It is a A^ery small affair, but it is ncA-ertheless a shelter,
and that is all one could reasonably ask for at such a height
above all conveniences. We made ourseh-es comfortable by an
entire change of clothing, and then sat down Avith eager appetite
to Avatch our "landlord" cook the supper. We had now reached
an elevation of ten thousand tAVO hundred feet above the level of
the sea, and had accomplished this portion of the journey Avithin
the usual, allowed time. We had made an excellent start, but
our guides seemed far from confident that we should reach the
top. " I have been a guide for over tAventy-fiA-e years," said old
Simond, "and have started from Chamonix thirty- one times to
reach the summit of Mont Blanc, and have only succeeded in
gaining the top fifteen times." The record book of the Grands
Mulcts told many a similar story of baffled and abandoned
attempts. Of our ability to undergo the fatigue and difficulties
of the ascent, Ave did not allow ourselves to entertain a doubt.
But of the weather, the condition of the snow for footing, the
course of the avalanches, — great Avere the uncertainties. The
sun had set amid clouds, and if it should storm, an ascent would
be out of the question. " I don't like those clouds in the West,"
said old Simond, later in the CA-ening, " but still the wind is right,
and there are but few stars. Too many stars are a bad sign. I
think it will be a clear morning." On one thing we at once

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.

determined — that in case of a storm, we would not descend, but
would remain at the Grands Mulcts until the storm subsided, and
then go on upwards. There was not much to amuse us inside
the cabin. I read all through an ancient cop}- of the " Chimney
Corner," Avhich somehow or another had found its way up here a
year before, and so having nothing better to do we Avrapped our
selves up warmly in blankets and made ourselves as comfortable
as AVC could for the night. For a long time the guides kept up
their laughing and talking in the outer room, but finally the
candle was put out, and Ave composed ourselves for sleep. But
now we began to experience on^ of the severest trials of an ascent
in the upper Alps — the rarity of the atmosphere. It is this more
than anything else perhaps, Avhich lias foiled so many endeavors
to accomplish the ascent, and Avhicli causes more annoyance to the
climber than all else beside. This we now experienced in the
difficulty of respiratioji, the catching of our breath, pain in the
chest, and the struggles at times for sufficient inspiration. This
difficultj'^ varies undoubtedly with different people. We both
felt it very perceptibly, tlumgh not severely. The experience of
very many as disclosed by the record book at the Grands Mulets,
and the narratives of De Saussure, Tyndall, Smith, and others
testify to still greater difficulty — amounting to actual suffering.
The Doctor overcame the difficulty sufficiently to sleep soundly.
As fov myself, after a fair trial, I abandoned the hope of sleep,
and got up to look out upon the outer Avorld. The night Avas
not very cold (the mercury stood only at the freezing point) —
there was no moon — and but a few stars glimmered in the North
and East. In the West, the horizon Avas clouded, and the valley
was hidden by thick gathering mists. Every once in a while way
off to the Westward and far below us, I could see flashes of light
ning, illumining for a moment the sharp mountain peaks on the
other side of the valley, and then all Avas dark again. It seemed
to me very strange to be Avay up above the clouds, in the midst of
a vast glacier, within sound of avalanches, shut out from the
Avorld by barriers of cloud and snow and ice in the deep silence of
night. I could almost imagine myself a visitor before some
strange planet. But I tired of Avatching the sky and of this idle
"night's dream," and lay doAvn again to doze, half asleep and
half awake, for an hour or two more.
At two o'clock the guides aroused us, and breakfasting on
sardines and cold chicken and a cup of tea, Ave prepared in earnest

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.

for the undertaking before us. The ascent to the Grands Mulets
was but pastime to what awaited us now, and commensurate with
the task before us Avere the preparations of our experienced guides.
First, not only were our shoes literally soaked in grease, but the
guides coated our feet also Avith tallow, and wrapped them in
woolen batting, and over this and the socks and shoes, heavy
leggings and Avoolen gaiters were firmly bound. All this to
protect the feet from the chill of ten or twelve hours' exposure to
the snow and ice. Over our heads and coming doAvn OA^er our
faces and necks, Ave wore Avoolen coverings — "helmets," with
openings just sufficient for eyes, nose, and mouth. Heavy mittens
completed our rig. We again took our Alpine-stocks in hand
ready to sally forth. The guide who was to lead the advance
now bound an inch rope firmly about his waist, and at intervals
of about ten feet, each of the party was successively " roped in,"
the rope being adjusted firmly around his waist and secured by
a tight knot.
ISToAV all was ready, and at tAventy minutes after 2 o'clock, a. m.,
the candle Avas blown out and the door shut as we left the cabin
of the Grands Mulets and formed our line of march. It was a
crisp, cold night. The horizon in the West was still grim and
gloomy, and but fcAV stars glimmered in the sky. In the South
west, the snowy face of the " Dome du Goute " was lit up by the
reflected light of the moon — unseen herself and not yet risen
above the mountains. The soft, rosy tint which suffused the snows
on the mountain, beautifully relieved the deep gloom which
enveloped all else in the scene. Above all, far in the background,
the lofty summit of Mont Blanc itself towered grandly up, and
but dimly visible in the feeble light. It Avas a Avintry night —
without a moon. And how do you think we went ? By the light
of lanterns. One lantern was carried by the guide in front, one
by the guide in the rear, and by this light, roped together and in
single file Ave started on our midnight march. The reason for
this early start is briefly explained. From the ledges farther up
and skirting the Grand Plateau, the avalanches fall swift and
broad and frequent, from about noontime, when the sun has
acted upon them, until about midnight. Our tramp from the
Grands Mulets to the summit and back would consume about ten
or twelve hours, and must, for safety, be accomplished at such
season, as there is a lull in the fall of ice and snow upon the
track Ave must needs cross. Hence the importance of doing as
2 

10 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.
much as possible before the sun has begun to exert its power
upon the sensitive masses of snow. After proceeding a few rods
along the rocks of the Grands Mulets, we emerged again upon
the snow fields. Directly acro'ss our straight southerly course
(which I explained above) lay a vast crevasse, of great breadth,
and from four hundred to five hundred feet in depth, and extend
ing in an easterly and Avesterly direction for a great distance. To
avoid the crevasse, and to cross it at the only accessible point, a long
detour in a Avesterly direction, along its edge, was necessary, and
upon this we now entered. There was but little ascent until the
crevasse was passed, but its wall sloped abruptly down hundreds of
feet at an angle of not less than forty-five degrees, and along this
slope we had now to keep our way. The ice was fortunately
covered with a good snow of a sufficient depth and compactness
to enable us readily to take firm footsteps, and when the snow
failed, or was so frozen as not to yield to pressure, the advance
guide, the younger Simond, chopped steps in the ice, and in these
we firmly planted our feet. It was at first a rather embarrassing
tramp. The tAvo lanterns threw but a fitful light across
the path, and were scarcely sufficient to enable those in the
centre, to distinguish the footprints in which they Avere to tread.
" More light," was our oft repeated and only want. The inclina
tion of the crevasse was so great, that our left shoulders frequently
pressed against the banks above ; but fortunately for our nerves
perhaps, in this first essay, the darkness veiled the steeps below us. ,
At length we reached a narrow bridge of snoAV and ice which
crossed the crevasse, and over this we trod with the utmost care.
The rope was kept tight. We< moved as lightly and noiselessly
as possible. Not a word was spoken. Each was fully absorbed in
watching the footsteps in Avhich he was to tread. Thus one at a
time we crossed the bridge. The burial of Sir John Moore could
not have been more silent and solemn than this midnight proces
sion over the crevasse, "Avith our lanterns dimly burning.''
Beyond the crevasse, the ascent is straight up, by a succession of
three hills of ice and snow, broken by small plains, until the Grand
Plateau is reached. Up these hills we now bent our course, some
times moving heavily in the snow up to our knees, sometimes tread
ing cautiously and sloAvly in steps chopped in the ice. On we
toiled, each one stamping his foot strong and firm in the footstep
vacated by the one in advance. It was slow, steady Avork,
" Leg over leg as the dog went to Dover."

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 11

Just before reaching the Grand Plateau we were suddenly
aroused by the roar of an avalanche falling upon the farther side
of the Plateau. To the experienced ear of our guides, this served
as a timely warning, for the avalanche had fallen directly across
the new and usual path from the Grand Plateau to the summit,
in what is knoAvn as the Corridor. Up to this moment it had been
left unsettled whether to take the new path through the Corridor,
or the old path^ or " Ancien passage." The falling of this ava
lanche, indicating the comparative uncertainty of the snow at
the different points, at once determined the guides to take the
old and less frequented path.
At about five o'clock, and just at peep of day, we reached the
Grand Plateau, and the scene Avhich opened up to us Avas grand
and beautiful beyond description. We stood in the midst of a
vast snow prairie, many miles in breadth. To the right, as we
faced the south, rose the snoAvy slopes of the " Dome du Goute ;"
upon the left, the sharp, jagged pinnacles of the " Aiguille du
Midi," and the " Mons du Tacul," and right before us, from the
southern boundaries of the Plateau and against the background
of the heavens, towered up the dome of Mont Blanc, three
thousand feet above the plain. Skirting the plateau,- the steep
slopes or abrupt precipices of these mountains formed the race
course for the avalanches of snow and ice, which through the day
and far into the night hurry swiftly down these vast inclined
planes, and pile up their debris upon the plains below. We Avere
standing on the very theatre of the avalanches. The break of
day, upon the Grand Plateau, was the most Avierdly beautiful
scene I ever gazed upon. The constellation of Orion, the last on
Avatch at night, was now midway down the heavens, far below
the summit of the Mont Blanc, and the monarch seemed himself
to be the fabled Giant, and to have girdled on his sword-belt.
Over the Mons du Tacul, the moon, now in her last quarter, and
transparent in the daAvning light of day, had lifted up, and rested
lightly upon the brow of the mountain, like a coronet of gold,
diffusing the softest rosy hues over the surface of snow. Far off
towards the north and west, beyond the valley of Chamonix
(itself hidden under the mountains) we could trace the long
course of sharp pealcs of the " red needle " range, noAvlit up with
the first gray dawn of morning. All else in the scene were the
snow hills and the suoav plains, which the eye could follow to the
very bounds of the horizon. There was no wind, and the deep

12 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.
silence which reigned, added an element of solemnity to the
grandeur of the scene.
It was now sufficiently light to proceed Avithout the lanterns,
and after breakfasting again on some frozen chicken (for the
mercury had for' sometime stood at twenty degrees) and after
drinking up the last of the bottle of green tea we had brought
with us, we started across the plains. At the further extremity,
the new and usual route turns toAvards the left through the Cor
ridor, and under the precipices which form an abutment of Mont
Blanc, and which are called the Bodies Bouge — red rocks. The
old path or "Ancien Passage," now almost entirely disused,
because much steeper and generally more dangerous, bears to the
right and climbs the steep ascent which terminates the Roches
Bouge, and so scales the precipices themselves. For the reason
that the avalanche we had heard but a brief time before had
fallen across the new path through the Corridor, it was deter
mined to foUoAv the " Ancien Passage." The ascent was very
steep and severe, and the suoav much of the way frozen into firm
and unyielding ice. Cautiously and silently we scaled the slopes,
the advance guide carefully testing the snows, and chipping
footsteps in the ice, and each of us watching eagerly the indenta
tions and stamping the foot on each advance firmly into the
footmarks of the guide. For a long time, with every advance,
the slope seemed to grow more and more abrupt, but avc were now
crossing the track of the avalanches, and had no time to think about
anything else but the firm planting of our footsteps, and moved
along as rapidly as the nature of such an ascent would alloAV.
About midway towards the Eoches Eouge there is a ridge of ice,
rounded across the route like, a huge back-bone. The inclination
of the slope we were now scaling varies from fifty-two degrees
below, according to the measurement of Hudson and Kennedy,
to sixty degrees further up, according to the measurement of
Albert Smith. Below the ridge of ice, the declivity suddenly
breaks into a steep precipice, which plunges down a thousand
feet into a vast crevasse into the very bowels of the glacier. Here,
in 1820, occurred the first fearful tragedy on Mont Blanc. Dr.
Hamel, a savant of St. Petersburgh, Avas proceeding up the
mountain with a large attendance of guides, Avhen suddenly,
without a moment's Avarning, an avalanche swept across their
path, and three of his guides were hurried down the precipice into
the crevasse below, and were buried in the glacier, far beyond the

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 13
reach of human help. In the slow and certain march of this vast
ice river, the remains of the unfortunate men were borne along
down towards the valley, and forty years from the time of the
catastrophe, were recovered piece-meal at the foot of the glacier,
far below the Grands Mulets. One of our guides (Couttet) pointed
out the fatal spot, but little did he think that in scarce a fort
night more he himself would witness a repetition of that awful
tragedy upon the very spot of its occurrence. But so it was to be.
For, since I have commenced this letter, the London Times
publishes the sad news of a fearful loss of life upon this very spot,
but two weeks after Ave crossed it on our ascent. On the lith of
October, Capt. Arkwright, with four guides (among them Silven
Couttet), left the Grands Mulets at 5:30 a. m., for the summit of
Mont Blanc, taking the same route that we had pursued — by the
" Ancien Passage." When midway on the passage, Couttet, who
was in the rear, discovered indications of movement in the snows
above, and called out to the party in advance. But it was too
late. The avalanche poured fiercely down, and the unfortunate
man and three of his guides were SAvept in an instant down the
precipice into the glacier below. It is uncertain yet where their
bodies Avere carried, but it is doubtful if trace of them Avill be
found, until a generation hence the glacier will yield them jip far
down in the valley of the Bossons.
At the time we reached the ice ridge, Couttet was in the
advance, and for some reason, I never could satisfy myself why,
instead of chopping steps and passing slowly over, Couttet hurried
over with a run or leap, and so suddenly pulling on the rope,
brought us one by one hurriedly^ upon the ridge, and before we
could take thought, over upon the farther side. We had no time
to choose footsteps— indeed, there were none marked. But
stamping our nailed soles into the ice, and thrusting our stocks
firmly against the upper slope, and so steadying our steps, and
leaning heavily upon our staffs, we passed safely over before avc
liad time fully to realize the awkward nature of the crossing.
Whether such was Couttet's plan, or whether he found himself
unexpectedly upon the ridge and so compelled to take hurried
steps, I could not make up my mind. But at all events, on our
return, the younger Simond was in the van, and he changed the
tactics' and chopped steps in the ice, and. With these safeguards,
we passed securely over. We were now beyond the crevasse, but
the slope became more and more abrupt. We were on that part

11: ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.
of the ascent knoAvn as tlie " Mur de Cote " — the most precipitous
of all — so vividly described by Albert Smith in the account of
his ascent in 1851. The angle of inclination along this icy slope
is, according to Smith's measurement, sixty degrees. A Avind at
this time sprung up and blcAV down upon us fiercely from the
summit — not only chilling our limbs, but, what Avas infinitely
more annoying, blowing down loose snow and ice across our
path, so as almost to obliterate the foot prints of those who were
in adArance. I felt a strange propensity once or twice to watch
the ice rattling sAviftly past our feet and j^lunging doAvii from one
steep to another till it Avas lost in the distance. But the necessity
of warily directing each step, soon rivetted our attention upon
our footsteps to the exclusion of all other thoughts. Slowly, the
leader felt his path and broke the ice with his pick, so as to effect
a firm hold. We had come to feel a certain confidence in a well-
placed footstep. Firmly Avould we thrust our stocks into the
slopes above, and as they extended out almost horizontally, we
leaned heavily upon them, while Ave raised a foot and struck it
strong and firm into the step just vacated by the person in
advance. When this Avas done, Ave had completed a stage in our
journey. Thus sloAvly and certainly, we toiled up the slope,
until we rested at the foot of the last ascent— the dome of Mont
Blanc. It seemed very near to us, and the further ascent was
devoid of all danger. But our guides told us we had a full hour
and a half's steady climb before Ave reached the summit.
And now the difficulty of breathing in this very rare atmosphere
became to me very oppressive. • I could readily understand how
it was that De Saussure was unable at thnes to continue his
experiments owing to difficult resj)iration. So judiciously had
the guides led the ascent that there was no moment that we both
did not feel conscious of a reserve of strength Avhich Ave could at
any moment command for any emergency. Now, it seemed to
me, I should need all the reserves. The difficulty was not fatigue,
but simply and wholly the labored and painful respiration. So
long as the green tea had lasted, I had all the stimulus I required,
but noAV I had toiled up these steep ascents for three hours with
out even tliis nourishment. I had not yielded to the suggestion
of the guides, who quoted their maxim, " At the bottom of a bottle
of wine, there are two good legs." I found mine sufficiently
stout and active of 'themselves. But some stimulus Avas a sheer
necessity at this great height, to supply the Avant of oxygen in

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 15
the atmosphere. The raisins Avitli which the guides had supplied
us, and which we industriously munched, failed to allay tlie
unpleasant sensations; a little rum^ hoAvever, relieved the
depression in an instant, and I suffered no farther trouble.
McLean, who had learned wisdom earlier in the day, was
spared my unpleasant experience. There is no denying the fact,
total dbstinenoe, like vegetation, has its limits of healthy existence,
and it cannot fiourish in the upper regions of Mont Blanc. Up
the last ascent we moved slowly along, through the deepest
snows we had yet encountered. The crest Avas in full A'iew all
the way, but not until after more than an hour's steady '^^, at
a fcAV minutes before nine, did we plant our feet upon the summit.
The goal was reached, and Ave thrust our' Alpine stocks into the
topmost snows and rested. Our ascent had been watched from
Chamonix, and our arrival at the summit hailed by the firing of
a cannon, but we were too far off to hear the report. A fierce,
chilling Avind Avas bloAving at the time, and the mercury fell into
the bulb of our little thereniometer, Avhich Avas only marked to
eight degrees above zero. It was a clear day, however, and we
had as extended a view as is probably ever enjoyed from the
summit. The deep mists hid the valley and lake of GencA'a, but
beyond rose the Juras, and farther to the north the full panorama
of the Bernese Oberland, the MS^, the Jungfrau and the Finster-
horn. In the east Ave saw the mountains of Zel^jj-att, the Weiss-
horn, Monte Eosa, and the sharp, black peak of the Matterhorn.
And toAvards the south our vision extended far oA^er the mountains
and plains of Italy. But the elevation Avas too great, the
distance too far, to show out any feature of the scenery clearly
and distinctly. The vicAV from the Eigi is more picturesque, and
the mountain panorama from the Gorner Grat at Zermatt, reveal
ing all the glories of the Pennine Alps, Avith the fierce, dark face
of the Giant Matterhorn towering up threateningly right before
you, is more startling ; and yet these heights are but pigmies in
comparison with the " Monarch of the Alps."
The bitter Avind, and the necessity of reaching the Grand
Plateau before the heat of the sun should move the snow,
hastened our return. Our stay on the summit did not exceed
ten minutes. The descent, the guides had told us, would be
mere pastime, and so it proved. As avc retraced our steps along
a precipice, indeed, we moved slowly and cautiously step by step.
But even along such places our descent seemed to us but a baga-

16 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.
telle. It was much easier now, of course, to brace our feet, and
besides, we saw at once the great protection of the rope, if kept
taut, in checking a slip. If allowed to sag, a person falling on a
declivity would in an instant acquire a velocity that would be
irresistable, and would hurry the whole party with himself down
the mountain. Thus the Englishmen perished on the Matterhorn
in 1865, and thus Young Avas lost on Mont Blanc in August of the
present year. Besides, on the descent, there was no fatigue, as
in climbing, and one acquires a familiarity with steep slopes that
too often begets a sort of recklessness. And it is a singular fact,
which the last consideration may partially explain, that more
accidents have, in the past fcAV years at least, occurred on the
descent than on the ascent of high mountains. But it was the
snow hills which terminated in plateaus, that yielded the life and
sport of the descent. Down these we went sliding in a long line,
like a parcel of school boys, guiding ourselves by our Alpine-
stocks, sometimes rolling and tumbling oA'er in the snow, hurrying
down at full speed, laughing and shouting all the Avay, until we
all brought-up in the snow banks below. It was grand sport !
It beat all the coasting I ever did in my school days. To show
the comparative rate of moving upon the ascent and on the
descent : while it took us four hours to reach the summit from
the Grand Plateau, it only required about an hour and a half to
regain the same place. As Ave emerged upon the Grand Plateau,
the sun had risen brightly over the plain, and myriads of icy
prisms sparkled and flashed in the sunlight all over the vast
expanse. So dazzling Avas the reflection from the snow-field, that
we were glad to resort to the green glasses with which we had
been provided. With the goggles added to the woolen head-gear,
our disguise was complete; it would have puzzled the most
familiar friend to have recognized any one of us from the rest of
the party. We reached the Grands Mulets at noon, and after a
brief rest, continued the descent across the Glacier with much '
the same experience as before. At 3 o'clock, Ave reached the
chalet of Pierre Pontue. All our difficulties and exertions were
at an end, and the ropes had been untied. After emerging from
the Glacier, it was with a feeling of contentment at least, that we .
stood once more on terra jirma. After resting for an hour, we .'
descended through the woods and down into the meadows below. |
Chamonix was now close at hand, and as we crossed the fields at \
the foot of the mountains, we heard the firing of cannon in the

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 17
village annoimcing our return. For Chamonix is a very little
place, made up of guides and those who come to be guided. Mont
Blanc bounds its mental no less than its material horizon, and
great are the honors it bestows on a " Mont Blanc ascensionist ! "
The guides, and waiters, and chambermaids, all gather about him
in the village square, and the " chief of guides " and the landlord
of his hotel extend to him the hospitalities of the community.
Even the tourists at the hotels, disturbed by the roar of the
cannon, turn out to see what is the matter. For a few hours he
is a " lion," and if he chances to arrive late in the afternoon, his
laurels may wear green through the entire evening ! We reached
our hotel at 4:15, p. m., and thus fully within the average time,
we accomplished the three hundred and ninety-sixth ascension of
Mont Blanc.
But Jacques Balmat first "set the egg on end" in 1786.
Great must have been the dangers and sufferings which this
intrepid mountaineer had to undergo. And although he reached
the goal which had baffled many an adventurer before, yet even
his iron frame yielded to the excitement and fatigue, and for many
weeks, on a bed of sickness, he lingered at death's door. Balmat
disclosed his achievement to Dr. PaCcard, his attending physician,
and they two, on the 6th of August, 1786, reached the summit.
This is the first ascent recorded in the " book of ascensions " at
Chamonix, where every subsequent ascent has been carefully
chronicled. The experience of the earlier ascensionists, both as
to time and movement, and other features of the journey, is the
experience of all at the present day, and must, from the nature
of the ascent, be the experience of all in the future. We made
up the number of thirty-one Americans who have reached the
summit of Mont Blanc, of which number, seven accomplished
the ascent the present year.
And now will come the question, "does it pay?" There
is, of course, no such thing as answering this question to
the satisfaction of all minds. Whether the ascent shall prove
a pleasure or a burden, will depend on certain prerequisites and
preparations. First, there must be a real genuine love of mountain climbing.
Murray, in his guide book, says : " It is a notorious fact that a
vast proportion of those who have made the ascent, have been
persons of unsound mind." And indeed since the view from the
summit is notoriously inferior to that from many lower stand
3 

18 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC.
points, excepting the ascent be made for scientific purposes, I
know of no rational motive for undertaking it, excepting the
pure and simple love of scaling heights. This may be an acquired
taste (I think not), but that it is extant, the existence of Alpine
clubs, and the numbers of mountain climbers, men and women, '
Ave meet with in all parts of the Alps, furnish abundant proof.
Second, one should know his powers of endurance to be beyond
question, for the tax on these is very great.
And lastly, the ascent can only be made with safety and com
fort in the company of experienced and judicious guides.
The sad fate of poor Samuel Young this past summer (who.-
attempted the ascent Avithout guides) is a warning that will not
soon be forgotten. There is a vast difference among the Chamo
nix. guides. Many of them have never been on the summit. I
cannot but think that Capt. Arkwright perished a victim to tire
ignorance or recklessness of his guides in allowing him to tarry
at the Grands Mulets till sunrise, so that he reached the path of
danger Avhen a noon day's sun was pouring its melting heat upon
the unstable snows. But there are others, such as the two
Simonds, who are splendid mountaineers — ^brave, sturdy, intelli
gent, and withal courteous, and kind-hearted — noble men every
way. Under any other conditions than those specified, the ascent of
Mont Blanc would be an intolerable burden, if not an utter
impossibility. Else it is a rare pleasure. On the day succeeding
our descent we bade adieu to the valley of Chamonix and to the
Alps, and turned our faces towards the Ehine and England.

ASCENT OP MONT BLANC.

19

Note. — The following is a complete list of the Americans
who have made the ascension of Mont Blanc, as taken from the
"Book of Ascensions" at Chamonix, in which every ascension is
entered by the Mayor, on the report of the Chief of Guides :
 Ho-srard.
1819.  Rensselaer.
1854. August 39— Dr. Gt. Clenhot.
1855. August 16 — George W. Heard.
33— James Kldd, (of Albany).
1856. August 4 — Henry Fairbank.
1857. July 19— A. M. Morrison.
" — James Kidd.
August 4 — Gfeorge W. Heard.
" — Augustus Heard.
" 36— W. Dana Hopson.
" '¦ — Leroy Stuyvesant.
1859. August 8 — Andrew Murray.
" 36 — Anthony Covent.
1860. July 17— W. Stanley Smith.
1861. August 7— W. Barney.
" 11 — Unknown.
" 36 — Charles Penman.
" 27 — ^Richard Attenkot.
1863. August 4 — Hamilton Lockwood.
" 13— Coults Cutter.
" "—William Cutter.
1865. July 4^W. Fay.
" 6— R. T. Coolidge.
" 37— George W. Weld.
October 3 and 3— MISS BREEVOORT, (of New York).
1866. July 17— C. L. Curtis.
August 4 — Howard Payson Arnold, (of Boston).
September 13— Dudley S. Wilkinson, (of Syracuse).
" " — John S. Wilkinson, "
" 14 — T. Warner Johnson.
October 4 — Dr. Le Roy McLean.
" "—Oliver P. Buel.

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