IT has been common in the past to date mountaineering in its modern sporting form from Sir Alfred Wills’ ascent of the Hasle Jungfrau peak of the Wetterhorn in 1854, this despite the fact that it was long since proved to be at least the fourth ascent. (Ten years before the Rosenlaui route had twice been successfully followed and it had been used again by the Englishman, Blackwell, three months before Wills’ Grindelwald ascent. Blackwell had followed the latter route also, but was stopped by storm below the final cornice). Wills cannot, I regret, claim very great singularity for his climb; Blackwell for one has an equal claim to fame as having launched the new movement – but there are others such as the Rev. Wm. Hudson who were already at work. In March 1853 Hudson made several attempts on the Aiguille du Gouter.
If, however, no climb of the early fifties can rightly be said to have marked a complete break with the past and to have initiated the "Golden Age," there is a document which offers a fine and’ natural boundary separating the Golden Age and modern mountaineering from the century of gradual awakening which came first. This is a book which, though concerned with Mont Blanc (the focus of attention during the preceding period), treats that mountain in a revolutionary manner. It comes indeed from one associated above all with the new school – of climbing for fun and fun alone.
The book to which I refer is called "The Story of Mont Blanc." Published in 1853, it is in effect the Birth Certificate of the sport of Alpine Climbing. The author was Albert Smith, a man more usually remembered for the £30,000 he is said to have made by lecturing on Mont Blanc in the Egyptian Hall, PiccadilIy. As I have said, Smith has a place in the modern period, and not only is this for that phenomenal success as a populariser of the Alps, but also for his original membership of the Alpine Club. Unlike so many of his predecessors, he was neither soldier, scientist nor priest. His writing shows a feeling for mountains very much like ours today. The date of his book falls, very happily, in the middle of the transition period between the "Age of Mont Blanc" and the modern age, between the ages of his own climb and those of his contemporaries. (The latter age began with a surge of activity on the part of several independent climbers, mostly Englishmen, but though these strands converged, with the formation of the Alpine Club in 1857, they had not a single common origin). The book itself is now seen to be in fact an almost complete post mortem on the incubation period of Alpine Climbing: it is largely a history of the preceding century’s activity on Mont Blanc and the final chapters describe the author’s ascent in 1851 – one of the last in the old style yet done by a member of the new school.
Let us then take this book as our birth certificate, and, if you will, as the obituary of our parent. Then do we discover the supremely happy coincidence of the centenary of its publication with the appearance of "The Ascent of Everest." An even more strangely parallel subject can be found in Murray’s "Story of Everest" under the same ’53 date, but the really surprising fact is that the first popular monograph of the highest peak of the Alps should precede by exactly a century, the first complete monograph on the highest peak of all.
As to the actual climbs of Hunt and Smith, there is a superficial dissimilarity between the first in 1953 and the thirty-seventh (twentieth British!) ascent in 1851. Nevertheless in several other respects there are remarkable similarities between the two and comparison is rewarding. Particularly striking is the size of the expeditions and their equipment. The twenty guides and about twenty porters that were taken in 1853 are distinctly reminiscent of the Everest porterage. (One ventures to suspect that in 2053 the paraphernalia of Everest today will seem no less incredible). Then we may contrast the artist and illustrator, Wm. Beverley, who accompanied Smith to Chamonix, and the numerous cameras taken to Everest. The Times was notified on the earlier occasion by letter from Smith, but the ethical issue which brought most correspondence and criticism was the risking of the lives of guides, not the case for oxygen. Smith had no film but did have some skilfully lit moving scenery compiled from drawings with which to illustrate his lectures! One such lecture was delivered at a Command Performance at Osborne on August 24th, 1854, and there is yet .html significant link with last year’s expedition, which was similarly honoured.
It is indeed true that the record success of the books, films and lectures of Everest are closely following the equally unprecedented success of the book, handbooks of drawings and the lectures which followed Smith’s expedition. Perhaps we can find part of the reason for the similarities in the two mountains themselves. Both are famed not only for supreme height, but for supreme grandeur and each has presented certain difficulties which were yet not extreme. They are both by way of being noble patriarchs rather than slender, ravishing maidens. Neither is a Matterhorn or Muztagh Tower.
One must conclude this comparison by recalling the influence of the book and lectures of Smith – an influence probably greater than that of Wills’ " Wanderings among the High Alps" (more reason for putting Smith first on any list). One wonders for the future..... Are we to see an equal change in orientation, an equal expansion in the next century. What will be in Cambridge Mountaineering in 2053 in place of the Pillars of Fresnay?
I shall not attempt to precis the "Story of Mont Blanc "; I hope rather that you will read it as a fascinating historical document. The story is simply and amusingly recounted and remains eminently readable; the illustrations are pleasing, especially the coloured frontispiece, showing De Saussure on his ascent in 1787.
Fuller information on Albert Smith can be found in the D.N.B. and the several histories of mountaineering, but as this article would not be complete without some account of the man whose importance is being urged, I offer the following notes to those who cannot consult the better biographies.
Albert Richard Smith was born in 1816 at Chertsey, Surrey, where his father was in practice as a doctor and where he spent his early years. At a tender age he felt his vocation as a showman, and he tells us in his book how his imagination was fired by accounts of ascents of Mont Blanc. He would enact scenes from them for the benefit of his sister who "became quite pale with fright." Despite these inclinations he was compelled to learn a regular profession before indulging them. After five years at the Merchant Taylor’s School he was entered as a Medical Student and studied first at the Middlesex Hospital and later in Paris.
It was during those student days in Paris that the first of many trips to Chamonix was made. In the Introduction to " the Story " he tells how he made an adventurous journey through the Alps and Northern Italy with just one friend, a few pounds and a haversack. They were practically hitch-hiking, travelling on the cheapest coaches and on foot, and sleeping in barns in the modern manner. The railway to Geneva did not yet exist. At Chamonix the young Albert sought employment as a porter on the ascent of Mont Blanc, but nobody was anxious to make an ascent during their stay, though only the day after they departed, a woman came forward and made the second ascent by a lady. The same year as this first trip to Chamonix, Albert Smith sat for his medical degrees and joined his father in practice at Chertsey. It was during the succeeding months in ’39 and ’40 while practising as a doctor in Surrey that "Mont Blanc in a Box" was devised. He now had his own experiences to supplement the narratives of such men as Auldjo, and with his brother’s help he produced an illustrated lecture. It was first given at the local literary and scientific institution, which had recently been established, and was then taken round to similar places in the Home Counties whenever there was a demand. "It was considered quite a hit in the town," for his audience "had seen incandescent charcoal burnt in bottles of oxygen and heard the physiology of the eye explained by diagrams until any novelty was sure to succeed." He had copied his pictures on a large and bold scale and contrived a simple mechanism to make them roll on. He recollects in his book the particular applause which was given to the moon on the Grands Mulets – behind which his brother Arthur held a candle!
Besides this "Mont Blanc in a Box" show, Smith was writing at this time. He had published some humorous articles in the Lancet while still a medical student, and now gradually extended his writing until he was able to pay his way as a writer of light literature and to abandon medicine.
A trip to Constantinople in the late ’40’s gave rise to two books and, in 1859, to his first important public appearance. It was in an entertainment called "The Overland Mail." Perhaps the success of this was partly responsible for Smith’s return to Chamonix the following year with the determination to climb Mont Blanc. At any rate, back he did go, though with fewer adventures than in 1838: by this time the railway had been extended to Geneva and only two days were required for the journey from London.
Read his most entertaining account of the ascent. Despite exaggerated expressions of horror and danger it shows a fine appreciation of the joys and beauty of the mountains. The rather colloquial writing is interesting for its greater similarity to present day English than that of many of his more cultured contemporaries. Their style seems decidedly ponderous today.
Incredible as it may seem, the party actually took 95 bottles of wine and 46 fowls as part of the supplies for the two day climb; but then, there were the 20 guides! The first day they reached the rocks of the Grands Mulets, and there they all bivouacked. Great amusement was had after supper from the rather doubtful sport of rolling empty bottles down the glacier below them. Then, before midnight, they set off again in the moonlight, and nearly nine hours later, at half past eight, they reached the summit. Smith had certainly found the ascent arduous and describes how the moment they reached the top he fell asleep! After a few minutes one of the guides awoke him, so that he was able to appreciate the fine view before they started on the descent within the hour. The descent seems to have been more dangerous on account of melting snow, but eventually everyone got back safely to the Mer de Glace and in the evening a triumphal return to Chamonix was made with the conquering Englishmen mounted on mules.
Celebrations were loud and long and were one cause of annoyance to the eclectics, who criticised the ascent in no friendly fashion. Nevertheless the public liked it and flocked to the lectures for several years. If no one wrote an ode to commemorate the event, we can at least find Tully’s Mont Blanc Quadrille and a Polka, "Les Echos de Mont Blanc" among the "New Dance Music for 1853." Both were dedicated to Alfred Smith, Esq. No echoes from Everest here?
Smith lectured at the Egyptian Hall for several years, frequently returning to Chamonix to renew his impressions and to be fêted by the local people. Another series of lectures were the result of a trip to China – and these began in 1858. The following year he married an ex-actress, but the pair was not to be blessed with a long married life. In May 1860 Smith was suddenly taken ill with bronchitis, and died only four days after giving a last lecture, on the eve of his forty-fifth year.