Alpine Club. De Saussure, in virtue of his ascent of Mont Blanc (August 1787), and the published account thereof, may be looked upon as the father of mountaineering. For many years, however, climbing was almost confined to this peak, and the amusement was little appreciated. Albert Smith (who ascended Mont Blanc in 1851) stimulated public curiosity, but the real development came with the formation of the Alpine Club in 1857-8, and the publication of Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers in 1859. Mountaineering then at once sprang into fashion. Nor was this to be wondered at. Practically, a new pleasure had been invented—health-giving and adventurous. The Alps were easily accessible, and the natives of the country were so far civilised, that the traveller who could put sufficient money in his purse had nothing to fear. The first pioneers of the Alps were explorers and geographers, rather than climbers; but, as was only natural, the high mountains soon began to attract, and many found pleasure in climbing for its own sake. The natives of the alpine valleys, speaking generally, were expert mountaineers, and a race of instructors was therefore ready to hand. Gradually mountaineering as an art began to develop, and gradually the real began to be dissociated from the imaginary dangers of the Alps; for beyond question, a certain amount of risk was run, but it was found that this could be minimised by experience and acquired skill. It is no exaggeration to say that the first accident on the Matterhorn, in 1865, did much to popularise the amusement, which only needed the advertisement of a little hostile criticism. Cavillers questioned what the pleasure might be; and hinted that vanity was at the bottom of it. The Alpine Club itself furnishes one answer, for it numbers nearly 500 members, including men of the most varied tastes and pursuits in life, whom probably no other bond on earth, save the fascination of mountaineering, could have united together. The charm is very composite in its nature. The mere healthiness of the pursuit, no doubt, attracts many. Again, there is always pleasure in overcoming natural difficulties by acquired skill; and the feeling that by doing a thing in the right way, real risks can be to a great extent abolished, is in itself alluring. As an illustration, may be instanced the use of the rope, especially on snow mountains. If three persons were to walk up such mountains as Mont Blanc or the Jungfrau without using the rope, or without using it properly, they would be in continual peril; united together at intervals of ten or twelve feet, an accidental slip would have no evil consequences, and the party would be perfectly safe from all dangers of crevasses. Mountaineering has opened up what would otherwise be the terra incognita of the regions above the snow-line, with all their wild beauty and grandeur, and has made them accessible to the many. Since the foundation of the Alpine Club, the death-rate from mountain accidents has been 3·8 lives per annum; but in 1887 eight lives were lost above the snow-line.
But still there are real dangers, which cannot be wholly eliminated even by the most skilful climber. The mountaineer who refuses to recognise that such is the case, runs the greatest risk of all. No man takes proper precautions who undertakes an expedition which, under favourable conditions, is only just within his powers. Unexpected difficulties may occur, and the climber who has no reserve to draw upon, is at every instant in grave peril; and so too are all the members of his party. Some knowledge and judgment of the weather are indispensable. The easiest mountain may become most formidable in a storm or a gale of wind. But for those who have the courage of their opinions, and are not afraid to turn back and abandon a half-completed expedition, or who decline to start under unfavourable conditions, bad weather need have little terror. The risk of avalanches is greatest in the spring and winter, and least in the summer months, when the Alps are chiefly visited. Experience alone will teach a man where and at what time of day, on any particular mountain, avalanches are most prone to fall. On rock mountains—and these attract chiefly on account of their greater variety—there is, on the whole, perhaps, less risk to run, though bad weather is equally formidable. The rope is less valuable, but it is less needed, since the climber has hand as well as foothold. Falling stones constitute a real but still a much exaggerated danger. The difficulties of descending a peak are, broadly speaking, as great but not greater than those of ascending; but men are apt to become careless when the main object of an expedition is achieved, and directly inattention creeps in, the risk begins. Mountain vertigo is much rarer than is commonly imagined. The climber is not perpetually walking along the edge of unfathomable precipices. Probably but few members of the Alpine Club could stand on the edge of a parapet, and look down a height of say 100 feet, without feeling uncomfortable, and yet they may have ascended most of the great peaks of the Alps, without ever having experienced any sensation of the sort. No doubt the moral support of the rope accounts in part for this, but the real fact is that there are few places in the Alps where the climber's nerves are tried as in the imaginary position pictured.
Of the special equipment required, the most essential items are reliable boots, properly nailed. A man unsuitably shod runs more risk in walking alone over a steep dry grass slope, than in climbing the Matterhorn, provided he has a sufficiency of practised guides, is properly equipped, and is in good condition. The use of the ice-axe or of the alpenstock has to be learned like that of the oar or the cricket bat—by practice. The most efficient plan, after all, of guarding against the real dangers of the Alps, consists in employing only thoroughly competent and trustworthy guides; yet it must be borne in mind that guiding too is an art, and it by no means follows because a man is an expert climber, that he is fit to take charge of a party. Though much has been done to raise the standard of guides, and to insure that only thoroughly reliable men shall be qualified to act as such, there is still room for great improvement. The temptation to adopt a comparatively lucrative profession is a great one for the peasants, and notwithstanding all rules and regulations, there are many so-called guides on the registers who are by no means perfectly reliable. Such men, under ordinary conditions, may get through their work well enough, but it is only under specially trying conditions that the first-rate guide shows his value. In selecting guides for difficult expeditions, the advice of competent judges should always be taken.
The idea of founding the Alpine Club originated with Mr William Mathews. The Alpine Journal, by members of the club, published quarterly, began in 1863. Members are elected by ballot, if their qualifications, whether climbing, literary, artistic, or scientific, have been previously approved by the committee. Among the more famous first ascents made by members of the Alpine Club may be mentioned those of the Matterhorn (Whymper, 1865); the Schreckhorn (Stephen, 1861); Elbruz in the Caucasus (Freshfield, Grove, 1868, 1874); Cotopaxi and Chimborazo in the Andes (Whymper, 1880); Mount Cook, New Zealand (Green, 1882). An Austrian Alpine Club was founded in 1862; and was followed by Swiss (1863), Italian (1863), and German associations (1869), counting their members by thousands. The German and Austrian societies united in 1874, and had in 1895 about 30,000 members. Climbing is not the sole or main purpose of the continental associations; they devote themselves largely to the scientific investigation of the Alpine area. Mountaineering clubs exist in other mountain regions; thus there is in Boston, U.S., an 'Appalachian Mountain Club,' and there are some local clubs in Scotland.
See Ball's Alpine Guide (Eastern Alps, 1868; Central Alps, 1870; Western Alps, 1870); books by Tyndall (q.v.) and Whymper (q.v.); the Badminton book on Mountaineering, by the present writer and others (1892); and Sir W. M. Conway, The Alps from End to End (1895).