. 
 
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 HENRY C. FAL 
 
 AND KATHARINE A. FALL 
 
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 MOUJSTTAINS AND 
 MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING. 
 
 '
 
 MOUNTAINS AND 
 MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING. 
 
 RECORDS OF ADVENTURE AND ENTERPRISE 
 
 AMONG THE FAMOUS MOUNTAINS 
 
 OF THE WORLD. 
 
 BY THK AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE MEDITERRANEAN ILLUSTRATED," "THE ARCTIC 
 WORLD ILLUSTRATED," 
 
 THIRTY- JHREE ^NGRAVINGS 
 
 T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. 
 
 1883. 
 
 . 7/2. 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 OUNTAINEEEING has always had an attraction 
 for the adventurous ; and, indeed, in human nature 
 seems implanted a thirst after novelty and a 
 feeling of curious inquiry which impels men to attempt the 
 ascent of "high places." No one, perhaps, ever reached 
 the summit of a hill without a sense of gratification, nor 
 without a desire to attain the summit of the next ! It is the 
 one thing which does not pall upon us. And this not only 
 because we are conscious of having surmounted a difficulty, 
 but because the changing prospect, the novel view, always 
 interests and exhilarates the mind. When Milton spoke of 
 hastening to " fresh woods and pastures new," he was cer- 
 tainly in error. We grow tired of wood and pasture ; we 
 refuse to believe that they are either fresh or new. But who 
 could say so much in dispraise of the Mountains, with their 
 varieties of configuration and elevation, their incessant changes 
 of scenery, their marvellous diversities of form and colour 1 
 
 Without entering, therefore, into any discussion of the 
 morale of Mountain-Climbing, we may be content to affirm 
 
 2051340
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 that it has strong attractions for the robust and bold ; that 
 it has been of good service to Science ; and that it tends to 
 cherish in the youth and manhood of a nation a chivalrous 
 fearlessness and a heroic love of adventure. And hence we 
 are inclined to hope that the following pages, descriptive as 
 they are of the ascents of some of the world's most remark- 
 able mountains, will find an eager and a grateful public. 
 They are intended not only for readers who have climbed 
 mountains, but for those who wish they could climb them, or 
 who are wisely of opinion that when they cannot climb in 
 propria persona, the next best thing is to read about more 
 fortunate enthusiasts. And then they are also intended for 
 all who can sympathize with deeds of daring, or who find a 
 rare enjoyment in studying descriptions of Nature's wilder, 
 grander, and sublimer landscapes. For our little volume is 
 dedicated not only to the Mountain-Climbers, but to the 
 Mountains in all their high pure beauty and elevated mag- 
 nificence. May what we have written find favour with 
 those who read !
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. VESUVIUS, ... ... ... ... ... 13 
 
 II. IN THE HARZ, .. ... ... 58 
 
 III. THE PYRENEES, ... ... ... ... ... 94 
 
 IV. NORWAY: THE NORTH CAPE, ... ... ... ... 148 
 
 V. THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE, ... ... ... .159 
 
 .VI. THE PETER-BOTTE (ISLAND OF MAURITIUS), ... ... ... 172 
 
 VII. MOUNT ATHOS, ... ... ... ... ... ... 179 
 
 VIII. MOUNT ETNA, ... .. ... ... ... ... 203 
 
 IX. MONT BLANC, ... ... ... ... ... ... 225 
 
 X. IN THE INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO, ... ... ... ... 263 
 
 XI. CHIMBORAZO, ... ... ... ... ... ... 279 
 
 XII. IN HAWAII, ... ... ... ... ... ... 297 
 
 XIII. MOUNT ARARAT, ... ... ... ... ... ... 326 
 
 XIV. MOUNT SINAI, ... ... ... ... ... ... 345 
 
 XV. THE HIMALAYA, ... ... ... ... ... ... 362 
 
 XVI. HEKLA, . ... 393
 
 ot Illustrations. 
 
 THE SPECTRE OF THE BROCKEN, .. .. .. .. Frontispiece 
 
 VESUVIUS, AND BAY OF NAPLES, .. .. .. .. ..17 
 
 ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS IN 1858, . . . . . . . . 27 
 
 ERUPTION OF THE GREAT CRATER OF VESUVIUS, . . . . 35 
 
 RUINS OF TORRE DEL GRECO, . . . . . . . . 45 
 
 A MINE IN THE HARZ DESCENDING THE SHAFT, .. .. ..63 
 
 SCENE IN THE ROSSTRAPPE, .. .. .. .. .. ..79 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL SUMMITS OF THE PYRENEES, . . . . . . 97 
 
 VALLEY OF GAVARNIE, . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 
 
 CIRQUE DE GAVARNIE, .. .. .. .. .. ..Ill 
 
 RAMOND'S ASCENT OF MONT PERDU, .. .. .. .. .. 143 
 
 THE NORTH CAPE, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 
 
 PEAK OF TENERIFFE, .. .. .. .. .. .. 163 
 
 THE PETER-BOTTE, MAURITIUS, . . . . . . . . . . 175 
 
 MOUNT ETNA, FROM TAORMINA, .. .. .. .. .. 205 
 
 THE CASTAGNO DI CENTO CAVALLI, . . . . . . . . . . 209 
 
 MOUNT ETNA, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 
 
 MONT BLANC, FROM MONT BUET, .. .. .. .. .. 229 
 
 GREAT CREVASSE AT THE FOOT OF MONT BLANC, .. .. .. 237 
 
 PIERRE DE L'ECHELLE, .. .. .. .. .. .. 247 
 
 VOLCANO OF BANDA INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO, . . . . . . . . 265 
 
 PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE ANDES, . . . . . . . . . . 281 
 
 CRATER OF KILAUEA, ISLAND OF HAWAII, .. .. .. .. 303 
 
 A. WAVE OF FIRE, CRATER OF KILAUEA, .. .. .. .. 307
 
 xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 CASCADE OF LAVA, HAWAII, ., .. .. ., .. .. 313 
 
 MOUNT ARARAT, .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 329 
 
 MONASTERY OF ST. CATHERINE, MOUNT SINAI, .. .. .. 349 
 
 THE RAS SAKSAFEH AND PLAIN OF ER-RAH4.H, . - .. .. 359 
 
 PASS IN THE HIMALAYA, .. .. .. .. .. .. 365 
 
 GLACIER OF KOTHSADA. .. .. ., .. .. .. 369 
 
 MOUNT EVEREST, .. . ., .. ,. .. .. 385 
 
 KUNCHAIN-JUNOA, .. .. = . .. .. ,. .. 389 
 
 MOUNT HEKLA, .. ,. ,. ... ., r , .. 405
 
 MOUNTAINS AND 
 MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING. 
 
 |E suppose that, of all the mountains of the 
 world, Vesuvius is the most famous. Its 
 renown is due, however, not to its elevation, 
 which scarcely exceeds 4000 feet ; not to its 
 picturesqueness, though this is considerable ; but to a 
 variety of circumstances seldom found in combina- 
 tion. And, first, it is easily accessible, so that all its 
 features have been carefully studied and are thoroughly 
 known. Second, it is situated close to a great city, and 
 on the shore of a bay which is unrivalled for its gentle 
 beauty. Third, it has had the fortune to be sung by the 
 old classic poets of Italy, and to have gathered around 
 it the shadows of a thousand fantastic legends. Again: 
 it is a volcano of exceedingly destructive character, 
 which has repeatedly wrought the most terrible ruin ; 
 and this ruin has always been minutely described by 
 competent observers, so that the name of Vesuvius has 
 acquired a fatal and disastrous import. Further: in 
 one of its awful outbreaks it overwhelmed two ancient
 
 14 ASSOCIATIONS OF VESUVIUS. 
 
 towns of more than ordinary importance ; and the re- 
 cent exhumation of those towns, and the consequent 
 recovery of a series of remarkable memorials of that 
 antique society which previously was but dimly seen 
 in the pages of poets and historians, has reflected, as it 
 were, a new and singular interest on the mountain so 
 fatally associated with their annals. We cannot think 
 of Herculaneum and Pompeii without thinking of Vesu- 
 vius, which was at once their destroyer and preserver ; 
 suddenly arresting their current history and checking 
 their flow of prosperous life, in order, as it would seem, 
 that later generations might be able to contemplate 
 that history and survey that life in all their original 
 freshness i Thus it is, we think, that Vesuvius has 
 acquired a world-wide fame, to which no mere consider- 
 ations of height or grandeur could have entitled it. 
 
 The ascent of Vesuvius has been so frequently accom- 
 plished and so often described, that it has passed into 
 the category of " things familiar and indifferent." Time 
 was when the undertaking was regarded as one of 
 heroic proportions ; and a flourish of trumpets announced 
 its successful accomplishment. But in these days, when 
 men speak of climbing Mont Blanc as a holiday ex- 
 cursion, to ascend Vesuvius is simply the ordinary 
 pastime of the ordinary tourist. Still it cannot properly 
 be omitted from a volume which has " Mountains and 
 Mountain-climbing " for its raison d'etre ; and, indeed, 
 it is always attended by features of interest which fully 
 engage the attention of the reader. We suppose we 
 have read some fifty or sixty accounts of the ascent 
 of the great Italian volcano, and yet with unabated
 
 SITUATION OF THE MOUNTAIN. 15 
 
 curiosity we turn to each new narrative. Which of 
 these fifty or sixty we should place before the intelligent 
 student of our graphic pages has caused us some anxious 
 thought. But we have finally decided on selecting the 
 lively tale told by a French writer of eminence, M. Marc 
 Monnier; on the ground that it is, in all probability, the 
 least familiar. We believe, indeed, that it has never 
 before been rendered into English ; so that to its in- 
 trinsic merits of accuracy and vivacity it will add the 
 adventitious one of comparative novelty. 
 
 Vesuvius, as the reader knows, rises with a gradual 
 slope from the shore of the Bay of Naples, the ancient 
 Parthenopean Gulf, at a short distance from the sunny 
 city renowned for its memories of Masaniello, Murat, 
 and Garibaldi. Numerous small towns and villages 
 stud its vine-clad flanks, and are too often buried beneath 
 the lava and ashes it pours from its depths during the 
 throes of its frequent eruptions. From one of these, 
 named Resina, the ascent of the mountain is generally 
 undertaken ; and it is from this point we now propose 
 to start, under the competent guidance of M. Marc 
 Monnier. 
 
 In most cases you leave Naples about noon, and a 
 carriage conveys you to Resina, which lies at the foot 
 of the mountain. Immediately, a crowd of obliging 
 plebeians surround and seize upon you. One offers you 
 an ass, a mule, or a horse ; another, a choice of torches ; 
 a third, a supply of provisions ; a fourth is loaded with 
 ropes ; others carry poles ; others bring up more beasts 
 of burden ; and a score or more proclaim their merits as
 
 16 TROUBLESOME COMPANY. 
 
 faithful guides. As you descend from your vehicle, a 
 host of lads relieve you of your cloak and provisions, 
 and start ahead. Make haste and follow them ! You 
 may shout as you will, and objurgate as you will ; clap 
 your hands, stamp your feet, brandish your stick; a 
 Neapolitan crowd takes no notice of the exhibition. 
 Twenty men or more accompany you in your advance 
 with their instruments and their animals. Others pick 
 you up on the road, and join themselves to the caravan; 
 they offer for sale Vesuvian pebbles, or coins embedded 
 in pieces of lava, or litters for your repose and refresh- 
 ment in case of need. These officious and troublesome 
 parasites lie in wait at every corner. They expect you, 
 they know you ; they address you as " cavalier," or 
 " caballero." They beset you from your arrival at Resina 
 to the very summit of the cone. And as the road is 
 free to all, you cannot get rid of them,* except, indeed, 
 by flinging among them a shower of small coin ; and 
 this is your wiser plan. Otherwise, after all the toil of 
 the ascent, you will see nothing of Vesuvius ; and the 
 only result of six hours' toil will be your own eruption, 
 a tremendous outpouring of wrath and indignation, 
 hard words and harder blows ! 
 
 The experienced traveller, however, on reaching Resina 
 does not quit his vehicle ; calmly and composedly he 
 selects from the crowd besieging it an official and duly 
 licensed guide ; and it is but fair to admit that some 
 of these guides are honest and faithful fellows, who will 
 spare your piastres, and save you from extortion. Your 
 
 * Tills was written in 1862. Thanks to the Italian Government, the nuisance now 
 is not so great as it was formerly. 
 (731)
 
 NEAPOLITAN ROADS. 19 
 
 guide will undertake everything, and he knows the secret 
 of dismissing the importunate beggars that waylay you. 
 In fact, on his appearance by your side, the most shame- 
 less own themselves beaten ; well do they know they 
 will not receive a stiver. So suffer yourself to be led 
 in peace, and climb like a true athlete, troubling yourself 
 about nothing but your boots. A hundred to one but 
 they will be reduced to tinder. But if that is all, you 
 will have no cause for regret. 
 
 Vesuvius, as seen from Naples, is a two-headed moun- 
 tain : the peak to the left is the Somma, that to the 
 right is the volcano itself; they are separated by a deep 
 valley. At the mouth of the valley, on a plateau form- 
 ing quite a natural belvedere, are situated the Hermitage 
 and the Observatory. The first stage of our ascent 
 takes us to the former. 
 
 Of old it was reached by a well-made and noble road, 
 the chef-d'oeuvre of King Ferdinand. Roads as well- 
 made and beautiful issue from Naples in all directions, 
 and secure the justly-deserved admiration of travellers. 
 They extend in a truly majestic manner for several 
 leagues. Then they assume an air of neglect, and pre- 
 serve an accumulation of mud or dirt until they reach 
 the mountains, where they diminish into rugged and 
 abominable tracks, which soon become impracticable, 
 and finally disappear altogether. Many villages can be 
 reached only on foot; hamlets there are to which you 
 must climb by ladders. However, to the Hermitage 
 you can progress comfortably with a couple of horses to 
 your carriage; it is situated about two leagues from 
 Naples.
 
 20 A HERMIT AND HIS CELL. 
 
 At one time the road, in its earlier course, wound 
 through orchards blushing with fruit, and vineyards 
 flowing with excellent wine ; when drunk quite pure, 
 but execrable stuff when adulterated under the sacri- 
 legious designation of Lacryma Christi. Higher up, it 
 clambered rocks of lava, and skirted black and rugged 
 ravines. The traveller descended from his carriage at 
 the Hermitage, with all his energies unimpaired, to 
 begin the ascent. 
 
 Unfortunately, the lava-flood of 1858 broke up the 
 main road at two places ; and before repairing it the 
 new kingdom of Italy had other work to do. In M. 
 Marc Monnier's time, therefore, you were compelled to 
 mount on horseback at Eesina, and to climb as quickly 
 and directly as possible, by a very ill-defined route, to 
 the humble house where, according to a hemistich of 
 Victor Hugo's, 
 
 " Prays a priest on bended knees." 
 
 The real, living hermit, however, does not pray at 
 least, in public ; but concocts omelettes a I'huile, which 
 he sells at an abominably high rate. He sells also 
 Lacryma Christi, manufactured at Naples. Moreover, 
 he has a collection of very curious volumes, being the 
 registers, or "albums," in which visitors write their 
 names and any remark that suggests itself to them. 
 Some precious signatures occur here, among a host that 
 are trivial and unimportant. We recognize, for instance, 
 those of Lamartine ; Alexandre Dumas (1837) ; Maria 
 Malibran (1833)'; Monti (April 18, 1812); Lord Byron; 
 Goethe (September 7, 1792); and Alfieri, with this
 
 A MOONLIGHT PICTURE. 21 
 
 phrase, which to Italians seems sublime, " Qui Vittorio 
 Alfieri, nel 1782." 
 
 When you have turned over the album and remuner- 
 ated the hermit, admiring, with Chateaubriand, " the 
 spectacle of Christian hospitality enshrined in a little 
 cell, at the foot of a volcano, and in the midst of a tem- 
 pest," you may seat yourself in the shade of the leafy 
 boughs, and survey at your leisure the smiling, graceful 
 coast, from Misenum to Sorrento, bending and break- 
 ing and winding into a thousand sinuosities, as if to 
 embrace more lovingly the warm waters of that glorious 
 sea. The sight is splendid ; especially in the evening, 
 when the sun halts for a moment over the island-rocks 
 of Ischia, like a wheel of fire, before it makes haste to 
 sink behind the peaks which it touches with glorious 
 flame. But the picture which lingers longest in the 
 memory is a " moonlight effect ; " such as was seen from 
 the Hermitage, on the occasion of the last eruption. 
 Then half the mountain slept in shadow, while the rest 
 was luminous, as was the kindling sea ; the heights of 
 Sorrento were tinted with bronze on their sides, and 
 silver on their brow ; Capri shone in a shimmering 
 " milky way " of light ; afar off, in the mist, lay Mis- 
 enum, and Ischia, the distant Mediterranean, and, be- 
 yond, a world of dreams; nearer, the city, with the 
 lighthouse on its mole, and the pale reflections of 
 its lighted quays a row of glow-worms under a 
 border of houses; all unfolded before us at our feet; 
 and behind us, the mountain on fire, with its in- 
 describable glories of leaping flames and strange electric 
 coruscations.
 
 22 THE OBSERVATORY. 
 
 But we must resume our march, we have so much to 
 see. Above the Hermitage no other mode of locomotion 
 is available than an ass, or our feet. We pass in front 
 of the Observatory, from which the astronomer Gasparin 
 has discovered so many planets or planetoids; his 
 successor, Luigi Pannieri investigates with more interest 
 the phenomena of earthquakes. It is well-stocked with 
 curious instruments, which do not prevent these com- 
 motions, but accurately define them; such is their 
 sensibility that they are affected by the slightest move- 
 ment of the soil. Thanks to the seismograph of 
 Vesuvius, and the wise men who kept their eyes fixed 
 upon it, we learned that Torre del Greco (in 1862) was 
 crushed by a landslip. And yet men can lament the 
 vanity of human Science ! 
 
 After leaving the Observatory, we plunge into the 
 valley which separates the two summits, and skirt the 
 cone of the volcano until we find a point where its 
 ascent seems practicable. It is then that we first grow 
 sensible of fatigue. There are no longer either roads, 
 bridle-paths, foot-paths, or tracks; nothing but a mass of 
 cinders and scoriae. These scoriae, to use a happy image, 
 exactly resemble iron sponges. " There are also heaps 
 of stones, earth, iron, sulphur, alum, glass, bitumen, 
 nitre, baked earth, copper, petrified or cast in a kind of 
 foamy pattern, in the shape of marcassites or iron dross. 
 And these the rains have washed for a considerable 
 period, so that one is able to distinguish the earlier and 
 the later overflows. There is nothing more frightful to 
 see, or fatiguing to traverse, than these masses of iron 
 sponges, which are not less hard than rugged. You
 
 PRIDE BEFORE A FALL. 23 
 
 cannot figure to yourself aught more disgusting than 
 these hideous ejections ; you drag yourself across them 
 with inconceivable weariness. The lumps of dross are 
 incessantly rolling beneath your feet ; so that, thanks 
 to the detestably rapid movement of the soil, you 
 descend a couple of fathoms each time you think you 
 are receding only a step." Such is the faithful descrip- 
 tion given by the President de Brosses. 
 
 It is needless to say, then, that you will not be sorry 
 to have made the ascent with a companion. All my 
 life I shall recollect one of my friends, a Swiss, with the 
 limbs of a mountaineer, who smiled with pity on catch- 
 ing sight of the cone of Vesuvius. " What ! " cried he, 
 " is that all ? " And he sprang towards the cone. At 
 the end of a hundred paces he halted, blowing and 
 gasping ; then he resumed his course. I marched slowly, 
 very slowly, behind him. The scoriae rattled under his 
 feet like the stones of a falling house. He accomplished 
 another hundred steps, and fell flat upon the ground, 
 grazing his hands and knees. He rose without uttering 
 a word, ran forward splendidly ; a second fall ; this 
 time he tore his clothes from top to bottom. Then only 
 did he condescend to yield. At first he took the arm 
 of one guide ; next, the rope of another ; and at length 
 he consented to be propelled from behind, like a bour- 
 geois of Paris or a citizen of London. 
 
 But, after all, this is nothing. We cannot ascend 
 always upon the scoriae. We must sometimes scale the 
 gentle slope, the yielding side of the cinders ; and this 
 is a thousand times worse. These cinders are of very
 
 24 ON THE SUMMIT. 
 
 fine sand, reddish, and so friable that they may be 
 dusted, without inconvenience, instead of gold powder, 
 over the ink of a freshly-written page. When you see 
 this smooth slope before you, you feel reassured ; you 
 take to it with a light heart. Alas ! before long you are 
 regretting the scorise. It is true that the stones are no 
 longer crumbling and slipping beneath your feet, but 
 oh ! the dust is hard and compact into which at every 
 step you sink knee-deep ! You extricate one of your 
 limbs from this solid pool, and perform some astonishing 
 manoeuvres in order to carry it forward. Lost labour ! 
 The other leg is set fast, and you have no point 
 d'appui. You think to help yourself with your hands. 
 Utopian ! They sink immediately into the moving soil, 
 and drag your arms into it up to your shoulders. Get 
 out of your " fix," if you can. 
 
 At length we reach the summit. Keen blows the 
 air, and we are thankful to wrap ourselves in our cloaks. 
 
 And now we advance to the edge of the crater; it 
 
 is a smoky gulf, the shape of which changes daily. I 
 have never seen there, for my part, except on the 
 occasion of an eruption, more than one sees in a 
 cauldron : a great white humid cloud. But others, 
 more fortunate, and favoured by a wind from the north 
 which swept down the edges of the gulf, have succeeded 
 in catching sight of the soil, which appeared to be com- 
 posed of sulphur and iron ore, the inner walls, of solid 
 rugged rock, burnt even to calcination, like limestone ; 
 white, but stained with the yellow stains in a thousand 
 places of pure sulphur and saltpetre; in other places
 
 A FAIR PROSPECT. 25 
 
 tending to vitrification, in some ferruginous, everywhere 
 cloven and fissured by long crevasses, from which issue 
 volumes of malodorous smoke. Not a few adventurous 
 travellers have descended, by means of ropes, to the 
 bottom of the crater ; among others, the French poet 
 Chateaubriand. There may be seen huge blocks of 
 granite curved into the shape of acanthus-leaves, rose- 
 work, girandoles, and a swan beautifully moulded in 
 white lava. 
 
 For my part, when there is no eruption I turn my 
 back on the crater, and cast my glance over the plain. 
 
 The view is similar in character to that from the Her- 
 mitage, but extended, developed even to infinity. But I 
 will not describe it, I have still so much to describe ; I 
 will only say that from this elevation we discover three 
 gulfs, three islands, I know not how many promontories, 
 on which the eye rests, with the blue sea beyond, stretch- 
 ing to the far horizon, where it mingles with the sky ; 
 an immense plain, a great city, five small towns at least, 
 to say nothing of villages, innumerable mountains, bare 
 or wooded, green or gray, white even in January ; all 
 the wonders of the world ! 
 
 But during an eruption the traveller forgets this 
 calm and radiant picture. Then his gaze is attracted to 
 the crater, as it vomits flames, ashes, masses of rock, 
 and even a kind of red and burning snow; which, fall- 
 ing back in flakes of fire on the slopes of the cone, 
 accumulates there, to roll down headlong in formidable 
 avalanches, and cover the lands, and swallow up houses, 
 and bury cities, and defy the strength and skill of man 
 to arrest its progress.
 
 26 " A BEAUTIFUL HORROR.'' 
 
 The spectacle is dangerous when contemplated from 
 the great crater. But, of late, eruptions have rarely 
 taken place from thence. Since 1850, some mouths 
 have been opened at the foot of the cone, in the ravine 
 which separates the two mountains; and from these the 
 lava hoarsely flows, like the rivers which issue from 
 glaciers. The traveller, therefore, may approach without 
 peril the incandescent streams. In 1855 and in 1858 it 
 rolled slowly in the ravine, like a Thames which had 
 caught fire. The accidents of the soil changed it here 
 and there into a lurid cascade, falling like metal in a 
 state of fusion, and leaping up again in foam, in glow- 
 ing dust. Elsewhere the surface was perfectly smooth, 
 resembling a bed of embers traversed by red-hot coals. 
 All this you saw in safety on the brink of the ravine ; 
 spectators were numerous, and none were afraid. People 
 flocked thither as to a pyrotechnic display, and those 
 who had read a little called it " a beautiful horror ! " 
 
 But the spectacle was very commonplace. To feel a 
 sensation of real fear, you should not overlook the 
 lava. You should see it coming towards you, as I saw 
 it in 1855, at the base of Vesuvius, between Massa and 
 San Sebastiano. Then it is no longer a flaming Seine, 
 with waves of coal instead of water, but a rampart of 
 ice resistlessly pressing forward. This wall was at least 
 a mile in breadth and twenty feet in height. It ad- 
 vanced slowly, fatally, surely, blocking up the hollows, 
 setting fire to trees, and winding at first in among the 
 houses it encountered on its course, to surround them 
 afterwards, and overwhelm them. We were forced to 
 retire before it, like a captain before his company ; and
 
 THE LAVA-FLOOD. 29 
 
 I saw what seemed to be billows of stones, rolling up to 
 within three feet of the summit of this wall, which still 
 advanced, with an irresistible power and an implacable 
 persistency. At every descent the progress of the lava 
 seemed to be arrested; but afterwards came another 
 wave, accumulating at my feet a fresh heap of stones, 
 then another heap; and, sinking always before it, this 
 lava filled up the ravines and invaded the plain, and men- 
 aced all the villages situated at the foot of the volcano. 
 It was, in truth, an awful sight. Curiosity-seekers did 
 not resort to this side of the mountain; but terrified 
 villagers and stricken labourers rent the air with their 
 cries. Some of them, in their frenzy, threw themselves 
 in front of the rolling lava, that it might bury them in 
 its depths ; but, owing to its insupportable heat, before 
 reaching them the river of fire raised them again to 
 their feet, flung them afar, and completed their ruin by 
 denying them the boon of death. 
 
 But at a higher level, on the occasion of eruption, 
 I saw something more beautiful than the fiery inunda- 
 tion. As thus : 
 
 We are above San Sebastiano, on the western flank of 
 Vesuvius. A guide offers to conduct us one or two 
 miles farther, and a hundred feet higher : we have seen 
 the river and the torrent ; he promises to show us the 
 cataract. Two torches are lighted, and we set out. We 
 that is, two young women and myself climb at first an 
 almost perpendicular path through the brushwood. We 
 cling to the stems to steady our steps, and put them 
 aside in order to effect a passage. At the top of the 
 path a ravine opens ; but for the glare of our torches
 
 30 THE "FOSSE DE PHARAON." 
 
 we should have fallen into it. And now we speed 
 across the fields, without any regard for the beans of 
 the cultivator. We skirt the lava-river along a way 
 which is narrow enough for one, as Nadaud says, and 
 not broad enough for two, to the brink of the gulf. A 
 false step, and we should be precipitated into the fire. 
 We traverse defiles and pathways, hollow, twisted, 
 rocky, rugged, through the darkness of night, for about 
 an hour. We are three in number, at the mercy of a 
 couple of scouts who have already fleeced us, and are 
 preceded by numerous vagabonds hideously picturesque. 
 Nevertheless, our two young girls march bravely, un- 
 hesitatingly, with an almost feverish ardour. And yet 
 they are not Englishwomen ; they do not traverse the 
 streets of Naples on foot; they scream at the sight of 
 a spider; they look under their beds before retiring 
 to rest. But the intoxication of the fire carries them 
 out of themselves. 
 
 At length we reach the border of a kind of moat or 
 trench. I ask the younger guide what it is called. 
 "The fosse de Farellone," he replies. The other takes 
 him up sharply, and laughs at him as a blockhead. " It 
 is the fosse de Pharaon," he says ; and turning towards 
 me, he adds, " Pharaoh, your excellency, the Roman 
 emperor ! " 
 
 We are now upon a plateau. At our feet, on the left, 
 runs the river of lava, red as a glowing furnace. It 
 boils, it seethes ! On the other bank, a great black mass 
 conceals an oven whence the smoke issues in whirlwinds. 
 Before us, beyond the fosse, is the cataract. And how 
 shall we describe it? Have you seen an avalanche
 
 A MIGHTY CONFLAGRATION. 31 
 
 descend from the summits of the Alps ? Have you 
 seen the Rhine throwing itself headlong at Lauffen into 
 a foaming gulf ? Well : combine in one picture both 
 these images ; add to it the clattering downfall of ruined 
 houses ; mingle together the cascade, the avalanche, the 
 crash, and embrace them all in a mighty conflagration. 
 The declivities of Vesuvius shine luridly in the night, 
 from top to bottom, like a sheet of lightning. Masses of 
 kindling rock bound, and crack, and splinter. In front 
 of us the accumulated waves, vomited by the unseen 
 crater, rear themselves every moment, and from a height 
 of one hundred feet fall back into the fosse, carrying 
 everything with them, sweeping everything before them. 
 A bush is whirled off by the torrent ; its fire pales in 
 the floods of lava. There, above, enormous chestnut- 
 trees are burning, and their fiery skeletons stand out 
 with ghastly distinctness against the dull white gleams. 
 The terror of the night is chequered with every possible 
 shade or tint of fire. Garnets redden in the fosse ; rubies 
 sparkle in the torrent ; glowing coals roll down the moun- 
 tain-side ; draperies of purple nutter from every peak ; 
 constant lightnings enkindle the shadows ; rills of blood 
 trickle at our feet. A hillock which projects on high, 
 gradually invaded by the fie^ surge, rears for a moment 
 
 its base towards the sky, and falls headlong, crushed 
 
 We all start back in mingled awe and admiration. This 
 time it is no longer an overflowing torrent, but a moun- 
 tain on fire which rolls and sweeps before us. 
 
 Another reminiscence, and I come to the eruption of 
 1862. In 1855 and 1858 we enjoyed some superb
 
 32 THE INTOXICATION OF FIRE. 
 
 views, but no spectacle so frightful as that of the pre- 
 ceding catastrophe. The fire did not leap from the 
 great cone like a glowing column, mounting six thou- 
 sand feet in the air, and ejecting stones, rockets, ashes, 
 fragments of rock with the roar of a tempest or a bom- 
 bardment. This sight I saw only in 1850. 
 
 I found myself then at the Hermitage with a com- 
 pany of Germans, among whom was a Pole who had 
 partaken freely of the hermit's Lacryma Christi. He 
 announced his intention of drinking a bottle in the 
 jaws of the volcano, and begged us to accompany him 
 en route. We entered into the valley; and not content 
 with having seen the new gulf that had opened between 
 the two summits, we wished to reach the edge of the 
 great crater which flamed and thundered above us. In 
 vain our guide opposed us; we only laughed at him. 
 It was not courage, however, which inspired us, but, as 
 I have said, the intoxication of fire. A gendarme 
 barred the way with his bayonet; but how could he 
 bar a road a mile in width ? Nor did his musket 
 alarm us ; he could not reasonably kill us in order to 
 save our lives ! " But there is danger," said the guide. 
 " Own that you want a piastre more, and you shall 
 have it, coward ! " And we all set forth. 
 
 We had advanced but a few paces when we fell in 
 with an Englishman, who was being carried down on a 
 litter. He had attempted the ascent, but a stone had 
 broken his arm. " What did I tell you ? " resumed our 
 guide. We acknowledged he was right, but the ac- 
 knowledgment did not satisfy him. He demanded his 
 piastre.
 
 A COMBAT OF TITANS. 33 
 
 To conciliate all parties, we seated ourselves in the 
 middle of the cone, on a mound of ashes between the 
 two craters. We could lift our eyes towards the one, or 
 lower them towards the other, at pleasure. Two steps 
 from us, a rill of lava descended into the gulf; and this 
 gulf, opened up the day before, was a veritable sea, 
 losing itself on the horizon in clouds of smoke a liquid 
 sea which whirled and roared, breaking against the 
 piled-up reefs its billows of flame, hurtling its floods, 
 which leaped up, shattered in the air, and fell back in 
 foam of fire on the lofty rocks they illuminated with 
 weird splendour. And meanwhile, above our heads, the 
 great crater vomited iron, sulphur, flakes of lava, red- 
 hot bullets, and bombs weighing three hundredweights. 
 I have already described a moving conflagration, a 
 rolling mountain ; now figure to yourself a bursting, 
 leaping volcano, undermined by subterranean besiegers ; 
 figure to yourself a combat of Titans, the buming of 
 Sodom, or rather Sodom thundering against heaven. 
 All Vesuvius quivered ; an earthquake shook the crust 
 of cinders on which we were seated ; we heard beneath 
 our feet the hammer of the Cyclops, and around us a 
 confusion of noises, like the roar of breakers the roll 
 of surf on a rocky shore the reverberation of long- 
 continued thunder. 
 
 Meantime the Pole, in spite of guides and gen- 
 darmes, had scaled the cone with his bottle of Lacryma 
 Christi. He had outstripped all our party, and climbed 
 precipices which would have struck terror to the heart 
 of a muleteer of Schwytz. He reached the summit of 
 the volcano; then he turned round to rally the prudent 
 
 (731) 3
 
 34 A VICTIM TO TEMERITY. 
 
 individuals who had followed him with so much 
 caution. He brandishe'd his bottle and fell as if 
 stricken by a thunderbolt ! A bomb had smashed his 
 leg. The word " bomb " which I here make use of is 
 not a figure of speech, but the word always employed 
 at Naples ; and the bomb is an enormous stone, heavy 
 and hard as granite. A flake of lava one day fell upon 
 my hat, and did nothing more than burn the rim ; but 
 a bomb crushes you ! 
 
 The Pole was lying on the ashes of the crater, and a 
 hail of burning stones was rained around him. One of 
 his friends, who had seen him fall, hastened to rejoin 
 him. He gained his side, and, through the roaring fire, 
 carried him behind a rock of lava ; then he lay down 
 upon him to shelter him, and endeavoured to bandage 
 the wound. The rest of the party had fled for safety 
 to the Hermitage, and to Resina in search of assistance. 
 But the Hermitage was one league distant, and Resina 
 two leagues. The two friends remained alone on the 
 summit of the volcano, in the darkness of night, under 
 the fire, under the bombs. All the clothes they had 
 about them did not suffice to save the unfortunate Pole, 
 who bled to death. His friend, however, did not leave 
 him ; he was fain to contend for this lifeless body with 
 the crater which had killed it. Alone and exhausted, 
 he could not carry that bleeding burden into the valley, 
 over nigged declivities and blackened steeps; so for 
 several hours he remained stretched upon the corpse. 
 
 I invent nothing. The incident occurred exactly as I 
 have related it, at just one hundred feet above my head.
 
 ERUPTION OF THE GREAT CRATER OF VESUVIUS
 
 SIGNS OF ERUPTIONS. 37 
 
 It was related to me on the following day by all the 
 guides, and by a German who had been one of the 
 party. 
 
 Throughout that lonely night, around the heroic man 
 who thus constituted himself the living shelter of a 
 dead body, Vesuvius poured forth bombs and stones 
 enough for the bombardment of a town. Patient and 
 motionless he remained, uttering no sound, for the 
 thunder would have stifled his voice, and risking a 
 thousand deaths to save a corpse, with an obstinacy of 
 devotion which assuredly was not the intoxication of 
 fire. When we meet with such acts of nobleness, we 
 certainly do not come to the conclusion that man is a 
 god, but we are somewhat consoled at being only men. 
 
 Such accidents are fortunately rare, and usually 
 befall the imprudent. In the eruption of 1862 there 
 was but one victim, a poor guide, who approached too 
 near the mouths of fire. In 1858 an Englishman fell 
 into the " Fosse of Pharaoh ; " but this, perhaps, was a 
 suicide. It is easy to keep account of the limited 
 number of mishaps that overtake the cautious. Erup- 
 tions seldom occur without warning ; generally they 
 are heralded by symptoms which give time to the 
 inhabitants of Vesuvius and its vicinity to take the 
 necessary precautions. The wells dry up, and the soil 
 trembles in the neighbourhood of the mountain. True 
 it is that these prognostications are not infallible, and 
 that the crater sometimes opens fire without first giving 
 a warning shot ; but it confines its bombardment to the 
 cone. As for the lava-river, it has a long way to flow 
 before it reaches the houses and cultivated grounds ; it
 
 38 HOW TO DESCEND. 
 
 marches, moreover, at so slow a rate, that no one can 
 be surprised by it. Thus the eruptions themselves 
 are more ruinous than murderous; and the peasant 
 who sleeps at the foot of the mountain would be very 
 fortunate if he had as little cause to fear for his vines 
 as he has for his skin. 
 
 Unfortunately, the magnificent spectacles which I 
 have so weakly described are often accompanied by 
 earthquakes. The shocks convulse the slopes of Vesu- 
 vius even to the sea, and not unfrequently destroy at 
 a single blow the most flourishing towns, compelling 
 their inhabitants to a precipitate flight. Let us hasten 
 to survey one of these terrible disasters. 
 
 We will descend, therefore, from the cone which we 
 climbed with so much difficulty. The ascent occupies 
 an hour or more ; the descent is accomplished in ten 
 minutes. One has nothing to do but to let oneself slide 
 down the sandy slope, holding one's body well forward, 
 so that the weight of the head may not make one 
 tumble head over heels. At each step you glide fully 
 twenty feet, if you will, over ashes which glide along 
 with you, and without supporting you drag you down- 
 ward. Thus you float, as it were, upon a Niagara of 
 dust, rarely standing erect, nearly always seated or else 
 lying on your back, when you do not roll on one side 
 like clowns at a fair ! I do not advise you to have any 
 delicate articles about you, or any feeble muscles, for you 
 will surely come in contact with a painful number of 
 stones hidden in the sand where you cascade so bravely. 
 
 At length, and, I hope, without accident, we reach
 
 AT RESINA. 39 
 
 the foot of the cone. Immediately we pull off and 
 empty our boots, into which quite a mineralogical col- 
 lection has insinuated itself. Then we remount our 
 horses, good old beasts which would cut a sorry figure 
 in Rotten Row or the Bois de Boulogne, but march 
 hardily over the scoriae, and wind their way without 
 stumbling among the rocks, and along paths which you 
 could not travel on your two feet. At the end of an 
 hour you are at Resina ; and from Resina to Torre del 
 Greco is but a gallop. 
 
 Some months ago * it was the cleanest, neatest, and 
 most populous town in Naples. It manufactured 
 articles of coral, with which it supplied the world. 
 About twenty thousand souls lived there peacefully at 
 the foot of the terrible neighbour which already had 
 several times destroyed their town. Without going 
 back much more than a century, on the 21st of April 
 1737, " a current of lava," says the President de Brosses, 
 who recorded the event two years afterwards, "dashed 
 against Torre del Greco, broke down the wall of the 
 Carmelite convent, entered the sacristy and the refec- 
 tory, where it made but a light repast on all it found, 
 thence crossed the highroad, and finally halted on the 
 margin of the sea at six o'clock in the evening." 
 
 Half a century later, in 1794, occurred a terrible 
 eruption. The lava-river, fifteen hundred feet broad 
 and fourteen feet high, flowed onward for a course of 
 three and a half miles, and advanced six hundred feet 
 into the sea. The English ambassador, Sir William 
 Hamilton, embarked in a boat, on the third day of the 
 
 * This was written in 1862.
 
 40 ERUPTIONS OF CINDERS. 
 
 eruption, to see this glowing wall. For a radius of 
 three hundred feet, the lava made the water boil and 
 smoke; and it rose to an extraordinary height, especially 
 at a point where two currents met. To a distance of 
 two miles the fish perished; even the "fruits of the 
 sea," as the Neapolitans call shell -fish ! Sir William 
 Hamilton was compelled to make for the shore in all 
 haste, his boat leaking at every seam, owing to the 
 pitch having melted in the boiling sea. 
 
 The ashes vomited by the crater in this unfortunate 
 year were so dense, that a burden of thirty-one ounces 
 was found on a single branch of a fig-tree, though the 
 branch weighed only five. Eruptions of cinders fre- 
 quently accompany the other volcanic outbursts, and 
 sometimes are very terrible. It was an eruption of 
 cinders that overwhelmed Pompeii. It may be added 
 that the dust of Vesuvius was more than once carried 
 by the wind as far as Rome ; and even as far as Egypt, 
 if Dion Cassius be not a terrible liar ! At all events, 
 the eruption of 1862 covered all the surrounding 
 country, and incrusted Naples with a black and red 
 powder, which, when wetted by the rain, lay everywhere 
 in a stratum of thickest mud. 
 
 We return to 1794. The lava of that year descended 
 upon Resina, then diverged so quickly and abruptly to- 
 wards Torre del Greco that the population had scarcely 
 time to save themselves. Fifteen stragglers, old and 
 feeble, perished. A monk saved the lives of seven 
 aged nuns, who were loath to leave their convent. One 
 of them, who counted ninety years, warmed her hands
 
 A PIG AND A DIPLOMATIST. 41 
 
 by the lava which flowed beneath her window, and 
 thought it delightful. They had to be removed almost 
 by force, imploring for dispensations from the Pope, and 
 fearing Vesuvius less than purgatory. When requested 
 to take with them their little valuables, they left their 
 money, and carried away some sweetmeats. 
 
 Many curious things were noticed on the occasion of 
 this catastrophe. A thief, as Sir William Hamilton in- 
 forms us, got into a house surrounded by lava to steal 
 a pig. When pursued by the owner, he endeavoured 
 to hide himself behind the English ambassador, and 
 wheeled round and round him for a long time, with the 
 pig in his arms, while the despoiled proprietor similarly 
 wheeled round on the other side. Never before or since 
 was diplomatist in such a position ! 
 
 The eruption being at an end, the Torresi that is, 
 the inhabitants of the Torre rebuilt their town upon 
 the lava in absolute contentment. The old engulfed 
 houses became the cellars of the new; the upper 
 windows were enlarged and made into doorways, and 
 after a few months the disaster was forgotten. Thus, 
 for seven-and-sixty years, the Torresi lived, without the 
 least fear, on this platform of scoriae. 
 
 But suddenly, on the 8th of December 1861, a 
 violent shock of earthquake aroused them from their 
 security. And directly afterwards, with frightful de- 
 tonations, a mile above the town, four or five mouths 
 abruptly opened, hurling stones and bombs, vomiting 
 ashes and cinders, and darting here and there pale blue 
 flashes of lightning. Figure to yourself the scene that 
 followed. Immediately the population, in a terrible
 
 42 THE FLIGHT FOR LIFE. 
 
 state of alarm and anxiety, abandoned the town, fleeing 
 for safety towards Resina, and even as far as Naples. 
 The highroad was crowded with scattered families, who 
 shrieked and rolled upon the ground, with all those 
 outbursts and convulsions of passionate emotion in 
 which the Italians so readily indulge. Children sought 
 their mothers ; women tore their hair, calling loudly on 
 their husbands or fathers ; old men, forgotten by their 
 kindred, wept and groaned in the rear; carriages, 
 hastily loaded with valuables, rattled through the 
 crowd at full gallop ; the trains on the railway did not 
 suffice to carry away the fugitives. For several days 
 the tumult and confusion lasted. It is needless to pro- 
 long the description ; enough if you picture to yourself 
 the headlong flight for life of twenty thousand men, 
 women, and children. 
 
 The first shock, however, did but shake the city ; 
 several others followed, and completed its destruction. 
 It is true that some scientific authorities deny the disas- 
 trous effect of the shocks, and attribute the misfortune 
 to a sudden subsidence of the soil a kind of subter- 
 ranean dislocation. The lavas on which the city stood 
 were disjointed, yawning everywhere in great crevasses, 
 and bringing down the houses in masses of ruin. What- 
 ever the cause, I content myself with speaking to the 
 effect. I have traversed these dismal streets, which 
 formerly I had seen full of life, of labour, of gaiety. 
 The broken pavements were everywhere split up by 
 broad fissures. In the market-place a kind of well had 
 been suddenly excavated, at the bottom of which were 
 visible blocks o f lava; and even, it is said, though I
 
 IN THE RUINED CITY. 43 
 
 myself did not see it, the pavement of the ancient city. 
 Nearly all the houses were rent and shattered, open 
 here and there from top to bottom ; balconies torn from 
 the walls and suspended over the street; the floors 
 sunk in the cellars, perhaps in the old mansions, which 
 opened in wide chasms, the depth of which could not be 
 fathomed. Elsewhere, the very fa9ades had crumbled, 
 so as to expose the inner walls with pictures still 
 adorning them. I recognized a copy of Titian's " Venus." 
 In many of the balconies I saw plants abandoned in 
 their pots, which no one dared attempt to reach ; they 
 flowered among all the ruin, asking only for a little 
 sunshine. Entry into some of the streets was forbidden, 
 as fresh houses toppled daily, and would have killed the 
 passers-by. In the midst of all this, the desolation, the 
 silence, not a vestige of the life of yesterday, not a 
 house inhabited, not a shop open, a cruel arid fatal 
 abandonment : some sight-seers a few priests paupers 
 stealing sadly along an old woman bemoaning the mis- 
 fortune of her beautiful country and a vendor of apples 
 philosophically selling his fruit in the market-place. 
 He was the only inhabitant whom I found at his post, 
 and had not quitted the hovel where he slept. " Are 
 you not afraid?" I asked of him. "Ah, well! I was 
 born here, and can very well die here." 
 
 What most impressed me was the solitude and silence. 
 The curious and the scientific have bestowed their admi- 
 ration on other phenomena, of which abundant descrip- 
 tions have been published ; particularly on the appear- 
 ance of mofetti, or gaseous emanations, along nearly
 
 44 EJECTED MATERIALS. 
 
 the whole shore between Torre del Greco and Resina. 
 One of these mofetti broke out in a small church of the 
 latter village, and diffused an odour of so much potency 
 that it drove the faithful from their knees. Nearer 
 Torre, dogs, cats, pigs, even (it is said) a cow, were choked 
 by the unwholesome exhalations. Long afterwards an 
 almost unendurable stench pervaded the whole town ; 
 and travellers from Castellamare or Victri, stopping but 
 a minute or two at the pestiferous station, were incon- 
 venienced so much as to hasten the departure of the train. 
 Poor slain city ! It was like the stench of its corpse. 
 
 Scientific men, moreover, turned their attention to 
 the peculiarity of the stones vomited by the eruption. 
 They conversed learnedly among themselves about iron 
 and lead, sulphur and muriate ; they took note of the 
 various species of lime of which the Neapolitan artisans 
 manufactured tobacco-boxes, brooches, ear-rings, or paper- 
 weights ; the idiocrase, manufactured into a thousand 
 articles ; sodalithe ; maionite, poetically named " Vesu- 
 vian jacinth ;" sarcolithe, which when wrought forms 
 a blood-red ruby; bricolatate, humboldtilithe, and all 
 the Hikes possible, with the names of savants tagged on 
 to them. With the materials which it ejected to ruin 
 the labourers, Vesuvius, at all events, enriched the 
 dictionary of the mineralogists.* 
 
 Others were astonished and afflicted by the deluge of 
 
 * The eruptions change the form of the crater and the cone, but have not modi- 
 fied their height since 1749. Measured then by Nollet, the volcano rose 3558 feet 
 above the sea-level. Pole, in 1794, estimated it at 3636 ; Colonel Visconti, in 181C, 
 at 3950 feet. Montecelli and Covelli, prior to the eruption of 1822, computed the 
 elevation at 3888 feet ; after the eruption, Humboldt found it to be only 3642 feet 
 and a little later, 3730 feet. (See Professor Phillips, Vesuvius.)
 
 RUINS OF TORRE DEL GRECO
 
 A VOLCANIC FOG. 47 
 
 ashes ; and, in truth, they issued in whirling clouds, not 
 only from the new mouths, but also from the new crater. 
 I have already noted that they were blown as far as 
 Naples, but it was more particularly the plains and the 
 sea which they covered with a dense black cloud. The 
 railway-trains were compelled to slacken while travers- 
 ing this palpable fog; a steam-packet, coming from 
 Palermo, was forced to lay-to in the latitude of Capri, 
 for her helmsman could no longer steer. It was feared 
 that the vapours would do much harm ; but scientific 
 authorities have predicted that they would blight only 
 the tender shoots and flowers. They assure us that 
 after the eruption of 1794 the vineyards yielded such 
 a crop of grapes that it could not be got rid of, and 
 the vintage fetched but half its price through this 
 superfluous abundance. This phenomenon, which has 
 been more than once observed, reassured the poor vine- 
 dressers. Moreover, all the slopes of Vesuvius boast of 
 a soil of wonderful fertility. The nearer you approach 
 the cone, the more exquisite are the grapes and other 
 fruits. At Somma, especially, though it has a north- 
 ward aspect, the fig-trees preserve their vigour even to 
 the month of November. 
 
 Others betook themselves to the examination of the 
 little river of lava, which, after having descended straight 
 upon the town, was arrested in its course at a point dis- 
 tant one hundred and seventy -five feet from the houses. 
 The river broke off into two branches ; one of which 
 marched towards the villa of the Cardinal Riario Sforza, 
 but did not touch it. Behold, a miracle ! We shall 
 hear of many others by-and-by. These rills in no way
 
 48 TOKENS OF DISASTER. 
 
 resembled the torrents of which I have spoken ; they 
 were not, like those of 1822, a mile broad and fifteen 
 feet high. Nor did any of the details recall the confla- 
 grations of 1858, 1855, or 1850, still less those of 1834 
 and 1822. The upper crater (extinct, or at least for a 
 long time tranquil) vomited an abundance of red-hot 
 cinders, which at night resembled the glare and smoke 
 of a fire ; but there were none of those enormous plumes, 
 those columns nine thousand feet in height, expanding 
 at the summit like the branches of a pine those mar- 
 vellous spectacles which the gray -beards of Torre had 
 seen in their youth, and to which Pliny calls attention 
 in his account of the eruption that destroyed the two 
 Campanian towns. And imagination therefore fails to 
 conceive the horrors of some of those earlier eruptions ; 
 as, for instance, of that of 1631, when, according to the 
 Abbd Braccini, three thousand persons, according to 
 other authorities, ten thousand persons, perished. For 
 a long period the volcano was silent ; the crater filled 
 up, trees flourished on the cone. At the bottom of the 
 gulf, which measured five miles in circumference, and 
 from which issued three springs of hot water, the cattle 
 of the mountain peacefully pastured. Figure to your- 
 self the extent of the disaster, when these pasturages 
 were rent apart, upheaved, and hurled towards heaven 
 by a subterranean conflagration. 
 
 And what shall be said of that historic eruption of 
 A.D. 70, which simultaneously engulfed Stabiae, Pompeii, 
 Herculaneum, and many villages whose names are for- 
 gotten that eruption so tragically described in Pliny's
 
 THE ERUPTION OF A.D. 70. 49 
 
 famous epistle ? Prior to this catastrophe, the terrible 
 forces of the volcano were unknown, or at least were 
 spoken of only as a venerable tradition or a nurse's tale. 
 In the time of Augustus, the summit, much less elevated 
 than it is at present, was clad with vineyards, and 
 traversed by a cavern. To this recess penetrated 
 eighty -four of the gladiators of Spartacus in their 
 retreat before the overwhelming forces of the prsetor 
 Claudius, who blockaded them on the mountain. By 
 means of the subterranean gallery, they passed under 
 the Roman army; and issuing at its other extremity, 
 put the prsetor to flight by the suddenness of their 
 attack, and saved their gallant leader. 
 
 Some years later broke out the eruption of Pliny. It 
 was an awful cataclysm, which burned up trees and 
 crops, overwhelmed cities, which still lie partly buried, 
 and suffocated their inhabitants, whose bones and 
 memorials are now rewarding the curiosity of explorers. 
 As far as Misenum, it enveloped the Parthenopean gulf 
 and the whole country in a sinister darkness. It was 
 not merely an outburst of lava, an overflow of ashes, 
 but whirling clouds rained down floods of fire and boil- 
 ing water. 
 
 I ask the reader's pardon for repeating details which 
 have been so often recorded ; but it is impossible among 
 the recent ruins of Torre del Greco not to think of the 
 classic ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii. Vesuvius, that 
 terrible and implacable enemy of the Neapolitan land, 
 has a thousand ways of slaying its people and destroy- 
 ing its towns. Torre del Greco is a striking example. 
 Since 1731 it has been seven or eight times consumed 
 
 (T31) 4
 
 50 A BOILING SEA. 
 
 by fire. In digging deeply under the soil, we find the 
 remains of Roman villas ; a little higher, several strata 
 of ruins superimposed upon one another. The lavas 
 which have made and covered them tremble incessantly 
 at the shocks and eruptions of the volcano. Along the 
 littoral, the shore has risen nearly four feet ; and this 
 is not the least curious phenomenon. At other places, 
 as at Puzzuoli, the sea has receded fully as much. 
 This upheaval of the soil began the disaster ; men are 
 now afraid of a subsidence, which will complete it. The 
 inhabitants, therefore, are forbidden to rebuild their 
 shattered houses. 
 
 Curious spectators contemplated also the ebullition of 
 the sea, even at a distance of fifty feet from the shore. 
 At two or three points, and in the same direction, 
 the water spluttered on the surface as if swollen 
 by a breath, or heated by a subterranean fire. Finally : 
 they took note of the extraordinary copiousness of 
 a spring which, with its tenfold volume, converted a 
 small stream into a torrent. So far as I was concerned, 
 all these " objects of interest " spoiled the spectacle : 
 they attracted too many people. I preferred the 
 market-place fissured, depopulated, stretching seaward 
 between two rows of houses in ruins, and that aged 
 woman, who walked to and fro alone and in tears, 
 repeatedly sobbing forth, " My country ! O my beauti- 
 ful country !" 
 
 And yet I could not but smile, even in that desolate 
 spot, at the remarks of my guide. He pointed out the 
 church uninjured, and explained to me the causes of the 
 eruption. The poor fellow spoke with much more
 
 THE IMAGE OF THE VIRGIN. 61 
 
 assurance than the savants of the Observatory would 
 have done. He possessed the faith of which science 
 deprives us to restore it to us again, thank God ! 
 
 He told me that on the Sunday of the catastrophe, 
 during prayers, some young persons entered the church 
 with a tricolor scarf, and were fain to decorate the 
 Madonna with it. The cure' exclaimed against what he 
 regarded as a profanation : " Hand me the scarf, if you 
 will, but do not touch the holy Virgin." 
 
 " She is a wooden image," replied the sacrilegious crew. 
 
 " She is made of thunder, and will kill you." 
 
 The young men, however, would not listen to the 
 priest; and, afraid of being killed, he gave way. Of 
 course, I am simply repeating what my guide told me. 
 Immediately the earthquake occurred, and the terrified 
 crowd fled from the church with the curd, who mur- 
 mured, "I told you the truth, you see !" 
 
 I have since learned that the whole of this pretty 
 little narrative was false. How it got abroad I know 
 not, but the curd himself contradicted it; without shak- 
 ing the faith, however, of the inhabitants of Torre del 
 Greco. 
 
 " Were you present in the church ?" I asked of one of 
 them. 
 
 " Undoubtedly." 
 
 "Did you see the incident?" 
 
 " No ; I saw nothing at all." 
 
 " How then do you know it took place ?" 
 
 " Because I was told so." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " Nicole."
 
 52 SIGNS OF SUPEKSTITION. 
 
 " Was Nicole in the church ? " 
 
 " She was there with me, on my left hand." 
 
 "Then she saw it?" 
 
 " No more than I did ; ask her." 
 
 " But if the story is true, some person or other must 
 have witnessed the transaction." 
 
 " But if it were imtrue, Torre del Greco would still 
 be standing !" 
 
 I make no comment ; these facts speak for themselves. 
 Superstition lifts its head everywhere in this country; 
 and the eruptions of Vesuvius are associated with in- 
 numerable fables. Each catastrophe is followed by an 
 increase of external devotion, unless despair seizes on 
 the crowd. Then they seem to grow delirious, and 
 abandon themselves to every excess. In 1707, for 
 example, when the Neapolitans thought destruction 
 inevitable, they indulged in the most terrible orgies. 
 The Church had to send her missionaries among them, 
 to revive their hopes and restore their confidence. This 
 is the only similar case known to me in the history of 
 Naples ; but it is pregnant with lessons, and invites our 
 patient consideration. 
 
 In ordinary outbreaks, I repeat, they address them- 
 selves to their saints; and the cessation of the eruption 
 they invariably ascribe to some supernatural interposi- 
 tion. You know, perhaps, that hitherto the city of 
 Naples has been saved from the vengeance of Vesuvius 
 by Saint Januarius. One evening, the statue of the 
 martyr stood, with head lowered and arms drooping, at 
 the entrance to the town. Next morning it was found
 
 SAINTS AND SINNERS. 53 
 
 with head turned and arms outstretched towards Vesu- 
 vius, as if to say to the lava, then flowing towards 
 Naples, "Thus far, and no farther." And, wonderful 
 to tell, the lava was arrested in its course. 
 
 Since this memorable event, the statue of the saint 
 has always preserved the same attitude. During the 
 eruption of 1779, the French ambassador, M. Clermont 
 d'Amboise, fled from Portici, and hastened, full gallop, 
 towards Naples. On the Madeleine Bridge his carriage 
 was stopped by a dense, tumultuous crowd, who wished 
 the diplomatist to kneel before St. Januarius. Unfor- 
 tunately, M. Clermont d'Amboise understood not a word 
 of the dialect in which their directions were shouted. 
 His ignorance would have cost him dear, had he not 
 skilfully extricated himself from his unpleasant position 
 by flinging a handful of piastres at the foot of the 
 statue : the mob plunged eagerly upon the booty, and 
 demanded no other satisfaction. 
 
 Let not the reader suppose that this patronage of the 
 illustrious martyr is only a popular superstition. The 
 Government professed to believe in him in the time of 
 the Bourbons. During these eruptions I have seen the 
 relics of " San Gennaro " transported to Fort Saint-Elmo, 
 which was illuminated for the occasion. The precaution, 
 however, was neglected in December 1861; and this is 
 one reason among many others why Torre del Greco 
 suffered so severely. 
 
 Some people say, however, that San Gennaro protects 
 only Naples ; and, therefore, the inhabitants of the neigh- 
 bouring villages show but little respect for him. They 
 resort more willingly to San Antonio, the patron-saint
 
 54 A VENERATED IMAGE. 
 
 of Fire. And yet, in 1850, San Antonio was powerless. 
 The people of Ottajano, who were then particularly 
 menaced, addressed themselves to Pio Nono; but the 
 Holy Father replied that he did not work miracles, and 
 could only offer his prayers. In this singular country, 
 however, the people do not believe in prayers, only in 
 miracles ; and the people of Ottajano accordingly betook 
 themselves to the mariners of Torre Annunziata, These 
 coral-fishers boast of a Madonna, which they fished up 
 from the bottom of the sea. Many of the boatmen of 
 the neighbouring coasts had attempted to carry off 
 this treasure, but not one had been successful. In the 
 hands of the mariners of Castellamare or Naples the 
 image weighed tons, even without its setting. But in 
 those of the coral-fishers it was a feather nay, light 
 as air. They hauled up the Madonna, and placed it in 
 their church. 
 
 The people of Ottajano came, then, to beg those of 
 Torre Annunziata to lend them the venerated image. 
 " Take it," said the latter. But this the former found 
 themselves unable to do. They could have more easily 
 uplifted the whole church for removal to their own 
 territory. It was necessary that the coral-fishers them- 
 selves should repair to the scene of disaster with their 
 precious Madonna. There they placed it in front of 
 the lava, and the incandescent river immediately 
 ceased to flow ! 
 
 I tell the story as it was told to me. Unfortunately, 
 the men of Torre Annunziata never thought of carrying 
 their Madonna to the assistance of their neighbours of 
 Torre del Greco.
 
 A SHOCK OF EARTHQUAKE. 55 
 
 Young ladies who read these truthful pages, remember 
 that the beautifully-wrought stones and the rich neck- 
 laces of rose-tinted or vermilion-coloured beads which 
 adorn your charms, were manufactured in the unfortu- 
 nate city. The inhabitants of the Neapolitan seaboard 
 maintain a constant strife with Nature ; but it does not 
 seem to weaken their devotion to Art. 
 
 To the foregoing details, we desire to add some par- 
 ticulars embodied in a letter addressed to M. Elie de 
 Beaumont by M. P. de Tchihatchef, immediately after 
 the occurrence of the catastrophe : 
 
 Yesterday, the 8th of December, at half-past one P.M., 
 there was felt at Naples a very light shock of earth- 
 quake, which I did not remark, being at the time in 
 the Rue de Toledo. But about three o'clock, towards 
 the Riviera de la Chiaja, I was surprised to see the hori- 
 zon in the direction of Vesuvius enveloped in a dense 
 smoke, which, I was told, proceeded from the very foot 
 of the south-south-west slope of the mountain. 
 
 At nightfall, about seven o'clock, the heights of Torre 
 del Greco appeared illuminated by four or five fiery 
 columns, echelonned on a line, the direction of which 
 seemed to be from north-north-east to south-south-west. 
 These columns were united by less luminous wreaths, 
 and formed in some degree one great curtain of flames. 
 
 This morning, the 9th, I hastened to Torre del Greco. 
 At Naples the air was serene, the sea perfectly cairn ; 
 but as I approached the village the sky became dull 
 and sombre, owing to the smoke and the ashes which 
 fell at Portici like very fine rain.
 
 56 AT TORRE DEL GRECO. 
 
 I found the inhabitants of Torre del Greco in a 
 state of the most violent agitation, and preparing to 
 emigrate in a body, with all the effects they were able 
 to carry. 
 
 They told me that on the previous day they had 
 experienced more than twenty-one shocks, which had 
 succeeded one another at irregular intervals from eleven 
 in the morning until three in the afternoon ; and that 
 about three o'clock loud subterranean detonations were 
 followed by dense clouds of smoke and ashes, which rose 
 at a short distance north of the village 011 the south- 
 south-west slope of the mountain. 
 
 I penetrated into the village as quickly as possible, 
 and could see that the walls of many of the houses were 
 rent with great fissures. 
 
 I had scarcely got clear of the last enclosures of Torre 
 del Greco when I found myself in the midst of an 
 immense agglomeration of scoriae, from the interstices 
 of which escaped thousands of tiny jets of smoke. 
 
 The inhabitants of Torre del Greco assured me posi- 
 tively that not only was this immense heap the entire 
 product of the preceding day's convulsions, but also two 
 conical masses which I could see beyond (at about six 
 hundred yards to the north-north-east of Torre del 
 Greco, and about two thousand yards to the north-west 
 of the convent of the Camaldules). These two cones, 
 the summits of which gave forth thick columns of smoke, 
 were inaccessible on account of the hail of stones and 
 incandescent ashes which they ejected : these, seen from 
 Naples in the midst of the obscurity, had been mis- 
 taken for columns of flame.
 
 DETAILS OF THE ERUPTION. 57 
 
 At a short distance to the south of these piles were 
 found, echelonned on a line running in the main from 
 east-north-east to west-south-west, three cavities hol- 
 lowed out in the very soil, consisting of pre-existent 
 volcanic sands ; they were separated from one another 
 by irregular walls or partitions. As to the cavities, 
 they were shaped very regularly as funnels, the depth 
 of which probably did not exceed twenty yards, and 
 the circumference about forty. The bottom was level. 
 
 Columns of smoke, similar to those which issued from 
 the summits of the two conical heaps, likewise pro- 
 ceeded from the bottom of these funnel-shaped cavities, 
 probably through imperceptible fissures. The smoke 
 escaped in sudden outbursts, and was preceded by a 
 rumbling sound like the distant report of artillery. 
 
 After each detonation, the smoke sprang upward in 
 gigantic sheaves, and unfolded into white or grayish 
 masses of a globular form, presenting a truly sublime 
 spectacle. An odour of sulphur made itself very dis- 
 tinctly appreciable. 
 
 For two hours I wandered about this fiery soil ; and 
 meanwhile I observed a curious oscillation in a broken- 
 up mass of scoria, which twice rose and fell, without 
 disturbing the loose fragments composing it : it seemed 
 a transitory, local movement of expansion or upheaval. 
 
 On my way back to Naples, I found the shower of 
 ashes gradually diminishing, and then disappearing. A 
 dull white cloud obscured Vesuvius. At Naples the sky 
 was of an intense azure, and the sun shone in all its 
 splendour.
 
 II. 
 
 In the gar*. 
 
 | HE Harz so called from the German Hart, 
 Harti, " a wooded height " forms an isolated 
 mountain-mass, spreading into the four terri- 
 tories of Hanover, Brunswick, Prussia proper, 
 and Anhalt-Bernburg. Geographically, it is divided into 
 two parts : the Upper and the Lower Harz Oberharz 
 and Unterharz. It exhibits a rich varietj^ of striking 
 and romantic landscapes, and is associated with in- 
 numerable traditions, songs, and legends. Formerly 
 the traveller found some difficulty in penetrating into 
 its recesses ; but now the railway has invaded it, and 
 even the spectre-haunted Brocken has become vulgarized 
 and commonplace. Fortunately it has been found im- 
 possible as yet to ruin its scenery, and the artist, in 
 wandering through its sylvan regions and deep denies, 
 will find abundant material for his sketch-book. 
 
 We propose to accompany M. Carnot on a tour in this 
 wild mountain-country, and shall join him at Klausthal, 
 a town of 7000 to 8000 inhabitants, planted on the crest 
 of a bare and rugged height, in the Oberharz. We
 
 A CONCERT AND A BALL. 59 
 
 arrive there in time to witness the incidents of a Schut- 
 zenfest ; which is, as everybody knows, the German 
 national fete, and calls forth in the hearts of the people 
 their most patriotic emotions. 
 
 It extends over a week. So far as the tourist is con- 
 cerned, its chief feature would seem to be the misery he 
 suffers from the brass instruments of itinerant musicians, 
 who successively besiege every house in the town. A 
 grand concert, moreover, is given for the benefit of the 
 aristocracy of Klausthal, at a shilling per head. In the 
 neighbourhood of the shooting-ground are planted all 
 kinds of booths and stalls for the sale of pottery, cakes, 
 bon-bons, refreshments, and a hundred articles; ambula- 
 tory theatres, with the attractions of gigantic women 
 and African ostriches ; and a German Punch, uttering 
 his jokes in a curious dialect of Low Dutch. 
 
 The aristocratic concert is followed by a grand ball 
 for the bourgeois, given in a large saloon erected for' the 
 occasion, decorated with wreaths of foliage and lighted 
 by a limited number of candles. Near the orchestra a 
 third of the space was allotted to the nimble movements 
 of the dancers; the remainder was occupied by rows 
 of long tables, at which were seated young men and 
 women, and their parents, spending the tedious inter- 
 vals between the dances in conversation and in pledg- 
 ing one another in cheap Rhenish wine. At a signal 
 from the orchestra, everybody quitted his glass, pro- 
 ceeded in search of a partner, and took his place in the 
 long line of couples, every movement being performed 
 with truly German phlegm, method, and deliberation. 
 Then the waltz or galop began. Six or seven couples
 
 60 MINES OF THE HARZ. 
 
 only started at the outset. But a signal being given, 
 six others succeeded them; and the first six stationed 
 themselves behind those who had not yet danced, or 
 gravely promenaded round the saloon. On return- 
 ing to his seat, everybody put on his hat, and resumed 
 the pleasing task of refreshing his wearied frame. In 
 the general soberness and decorous dulness of the scene, 
 there was something surprising. Dancers and drinkers, 
 all meant business; and all went through their work 
 with edifying gravity. The fete was prolonged to so 
 late an hour, that before quitting the dancing-hall we 
 saw the sun rising above the Brocken. 
 
 The Harz is celebrated for its mines, and a visit to 
 these is as indispensable on the part of the tourist as 
 the ascent of the Brocken. 
 
 There are two ways of descending into the mines. 
 Formerly, at regular intervals in a special compartment 
 of the shaft, was arranged a succession of stages, plat- 
 forms, or landing-places, communicating with one an- 
 other by ladders ; and the visitor ascended or descended 
 by means of these. In many places this arrangement 
 is still kept up. But the fatigue of climbing up or down 
 vertical or almost vertical ladders, for a depth of 500, 
 000, or 700 yards, is very severe. The miners spent an 
 hour or an hour and a half every morning and evening 
 in the wearisome exercise, to the great trial of their 
 strength and the loss of their time. So, in some of the 
 mines, the ascent and descent are accomplished, as in 
 our English mines, in the buckets, cradles, or suspended 
 cages, used also for the removal of the ore or coal. These
 
 THE FAHR-KUNST. 61 
 
 are lowered or raised by ropes passing over pulleys, and 
 worked by hand or by steam power. 
 
 Peculiar to the Harz, also, is the ingenious apparatus 
 known as the fahr-kunst, which enables you to effect 
 a tolerably rapid ascent, with the minimum of fatigue 
 and the maximum of security. 
 
 Picture to yourself, as suspended in a compartment 
 of the shaft of the mine, two vertical beams supporting 
 small platforms or foot-boards at regular intervals ; sup- 
 pose that these beams receive from above to below, and 
 from below upward, a uniform movement, the extent of 
 which shall be equal to the distance of the foot-boards ; 
 and suppose that these two beams move always in an 
 opposite direction, the one rising as the other descends. 
 At the moment when the two are arrested, and when 
 consequently two foot-boards will be opposite one an- 
 other, a man can easily pass from one to the other by 
 clinging with his hands to the handles fixed for the pur- 
 pose upon the beams. Now the reader will easily 
 understand that if he changes in this way from side to 
 side, each time the two foot-boards are brought together, 
 quitting the descending beam for that which is mov- 
 ing upward, he will gradually rise from the bottom to 
 the top of the shaft. In descending, all he has to do is 
 to reverse the process. 
 
 In Belgium and in France, the apparatus established 
 on this principle are much more novel and perfect than 
 those in use in the Harz : instead of rough foot-boards, 
 they are furnished with convenient platforms, on which 
 two persons can easily stand at a time ; but the honour 
 of the discovery belongs to the engineers of the Harz.
 
 62 HOW THE MINE IS VENTILATED. 
 
 Having accomplished our descent into a mine, our first 
 inquiry will be as to its ventilation. How do the miners 
 breathe in these underground recesses ? How are they 
 provided with a sufficient supply of pure atmospheric 
 air ? For we feel that the temperature is not disagree- 
 able nor the odour oppressive. On the other hand, we 
 are conscious that a cellar or subterranean excavation, 
 if only a few feet below the surface, is by no means a 
 healthy or agreeable residence. How, then, do the 
 miners contrive to enjoy a tolerably healthy climate at 
 a depth of two thousand feet in the bowels of the earth ? 
 
 Well, the process of ventilation, though somewhat 
 complicated in its details, is very simple as a whole. 
 
 Metallic mines, like those of the Harz, do not require 
 a very active circulation of the air ; all that is necessary 
 is to carry off that which has already been respired by 
 the workmen, which has fed their lamps, and been 
 vitiated by the process of blasting. There is no occa- 
 sion to fear, as in coal-mines, the irrespirable and ex- 
 plosive gas which is disengaged from the surface of the 
 coal. Special machines, however, are sometimes made 
 use of to renew the air in the inner parts of the mine. 
 But frequently a natural ventilation is sufficient: the 
 fresh air enters through the lowest openings, shafts, or 
 galleries, grows warm in the mine, and accordingly rises 
 and passes away through the higher shafts, just as the 
 heated atmosphere of our rooms escapes through the 
 chimneys. In all cases the .direction of the air-current, 
 and its proportion, is regulated by means of doors, which 
 prevent it from seeking the shortest way, and compel 
 it to feed those places most in need of it.
 
 A MINE IN THE H A RZ D ES C E N D I N Q THE SHAI
 
 THE HARZ MINERS. 65 
 
 The lights used by the Harz miners are lamps of 
 classic form; which are supplied, before descending, 
 with a lump of fat for distinguished visitors, or with oil 
 for workmen. The same system of lightage is adopted 
 for the solid galleries and those navigated in boats, in 
 spite of the regret of all lovers of the picturesque, who 
 naturally would prefer the weird effects produced by the 
 shifting glare of torches. 
 
 And yet it is fortunate that such lamps, with their 
 naked and powerful flame, can be safely employed. In 
 coal-mines the presence of an explosive gas compels the 
 miner, as everybody knows, to surround the flame with 
 a metallic network, which prevents its combustion from 
 spreading externally, and, at the same time, so masks 
 the flame that darkness swallows up everything at a 
 foot or two from the lamp. 
 
 The Harz miner is generally well-educated; at an 
 early age having been sent to school, and having been 
 properly instructed in everything that concerns his occu- 
 pation. He speaks good German, often with elegance. 
 On Sundays you meet him and his wife and his chil- 
 dren repairing to the nearest church with their Bibles 
 or psalm-books in their hands, for all are able to read. 
 He is thoroughly religious, assembling his family every 
 morning at prayers, before they betake themselves to 
 the mines, each one to his post. He never fails, when 
 he encounters you underground, to salute you with the 
 word GliicJcauf, an abbreviation of Gluckliche auffahrt, 
 " A good voyage," or rather, " A safe ascent," nor, at 
 the close of a meal, with the kindly expression, Gesegnete 
 Mahlzeit ("May the meal be blessed !"). He is strongly 
 
 (731) 5
 
 66 A SILVER-MINE. 
 
 attached to his dogmas and religious rites ; and some 
 twelve years ago an attempt on the part of the late 
 Hanoverian Government to introduce a new catechism, 
 professedly to regenerate the true Lutheran doctrine, 
 met with so vigorous an opposition that it was perforce 
 abandoned. 
 
 From Klausthal it is customary to repair to Andreas- 
 berg, the locale of a very celebrated silver-mine. It has 
 long been exhausted, and now retains only the tradition 
 of its ancient glory ; but it has still the honour of rank- 
 ing at the head of the deepest mines in the world. As 
 it cannot supply the wants of some silver-works situated 
 in the neighbourhood, the proprietary, to keep alive 
 their furnaces, are obliged to import, through Hamburg, 
 the ore of the American mines ; a remarkable circum- 
 stance in a country so difficult of access, and where 
 there is not even the advantage of cheap fuel, the coke 
 in use being procured from Westphalia ! 
 
 The surrounding country is more picturesque than 
 the neighbourhood of Klausthal : the undulations of the 
 soil are more compact and better defined ; the slopes are 
 rapid, the valleys deep; the fresh verdure of the meadows 
 and the deep green of the fir- woods intermingle in such 
 a manner as to give a strong character to the landscape ; 
 here is, indeed, the true mountain-land, the Harz of 
 which one dreams over the rhymes of poets and the 
 sketches of artists. 
 
 From Andreasberg a short journey carries us to 
 Torfhaus, at the foot of the Brocken. The ascent of
 
 ASCENDING THE BROCKEN. 67 
 
 this famous mountain is neither a dangerous nor a dif- 
 ficult enterprise ; it occupies little more than two hours, 
 and the path is nowhere unpleasantly steep. It is curi- 
 ous that this mountainous mass of granite is covered on 
 every side, and even on its most abrupt declivities, by a 
 thick stratum of turf, in which the purple heather 
 flourishes abundantly. Apparently there is nothing to 
 arrest the flow of the water, and assist the formation of 
 turf; yet it develops with great rapidity, and attains a 
 depth which, in the more accessible parts, renders the 
 collection of peat a profitable occupation. 
 
 Up to the very summit of the mountain, M. Carnot, 
 on the occasion of his ascent, was protected by dense 
 clouds against the glowing ardour of an autumnal sun. 
 The peak is crowned by a very considerable inn, the 
 Brockenhaus. From this point, on a clear day, the 
 tourist enjoys a panorama not less varied than exten- 
 sive. 
 
 The celebrated legends of the Brocken, and the stories 
 of the wild dances of witches and fairies, immortalized 
 by the genius of Goethe, are familiar now to every 
 reader. The tradition of the Walpurgis Night is still 
 a living thing ; only it is merry villagers who now, on 
 the night of the 1st of May, take the place of the de- 
 posed sorcerers and sorceresses, and dance in company 
 on the Brocken, while, in the plain, the timorous pea- 
 sants, apprehensive of all manner of evil plotting 
 against them by the mountain-spirits, pass the night in 
 devoutly making the circuit of their fields by the light 
 of torches. 
 
 Some persons seek the origin of the terrible legends
 
 68 THE PEASANTRY OF THE HARZ. 
 
 of the Brocken in the reminiscences of the bloody sacri- 
 fices perpetrated there by the pagan Saxons, and con- 
 tinued long after the exterminating campaigns of Char- 
 lemagne, the great emperor of the West. The altars on 
 which these sacrifices were offered up consisted of the 
 large natural platforms which, supported in the air by 
 huge pillars of granite, brought to light by the constant 
 actions of the waters, present to this day, on the rugged 
 slope of the Brocken, a weird and impressive aspect. It 
 is easy to conceive that myth and fable would soon 
 grow up about them. 
 
 We shall now take up a fuller description of the 
 Harz and the Brocken, as supplied by the traveller 
 Strobbant in 1862. 
 
 As Heine says, the Brocken is essentially German, for 
 good as for ill, for the beautiful as for the hideous. The 
 same is true of other parts of the Harz. The general 
 aspect of the country is one of picturesque grandeur ; 
 and the mists which prevail there during a considerable 
 portion of the year communicate to the landscapes an 
 exceptional character and colouring. The peasant does 
 not escape their influence ; he seems marked on the fore- 
 head with a sombre hue, which gives to his physiognomy 
 an air of fear and gloom. His gestures are abrupt; and if 
 you wish to obtain from him the slightest information, 
 you must speak to him in his own language, and speak 
 accurately, for if he discovers that you are a stranger 
 he will turn his back upon you, murmuring unintelli- 
 gible words. It happened to us, during our excursion 
 in this country, to be for a whole week seated at table
 
 BIRD-SCARING. 69 
 
 with the same companions, and yet to find scarcely two 
 of them disposed to reply to our questions on the man- 
 ners and usages of the Harz; the others sedulously 
 avoided conversation. Notably one opposite neighbour 
 shrank even from looking at us, and shut himself up in 
 silent phlegm. His countenance is photographed on 
 our memory, because we had frequent occasion to meet 
 him elsewhere : the traits of the visage sometimes dif- 
 fered, but the traditional gold spectacles never failed to 
 be planted squarely on the nose of this mistrustful 
 personage. 
 
 The visitor to the Harz must travel afoot, with his 
 portmanteau on his back, if he would penetrate into the 
 less frequented and the wildest localities; which, to the 
 sketch er, are generally the most interesting. 
 
 Still, a guide is valuable on account of the services 
 he renders during and after a long day's march. Gene- 
 rally, the guides are honest and sober ; bread and beer 
 are all they require. Food is not dear, and the pay 
 they receive is very small. When crossing an immense 
 plain, luxuriant with splendid crops, we perceived 
 several young persons mounted on stilts, and making 
 with a kind of rattle a deafening noise, intended to put 
 to flight the few sparrows which came to peck at the 
 ears bending over the furrowed way. These robust 
 young guardians, who spent all the day in the fields, 
 certainly received at each meal, in the shape of bread, 
 more grain than the birds would have carried away in 
 a week. The inaction of their vigorous arms bore 
 testimony to the trifling value of manual labour. 
 
 The Harz is composed of enormous blocks of granite,
 
 70 A.T HALBERSTADT. 
 
 the base of which rises several hundred feet above the 
 sea-level. Its area is thirty-six square miles. The 
 mountains are generally isolated, and form huge conical 
 peaks, separated by deep and narrow valleys, especially 
 in the north of the Harz. A chain of mountains 
 divides this country into two parts ; several rivers rise 
 in it. Of these the chief are the Bode, the Holzemme, 
 the Wipper, the Tyra, the Use, and the Selke. 
 
 Our traveller reached Halberstadt at four o'clock on 
 a bright and cloudless day. The town was completely 
 deserted. With much interest he surveyed the antique 
 houses that lined its streets, some of which were genuine 
 masterpieces of wood carving. The caryatides and 
 gargoyles assume forms so twisted, that it is necessary 
 to follow closely the line of the principal subject to dis- 
 cover what the artist wished to represent. The Raths- 
 keller House, which dates from the beginning of the 
 fifteenth century, is a complete marvel. The three stories 
 facing the street are each of a different design. The 
 lower gallery is the most richly and artistically orna- 
 mented; and the artist has given to the figures and 
 ornaments which form the angles the greatest import- 
 ance, with a happy result as regards the general effect. 
 The details above are broader, though lighter in form, 
 so as not to overwhelm the lower part of the design. 
 
 Halberstadt is seen to most advantage on a market- 
 day. There is a certain quaintness about the dress of 
 the men, which harmonizes with the character of the 
 scene. That of the women is semi-Oriental : they wear 
 large blue mantles, striped with white or red, or
 
 A GOTHIC TOWN-HALL. 71 
 
 capacious pelisses with three hoods, in which they wrap 
 up and carry their children. The folds of these ample 
 garments, and the calm, slow air of their movements, 
 give to the women a monumental character. Through 
 this strangely-attired and novel crowd pass carts and 
 waggons drawn by oxen, which pace as deliberately as 
 their masters. 
 
 The most important building in the market-place is 
 the town-hall. Its architecture is a picturesque group- 
 ing together of different styles, the Gothic predomina- 
 ting. Amateurs notice with interest the happy arrange- 
 ment of the lines; and a balcony at the corner of the 
 market-place is a thing of beauty. The lower gallery 
 is particularly distinguished by the fertility and origin- 
 ality of its decoration. Three grinning heads look out 
 upon you from the stone, as if they had been suddenly 
 endowed with life. Gaze upon them when the sunset 
 touches them, and they seem to twist themselves into 
 convulsive movements, so that every moment you 
 expect to hear a frightful laugh burst from the yawning 
 mouths. 
 
 The cathedral is a noticeable structure. Of course, it 
 has its legend ; and, of course, in this legend Sa,tan plays 
 the principal part. In the centre of the market-place 
 is preserved the enormous stone which he hurled at the 
 cathedral with the intention of destroying it ; though 
 archaeologists are found obtuse enough to declare that 
 it is only a pagan altar. 
 
 It is a building of much beauty, which deserves to 
 be included amono; the most remarkable and least-
 
 72 IN THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 known monuments of Northern Germany. Like most 
 erections of the kind, its architecture extends over a 
 considerable period, marking the gradual development 
 of the Gothic style, from early in the thirteenth to late in 
 the fourteenth century. The lower part of the towers, 
 the windows, the intercolumniation, and the doorway, all 
 admirable in design and execution, date from 1180 to 
 1220; the principal windows and the buttress-pillars 
 belong to 1300 to 1380. Very rich in details are the 
 columns and arches ; and in one of the niches is to be 
 seen a fine head of Christ, with the twelve apostles 
 grouped around it. On the upper portion of the capitals 
 are skilfully wrought the four evangelists. 
 
 The interior of the cathedral is particularly worthy 
 of attention. Its aspect is imposing, and its principal 
 lines are majestic. The sombre tone which dominates 
 everywhere lends prominency and effect to the details 
 exposed to receive the light of day. The eye rests with 
 delight on the screen which separates the choir from 
 the nave. It bears the date of 1510. Its invention is 
 rich, and forms a group of little spires of archivolts in- 
 terlaced with foliage wrought as delicately as lace-work. 
 Some curious tombs are found in the nave ; one on the 
 right hand surpasses anything the imagination can 
 conceive in its varied arabesques of ornaments and 
 figures. It resembles an engraving by Dieterlin trans- 
 ferred to stone. This masterpiece is inscribed with the 
 
 name of "Bastian, of Magdeburg," master-sculptor 
 
 to the lords of Kannenburg. Bishop Scimka's monu- 
 ment is enclosed by an iron railing of superb work- 
 manship ; the recumbent effigy is very fine, but has
 
 A NIGHT ALARM. 73 
 
 been much injured by the names and dates foolishly 
 carved upon the hands and figure. Some of these 
 inscriptions are very ancient. Among other objects 
 worthy of attention we may name the baptismal fonts, 
 said to be of the twelfth century, the remains of a 
 remarkable Gothic tabernacle, two very old and colossal 
 candelabra, and the monument of the Margrave of 
 Brandenburg, of 1558. 
 
 The first cathedral of Halberstadt was built by Char- 
 lemagne ; and destroyed by Henry the Lion, Duke of 
 Saxony and Bavaria, who laid siege to the town, carried 
 it by assault, and set fire to its buildings. Several 
 churches and four monasteries were reduced to ashes, 
 arid the priests and people who had fled thither for 
 refuge perished in the flames. 
 
 The church of " Our Lady," on the other side of the 
 market-place, is one of the best-preserved specimens of 
 the Byzantine in Germany. 
 
 The town generally wears a calm and silent aspect. 
 However, our traveller was witness of an incident which 
 shows the emotional susceptibility of its inhabitants 
 when once their political sympathies are aroused. 
 
 One night he was suddenly awakened by a great 
 noise. Hastily rising, he threw open his window, and 
 saw that a numerous throng had collected round a 
 vehicle in front of the Hotel Prince Eugene. Two 
 persons descended from it; and immediately a thousand 
 arms were uplifted, and a formidable shout broke from 
 every breast. A few minutes afterwards, he heard 
 steps in the corridors of the house ; then all was silent, 
 and the cro wd quietly dispersed. Next day, he learned
 
 74 A PATRIOTIC OUTBURST. 
 
 that the acclamations were a welcome to the Duke of 
 Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who had arrived at Halberstadt to 
 review the regiment of Prussian cuirassiers of which he 
 was colonel. 
 
 Said the traveller to one of the attendants : " You are 
 much attached, then, to the duke ? " 
 
 The attendant replied : " Yes, truly; we love the prince 
 because his views are liberal." 
 
 Throughout the day the town was en fete, and in the 
 evening several choral societies gave the prince one of 
 those German serenades in which the dialogue with its 
 political allusions is of more importance than the music. 
 Old and tattered banners were unfurled above the crowd, 
 and a hundred torches lighted up a scene which was 
 certainly picturesque. Similar scenes were of frequent 
 occurrence a few years ago, when almost every week 
 brought to the Harz and its quaint little towns the 
 news of a German victory, and of the further progress of 
 German soldiers into the heart of France. 
 
 The reader will object, perhaps, that these particulars 
 have little to do with mountains. But we are now 
 sketching a mountainous region, and not any single 
 height, and our object is to bring into relief its salient 
 characteristics. The legends of the Harz, and the 
 manners of its population, and even the prevailing 
 sentiment of its architecture, are closely connected 
 with, if they did not actually originate in, its peculiar 
 and remarkable scenery. And we submit, therefore, 
 that we are by no means overloading our pages with 
 superfluous details in thus sketching the aspect of the
 
 AT BLANKENBURG. 75 
 
 country through which the persevering traveller ascends 
 to the spectre-haunted Brocken. 
 
 From Halberstadt we proceed to Quedlinburg, where 
 the old castle frowns from a precipice of sandstone. 
 Thence we make our way to Blankenburg, crossing 
 several pretty mountain-streams, which wind capri- 
 ciously into the Bode. 
 
 Blankenburg is less picturesque than some other 
 towns of the Harz, in spite of its Teufelsmauer, or Devil's 
 Wall. The town is full of life, and the promenades are 
 pleasant; but the castle which dominates it is heavy 
 and gloomy. The traveller will prefer to visit the 
 ruins of the Regenstein; a strong fortress, perched on 
 the summit of a precipitous rock, and built by Henry 
 the Fowler. It is now a shattered mass of stones, hardly 
 distinguishable from the rock itself. 
 
 Some distance beyond rises the Hoppelberg, or Cradle 
 Mountain; so called on account of its peculiar conforma- 
 tion. This is the culminating point of the Unterharz ; the 
 ascent is easy, and from the summit the view to the north- 
 ward is extensive and romantic, and includes the Brocken. 
 
 By descending the mountain on this side the tourist 
 reaches a curious accumulation of rocks, which the 
 natives call volcanic mountains ; they resemble colossal 
 dunes. An isolated and fantastically-shaped mass ter- 
 minates the chain. Towards nightfall, or in gloomy 
 weather, this grand dentelated line, which recedes to the 
 horizon, seems continued to infinity; and, saddened by 
 the reflection of the gray, cloudy sky, invests the sur- 
 rounding landscape with a peculiar air of melancholy 
 and severity.
 
 76 THE ROSSTRAPPE. 
 
 Next day, the traveller may visit the Hermit's Rocks, 
 which lie in the same direction. These bare, denuded, 
 and enormous blocks wear quite a monumental character. 
 When seen in the glowing sunshine of a cloudless day, 
 they seem to transport the spectator to the distant East, 
 and he feels as if he stood before the huge palace-temples 
 of Egypt, and their facades covered with hieroglyphical 
 inscriptions. 
 
 M. Strosbant visited the Rosstrappe, he tells us, in 
 very favourable weather. The sky was " deeply, darkly, 
 beautifully blue ;" the glossy foliage of the trees reflected 
 its rays of subtle and sparkling light. All nature 
 seemed to thrill with joy. It was one of those excep- 
 tional days when we forget the cares and sins of 
 humanity, and dream for a while that earth is as happy 
 and as pure as it is beautiful and grand. 
 
 A stork, perched on a chimney, contemplated with 
 grave and anxious air the laughing groups that passed 
 beneath and chatted in their gaiety of heart. Some 
 sparrows, who had taken up their residence in her nest, 
 and fluttered and chirped with active merriment, vainly 
 endeavoured to divert the attentive and steadfast gaze, 
 fixed on the scenes of happiness around her. 
 
 The road leading to the Rosstrappe is steep, but not 
 difficult. When the traveller had gained the summit, 
 the guide pointed out to him a horse-shoe shaped inden- 
 tation, to which this locality owes the name of the 
 Rosstrappe. 
 
 The princess Hildegard inhabited, with her father, a 
 castle in the neighbourhood of the Bode; she was a
 
 AN OLD LEGEND. 77 
 
 maiden of great personal charms, and of much boldness 
 of character. Mounted on her favourite steed, she 
 loved to gallop afar over hill and dale. In one of her 
 excursions she approached a cavern in which a giant 
 resided, who had several times seen her splendid beauty, 
 and now conceived the base idea of possessing himself 
 of it. He rushed in pursuit of her. She fled ; and her 
 horse, spurred to full speed, crossed the valley at a 
 single leap, and descended on an enormous crag pro- 
 jecting from the precipice. His hind legs finding no 
 support, he rolled, with his living burden, deep down 
 into the recesses of the CreTal, an excavation of the 
 Bode. When the waters are low you may still see, 
 it is said, the crown of the princess, who lives, and 
 sits erect in the depths of the river. The story goes 
 that, one day, a troop of woodcutters assembling at this 
 spot, one of them endeavoured to draw the princess 
 from the waters ; he plunged several times to bring her 
 to the surface, but each time an impetuous current 
 forced him back ; at last he seemed on the point of suc- 
 ceeding, when suddenly he disappeared beneath the 
 waves, dragged down by an unseen hand. Some mo- 
 ments afterwards, the spectators were horror-stricken to 
 see a jet of blood issuing from the waves. The princess, 
 by sacrificing a victim, made known her will that men 
 should no more trouble her resting-place. So the 
 peasants fled affrighted ; and to this day the country- 
 people will make a long circuit to avoid the haunted 
 and accursed spot. With the aid of a sympathetic 
 imagination, the tourist may discover the imprint of a 
 horse's hoof upon the rock.
 
 78 THE WITCHES' VALLEY. 
 
 la descending into the valley, he will find the rock 
 somewhat precipitous ; but by means of a rugged stair- 
 case of stones, piled upon one another, he accomplishes 
 the descent, and proceeds along a narrow path to the 
 Devil's Bridge. A little farther, and the rocky 
 scenery assumes a wild and eery character, and only a 
 strong nerve and a clear brain should face the dizzy 
 heights. 
 
 Recrossing the Bode, he reaches a remarkable nook 
 or corner, known as the Witches' Valley. It is closely 
 shut in on every side, so that at first sight there seems 
 no outlet for the river ; and the surrounding crags pre- 
 sent the most varied and fantastic outlines. They 
 seem like so many colossal figures, some recumbent, 
 others erect; and each has its legendary associations. 
 In fact, everything in this country is the subject of 
 myth and tradition ; and, therefore, it is not surprising 
 that the peasantry, bred in so legendary an atmosphere, 
 should be superstitious and timorous in all that relates 
 to the Hezen or to the Father of Evil. 
 
 A staircase of about twelve hundred steps conducts 
 the traveller to the Hezen-tanz platz that is, the Plat- 
 form of the Witches' Dance. Half way -down the 
 mountain, he may rest upon one of the rocks which 
 overhang the valley ; a complete tranquillity reigns all 
 around, and the sound of the flowing water does but 
 enhance the impression of perfect harmony. Listen 
 attentively, and you will think you detect the echo of 
 an instrument blending with the murmur of the waves, 
 and the general effect is that of an unearthly and dreamy 
 music.
 
 SCENE IN THE ROSSTRAPPE.
 
 ON THE ROAD. 81 
 
 And now, most patient reader, behold us on the road 
 to the Brocken. 
 
 The weather, hitherto so fair and favourable, has be- 
 come gloomy ; the heat is intolerable ; and a few large 
 drops of rain, like " the first of a thunder-shower," fall 
 heavily on the dusty highway, to disappear immediately. 
 Not a leaf stirs ; the trees along the road are silent, yet 
 seem disturbed ; great belts of greenish-gray clouds rest 
 upon the horizon. To the left, the Brocken shows itself 
 above a framework of mountains, the upper portion of 
 which is sharply outlined against the sky; a dull, 
 leaden-coloured mist spreads over the valley, and ob- 
 scures and confounds its various features. We hasten 
 our steps, and, after a good walk, reach Ilsenberg just 
 as the rain begins to fall abundantly. Several tourists 
 have already taken up their quarters in the inn; and 
 the threatening weather has induced them to defer 
 their ascent of the Brocken until the morrow. They 
 advise us to follow their example. 
 
 The rain, falling in torrents, renders us undecided; 
 and seated beneath the shelter of the sloping roof, we 
 spend a long time in watching the lapsing waters as 
 they descend the surrounding mountains. The monot- 
 ony of this contemplation makes us less capable than 
 ever of forming a resolution. We return to the inn. 
 But there the spectacle of the listless, weary, yawning, 
 and lethargic tourist-company somewhat revives our 
 energies. Away we speed, and find our way to the 
 room where the guides are taking their ease ; all rise, 
 and willingly proffer their services for the next day; 
 
 all, except a little, squat, robust man in the corner. He 
 Crsi) 6
 
 82 THE ILSENSTEIN. 
 
 looks at us witli a careless air, then resumes his former 
 posture, with his elbows on his knees, and his head 
 supported between his two large hands. Turning 
 towards him, we ask him if he will conduct us at once 
 to the Brocken. He replies abruptly, "Are you in 
 earnest in making the proposal in such bad weather ? " 
 "Yes." "Will you take the paths, instead of the 
 abominably ugly main road ? " " Certainly." " But I 
 shall not be able to redescend the mountain to-day." 
 " I will hire you for several days." He rises slowly, 
 buckles on his big gaiters, and prepares to strap my 
 portmanteau to his lusty shoulders. 
 
 When they saw us reappear, accompanied by our 
 man, the tourists burst out laughing, and the landlord 
 joined them, not without cause; we pretended to see 
 nothing, and bravely started on our enterprise. 
 
 At intervals the rain ceased ; but the storm was in- 
 cessant, and its roar was like the rattle of a hundred 
 chariots. Occasionally a flash of lightning broke forth, 
 and we took advantage of these gleams to reach the 
 Ilsenstein. 
 
 The Ilsenstein is an immense rocky precipice, about 
 2500 feet in height, washed by the winding flood of the 
 river Use, a stream very famous in song and . fable. 
 Heinrich Heine says of it : It is impossible to describe 
 the vivacity, the boldness, the grace, with which the 
 Use descends on the fantastic groups of rocks she en- 
 counters in her career. Here the waters hiss wildly, or 
 roll in spray and foam ; there they leap in crystal arches 
 over a labyrinth of crevasses; and, lower down, they 
 dance across the mossy pebbles like frolicsome nymphs.
 
 THE RIVER ILSE. 83 
 
 Yes; tradition is right. The Use is a princess who, 
 with the laughter and freshness of youth, descends the 
 mountain-sides. How her white robe of foam sparkles 
 in the sunshine ! How the silver ribbons of her bosom 
 flutter in the breeze ! How her diamonds glitter ! 
 The tall ash-trees stand erect beside her, like grave 
 seniors who smile benignantly at the tricksomeness of 
 a favourite child ; the white birches balance themselves 
 with the satisfaction of tender aunts who, nevertheless, 
 are somewhat afraid of her daring escapades, the proud 
 oak regarding them with the stern glance of a gloomy 
 uncle, and counting their possible cost ; the small birds of 
 the air applaud her with joyous songs ; arid the flowers 
 on the bank murmur tenderly, " Oh, take us with you, 
 take us with you, dear little sister ! " But the wild 
 young girl speeds on her way, and listens to none. 
 
 We rapidly descended into the valley towards a 
 steep pathway, which would shorten the route, and con- 
 duct us in three hours to the summit of the Brocken 
 (3700 feet). During the first hour of our march all. went 
 well; and so complete was my enjoyment that several 
 times I asked the guide to stop and rest. However, 
 his only reply was to quicken his steps ; and before long 
 his obstinacy explained itself. Just as we had arrived 
 at a heap of scattered rocks, the storm, which had so 
 long been threatening, broke forth in all its violence. 
 A keen and violent wind lashed us in the face, the 
 rain fell heavily and densely, the water rushed from 
 the mountain in impetuous torrents, carrying along 
 with it the trunks of uprooted trees; and with the
 
 84 ON THE BROCKEN. 
 
 clash of successive thunder-peals the Brocken seemed 
 to tremble. Every now and then we were surrounded 
 by whirlwinds of so much violence, that it was only 
 by clinging together we could maintain our footing. 
 On reaching the elevation at which all vegetation 
 ceases, the gusts redoubled; the lightning-flashes ap- 
 parently glided before us along the barren steep. Still, 
 with firm and regular step, we continued our ascent. 
 After a while, a spectacle of equal novelty and magni- 
 ficence greeted our eyes : above our heads shone a 
 splendid sun; beneath our feet rolled the terrible 
 storm. The scene was grand and majestic; the clouds 
 revolved one above another. From time to time a point 
 of rock appeared; then disappeared immediately as in 
 a furious sea. The coldness of the atmosphere, how- 
 ever, soon roused us from our contemplation; and we 
 directed our steps in all haste towards the Brocken- 
 haus, the roof of which we could see above a rising 
 ground: we soon arrived there, wet to the bone. The 
 innkeeper had seen us in the distance, and was waiting 
 for us at the door; a good room and a blazing fire were 
 prepared, and we soon forgot the inconveniences we 
 had suffered on our way. 
 
 In the afternoon I explored the summit of the moun- 
 tain, which is the highest in this part of Germany, and 
 rises to an altitude of 3580 feet above the sea. Among 
 the peasantry it bears the reputation of being haunted. 
 According to a very old legend, the witches assembled 
 on its peak yearly, on the Walpurgis nacht, or night of 
 the 1st of May, under the presidency of their lord and 
 master Satan. The rocks of the Brocken all bear
 
 GOETHE S JOURNEY. 85 
 
 names alluding to this nocturnal scene, as the Devil's 
 Pulpit, the Witches' Altar, the Witches' Dancing-Hall. 
 
 Goethe has cast the magic of his genius over the 
 Brocken. One November morning, in 1777, at day- 
 break, and in spite of the snow which was falling in 
 dense flakes, he mounted his horse, and ascended to 
 the summit. He undertook the excursion, less to visit 
 the famous mountain, than to fall in, as if accidentally, 
 with a young man, suffering from hypochondria, who, 
 after reading " The Sorrows of Werther," had addressed 
 to him many bitter and foolish letters.* 
 
 Goethe was then twenty-eight years old. It was 
 during this winter-journey, or on his return from it, 
 that he wrote a beautiful though somewhat vague 
 poem (Die Harzreise im Winter), from which we make 
 the following extract: 
 
 * Goethe's Harz journey was made in the November and December of 1777, with 
 a twofold object : to visit the Ilmenau Mines, and to comfort an unhappy misan- 
 thrope who had sunk into Werthcrism. He set out with the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, 
 who had arranged a hunting-party to destroy a great boar then ravaging the country 
 round Eisenach ; but he soon quitted this jovial troop. Through hail, frost, and 
 mud, lonely, yet companioned by great thoughts, he rode along the mountainous soli- 
 tudes until he reached the Brocken. A bright sun shone on its eternal snows as he 
 ascended, and looked down upon the cloud-covered Germany beneath him. " Here," 
 says Mr. Lewes, "he felt the air of freedom swell his breast. The world, with its 
 conventions, lay beneath him ; the court, with its distractions, was afar ; and the 
 poet stood amid these snowy solitudes communing with that majestic spirit of 
 Beauty which animates Nature." In due time he found his misanthrope, who was 
 named Plessing, and lived at Wernerigode. He describes him as one who had read 
 much, but had never studied nature ; and he endeavoured to stimulate him to un- 
 dertake this study, in order to divert his melancholy thoughts. " My young friend," 
 he says, " appeared to get very restless and impatient at this, just as we do when 
 we begin to be irritated at some foreign or entangled language, the meaning of which 
 we cannot understand ; on which I, without much hope of a successful result, but 
 rather for the purpose of not remaining silent, went on speaking. To me especially, 
 as a landscape painter, I said, did this appear evident, as my particular department 
 of Art was in direct communication with Nature ; however, since that time, I had 
 observed with more assiduity and eagerness than previously not only noted 
 any remarkable natural landscapes and appearances, but felt myself more full of 
 love for all things and all men. But in order that I might not lose myself in the
 
 86 HIS POEM ON THE HARZ. 
 
 " Like to the vulture which, on the heavy clouds of morning 
 reposing its light wing, descries its prey, may my song hover in 
 the air!... 
 
 " In the sombre thicket the wild beast hides itself, and, with 
 the yellow-hammers, the herons have long since plunged into their 
 marshes. 
 
 " But whom see I here in the solitude ? His track disappears 
 in the forest ; behind him the bushes agitate their branches, the 
 mist rises, the solitude absorbs him. 
 
 " Oh, how shall we cure the wounds of him for whom balm 
 has become a poison ; who, in the floods of love, has satisfied his 
 thirst with misanthropy ! Despised of men, whom he despises in 
 his turn, he secretly devours his genius in an insatiable egotism. 
 
 " If it be upon thy lyre, father of Love, with sounds accessible 
 to his ear, do thou appease his heart ! Reveal to his clouded 
 gaze the thousand springs which well out in the desert by the 
 side of the soul athirst. 
 
 " Enfold the solitary in thy golden clouds, O Love 5 and while 
 waiting until the rose blossoms anew, crown with winter-leaves 
 the dripping locks of thy poet ! 
 
 abstract, I related how even this compulsory winter-excursion, instead of being 
 painful to me, had furnished me with lasting enjoyment. I described to him pic- 
 turesquely and poetically, and still as truly and naturally as I was able, the course 
 of my journey ; I pictured the snow clouds which I saw that morning rolling above 
 the mountains, with the most diversified appearances during the day-time ; and 
 then I presented to his imagination the curious turreted and walled fortifications 
 of Nordhausen, as seen in the twilight ; and further, in the night-time, the torrents 
 rushing down the mountain-ravines, their waters illuminated transiently, and 
 glistening in the flickering light of the guide's lantern ; and, last of all, the miners' 
 cavern .... We parted in peace and quietness, his person leaving quite a peculiar 
 impression behind.... On going out," continues Goethe, "I found the sky quite 
 cleared up, and twinkling with stars, the streets and squares covered with snow ; 
 and I stopped upon a narrow bridge, and stood quietly surveying the surrounding 
 objects in the wintry night. At the same time I revolved the adventure in my 
 mind, and felt myself quite resolved not to see the young man again ; in pursuance 
 of which I ordered my horse at daybreak, delivered an anonymous and apologetic 
 slip of paper to the waiter, to whom I was able, at the same time, to say many 
 things in praise of the young person to whom he had introduced me, and whicli 
 were quite true besides ; and of which, no doubt, the dexterous fellow made good 
 use for his own purposes. I now rode along the north-east slopes of the Harz in 
 wild, stormy weather, with the snow-flakes drifting around me." G. H. LEWES, 
 Life and Works of Goethe, vol. i., pp. 383-388. The visitor to the Harz cannot fail 
 to be interested by the fact that he treads in the footsteps of the greatest of Ger- 
 man writers.
 
 SCENE FROM " FAUST." 87 
 
 " By the gleam of thy torch, O Night, do thou guide him across 
 the streams, in the impracticable paths and the desert plains ; 
 with the myriad-tinted morning, smile upon his soul ; with the 
 furious tempest, bear him aloft upon the heights ; the torrents of 
 winter dash headlong from the rock and respond to his strains : 
 it becomes for him the altar of the teuderest gratitude, that 
 snow-clad crest of the dreaded peak which the credulous peasants 
 have crowned with fantastic legends. 
 
 " Mountain with the unexplored flanks, thou risest, mysterious 
 and unveiled, upon the astonished world ; and thou contemplatest 
 from thy clouds its kingdoms and their glory, when thou pourest 
 out the floods which thy neighbouring sisters discharge from 
 their fountains ! " 
 
 One of the wildest and most eery of the scenes of 
 " Faust " takes place in the Harz, above the mines, and 
 on the summit of the Brocken. Faust is represented 
 as traversing the region of the air with Satan: 
 
 Mephistopheles. Hold fast to the skirt of my mantle. Here 
 in the centre is a summit, from which one sees, astonished, the 
 splendour of Mammon in the heart of the mountain.* 
 
 Faust. A twilight glimmer trembles sadly in the depth of the 
 valleys ! It glides into the farthest recesses of the abyss ! Yonder 
 rises a jet of smoke. Beyond, pestiferous exhalations wind their 
 way. Here glitters a flame in the bosom of sombre vapours ; there 
 it leaps forth like a spring. Elsewhere it creeps in a thousand 
 veins through the valley. There, in that narrow space close be- 
 side us, it suddenly gathers itself together. Near at hand the 
 sparks are scattered abroad like a rain of golden sand. But, look ! 
 the rocky sides of the mountain are everywhere aflame. 
 
 Mephistopheles. Does not King Mammon splendidly light up 
 his palace for this fevStival? Fortunate for you that you have seen 
 these things ; already I have a presentiment of turbulent guests. 
 
 Faust. How the storm rages in the air ! With what violence 
 it beats upon my shoulders ! 
 
 * An allusion to the mines.
 
 88 THE WALPURGIS-NIGHT. 
 
 Mephistopheles. Hold fast to the ancient projections of the rocks, 
 lest it dash thee into the bottom of these abysses. A mist obscures 
 the night. Hark to the crashing noises in the woods ! The owls 
 fly away affrighted. Dost hear the splintering of the columns of 
 the evergreen palaces, and the groans, the breaking of the 
 branches, the deep murmur of the stems, the cries and com- 
 plaints of the roots ? In their confused and terrific fall, the trees 
 hurtle one against another, and, through gulfs strewn with ruin, 
 hiss and roar in the air. Hearest thou these voices on the height, 
 both afar off and close at hand? Yes; all along the mountain 
 rolls furiously the magic song. 
 
 Chorus of Witches. 
 
 To the Brocken mount the witches ; 
 The stubble is yellow, green the barley ; 
 There the numerous host assembles ; 
 Urian seated on the summit ! 
 Thus we speed by hills and valleys... 
 
 A Voice. By what road didst thou arrive ? 
 Another. By Ilsenstein. There I ogled in the owl's nest. What 
 eyes he made at me ! 
 
 A Voice. Why goest thou so quickly 1 
 
 Another. He tore my skin. Seest thou not the wound I 
 
 Chorus of Witches. 
 
 The path is wide, the path is long : 
 
 What means this furious multitude? 
 
 Goad with the pitchfork, and scratch with the broom 
 
 Semi-Chorus of Wizards. 
 
 Like the snail with his house we climb ! 
 All the women are before us ; 
 For whene'er the devil leadest, 
 They take care to be to van ward ! 
 
 Second Semi-Chorus. 
 
 Women must take a thousand steps, 
 
 For swift as she may wing her flight, behold, 
 
 Man clears the distance at a single bound.
 
 THE WALPURGIS-NIGHT. 89 
 
 The Two Choruses. 
 
 The wind is still, the star away ; 
 The sombre mist its course will stay ! 
 The magic mountain, humming loud, 
 Throws forth of sparks a fiery crowd. 
 
 A Voice below. Halt ! Halt ! 
 A Voice above. Who calls from the cavern yonder? 
 A Voice below. Take me with you, take me ! For three hundred 
 years have I been climbing, and yet I cannot reach the summit. 
 
 The Two Choruses. 
 
 The broom carries, and so does the stick ; 
 The pitchfork carries, and so does the ram : 
 He who cannot mount to-day, 
 
 A lost man will be for ever and aye ! 
 
 When we gather round the summit, 
 Then drag yourself along the earth, 
 And cover all the far-off moorland 
 With your swarm of witches. 
 
 Mephistopheles. How they press and push ; how they murmur 
 and tattle ; how they hiss and eddy ; how they pass and prate ; how 
 they shine and sparkle and stink and burn ! A true witch-element 
 is about us ! Hold fast to me, or we shall soon be separated. 
 
 [The dance of the wizards and the witches begins upon the Brocken. 
 Faust's partner is a young girl.] 
 
 Mephistopheles. Why dost thou quit the young girl who inspired 
 thee in the dance by her pretty songs? 
 
 Faust. Oh, in the middle of her song, a red mouse leapt from 
 her mouth. 
 
 Mephistopheles. A fine thing to be frighted at, truly ! Here 
 one does not mind such trifles. Enough that it was but a little 
 oue... 
 
 Orchestra {pianissimo}. 
 
 The clouds and the vapours 
 
 Illumine the summits ; 
 
 The wind caresses the reeds and the foliage, 
 
 And everything dissolves into dust.* 
 
 * At the end of this section, we subjoin Shelley's splendid version of the scene 
 we have attempted to render into literal English.
 
 90 THE SPECTRE OF THE BROCKEN. 
 
 Before going to sleep we reperused this wonderful 
 piece of diablerie, and all the night we were disturbed 
 by the most fantastic dreams. 
 
 Next morning we caused ourselves to be aroused at 
 two. As on the preceding day, the clouds covered the 
 valley in the direction of Ilsenberg; the cold was keen, 
 and a lurid light rested on all the landscape around. 
 We skirted the mountain-side for the purpose of re- 
 visiting the masses of gigantic stones of which we had 
 caught but a glimpse the day before. After following 
 up a portion of the road which descends towards 
 Schierke, we reached the principal platform just as 
 the first rays of the rising sun enabled us to distinguish 
 clearly objects at a tolerable distance. Our guide, who 
 for some time had walked pertinaciously in advance, 
 looking now to the right and now to the left, suddenly 
 dragged me to an elevated point, from which I had the 
 rare happiness of contemplating, for some seconds, the 
 magnificent effect of mirage known as " the Spectre of 
 the Brocken." Its aspect is very impressive. A dense 
 fog, what the Germans call hochen ranch, which 
 seemed to issue from the clouds like an immense cur- 
 tain, rose suddenly to the westward of the mountain; 
 a rainbow was developed; then certain vague forms 
 outlined themselves: at first, the great tower of the 
 hostelry was reproduced in gigantic proportions, then 
 the figures of ourself and the guide, more vaguely and 
 less correct; all these suspended shadows were sur- 
 rounded by the colours of the iris, serving as a setting 
 for the fairy picture. 
 
 Towards noon we resumed our march; but prior to
 
 SHELLEY S TRANSLATION. 91 
 
 our departure, the guide, in accordance with an ancient 
 custom, had decorated our hat with the anemone of the 
 Brock en; or, as the peasants call it, the "witches' flower." 
 The descent of the mountain offered no difficulties ; 
 and as the weather was clear, we enjoyed a very exten- 
 sive view. We passed the night at Harzburg, and 
 thence, on the following day, proceeded to Goslar, the 
 ancient residence of the German emperors. 
 
 THE WALPURGIS-NIGHT SCENE IN "FAUST. 
 
 Hark how the tempest crashes through the forest ! 
 
 The owls fly out in strange affright ; 
 The columns of the evergreen palaces 
 
 Are split and shattered ; 
 The roots creak, and stretch, and groan ; 
 And, ruinously overthrown, 
 
 The trunks are crushed and scattered 
 By the fierce blast's unconquerable stress. 
 Over each other crack and crash they all 
 In terrible and intertangled fall ; 
 And through the ruins of the shaken mountain 
 
 The airs hiss and howl 
 It is not the voice of the fountain, 
 Nor the wolf in his midnight prowl. 
 Dost thou not hear ? 
 Strange accents are ringing 
 Aloft, afar, anear; 
 
 The witches are singing ! 
 The torrent of a raging wizard song 
 
 Streams the whole mountain along. 
 
 Chorus of Witches. 
 
 The stubble is yellow, the corn is green, 
 
 Now to the Brocken the witches go ; 
 The mighty multitude here may be seen 
 
 Gathering, wizard and witch, below. 
 Sir Urian is sitting aloft in the air
 
 92 FHOM GOETHE'S "FAUST." 
 
 A Voice. 
 
 Which way earnest thou ? 
 A Voice. 
 
 Over Ilsenstein. 
 The owl was awake in the white moonshine ; 
 
 I saw her at rest in her downy nest, 
 And she stared at me with her broad bright eyne.... 
 
 Chorus of Witches. 
 
 Come away ! come along ! 
 The way is wide, the way is long, 
 But what is that for a Bedlam throng ? 
 Stick with the prong, and snatch with the broom I 
 The child in the cradle lies strangled at home, 
 And the mother is clapping her hands ! 
 
 Semi- Chorus of Wizards, 1. 
 
 We glide in 
 
 Like snails, when the women are all away ; 
 And from a house once given over to sin, 
 Woman has a thousand steps to stray. 
 
 tiemi-Chorus, 2. 
 
 A thousand steps must a woman take, 
 Where a man but a single spring will make. 
 
 Voices above. 
 
 Come with us, come with us, from Felsensee ! 
 
 Doth Choruses. 
 
 The wind is still, the stars are fled, 
 
 The melancholy moon is dead ; 
 
 The magic notes, like spark on spark, 
 
 Drizzle, whistling through the dark 
 
 Some on a ram, and some on a prong, 
 
 On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along ; 
 
 Forlorn is the wight who can rise not to-night. 
 
 Chorus of Witches. 
 
 Come onward, away ! aroint thee, aroint ! 
 
 A witch to be strong must anoint, anoint. 
 
 Then every trough will be boat enough. 
 
 With a rag for a sail we can sweep through the sky. 
 
 Who flies not to-night, when means he to fly ?
 
 SHELLEY'S TRANSLATION. 93 
 
 Both Choruses. 
 
 We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground ; 
 
 Witch-legions thicken around and around ; 
 
 Wizard-swarms cover the heath all over. 
 
 [They descend. 
 Mephistopheles. 
 
 What thronging, dashing, raging, rustling ! 
 
 What whispering, babbling, hissing, bustling ! 
 
 What glimmering, spirting, stinking, burning, 
 
 As heaven and earth were overturning ! 
 
 There is a true witch-element about us ; 
 
 Take hold on me, or we shall be divided." 
 
 [Here we must pass over a long and striking passage, 
 and come to the end of the scene and of our quotation.] 
 
 Mephistopheles. [To FAUST, who has seceded from the danced] 
 
 Why do you let that fair girl pass from you, 
 Who sang so sweetly to you in the dance ? 
 Faust. 
 
 A red mouse, in the middle of her singing, 
 Sprang from her mouth. 
 
 That was all right, my friend ; 
 Be it enough that the mouse was not gray. 
 Do not disturb your time of happiness 
 With close consideration of such trifles. 
 
 Shelley's Poetical Works, edited by W. M. Rossetti, vol. ii., pp. 
 488-495. 
 
 A fine rendering of this scene is also given by Mr. 
 Bayard Taylor in his translation of " Faust."
 
 III. 
 
 VERYBODY is aware that the Pyrenees form 
 a natural rampart, or mountain-boundary, 
 between France and Spain, extending from 
 the shores of the Atlantic on the north-west 
 to those of the Mediterranean on the south-east. Their 
 romantic and boldly-crested summits are clothed with 
 snow ; but just beneath this white and shining mantle 
 their sides abound with luxuriant forests of pine, oak, 
 chestnut, and beech; while their lower slopes and valleys 
 luxuriate in perennial verdure. Occasionally the tra- 
 veller comes upon a deep and shadowy glen, resounding 
 with the din of a flashing torrent ; or an extensive table- 
 land of greensward, surrounded by rugged heights, 
 and forming what is locally known as a cirque. The 
 average breadth of the chain is between forty and fifty 
 miles; and it is traversed, at a great elevation, by 
 passes, puertos, or gates, of a singularly picturesque 
 character. These are very barren and narrow; and if 
 they afford the people of Spain the means of communi- 
 cation with their French neighbours, they also open up
 
 THE PYRENEAN PEAKS. 95 
 
 a passage to the winds, where they can indulge their 
 fury uncontrolled. Of the Puerto de Venasque, near a 
 town of the same name, the proverb says : " In this 
 defile no father will look back at his son, and no son 
 will wait for his father." And no more favourable 
 opinion can be given in reference to the other puertos. 
 They are accessible, however, to equestrians; and the 
 peasants traverse them with loaded mules. One of the 
 most striking is the Breche de Roland, near Mont 
 Perdu, which, according to the legend, was excavated 
 by the famous Paladin of Charlemagne, with his sword 
 Excalibur. 
 
 The grandest aspects of the Pyrenees are presented 
 on the Spanish side; where, too, they attain their great- 
 est elevation. The Pic de Nethou, an eastern summit 
 of Mont Maladetta, or the Accursed, so called in allu- 
 sion to its gloom and sterility, which make it look like 
 " the ghost of some mountain belonging to a departed 
 world," rises to the height of 11,426 feet. It was 
 first ascended by a Russian officer, with a French com- 
 panion and guides, in 1842. Of very striking appear- 
 ance, as its name indicates, is the Mont Perdu ; and 
 scarcely inferior, in the eye of the artist, are the Pic du 
 Midi and the Dent de Mulhacen. On these mountains, 
 and in the forests generally, the hunter pursues the 
 ibex and the chamois, the bear, the lynx, the wild boar, 
 and the lobo, or wolf. The last-named is as sly as he is 
 ferocious. He lies in wait in the rocky shelter of the 
 passes, and when a caravan of mules approaches seldom 
 fails to carry off a victim. "Who knows more than 
 he?" said a shepherd to Mr. George Borrow. "He is
 
 96 THE LOBO, OR WOLF. 
 
 acquainted with the vulnerable point of every animal. 
 See, for example, how he flies at the neck of a bullock, 
 tearing open the veins with his grim teeth and claws. 
 But does he attack a horse in the same manner ? I 
 trow not." "Not he," said another shepherd; "he is 
 too good a judge. He fastens on the haunches, and 
 hamstrings him in a moment. Oh ! the fear of the 
 horse when he comes near the dwelling-place of the 
 wolf!" "Yet," rejoined his companion, ''the mares 
 know occasionally how to balk him. See them feeding 
 in the campo with their young cria about them ; pre- 
 sently the alarm is given that the wolf is drawing near ; 
 they start wildly, and run about for a moment, but it is 
 only for a moment ; anon they gather together, forming 
 themselves into a circle, in the centre of which they 
 place the foals. Onward comes the wolf, hoping to 
 make his dinner off horse-flesh. He is mistaken, how- 
 ever ; the mares have balked him, and are as cunning 
 as himself; not a tail is to be seen not a hinder quarter ; 
 but there stand the whole troop, their fronts towards 
 him, ready to receive him ; and as he runs round them 
 barking and howling, they rise successively on their 
 hind legs, ready to stamp him to the earth should he 
 attempt to hurt their cria or themselves." 
 
 But a better idea of the characteristics of the Pyrenees 
 will be obtained by directing our attention to some 
 particular peak, than by indulging in a purely general 
 description. For this purpose, we cannot do better 
 than undertake, in company with M. de Mirbel, an 
 observant French traveller, the ascent of the Pic dn 
 Midi.
 
 The Maladetta. : Puerto ofVenasque in the Foreground. 
 
 M. Perdu. 2. Cylinder. 3. Alarborc. 4. Cirque de Gavaniie. 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL SUMMITS OF THE PYRENEES.
 
 ALONG THE BASTAN. 99 
 
 THE PIC DU MIDI. 
 
 M. de Mirbel and his party numbered thirteen or 
 fourteen persons, and on the day fixed for their enter- 
 prise started from Bigorre at four o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Most of the travellers were on horseback; De 
 Mirbel went on foot, with the tin case slung to his 
 shoulders in which he preserved his botanical specimens. 
 He was armed with a long iron-shod pole, and his shoes 
 were provided with iron clamps. 
 
 They followed the valley of Bareges, along the 
 Bastan, and in this way gained the slopes of Tourmalet. 
 At its base opens, towards the north, a small lateral 
 valley, watered by a shining brook which pours its 
 tranquil waters into the impetuous Bastan. The aspho- 
 delus ramosus, a branched variety of king's-spear, 
 somewhat softens the rudeness of its menacing decli- 
 vities; its soil blooms with verdure, its sward is 
 enamelled with flowers. The veronica saocatilis, hook- 
 ing on its woody stem to the rocks which raise their 
 sharp points above the turf, apparently desires to hide 
 them from the traveller's ken. Its graceful deep-blue 
 flowers, surmounted by two white anthers, are easily 
 recognizable from a distance. Here, too, luxuriate the 
 well-known yellow-flowered gentian and the Alpine 
 plantain. 
 
 The valley which leads to the peak terminates at the 
 Lac d'Oncet, where our travellers halted to take their 
 breakfast. Those of our readers who know nothing of 
 mountaineering, cannot conceive with what enjoyment 
 the hardy climber devours his frugal repast, after a
 
 100 A MOUNTAIN-LAKE. 
 
 long and troublesome march, by the side of some limpid 
 burn. Let them try a day among the Welsh mountains, 
 or among the heights of Ballachulish and Glencoe ! 
 They will feel as if they had never before understood 
 the true meaning of the word " appetite." 
 
 The shores of the lake smiled with the viola biflora, 
 whose gilded flowers mingled with the glowing green 
 of the prairie; here and there, on the lowest slopes, 
 might be seen the yellow arnica, inclining its delicate 
 head over the lake ; and already the odorous daphne 
 decorated the neighbourhood of the precipices with its 
 creeping stems and rose-tinted blossoms, filling the air 
 with balmy breath. 
 
 Westward of the lake, and springing abruptly from its 
 waters, rose the lofty mountains. To the north, the 
 rock was not practicable; but it sank towards the east, 
 and exposed the bases of the Pic du Midi. This was 
 the road to be taken by our travellers, and it ascended 
 a gentle and even easy incline. 
 
 The sunrise was already flattering the mountain-tops 
 with " gilded alchemy," and warning our little company 
 that it was time to resume their march. Leaving by 
 the lake-side a guide to take care of the horses, they set 
 out, and slowly made their way towards the summit of 
 the peak. The rarefaction of the air, the condition of 
 the vegetation, the silence of Nature, the solitude of 
 these places, all indicated their approach to the upper 
 regions. A dry, thin, slippery turf carpeted the rock ; 
 a few Alpine plants were scattered here and there. 
 Among them were noticeable the gentiana verna and 
 the gentiana acaulis (the gentianella of our gardens),
 
 
 SUMMIT OF THE PEAKS. 101 
 
 those two inseparable companions, which, born in the 
 same latitude, traverse the same regions, and indif- 
 ferently flourish on the margin of the waters or the 
 arid rock, the thick rich mould or the bare and naked 
 rock. Sometimes, too, the eye rested delightedly on a 
 few tufts of moss-campions; and near them the whitish- 
 gray draba exposed its delicate leafage. Beyond, in 
 the midst of landslips and ruin, monuments of the 
 potency of Time, flourished in the chinks and fissures of 
 the stones a few pale flowers, which found the nutri- 
 ment of life in the bosom of destruction, and around 
 which fluttered the bright- winged butterflies. 
 
 In an hour and a half our travellers gained the sum- 
 mit. The vapours of night were dissipated ; the sky 
 was serene; the sun poured forth his glory. The whole 
 Pyrenean chain opened before them like an amphi- 
 theatre. To the right rose Neouvielle, a granitic mass 
 crowned with eternal snows ; to the left, the Breche de 
 Roland, the Tour de Marbord, and Mont Perdu the 
 distant summit of which towered above all the others. 
 Letting the eye range in an opposite direction, it dis- 
 covered an immense plain, the misty borders of which 
 blended imperceptibly with the horizon. At one glance 
 it seemed to include those mountains, those precipices, 
 those glaciers, those antique snows, those aerial lakes, 
 the immense and silent laboratories of Nature, and those 
 fertile fields which the torrents, appeased and subdued, 
 bedew with their fertilizing waters. The peaks which 
 previously seemed to the confused traveller no better 
 than an useless chaos, the result of the fantastic caprices 
 of a blind Nature, then appeared like the sublime work
 
 102 THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 
 
 of a Beneficent Hand. The traveller's gaze wandered 
 over this wonderful world, the extent of which his im- 
 agination could scarcely measure, and the contemplation 
 of which filled his soul with enthusiasm. 
 
 A few flowers enriched the table-ground. The 
 Pyrenean antirrhinum inserted its slender roots into 
 the fissures of the rock, and the bright blue of its flowers 
 relieved the darker and purple-blue of the saxifrage. 
 By its side expanded the golden corolla of the Alpine 
 poppy.* The precipices sheltered this . beautiful saxi- 
 frage, the rare ornament of the mountains, whose 
 flower, of a dazzling whiteness, outrivalled the sheen of 
 the snows. 
 
 THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 
 
 A visit to the Breche de Roland has been described 
 by the same traveller : 
 
 I should not have undertaken, he says, such an ex- 
 pedition, if I had not found in M. Jules Pasquier a man 
 framed to participate in these labours, and ardently 
 desirous of learning the secrets of Nature. He had 
 admired the beauties presented by the Pic du Midi, but 
 his enthusiastic soul was not satisfied. He knew that 
 in the heart of the snows and glaciers some intrepid 
 men had forced their way to the summit of the 
 Pyrenean chain, and this was enough to provoke his 
 emulation and incite him to scorn danger. 
 
 We set out from Bareges at six o'clock, on the 8th 
 of August. On reaching Luz we engaged a guide, and 
 continued our route towards the valley of Gavarnie. 
 We trembled as we penetrated into it. There all is 
 
 * Meconopsii Cambrica.
 
 A TREMENDOUS PRECIPICE. 103 
 
 grand, magnificent, sublime; and man, surrounded by 
 solemn monuments, recognizes his weakness, and the 
 almighty power of a Sovereign Hand. Such was my 
 first thought on entering the valley; the second was 
 more gratifying to my self-love. I could not see with- 
 out admiration and pride this road suspended on the 
 brink of an awful precipice, which the roar of the Gave 
 rendered still more terrible. It is here that man has 
 displayed simultaneously intelligence in his conceptions, 
 strength and skill in his labours, perseverance in their 
 execution. The valley mounts from north to south. 
 To the east and west rise rugged rocks, composed of 
 calcareous beds inclined from the perpendicular to the 
 southward, and running from east to west. Frequently 
 the rock, rising from the depth of the waters towards 
 heaven, presents nothing but a naked wall which seems 
 to defy human exertion ; frequently, too, it is much in- 
 clined, and becomes so much the more difficult to tra- 
 verse, owing to its long slopes, formed of schistous de'bris, 
 stones detached from the higher summits, and loose 
 masses of earth always on the point of rolling into the 
 abyss. And yet, in such a spot as this, the skill of the 
 engineer has succeeded in constructing a secure and 
 convenient road, sufficiently wide to reassure the most 
 timorous cavalier. It is impossible to see without 
 astonishment this road rising and sinking as the moun- 
 tain rises and sinks, here avoiding it, there returning to 
 it, passing from one bank to another, and spanning the 
 torrent with a bold and lofty arch, and opening up a 
 communication through the rocks between France and 
 Spain.
 
 104 A CLASSIC VALLEY. 
 
 If the boldness of these works engages the curious 
 attention of the traveller, he is still more strongly 
 attracted by the various and original character of the 
 surrounding scenery. The valley everywhere presents 
 a diverse aspect. The verdurous lawns that ornament 
 the rich basin of Luz, are prolonged to some distance 
 in front of the mountain. Negligently spreading over 
 gradual slopes which a vigorous vegetation crowns, 
 which picturesque cottages embellish, they recall to the 
 traveller's recollection the classic pictures of the famous 
 valley of Tempe. But suddenly the greensward dis- 
 appears; the rounded shoulders of the heights are 
 succeeded by sharp and rugged crags ; the tall robust 
 trees give place to trunks, rent by winds and blighted 
 by frost, which impend over the dizzy precipice. The 
 Gave, imprisoned among the rocks, roars, and rises, and 
 boils, and falls headlong back upon itself; the din of 
 falling waters is heard on every side; and the threaten- 
 ing rock hangs suspended above the wayfarer's head. 
 
 When, says M. de Mirbel, I saw this valley for the 
 first time, it seemed to me that I advanced from marvel 
 to marvel ; but what most impressed me was the view 
 of the bridge of Sia. 
 
 Some time before you arrive at it, the banks of the 
 Gave assume the rudest outlines; its waters slacken 
 their course they linger among the rich pasturages, 
 in the shade of trees which weave together their 
 green boughs like a pavilion, and hide them from the 
 curious eye. You have scarcely advanced a mile, how- 
 ever, before you become conscious of a hoarse dull
 
 VILLAGE OF GEDRES. 107 
 
 murmur ; and soon, as if by enchantment, you find 
 yourself upon the bridge, which hitherto has been 
 completely concealed. It is richly overhung with 
 festoons of ivy. Its abutments rest upon the rock ; and 
 the Gave rolls its waters beneath the arch at a depth 
 of upwards of one hundred feet. To the left, the 
 mountain recovers its air of gloom and austerity ; to the 
 right, on the contrary, it retains its gracious aspect. 
 In the foreground of the picture flashes the torrent; 
 and, confined between the rocky banks, it gradually 
 rises and swells, to fall with a mighty roar when the 
 conformation of its bed no longer affords it a support, 
 and, after a while, having regained its tranquillity, 
 to continue slowly its onward course. 
 
 We reached Gedres in due time. 
 
 This romantic village lies at the foot of the Coumelie, 
 a mass of granite forming the point of division 
 between the valley of Heas and the valley of Gavarnie, 
 
 The nearer we approach the goal of our journey, 
 
 the more imposing becomes the landscape in its char- 
 acter. Fantastic and irregular forms give place to 
 grave and exact outlines, and vivid contrasts of colour 
 to soft and uniform tints, which blend the airy summits 
 of the heights with the cloudless blue of heaven. 
 
 We saw, in passing, the beautiful cascade of Savusa, 
 falling in a shower of diamond-spray into the Gave. It 
 might almost be mistaken for the folds of a robe of 
 gauze agitated by the winds. Further, we come to the 
 awful solitude of the Peyrade, of which no one who has 
 not seen it can form an accurate conception. But the
 
 108 VALLEY OF OSSAU. 
 
 reader may figure to himself, as best he can, a mountain 
 whose shattered summits have crumbled one upon 
 another, accumulating even in the lowest depth of the 
 valley a labyrinthine pile of boulders and rocky masses, 
 which astonish the eye and fatigue the imagination 
 with their grandeur. The remains of the peak, which 
 in some remote past experienced this terrible convul- 
 sion, have threatened for ages to bury the ruins we 
 speak of under fresh accumulations. Enormous blocks 
 are first precipitated into the torrent, checking the fall 
 of the smaller crags, which remain piled one upon 
 another in huge disorder. These blocks are separated 
 by wide gaps, of which the engineer has availed himself 
 in constructing the road. 
 
 It was not until two o'clock that we arrived at 
 Gavarnie. We were not fatigued, however, and directed 
 our steps immediately to the valley of Ossau, so that 
 we might turn to advantage the evening hours. 
 
 This valley ramifies into several divisions ; we chose 
 the branch that strikes to the Lake des Espessieres. 
 
 On the shores of the solitary basin were feeding num- 
 bers of young horses, which are always sent to the moun- 
 tain-pastures during the summer season. Terrified by 
 our approach, they abruptly ascended the declivities, and 
 with light and rapid step crossed the steep summits, 
 where they seemed to defy us to overtake them. We 
 contrived to draw them to us in the plain by offering 
 some handfuls of salt. While we were still engaged in 
 caressing them, the Marbord and the Breche de Roland 
 wrapped themselves in a mantle of clouds ; a violent 
 peal of thunder re-echoed in the mountain-silences, and
 
 THE CIRQUE OF GAVARNIE. 109 
 
 the foals, terrified, escaped from our hands. Trembling 
 for the successful issue of our enterprise, we resumed 
 the Gavarnie road. Happily, the sky soon cleared, the 
 clouds dispersed, the setting sun tinted the peaks with 
 a glowing purple, and the rainbow wreathed them with 
 its unearthly colours. 
 
 At four in the morning we recommenced our ascent, 
 conducted by an excellent guide, named Rondo. At 
 five o'clock we began to discover the summits of Mar- 
 bord From a distance we mistook them for towers, so 
 great is the regularity of their forms. After three- 
 quarters of an hour's climbing, we found ourselves in 
 front of the amphitheatre of Gavarnie, the majesty of 
 which literally defies description. At the first glance, 
 one might be tempted to look upon it as the handiwork 
 of men, on account of a regularity which is not very 
 common in the great efforts of Nature; but the 
 grandeur of the design, the richness of the forms, the 
 enormous dimensions of the superimposed blocks, the 
 magnificence of an architecture at once elegant and 
 simple, and especially the luxuriance and variety of 
 outline in the different parts, remind you, even while 
 you remark the admirable symmetry of the whole, of 
 the presence of a superior agent. 
 
 Immense strata, thrown back farther and farther 
 according to the elevation of the mountain, form terraces 
 or steps covered with snows and glaciers, whence issue 
 a thousand waterfalls. On the left of the cirque, or 
 amphitheatre, an impetuous torrent leaps from the 
 mountains, strikes in its descent a projection of the 
 rock, and thence falls back into the cirque. This
 
 110 AN IMPETUOUS TORRENT. 
 
 glorious cascade was geometrically measured by Reboul, 
 who calculated its height at 1266 feet. We should be 
 tempted to doubt the accuracy of these figures, were it 
 not for the confidence inspired by the calculations of so 
 exact a mathematician. Nearly every stranger who 
 visits Gavarnie thinks he exaggerates if he allows 300 
 to 400 feet to its cascade. Most of them, it is true, 
 have never travelled in the mountains, and do not 
 remember how each separate object effaces itself, or 
 diminishes, in the presence of the imposing grandeur of 
 the great whole. In this celebrated locality we see, 
 perhaps, all that is most astonishing in the structure of 
 the mountains. It offers the naturalist some grand 
 problems for solution some new systems for confirma- 
 tion ; to the painter, a sublime ensemble, in which he 
 finds united grace and vigour of outline, vivacity and 
 richness of colouring, and harmony and unity of parts. 
 
 The sun was already gilding the summit of the 
 towers of the Marbore', when we took the route to the 
 Breche de Roland. Rondo led the way ; M. Pasquier 
 followed him ; and as for myself, I was sometimes in 
 front and sometimes behind, collecting plants, or ex- 
 amining the structure of the rock. I had told Lagunier, 
 our guide from Luz, not to leave me, but to be at hand 
 to help in case of need. It was necessary to climb the 
 rocks in front of the cascade, and we advanced by a 
 road the steepness of which was frightful ! Formed by 
 the fall of rounded and shifting stones, it ran along the 
 side of the precipice, to which we clung with a des- 
 perate grasp. For fully half an hour we followed this
 
 CLIMBING THE PRECIPICE. 113 
 
 dangerous path, and then came upon another which 
 was still more dangerous. The intrepid Rondo was the 
 first to advance. The rock was exactly perpendicular ; 
 we drew up our body close against it, then we placed 
 the point of the foot on the little projections formed by 
 the degradation of the strata, and steadied ourselves by 
 clinging with our hands to the projections above our 
 head. This painful attitude had become almost insup- 
 portable, when Rondo was compelled to halt before new 
 obstacles. Then each one of us, stiffening himself against 
 the rock which seemed to bar his advance, remained 
 suspended upon our frail and narrow platform, with 
 a precipice several hundred feet in depth yawning 
 beneath us. Happily this situation did not long 
 endure. We soon arrived at a delightful table-land, 
 where we found a numerous flock of sheep and goats, 
 guarded by Spanish herds. They were enjoying their 
 morning meal. Their dog ran up to us, and by his 
 caresses seemed to invite us to share it. We gratefully 
 accepted the milk which was cordially offered. 
 
 A few paces farther, we crossed a small ravine of 
 snow, and saw before us the Breche de Roland, which 
 had long been hidden from sight by the summits inter- 
 vening between it and ourselves. We were separated 
 from it by great glaciers, and could discover no passage 
 by which they might be avoided. Lagunier, equally 
 terrified by the dangers he had already incurred, and 
 the obstacles which remained to be overcome, plainly 
 declared that he would not advance another step. We 
 did not think it advisable to insist upon his following 
 
 (731) 8
 
 114 A VALLEY OF SNOW. 
 
 us, as, under such circumstances, he would have been 
 rather a burden than an assistance. 
 
 We pushed forward into a new valley of snow, much 
 larger than the first, and truly enchanting in appear- 
 ance. To the north, the Taillon raises its perpendicular 
 strata to a prodigious elevation. Southward, the first 
 courses of the wall of the Breche are likewise exposed ; 
 but, westward, the shining carpet of snow, resplendent 
 in its " whitely " gleam, softly follows the sinuosities of 
 the rock, sinking with it and rising with it, falling into 
 a thousand undulations, and slowly mounting towards 
 the region of eternal frost, where a bluish tint modifies 
 its whiteness. While we were admiring the magic 
 beauty of the scene, a troop of izards, with outstretched 
 neck and elevated head, with nose to the wind, and 
 foot firm and sure, leaped from a neighbouring rock, 
 halted upon the snows, astonished at our presence, and 
 suddenly, with the rapidity of the lightning, crossed the 
 frozen plain, sprang from crag to crag, from summit to 
 summit, appearing and disappearing before our eyes 
 twenty times in a moment, to arrest their flight at 
 length, tranquil and calm, on the precipitous ridge of 
 the Taillon. 
 
 After having progressed for some time up the valley 
 of snow, we bent our steps towards the glaciers which 
 lay on our left. A Spanish contrabandista, or smuggler, 
 accompanied us ; and being more accustomed than we 
 were to this kind of marching, he rapidly traversed the 
 earlier ridges of the glaciers, and already had left us far 
 behind him, when, the ice opening beneath his feet, he 
 sank, uttering a piercing cry. Though we thought him
 
 THE GREAT PASS. 115 
 
 lost, we ran towards him to render assistance if there 
 were yet a chance. We found him clinging convulsively 
 to the brink of the chasm, and hanging suspended over 
 the depth, but contrived to release him from his danger 
 not without some serious reflections on the risk we 
 should incur by the slightest imprudence. Rondo, how- 
 ever, was vigilant and prudent. With his hammer he 
 broke up the ice, forming a series of steps, which every 
 moment became more useful, as the ice increased in 
 compactness, and offered a greater resistance to the 
 iron points of our poles. We advanced in silence, care- 
 fully examining the place where we set our feet, and 
 casting a glance from time to time at the gulf into 
 which the slightest accident would have precipitated 
 us, and on the journey we had still to accomplish. 
 This painful ascent occupied us nearly a quarter of an 
 hour, during which, at the most terrible passages, we 
 could not completely overcome a slight shudder of 
 dread. 
 
 At length we reached the goal of our labours. 
 
 The precipices are far distant from us; and if we still 
 remember the dangers we have surmounted, it is to 
 enjoy the more thoroughly our present security, and to 
 value the more highly the sublime panorama unfolded 
 before our eyes. Here we see the mighty rampart that 
 rises between France and Spain; like the Harbors', it is 
 composed of perpendicular beds and horizontal courses. 
 A pass or gap, cut at right angles, opens a door of com- 
 munication between the two countries. Standing on 
 the threshold of this magnificent gateway, we dis- 
 tinguish, to the east and the west, the insurmountable
 
 116 THE TRAVELLER RAMOND. 
 
 barrier raised by Nature between the two peoples ; and 
 survey, from north to south, the lands subjected to 
 their rule. 
 
 We need only add that the descent was safely accom- 
 plished, and that at ten o'clock at night the travellers 
 were on their way back to Bareges. 
 
 MONT PERDU. 
 
 Our earliest knowledge of the characteristics of the 
 Pyrenees is due to the indefatigable labours of the 
 traveller Ramond, who spent many years in exploring 
 their heights and valleys, and began that work of in- 
 vestigation which succeeding travellers have so fully 
 accomplished. Prior to his time very little was known 
 of this great mountain-range, except at the points where 
 it was traversed by the roads between France and Spain ; 
 but now we are familiar with its every summit. Still, 
 it seems due to the memory of this enthusiastic pioneer, 
 that, in seeking to describe the most famous of the 
 Pyrenean peaks, the mighty and magnificent Mont 
 Perdu, we should avail ourselves of his assistance rather 
 than of that of later tourists. We propose, therefore, to 
 ascend Mont Perdu in the company of M. Ramond. 
 
 His first ascent was made in 1797, when he was ac- 
 companied by De Mirbel and Pasquier, who had just 
 visited the Breche de Roland, as already described, and 
 by De Corbin and Marsey de Tarbes, two of his pupils, 
 who were desirous of pursuing their botanical researches. 
 
 He and his companions we have not enumerated all 
 of them ascended the Coume'lie by a steep and wind- 
 ing pathway, which conducts the herds and flocks of
 
 PROCURING GUIDES. 117 
 
 Gedres to the pasture-grounds of the middle mountain- 
 region. Numerous farms are scattered over these fertile 
 fields, forming the three villages of He'as, Gedres, and 
 Gavarnie. 
 
 At one of these farms they passed the night, in con- 
 siderable uncertainty as to the state of the weather. 
 However, the south wind which had loaded the Mar- 
 bore with the clouds of Spain, eventually gave way to 
 the north, which came bringing with it the clouds of 
 France. The latter are always elevated, and envelop 
 the mountain-peaks ; the former float in the lower at- 
 mosphere, and creep along the valleys. They gradually 
 invaded the low grounds beneath us, forming an im- 
 mense misty sea, pierced by the summits at which we 
 had arrived, as ocean is by its reefs and isles of rock. 
 
 The greater part of the night was spent by Ramond 
 in procuring guides. He had brought from Bareges 
 two men in whom he placed great confidence, one 
 named Laurens, an old retainer, and Antoine Hoard 
 Both were mountaineers to the backbone, but the region 
 on which they were now entering was as foreign to 
 them as to their employer. At He'as, M. Bamond 
 sought for a chamois-hunter who had been recom- 
 mended to him as well-acquainted with Mont Perdu ; 
 though the event proved that the recommendation was 
 altogether undeserved. Two villagers of Coume'lie were 
 also engaged, and their services happily proved of 
 greater value ; so that at daybreak the whole party 
 were ready to set out, and took the route through the 
 valley of Estaube'. 
 
 As soon as they began to face to the southward, they
 
 118 THE ESTAUBE VALLEY. 
 
 were greeted by the imposing spectacle of the two 
 valleys of He'as and Estaube, girdled by enormous moun- 
 tains, the forms of which, not less grand than simple, 
 contrasted singularly with the hideous disorder of the 
 ruinous and dismembered hills of granite they had left 
 behind them. The lofty crest of Mont Perdu towered 
 against the horizon. A very oblique and obtuse cone, 
 all resplendent with eternal snows, it raises its huge 
 bulk above the lofty walls of the Estaube valley. 
 M. Ramond pointed it out to his young companions; 
 who, seeing it so distinctly, thought they were already 
 at the goal of their pilgrimage. But to reach only 
 the foot of the wall would occupy four or five hours 
 of steady walking ; and the experienced eye of the 
 practised traveller measured with apprehension the 
 steep escarpments of this wall, which would require to 
 be climbed or turned. 
 
 Meantime they entered the valley of Estaube', and in 
 silence contemplated its tranquil solitudes. Here pre- 
 vails the calm both of the upper and the secondary 
 regions. Mountains which would appear of considerable 
 dimensions even when not considered with respect to the 
 elevation of their base, astonish by a simplicity of forms, 
 which, commonly, they do not affect except on the 
 threshold of the great chains, and in the vicinity of 
 places where they degenerate into humble columns. 
 The broadly and boldly moulded masses exhibit those 
 flowing but majestic outlines which no capricious acci- 
 dent can take out of the category of the beautiful. 
 Everything swells or subsides in just proportions.
 
 A MOUNTAIN FLORA. 119 
 
 Nothing interrupts the harmony of a design, the bold- 
 ness of which is moderated by its severity ; and a pure, 
 transparent colour, a clear gray, lightly flushed with 
 rose, sympathizing equally with the light and shade, 
 whose contrast it softens, accompanies into the azure of 
 heaven those soaring peaks which have beforehand 
 clothed themselves with its transparent tints. 
 
 The de'bris is scanty, and the traces of recent ruin are 
 very limited. Vegetation thrives in security up to the 
 very foot of the precipices. Here and there it has 
 encroached even upon some primeval rocks. A small 
 stream which lower down swells into a torrent peace- 
 fully winds over a stony bed, while its banks are defined 
 by the grassy sward. There the mountain-ash shelters 
 the plant called Solomon's Seal, which in this locality 
 attains an unusual size. On the slopes of the lateral 
 mountains may be seen the red pine, which defies the 
 woodman's axe. Every block is ornamented with float- 
 ing plumes of the superb long-leaved saxifrage. On the 
 untilled lands we meet sometimes with the Pyrenean 
 thistle, sometimes with the beautiful eryngium, which 
 occasionally changes its tint from amethystine blue to 
 purple. The turfen patches are decorated with carline 
 thistles ; one of which, with acanthus-like leaves, is con- 
 spicuous through the golden glow of its calycinal crown. 
 
 Nothing can be more brilliantly sumptuous than the 
 greensward adorned by the gold and silver of these two 
 carlines. But it is the delicate shadings of the carpet 
 enriched by this bright broidery which no botanical 
 technology can hope to picture forth. If we speak of 
 the meadows of the plain as green, how shall we qualify
 
 120 THE SHEPHERDS STATION. 
 
 these lawns, by the side of which even the verdure of 
 the lower valleys looks coarse and unreal ? 
 
 Though enchanted by the rare and interesting ob- 
 jects which greeted them at every step, our travellers 
 pressed forward gallantly and steadfastly ; and at length 
 found themselves at the base of the walls of Estaube', 
 which seemed to rise higher at every step they made 
 to gain their level. They could make out the noble 
 glaciers lying below the fields of snow with which they 
 are chequered. At length, after a four-hours' inarch, 
 they found themselves beneath the intermediary glacier, 
 and halted to contemplate those massive ramparts which 
 towered towards the heavens. This is the highest level 
 inhabited by the shepherds. To their summer-stations 
 they give the name of coullas; and this one they desig- 
 nate the Couila of the A bassat-dessus. 
 
 Here they fell in with two Spanish shepherds belong- 
 ing to that not limited class who love to lead their 
 flocks to the more elevated pastures, and hire them for 
 that purpose. These men were lying by the side of a 
 cabin built of stone, which was only just large enough to 
 hold them when seated or lying down. But nothing 
 more is required by these semi-savage nomades, who 
 inhabit this bleak region only for a few days in the fine 
 season. Even with this poor shelter they will readily 
 dispense; and if they can find an overhanging rock, 
 will not take the trouble to construct it. 
 
 Our travellers thought themselves fortunate in meet- 
 ing with these two mountain-travellers, and immedi- 
 ately plied them with questions. But as they spend so
 
 A DARING ADVENTURE. 121 
 
 brief a time in the region of eternal snow, their infor- 
 mation proved to be scanty, and their answers unsatis- 
 factory. However, a Spanish contrabandista appeared 
 upon the scene, and turned out to be an authority. 
 Compelled always to shun the beaten tracks, and trust 
 to the hazard of the most dangerous paths, he had ne- 
 cessarily seen much of Mont Perdu ; and, in truth, he 
 had little else to tell us. While the great subject was 
 under discussion between these Spaniards and the 
 guides, our travellers took a little rest, and M. Ra- 
 mond decided on a plan of his own. The result at 
 length arrived at was, that they must pass the Puerto 
 de Pineda, descend into the valley of Beousse, and 
 reascend to the right by very steep acclivities, which, 
 however, were said to be practicable. But, to mount 
 for two hours, to descend for one hour, and to climb 
 these rocks, which would occupy four or five, was to 
 gain the presence of Mont Perdu at the moment they 
 would be forced to abandon it. 
 
 Now, M. Ramond had carefully examined the glacier 
 beneath which the party had encamped. It was still 
 covered with snow, and this snow would render it 
 accessible. The incline was great, but not insurmount- 
 able; and the glacier led to a gap which seemed to open 
 in front of Mont Perdu. He therefore declared himself 
 ready to undertake the adventure. To the shepherds 
 this appeared a freak of madness. They confessed that 
 the snows were sometimes practicable, but would not 
 believe that such was the case on the glacier, where 
 some grayish spots indicated its actual surface. The 
 contrabandista was the first to approve M. Ramorid's
 
 122 CLIMBING THE GLACIER. 
 
 resolve. Laurens next expressed his willingness to 
 follow wherever his master led. The others simply 
 smiled, and the local guides were at once the most in- 
 credulous and the least determined. It was necessary 
 to settle the question. Ramond declared that he would 
 ascend the glacier with any one who had the courage 
 to follow him; and as decision always gets the better of 
 irresolution, everybody agreed to his proposal. As for 
 the contrabandista, he had already proceeded to mani- 
 fest the courage of his opinions, and they soon lost sight 
 of him. 
 
 They now made directly for the mouth of the glacier 
 by a tolerably steep ascent, where the turf seemed to 
 have been but for a short time freed from the burden 
 of snow which lies upon it for seven or eight months of 
 the year. It was blooming with its vernal verdure, 
 and displayed all the luxuriance of the Alpine flora. 
 
 Soon, however, they approached the icy rampart, and 
 the smallest objects acquired excessive dimensions. 
 They gained at length the debris which the mountain 
 ceaselessly pours down, and which, accumulating, forms 
 the moraine of the glacier. They were forced to plant 
 their feet upon the snow, and to look in the face the 
 threatening pass, at the head of which rose Mont Perdu. 
 The first short stage was a trifle; the snow was toler- 
 ably firm, and the slope gradual ; and they sprang for- 
 ward with all the confidence natural to those who have 
 had no experience of mountain-climbing. This did not 
 last long. The inclination became more and more 
 abrupt, and could be seen to increase in what appeared 
 a frightful degree. To the travellers it seemed as if a
 
 " HIGHER LET US CLIMB." 123 
 
 perpendicular wall rose above their heads. Steps slack- 
 ened, heads bent down, limbs grew heavy and weary. 
 A halt was called, and a consultation took place; 
 though, as a rule, councils of war are as useless in 
 mountain-climbing as on a battle-field. Ramond ob- 
 served that La Peyrouse lingered far behind, and made 
 him try the shoe-irons which he himself made use of 
 and his pupils also, following his example; but the help 
 was as strange to him as was the region which com- 
 pelled him to have recourse to it. In fact, after a man 
 has attained middle life, no artificial means will supply 
 the place of experience. A successful mountain-climber 
 must begin while his limbs retain the suppleness and 
 vigour of youth. He must undergo a special training 
 like an athlete, or a competitor for the " championship 
 of the river." 
 
 Nothing could be done with La Peyrouse but to 
 leave him behind; and, accordingly, left behind he was, 
 with Antoine for a companion, the two seating them- 
 selves disconsolately on a rock, while the rest of the 
 party continued the upward path through " snow and 
 ice," like the youth in Longfellow's celebrated " Excel- 
 sior" ballad. After half an hour's climbing, they found 
 the snow so hard that they left no footprints upon it; 
 and they had to steady their steps by excavating holes 
 in the ice with their hammers. They were, of course, 
 ascending in a single file, and carefully placed their feet 
 in the holes made by the leaders of the little column. 
 In this way, for the first hour, all went " merrily as a 
 marriage-bell." They took care to avoid the exposed 
 part of the glacier; and by means of numerous skilfully
 
 124 THE CONTRABANDIST'S MISHAP. 
 
 devised zigzags, were eluding the inclination of a slope 
 varying from thirty-five to forty degrees, when suddenly 
 they descried a panic-stricken man clinging with all his 
 might to a rock, and shrieking to them for help. It 
 was the contrabandista ! His story was written on the 
 snow, where a long series of footmarks was just dis- 
 cernible. Without iron clamps, without hatchet, with- 
 out any of the means of safety which people of his 
 "profession" never fail to adopt, the unfortunate man 
 had ventured on the ascent; and now he had slipped 
 down more than two hundred feet before his fall was 
 arrested by the rock. Had he missed it, nothing could 
 have checked his ruinous and fatal course. 
 
 They would gladly have hastened to his succour; but 
 it was imperative that they should proceed with great 
 caution, or the whole party might have perished. After 
 some efforts, however, they contrived to reach him, and 
 placed him in their ranks. He had lost his hat, his 
 waistcoat, his knapsack, and, what was even more valu- 
 able, his staff, which had fallen over the precipice, and 
 could not be recovered. The other articles were scat- 
 tered all around him, and with a little exertion the 
 waistcoat and the knapsack were regained. The hat 
 had fallen in a very dangerous corner, and though it 
 was not twenty paces distant, a good quarter of an hour 
 was spent in its recovery. 
 
 The poor man was placed in the middle of the little 
 company; but he could not compose himself. In fact, 
 Kamond's coolness had less influence upon him than his 
 terror upon Ramond's followers. The countenances of 
 two of the latter indicated a feeling of alarm and dread,
 
 "PER ASPERA ET ARDUA." 125 
 
 the consequences of which might prove very dangerous 
 to the common safety. At every step they begged 
 their gallant leader to measure the inclination of the 
 glacier; it had increased to 60. The question was put 
 forward: Should not the route be changed? Should 
 not they resort to the rocks which bordered the glacier? 
 This was not Ramond's opinion; but the general anxiety 
 seemed to augment. 
 
 Twice the explorers struck earth, and the two guides 
 from Coumelie attempted to scale it, but each time they 
 were compelled to redescend. There was no resource 
 but to stick to the glacier, where, indeed, the path was 
 safe enough, and the sole cause of fear lay in the evi- 
 dent discouragement of some of the party. It was true 
 that at this point the incline was at its maximum, but 
 then one more effort would conquer all their difficulties. 
 Above this point they could see that the slope became 
 more gradual, and the ice lay concealed beneath snow 
 of a pure whiteness, which indicated the summit of the 
 ridge, and defined it sharply against the intense blue of 
 heaven. Triumph over this one obstacle, and, beyond, 
 imagination revealed to them the soaring crest of Mont 
 Perdu. 
 
 They collected all their energies for this final effort. 
 They encouraged one another; animated themselves by 
 mutual exhortations to supernatural exertions ! And at 
 every step they made they seemed to see the high 
 boundaries of the valley gradually sinking. The gap 
 which the projecting bulk of the glacier had long hidden 
 from them, became visible in all its gigantic proportions, 
 and they felt the cold wind sweeping through its colos-
 
 126 THE GOAL IN SIGHT. 
 
 sal mouth. They hastened their steps; their limbs 
 seemed filled with new strength; they leaped forward 
 like young chamois; and, at last, they reached the 
 wished-for goal. A shout of joy announced the wel- 
 come change of scene; and then a dead silence succeeded 
 as the adventurers gazed upon the features of a new 
 world, on the depths which separated them from it, on 
 the glaciers which girdled and the clouds which covered 
 it, a spectacle, terrible and yet sublime, which over- 
 whelmed all their faculties ! A second, a moment, had 
 developed it in all its majesty; but several moments, 
 nay hours, would not have sufficed to bring it into 
 harmony with their senses. " Behold Mont Perdu ! 
 Look yonder at Mont Perdu ! " said one to the other ; and 
 yet no one could really distinguish it in that chaotic 
 confusion of rocks, snows, and vapours. It was the 
 all- wise and all-powerful God whose presence was felt 
 rather than perceived, and who manifested Himself in 
 everything that surrounded Him before He deigned to 
 reveal Himself. 
 
 It was not without reason that they saw everywhere 
 Mont Perdu; for all these belonged to it, all made part 
 of it, even the ridge which they had reached, and which 
 was separated from the principal summit only by a 
 subsidence or erosion of a portion of its flanks. That 
 huge summit rose grandly before them a little to the 
 left white, but shaded with gray tints, and soaring out 
 of the bosoai of a dense mist that circulated slowly 
 around it. To the right was detached the Cylinder, 
 more sombre than the cloud, more threatening even than
 
 THE TWO SUMMIT-PEAKS. 127 
 
 Mont Perdu itself, reared on its enormous pedestal at 
 the same level as our explorers had already attained, 
 and so near that it seemed as if they could touch it 
 with their hands. Ramond had seen it a hundred 
 times before; but what of that? Its apparition was 
 only the more fantastic. Invisible always from any 
 intermediate station, it had suddenly expanded into a 
 colossus. That figure of a truncated tower which recalls 
 known dimensions, contrasting with proportions to 
 which nothing is comparable, its situation, its colouring, 
 its proximity, the vapour which surrounded it, all com- 
 bined to make this enormous mass the most extraor- 
 dinary object in the picture. Towards it every glance 
 was constantly attracted; and it the guides persisted in 
 pointing out as the Mont Perdu. 
 
 But what was still more unexpected, so to speak, 
 than these strange aspects what no anterior view had 
 prepared us for; what, indeed, could be seen only from 
 the summit of the observatory to which they had at- 
 tained was the indescribable appearance of the majes- 
 tic support of these two summits. Hewn out by the 
 same chisel which has moulded the stages of the Mar- 
 bore, it presents a series of terraces, sometimes clothed 
 with snow, sometimes bristling with glaciers, which 
 overflow and pour down one upon another in great 
 motionless cascades, to the very shores of a lake the 
 surface of which, still frozen, but already disengaged 
 from snow, shone with a gloomy splendour that en- 
 hanced the dazzling whiteness of its margin. 
 
 This lake, the desolate basin in which it reposes, the 
 mass of ice that borders it on the south, the black walls
 
 128 THE FROZEN LAKE. 
 
 which surmount it, the peaks of the Cylinder and Mont 
 Perdu soaring into a storm-swept sky, and that bare, 
 precipitous, rent, and rugged rampart, from one of the 
 gaps of which the explorers contemplated the most im- 
 posing and terrific scene in the Pyrenees, these defied 
 all comparison ; there was no model or standard to 
 which the dimensions of so extraordinary a picture 
 could be referred, and they would have been reduced to 
 a vague calculation of heights and distances, had not acci- 
 dent furnished them with an object of definite propor- 
 tions in a troop of chamois which wandered over the 
 surface of the lake, and sought to quench their thirst 
 in its crevasses. The adventurers shouted ; and imme- 
 diately they bounded away towards the ridges, leaving 
 them thenceforward alone in these vast deserts, the 
 extent of which they had unwittingly assisted in 
 determining. 
 
 The explorers were now called upon to decide in 
 what way they should reach the accessible parts of 
 the mountain. M. Ramond had already detected that 
 the route to the summits was absolutely shut up by the 
 disorder of their ice-masses and the precipitousness of 
 their sides. The very chamois had avoided them in 
 their flight, though it was their shortest way to escape 
 us, and had traversed the entire length of the lake, in 
 order to take refuge on the more accessible heights 
 which separate the Cylinder from the region of the 
 Marbord But Ramond and his companions could de- 
 scend into the basin. The incline, though exceedingly 
 rapid, was wholly free from danger. Once on the level
 
 CONTINUING THE ASCENT. 129 
 
 of the lake, its frozen surface opened up every commu- 
 nication, and nothing prevented them from following in 
 the track of the chamois as far as the western ridge, 
 which would lead them to the foot of the Cylinder arid 
 the last terraces of Mont Perdu. At the same time, it 
 was necessary to give a thought to the question of re- 
 turning ; for it was now noon, and the aspect of the 
 sky plainly pointed to a change of weather. If they 
 spent the rest of the day in the ascent, they had no 
 longer the choice of retreat ; and their sole resource 
 would be to regain the valley of snow they had so 
 recently traversed. But those of Ramond's companions 
 who had paled before the perils of the ascent, could not 
 safely be exposed to the much more real peril of the 
 descent. Ramond, in this difficulty, recollected the 
 escarpment of the valley of Bdousse, which the Spanish 
 shepherds regarded as the natural road from the lake. 
 According to them, it communicated with the Puerto 
 de Pineda on the other side. True, the circuit was a 
 long one ; and if undertaken, any new enterprise must 
 be renounced for the present. But, on the other hand, 
 the contraband! sta declared that the rocks were really 
 practicable, and that he had crossed them himself on 
 his way to the valley of Fanlo. Ramond, therefore, 
 might reascend to the lake next day by the same route, 
 and perhaps carry with him La Peyrouse into those 
 extraordinary localities where he already regretted his 
 absence bitterly. 
 
 Ramond decided immediately to inform him of his 
 march. He wrote a few lines, directing him to cross 
 without delay the Puerto de Pineda, and wait for the 
 
 (731) 9
 
 130 THE FLOWER ON THE MOUNTAIN-TOP. 
 
 adventurers in the valley of Be'ousse at a hut which 
 he indicated, from information supplied by the contra- 
 bandista. He acquainted him with his intention of 
 reascending to the lake on the following day, and his 
 hope of being able to take him also ; and this missive 
 he placed in the hands of one of the guides of Coumelie, 
 who decided to return to La Peyrouse, if possible, by 
 the track through the valley of snow. The departure 
 of this messenger was not the least touching incident of 
 the expedition. They could see him creeping over the 
 snow, using his hands, and cautiously lengthening his 
 body so as to place his foot in the holes already exca- 
 vated. The slowness of his course was not a good omen 
 for the success of his mission; and so the event proved. 
 M. Ramond did not carry La Peyrouse with him to the 
 summit of Mont Perdu. 
 
 In bestowing a last look on the rocks of the moun- 
 tain-gap, Ramond's attention was drawn to the small 
 number of plants which resist the keen experiences of 
 winter at an elevation of nearly 10,000 feet above the 
 sea -level. The northern exposure offered only one 
 specimen; but this was the ranunculus glacialis so 
 rare in the Pyrenees, that Ramond had not met with 
 more than a couple on the summit of Neouvielle. Here 
 it was abundant and superb, but suspended to rocks so 
 steep, and these suspended on a precipice so formidable, 
 that to reach them needed all the zeal of the most en- 
 thusiastic science. Mirbel and Pasquier were the first 
 to climb them, and their example gave encouragement 
 to the others. They had not yet crossed so hazardous a 
 bit, and none had been crossed with so much readiness.
 
 FOSSIL REMAINS. 131 
 
 From the bosom of the lake rises a belt of rocks so 
 as to form a long promontory. Its configuration indi- 
 cated a perfect similarity between its structure and that 
 of the bases of the Cylinder; it offered, therefore, an 
 object of comparison by which M. Ramond could settle 
 all his doubts. 
 
 He lost no time in effecting a descent. The lake was 
 covered with a thick ice, which rendered the passage of 
 the crevasses easy, and he soon gained the promontory. 
 It proved to be divided into horizontal strata, like the 
 terraces of the Marbore, like the walls of the Breche de 
 Roland, like the Cylinder and its platform. But were 
 these strata layers or beds ? The first stroke of the 
 hammer answered this question ; they were simply 
 layers, and the beds were vertical. Ramond was on 
 the point of dealing a second blow at the solid stone, 
 when he remarked a reddish projection on the surface. 
 Looking more closely, he recognized a piece of a polypid. 
 Again he looked; and he saw the upper valve of an 
 oyster, then some fragments of a madrepore, and then 
 some other zoophites so broken that he could not dis- 
 tinguish the species. 
 
 A shout of joy, and his companions gathered round 
 him on those rocks all thickly incrusted with the debris 
 of the organic kingdom. Ramond pointed out to them 
 the fossil remains, which, on the flanks of Mont Perdu, 
 acquired a remarkable importance. They spread them- 
 selves over the promontory; they eagerly gathered 
 everything which could be distinguished from the sub- 
 stance of the stone ; and Ramond enjoyed, while work- 
 ing with fresh ardour in the midst of these zealous
 
 132 A THUNDER-PEAL. 
 
 labourers, a happiness which none could share with 
 him that of having opened up to his successors an 
 ample field of observation, where they would one day 
 discover what the condition of scientific knowledge in 
 his darker age did not permit him and his companions 
 to see. 
 
 But if, says Ramond, it was gratifying to see the 
 pupils of two newly-founded schools in possession of a 
 country the discovery of which would be a source of 
 envy to the whole scientific world, if I could not regard 
 without emotion these young disciples drawing from a 
 first success the passion for inquiry and the thirst of 
 knowledge, they themselves, on their side, experienced 
 the full influence of the scene, and abandoned them- 
 selves to transports bordering upon delirium. Let us 
 remain here, they said to me ; to-morrow, perhaps, we 
 shall succeed in our attempt upon Mont Perdu. But 
 how guard against the coldness of the night ? Oh ! what 
 is a single night compared to such a prospect of success ! 
 We are without provisions ! Oh ! we can do without 
 them! Fatigue, fear, danger all was forgotten; pre* 
 parations, precautions all were in default. No longer 
 was there anything frightful in the ice-masses; no longer 
 was there anything ominous in the dense clouds which 
 girdled the peaks ; when suddenly, from the very bosom 
 of that cloud, issued an awful peal which the echoes of 
 the desert multiplied. The most resolute paled before 
 it ; they thought it indicated the outbreak of the tem- 
 pest in these frightful solitudes whose issues it would 
 speedily close up. But it was nothing more than a
 
 A FAIRY VALLEY. 133 
 
 waterspout which had burst on the upper terraces of 
 the mountains. However, the impression was made ; 
 and my companions now thought of nothing but their 
 departure. 
 
 The explorers had not long passed the lake when they 
 came upon the brink of a singularly terrific precipice. 
 It seemed as if the earth vanished suddenly from 
 beneath their feet. In whatever direction they looked, 
 they saw nothing but precipitous escarpments and lofty 
 walls. To the left the mountains of Estaube', to the 
 right Mont Perdu, plunging together to an immense 
 depth, furnished two long parallel chains, formed of the 
 same rocks, moulded in the same fashion, and enclosing 
 between enormous ramparts the valley of Bdousse, over 
 which the travellers dominated, like gods in the upper 
 regions of Olympus. 
 
 But how charming was that valley, in the midst of 
 the formidable mountain-belt which sheltered it with 
 its precipices, and fertilized it with its snows ! Luxuri- 
 ant with the luxuriance of nature, and beautiful with a 
 wild beauty, it shone with all the splendour of the young 
 earth before man had furrowed it with laborious plough. 
 The travellers sought in vain for the traces of frequent 
 footsteps ; neither path nor hospice was visible ; the in- 
 habitants had apparently concealed themselves; the 
 visitor had fled before that magnificent nature which 
 the former had been unable to subdue, which the latter 
 had not dared to contemplate; and the last person to 
 approach it would probably think himself the first who 
 had descried it.
 
 134 THE SPELL OF THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 It is grand to see these pastures without cattle, these 
 shady groves which no human hand has planted, these 
 forests still virgin ; these long lines of thriving box- trees, 
 which no skill has traced ; and that torrent, born of 
 Mont Perdu, the Cinca, which, proud of its origin, im- 
 petuous and indomitable, marks out its uncertain course 
 at the bottom of that deep cleft, where the ruins accom- 
 panying it keep back the verdure at a respectful dis- 
 tance. The eye, beguiled to follow, wanders afar with 
 it into the extensive desert which it traverses without 
 obstacle and almost without witness. It speeds, it flies, 
 like swift Camilla; and one cannot quit it; on the 
 limits of the horizon the eye seeks the last glimmer of 
 its waves; the attentive ear eagerly catches the last 
 murmur borne on the passing wind. Finally, it escapes 
 from both eye and ear into the profound valleys which 
 conduct it afar off; but imagination pursues it still to 
 the remote shores where the Ebro receives these waters, 
 the everlasting sources of which lie in the mountain's 
 bosom. 
 
 But what then is the secret charm of this wilderness ? 
 What deep, involuntary, masterful sentiment detains 
 the traveller in a desert where human industry has 
 failed to gain a footing ? What irresistible inclination 
 incessantly draws thither his thoughts and his footsteps, 
 detains him there, and amuses his fancy with the vain 
 desire of erecting his hut, and concealing himself and 
 his loved ones in its depths? What is the value of 
 civilization, if still in our hearts survives the im- 
 perishable regret of our former independence ? What 
 is the use of society, if man, who has moulded it to his
 
 A SECOND ATTEMPT. 135 
 
 liking, and is bound to it by all the ties of habit and 
 necessity, cannot for a moment escape from the crowd 
 that surrounds him without bestowing a tear on the 
 need that compels him to return ? 
 
 Ramond renewed his attempt upon Mont Perdu in the 
 following September. His companions on this occasion 
 were Mirbel and Pasquier, who had abundantly proved 
 their address and resolution in the first adventure ; and 
 M. Dralet, an agriculturist of some eminence, and a 
 devoted student of natural history. Though unused to 
 mountain-climbing, he preserved throughout the enter- 
 prise an admirable presence of mind. At Bareges the 
 explorers engaged the services of two men : one, 
 Ramond's old and trusty guide, Laurens ; the other, a 
 "new hand," whose experiences, it will be seen, were 
 hardly such as to tempt him again to an essay in 
 mountaineering. He was, however, a vigorous fellow, 
 and skilful enough among the crags and precipices ; he 
 failed only when the travellers penetrated into the upper 
 region with its snow and ice. On their arrival at Gedres, 
 they added to their party a peasant named Rondo, known 
 as one of the nimblest and most adventurous men in 
 the country. The dangerous passes of the Marboi:e 
 were his familiar paths. There was not a mountaineer 
 throughout the Pyrenees so thoroughly acquainted 
 with the snows of every season. Such a reinforcement 
 was indispensable to the successful conduct of an ex- 
 pedition necessarily more perilous than the preceding 
 one; and M. Ramond has left on record a high testimony 
 to the skill and courage of the humble mountaineer.
 
 136 A MOUNTAIN-HUT. 
 
 In order to gain time, and employ to useful purpose 
 the whole of the following day, they resolved to spend 
 the night as near to Mont Perdu as possible. Therefore, 
 they determined on taking their rest at the bottom of 
 the Estaubd, in the hut of the Abassat-dessus ; and 
 arrangements were made to ensure their reaching it at 
 an early hour. They were well supplied with " wraps," 
 and carried a stock of fuel ; though these precautions 
 proved scarcely sufficient to protect them from the cold 
 they experienced at so considerable an elevation and in 
 a season so far advanced. 
 
 On this occasion, as Ramond desired to revisit its 
 eastern slopes, they ascended the Coumelie by its an- 
 terior face. Thence they passed through the valley of 
 He'as to gain the Passet des Glouriettes, which mounts 
 directly to the valley of Estaube'. As they mounted 
 higher and yet higher, the freshness of the air and the 
 serenity of the sky were accepted as good omens of 
 favourable weather ; but at every step they left behind 
 them some of the plants of summer. Autumn, with her 
 brow of dusky gold, and robe of many colours, awaited 
 them on the heights, and with finger on her lip pointed 
 to the frowning shadow of Winter as already darkening 
 on the summits. 
 
 The hut was reached before sunset. It was empty; 
 for the pastures were blighted by the nocturnal frosts, 
 and the shepherds and their flocks had descended to the 
 lower grounds. M. Ramond took possession of the 
 asylum thus open to him and his companions, and 
 occupied the calm of a lovely autumnal night in study- 
 ing the surrounding mountains.
 
 AT THE BASE. 137 
 
 A lovely night, indeed ; a night calm and cloudless, 
 but very cold. The adventurers kindled a great fire, 
 and lay down around it, rolled up in their coverlets. 
 At daybreak they were on the road to the Gap. The 
 character of the soil, and the structure of the strata, 
 were indications that they had reached the bases of 
 Mont Perdu. Everything already announced, and bore 
 the impress of, his majesty. The precipices, issuing 
 from an immense accumulation of ruin and snow, tower 
 to the very clouds, and seem to describe an arc of a 
 circle, each extremity of which is flanked by a huge 
 glacier. The higher of these occupies a kind of niche 
 in the vicinity of the Puerto de Pineda ; the larger and 
 grander lies on the opposite side, where it is prolonged 
 towards the Breche d'Allany, and corresponds to those 
 visible from Gavarnie on that advanced body of the 
 Marbore which there bears the name of Mont Perdu. 
 In the middle of the cirque, two ascents or causeways, 
 loaded with snow, rise to the very summit of the preci- 
 pices. Of these the western is absolutely inaccessible ; 
 and at its base two huge conical rocks are planted like 
 boundary-marks which may not be overpassed, columns 
 of Hercules, which really indicate the boundary-line of 
 the known and the unknown ! The other causeway, so 
 to speak, is broader and not so steep : this, too, has its 
 bound, which is even more remarkable than the other 
 in form, as it is more imposing in dimensions ; but it 
 will not delay the advance of the enthusiast, who 
 thinks nothing of possible peril in comparison with the 
 pleasure of seeing Mont Perdu in the most striking of 
 its aspects.
 
 138 THE GIANT CAUSEWAY. 
 
 "Ah, that such beauty, varying in the light 
 Of living nature, cannot be portrayed 
 By words, nor by the pencil's silent skill ; 
 But is the property of him alone 
 Who hath beheld it, noted it with care, 
 And in his mind recorded it with love ! " 
 
 The impressive features of such a scene as we have 
 attempted to describe, of this mountain amphitheatre 
 with its two great rivers of ice, and its ever-changing 
 effects of light and shade, cannot be adequately pre- 
 sented to the reader's mind in words. We must leave 
 it to his imagination to inspire with the glow of life 
 the dull framework, which is all we can set before him. 
 
 Our travellers approached the giant causeway, and 
 for some time contemplated the glacier with anxiety. 
 It had undergone much alteration since M. Ramond's 
 first attempt. There was no snow ; its surface was 
 absolutely bare, and did not offer a single point where 
 the traveller's foot could leave its imprint. The middle 
 of it was hollowed out. Two great crevasses traversed 
 it from top to bottom ; and at about two-thirds of its 
 height could be seen a transversal depression, which 
 considerably increased the inclination of the upper por- 
 tion. To attempt the front was impossible; it was 
 scarped at the extremity, and presented simply a series 
 of clean, sharp cuttings, opening into the crevasses. 
 Compelled to ascend at the side, they soon found that 
 at the slightest inclination it was already dangerous. 
 The clamping-irons did not " bite ; " and though the 
 travellers leaned on their iron-shod poles with all their 
 strength, they scarcely indented the hard frozen surface.
 
 SECOND ASCENT OF THE GLACIER. 139 
 
 However, they had furnished themselves with suitable 
 instruments for splitting the ice, and to these they now 
 had recourse. Rude and arduous was the work ; which, 
 moreover, they could not regulate as they would have 
 liked. As we have said, the glacier hollowed in the 
 middle, like a gutter, and was riddled with crevasses 
 and holes ; therefore they were compelled to keep away 
 towards the sides, and yet not to approach these too 
 closely ; following, in fact, almost a straight line between 
 the Scylla and the Charybdis prudence warned them 
 to avoid. It was like mounting a ladder of ice ; no 
 zigzags could be adopted to lessen or disguise the in- 
 cline, which continually increased in proportion as the 
 precipice deepened. 
 
 For upwards of two hours they continued the labori- 
 ous ascent, and yet had accomplished only the least 
 difficult portion of their task. They then drew near 
 the protuberance formed by the glacier above the de- 
 pression of which we have spoken previously. How to 
 attack this eminence they knew not; they had ex- 
 hausted all their expedients. Rondo proposed to double 
 upon it by mounting the border they had hitherto so 
 carefully avoided. Let us describe this border or bank. 
 It was a knife-like ridge, separated from the mountain- 
 mass by a broad gap, which opened, funnel-like, into 
 the cavity of the glacier. An hour before the adven- 
 turers would have rejected Rondo's proposal as a foolish 
 jest; but now it was accepted as suggesting the only 
 mode of issuing honourably from their perilous enter- 
 prise. A dozen steps, hewn out almost perpendicularly, 
 conducted them to the ridge, which they had to level
 
 140 A MISADVENTURE. 
 
 before they could find standing-room, and to test by 
 heavy blows to determine if it would bear them. 
 Continually levelling and sounding, they succeeded in 
 accomplishing about thirteen paces in twenty minutes ; 
 balancing themselves on the slippery edge, with the 
 precipice in their rear and on either side. We do not 
 know that the annals even of Alpine adventure offer a 
 more dangerous position, or one better calculated to try 
 the nerve of the coolest and most courageous. How- 
 ever, at the end of these thirteen paces they were 
 forced to halt, and again take counsel together. 
 
 The guide they had hired at Bareges now declared 
 that he felt dizzy, and should tumble headlong. He 
 was one of the vanguard, and nothing could be done 
 but to put him in the middle of the little company; an 
 operation both difficult and perilous on a line without 
 breadth, a line exactly fulfilling the definition of Euclid. 
 In the movement thus occasioned Ramond's telescope 
 and compass fell from the bag carried by Laurens, and 
 rolled down into the chasm that separated them from 
 the rock. Rondo gallantly offered to descend in search 
 of the precious articles, and would listen to no dissua- 
 sion. He slipped down into the cleft, and penetrated 
 into the foremost ice-cave, where he found the compass. 
 The party above then lowered a rope, which he fastened 
 round him, and they proceeded, with no slight effort, to 
 haul him up to the ridge. The cold at the bottom of 
 the ravine was so intense that he had been unable to 
 search for the telescope. Laurens, however, insisted on 
 descending. He was hauled up in the same manner;
 
 PERIL OF THE ASCENT. 141 
 
 and certainly those who gave were not in a less critical 
 position than those who received the help. Laurens 
 brought back nothing. The result was that Ramond 
 had lost an excellent telescope; but then the little band 
 of adventurers had gained from the effort a fresh con- 
 fidence in their energies and strength, and pushed for- 
 ward another thirty paces, scarcely taking the trouble 
 to level the ridge as they advanced. 
 
 And yet that troublesome ridge exposed them every 
 moment to new risks. Twice they were arrested by 
 angles of the rock which projected in front of them, 
 and barred the way. They could neither ascend nor 
 descend ; they could only twist themselves round the 
 projections, at the imminent hazard of losing their 
 balance and falling headlong into the chasm. Soon it 
 became utterly impossible to move forward, and they 
 had no other refuge than the very rocks which, at first, 
 had appeared inaccessible. They are broken up into 
 steps or stages, it is true, by the intercrossed cuttings 
 of their beds and layers; but, to understand the dis- 
 position of these stages, let the reader figure to himself, 
 in the first place, a flight of steps, each of which shall 
 almost always be higher than it is broad, and which 
 are built up in such a way that the angle of inclination 
 increases by one-third ; next let him add to this idea 
 that of all the irregularities and all the degradations 
 which such a construction must necessarily occasion in 
 such a structure ; the uncertainty felt by our travellers 
 as to the nature of the prospect before them ; the fore- 
 boding excited by the previous fruitless attempt on the 
 part of the guides of Coume'lie; and he may judge with
 
 142 ON THE RIDGE. 
 
 what feelings they regarded the last resource that 
 remained to them. 
 
 Nothing could be done but climb, step by step, the 
 repellent rocks. The foremost adventurer was pushed 
 forward by the second in order, and, having made good 
 his footing, lent a hand to assist his friend. The risk 
 was equal on both sides; or if there were any disadvan- 
 tage, it was experienced by the later comers. Those in 
 front could not make a false step without compromising 
 the rest of the party, nor dislodge a stone which did 
 not fly over their heads. Rarnond himself was rather 
 seriously wounded by one of these accidental missiles, 
 against which he could only stiffen himself, as his 
 position prevented him from avoiding it. 
 
 This last escalade lasted upwards of an hour, and the 
 dangers incurred by our adventurers sufficiently show 
 that the ascent of Mont Perdu by this route is practic- 
 able only in summer, when the glaciers are still covered 
 with snow. A month before, they had accomplished it 
 in two hours; and, in truth, experts in mountain-climb- 
 ing would have regarded it as a bagatelle. Now it 
 occupied five, and in these five there was not a minute 
 in which they did not run the risk of their lives. 
 
 At length they reached the summit of the ridge ; 
 there were but a few more steps to climb, and the more 
 regular arrangement of the strata already conduced to 
 the diminution of the gradient. Ramond looked at his 
 companions ; none seemed afraid, but none seemed par- 
 ticularly elated. Depressed by fatigue and prolonged 
 anxiety, no one could rouse himself to a conception of 
 the recompense prepared for him by beneficent Mont
 
 
 RAMOND'S ASCENT OF MONT PERDU.
 
 PASSAGE OF THE GAP. 145 
 
 Perdu. After so many inclined planes, and precipitous 
 crags, and treacherous slopes of ice, they felt no desire 
 for anything more than a little level ground, where 
 they could plant their feet without deliberation; but 
 this level spot, no sooner did they touch it than the 
 scene suddenly changed, and everything was forgotten ! 
 From the summit of the rocks they contemplated with 
 dumb surprise the majestic spectacle which awaited 
 them at the passage of the Breche, or Gap. They knew 
 nothing of it, had never seen it, had no idea of the in- 
 comparable splendour with which a sunny day invested 
 it. On their first visit the curtain had been but slightly 
 uplifted; the shroud suspended from the peaks flung 
 a shadow of gloom even over the objects it did not 
 cover. But on the present occasion there was nothing 
 veiled, nothing which the sun did not illuminate with 
 its fullest glow: the lake, completely thawed, reflected 
 a firmament of azure; the glaciers glittered; and the 
 summit of Mont Perdu, all resplendent in celestial radi- 
 ance, seemed no longer a thing of earth. 
 
 But it were vain to attempt to paint the magical 
 appearance of this glorious picture. Drawn by a Divine 
 hand, realized by a Divine will, clothed in colours of 
 wonderful intensity, who can hope to set it forth in 
 words ? To such scenes not even the memory of the 
 spectator, in after-years, can do anything like justice. 
 It retains but a vague and lifeless image of what was 
 formerly so full of life, so exact in outline, so unrivalled 
 in brightness. It retains little more than a sentiment 
 of beauty or grandeur as associated with some particular 
 landscape. And so M. Ramond, when he comes to 
 
 (731) 10
 
 14 6 NATURE AND MAN. 
 
 write down his reminiscences of Mont Perdu, is com- 
 pelled to resort to general terms, from winch the reader 
 can derive nothing accurate and real. "In vain," he 
 writes, " should I attempt to describe what this appari- 
 tion possessed of the unexpected, the astonishing, the 
 fantastic, at the moment when the curtain dropped 
 when the gate was thrown open when we stood at last 
 on the threshold of the gigantic edifice. Words linger 
 far behind a sensation swifter than thought ; we cannot 
 believe our eyes; we seek around us a standard of 
 comparison ; everything simultaneously refuses it ; one 
 world finishes, and another begins a world governed 
 by the laws, as it were, of a different existence. How 
 deep the repose in that vast enclosure where centuries 
 pass with lighter feet than do the years in our lower 
 world ! How profound the silence on these heights 
 where every sound, whatever its nature, announces a 
 grand and rare phenomenon ! How absolute the calm 
 of the atmosphere, how perfect the serenity of the 
 heaven which floods us with its glory ! Everything is 
 in harmony air, sky, earth, water; everything seems 
 to don its bravest livery in the presence of the all- 
 glorious sun." 
 
 Comparing the vast symmetry of the cirque with the 
 hideous chaos it presented when a dense fog lingered 
 round its terraces, our travellers found it difficult to 
 recognize the localities they had then visited. It was 
 no longer the colossal bulk of the Cylinder which 
 exclusively attracted the attention. The limpid purity 
 of the air rectified the appearances which had confused 
 the interposition of the cloud; the main summit had
 
 GRANDEUR OF THE PYRENEES. 147 
 
 regained its rights; and thus brought into unity and 
 order the various parts of the mighty chaos. Never 
 before had such a scene greeted the travellers' wonder- 
 ing gaze ! Ramond tells us, in a rapturous strain of 
 excitement, that he had seen the upper Alps had seen 
 them in his early youth, when " a young man's fancy " 
 sees everything invested with even a supernatural 
 beauty and grandeur but that which he had not seen 
 was the magnificence of the loftiest summits worn by a 
 mountain of the secondary order. These simple and 
 austere forms, these bold clean cuttings, these firm and 
 solid rocks with their broad strata arranged like courses 
 of masonry, curve into an amphitheatre, mould themselves 
 into terraces, soar aloft as towers to which the hands of 
 giants seem to have applied the plummet and line, 
 these are features the explorer vainly looks for in the 
 abode of eternal frost, vainly seeks in the primitive 
 mountains with their flanks elongated into spires and 
 pinnacles, and their base concealed beneath piles of 
 wreck and ruin. Whoever is satiated with their savage 
 aspects, will find strange and novel phases in the Pyre- 
 nees. From Mont Blanc the lover of Nature should 
 pass on to Mont Perdu ; after surveying the chief of 
 the granitic peaks, then he has still to explore the chief 
 of the limestone mountains.
 
 IV. 
 
 : Ihe Jlotth (Eape. 
 
 PECULIAR interest attaches to the ex- 
 tremities of earth, the frontier-buttresses of 
 islands, continents, and peninsulas, the great 
 capes or headlands which year after year defy 
 and endure the shock of " warring waters." Somehow or 
 other, the imagination loves to dwell upon these limits, 
 these boundary-marks of the world, which separate, as 
 it were, man's long-known and long-occupied territory 
 from that ocean which he can never hope to subdue ; it 
 invests them with an ideal grandeur, and generally as- 
 sociates them with many a wild fable and picturesque 
 legend. Few travellers, we suspect, are insensible to 
 the influences of this association when they stand on 
 the rugged summit of the Land's End, where the billows 
 of the Atlantic ceaselessly beat on the furthest shore 
 of Great Britain. To the voyager, Cape Horn, as the 
 extreme limit of the New World, and the Cape of Good 
 Hope, as the termination of the continent-peninsula of 
 Africa, assume a special and remarkable interest. It 
 usually happens that these great promontories are
 
 EUROPE S BOUNDARY-MARK. 149 
 
 romantic in themselves, in their natural features, their 
 height, their massiveness, or their boldness of outline ; 
 and such a circumstance does not fail to increase their 
 attraction. We have referred to the Land's End : few 
 spots in Great Britain are more sublime in character, or 
 present a scene of grander confusion. So, too, Cape 
 Horn is distinguished by its wildness of aspect, its 
 chaos of basaltic and lava rocks, which, in their general 
 outline, suggest to the mind the idea of " a sleeping lion, 
 facing and braving the southern tempests." But no 
 one of the earth's chief promontories surpasses in these 
 respects that remote boundary-mark of Europe which 
 is known as the North Cape. Its elevation is so con- 
 siderable that it may justly be included among the 
 " mountains," and a pilgrimage to it lies, therefore, within 
 the scope of the present volume. 
 
 A glance at a good map of Norway will show the 
 reader that voyagers " in these parts," on issuing from 
 the Strait of Havoe pass a small and rather low island, 
 the green Masoe, formerly inhabited, but now abandoned 
 to the sea-birds; and then come in sight of the notorious 
 Stappen, a group of black reefs rising like towers out of 
 the yeasty waves. 
 
 We now see before us the dread expanse of the Polar 
 Ocean, of that rolling and tumultuous sea which has 
 witnessed the wreck of so many hopes as well as some of 
 the finest deeds of human daring. The seething waters, 
 as they fling high into the air their crests of foam, in- 
 dicate the immediate neighbourhood of that promontory 
 so dreaded by the navigator, the North Cape, which 
 might justly be called the Cape of Storms. For, in
 
 150 IN HORN BAY. 
 
 truth, the sea in this vicinity is never tranquil, not 
 even in the calmest and sunniest days of summer. The 
 eddies of all the tempest-tossed tides of the Atlantic, of 
 the Frozen Ocean, and the White Sea expire at the foot 
 of this rocky peninsula, which projects between the 
 continents of America and Northern Asia. 
 
 A contrary wind, let us suppose, forces us to tack, so 
 that we have an excellent opportunity of contemplating 
 at our leisure the severe and impressive spectacle of its 
 rocky mass. Elongated like a ship's bows, it seems 
 to challenge an encounter with the powerless billows, 
 which have vainly spent their fury against it for count- 
 less ages. But at length we succeed in making the 
 shore, and drop anchor to the east of the Cape, in a 
 small curve or hollow, which, from its peculiar outline, 
 has received the name of Hornvig or Horn Bay. 
 
 On landing we are agreeably surprised, I think, to 
 find ourselves surrounded by a sub- Alpine meadow-land 
 of the most extraordinary richness. Tall thick grasses 
 rise to our knees; and here at the extremity of Europe 
 bloom the flowers which adorn the floral world of 
 Switzerland and the Alps. As vigorous these, as bright, 
 and as full-blossomed, as on their native mountains. To 
 the right rises the imposing bulk of the North Cape, 
 black, scarped, inaccessible. In front of us, however, a 
 sharp but verdurous ascent will carry us to the summit 
 by doubling the base of the promontory. First, let us 
 gather specimens of this Boreal botany around us. A 
 peculiar charm surely attaches to these flowers as 
 more robust and adventurous than their European
 
 PROSPECT FROM THE SUMMIT. 153 
 
 sisters. We are tempted to ask of them why they have 
 quitted the sheltered banks and pleasant glades of their 
 native regions for this savage and desolate locality, where 
 cold winds blow, and the roar of the melancholy ocean 
 mingles with the scream of the migratory birds. 
 
 On reaching the crest of the ascent we find ourselves 
 on a naked and barren table-land, strewn, as it were, 
 with pools of water. Afar off, until lost to sight, are 
 unrolled successive plains and grand undulations of a 
 slightly broken ground, separated by bays and marshy 
 shallows; the whole scene being cold, motionless, de- 
 solate. While a delightful calm prevails in the rich 
 meadow-land below, the north wind sweeps furiously 
 the table-land of the Cape, so that we can scarcely stand 
 against it. Nevertheless we press forward to its very 
 margin. Oh ! the gloomy grandeur of the spectacle 
 which there presents itself to the spell-bound gaze ! 
 Before us, the vast Frozen Ocean, whose limits touch 
 the Pole, heaving and rolling beneath the burden of 
 clouds which rests heavily upon it; to the left, a long, 
 low, narrow point of land, fringed with cream-white 
 foam; to the right, some rocky islands, nameless and 
 uninhabited. We lean cautiously over the brink of the 
 precipice which forms the seaward face of the promon- 
 tory, and see the wild waves struggling and wrestling 
 at its base, fully one thousand feet below. From the 
 height at which we are placed, the enormous waves 
 coming direct from Greenland, Spitzbergen, or Novaia 
 Zemlaia, form, as they break, but a thin white line of 
 foam ; such as is made by the ripples of a little lake 
 when driven shoreward by a light breath of wind.
 
 154 MOUNTAIN AND PROMONTORY. 
 
 The most elevated summit of the North Cape is esti- 
 mated by Charles Martins to be 308 metres (about 
 984 feet) above the sea. It is crowned by a small 
 rocky boulder, on which the voyager hastens to engrave 
 his name. He will find among the memorials of former 
 visitors that of Parrot, so celebrated for his adventurous 
 travels in the Alps, the Ararat, and the Caucasus. Even 
 this topmost crest is not wholly devoid of vegetation. 
 Small round clumps of foliaceous lichens, black as the 
 rock, flourish upon it; and a microscopical moss hides 
 in its fissures. A few meagre, wind-withered plants 
 cling to the rough surface of the table-land, or seek a 
 refuge behind the undulations of the soil which may 
 shelter them from the perpetual gusts that beat upon 
 the North Cape. 
 
 The following description is borrowed from Louis 
 Ernault's " La Norwe'ge," an interesting and agreeable 
 record of Northern travel : 
 
 The North Cape is distant twelve or fifteen miles from 
 the Giestvar fiord. We crossed this short interval in 
 calm weather, using our oars much oftener than our 
 canvas. On our left was the open sea ; on our right, 
 the shore of the island of Mageroe of which, and not 
 of the mainland, the North Cape is a promontory. The 
 entire shore resembles a lofty wall, formed of perpen- 
 dicular strata : at its base, reefs and breakers ; at its 
 summit, a straight and narrow crest, sometimes broken 
 by sharp peaks. In the midst of this rocky rampart we 
 perceived, afar off, a great square tower projecting boldly, 
 and flanked by massive bastions : it was the Cape.
 
 A NORTHERN FLORA. 155 
 
 Instead of landing immediately, we stretched a point 
 out to sea, for about a quarter of a mile, to obtain a 
 better view of the general effect. The enormous mass 
 rose precipitously from the bosom of the sea ; sombre, 
 dreary, repellent, unapproachable. Unmovable as the 
 buttress of a world, solid as the bulwark of a continent, 
 it impresses the spectator with the idea of a power that 
 cannot be shaken. Europe sleeps in peace behind that 
 advanced sentinel, who defends her against the floods 
 and tempests of the Polar Sea. 
 
 We doubled the point, and penetrated into a second 
 bay ; a bay of small dimensions, hollowed out and 
 rounded by Nature in the very heart of the mountain. 
 The vast shadow of the Cape here fell upon us. Around 
 the bay a semicircular girdle of rocks sharply defined 
 its outlines. Sometimes those blackened masses crumble 
 like lavas which a shock would have ground into dust 
 on their issue from the crater. Sometimes they split up 
 among themselves into broad sheets, like leaves of slate 
 or tablets of marble. Between them and the sea, a 
 layer of vegetable mould is gay with turf and flowers ; 
 with the andromeda and the Arctic ranunculus, the 
 small wood-violet, the crane's-bill, the angelica, and the 
 forget-me-not which seems to bloom in this remote 
 solitude as if to recall the memory of old familiar faces. 
 Over a stony bed, among the flowers and grasses, a 
 small silvery streamlet murmurs and sparkles. 
 
 We soon began the ascent of the Cape. 
 It forms a mountain, about one thousand feet in height, 
 cut down to a precipice on the seaward side, and almost
 
 156 ASCENDING THE CAPE. 
 
 inaccessible everywhere. Its declivities are all steep, 
 abrupt, and rugged ; frequently rendered dangerously 
 slippery by belts of humid moss, short, compact, elastic, 
 and spontaneously repelling the foot, which can find no 
 support or resting-place. At other times the explorer 
 is called upon to struggle over heaps of rolling stones, 
 which fall away at the lightest touch; or up masses of 
 rough, rude rocks, that can be conquered only by 
 escalading them. Here and there, in the hollows which 
 retain a little vegetable earth, some dwarf birches essay 
 to raise their disconsolate heads ; but speedily fall back, 
 upon the ground, where they creep, and writhe, and 
 vegetate, and die. At intervals, a gull, perched on some 
 distant crag, regarded us with its clear and piercing 
 eye ; but reassured by our pacific air, continued its 
 reverie, without again turning towards us its motionless 
 head. Croaking hoarsely, the crows skimmed the soil 
 in black whirling clouds; while, in the pure empyrean, 
 the eagle and the falcon wheeled swiftly in immense 
 circles. 
 
 At length we attained the topmost ridge, a terrace- 
 like table-land covered with yellowish mould, for which 
 mosses and lichens contend, and where, on strata of 
 gloomy granite, gleams the whiteness of the quartz. 
 
 When I recognized that I stood upon the farthest 
 point of the old European continent, I experienced a 
 deep and almost overpowering emotion. Behind, was 
 the ancient world, its civilization, and its history; in 
 front, the unknown ocean that struggles onwards to 
 the Pole through a region of ice and snow, buried in 
 cloud and mist !
 
 EFFECTS OF LIGHT. 157 
 
 It was a quarter of an hour past midnight. The 
 sun had risen above the horizon. The lower rim of its 
 disc scarcely skimmed the ridge of the empurpled 
 waves. There the indefatigable luminary pursues a 
 four months' course without repose, prior to sinking 
 into the sea. Only, it does not seem to follow its 
 accustomed march. Instead of tracing above our heads 
 a luminous arch, one point of which reposes on the 
 east, the other on the west, he glides softly along 
 the insensible curve of a disproportionately elongated 
 ellipse. 
 
 But let it be noted that the amount of light is not 
 uniform; it varies in intensity and colour according to 
 the position of the luminary from which it emanates. 
 If the noonday orb launches, as with us, a flood of ardent 
 beams, if, towards ten o'clock, its oblique disc plunges 
 into waves of purple which overspread one half the 
 firmament, often, at midnight, when it touches the 
 line of the horizon, its light, decomposed by an invisible 
 prism, flickers and degrades itself into the yellow and 
 greenish half-tones of a limited but infinitely varied 
 gamut. Then every object assumes a fantastic tint; 
 and, however clear may be the atmosphere, we do not 
 fail to feel that this is not the true daylight, the day- 
 light adapted for action and movement. Sometimes, 
 during the prolonged day, the moon disputes possession 
 of the sky with the greater luminary or rather, each 
 orb reigns over a part of the horizon. And in pro- 
 portion as the sun advances in his glory, all streaming 
 with gold and fire, the moon, always beautiful in her 
 roseate paleness, hastens to withdraw her sphere, though
 
 158 STORMS OF THE CAPE. 
 
 she remains dimly visible through the pearly veil of 
 the clouds. 
 
 Not unfrequently, the North Cape becomes an im- 
 passable witness of those great convulsions of Nature 
 which revolutionize the face of the globe. The north 
 and north-west winds, on their path from the Pole to 
 the Equator, rage headlong with ungoverned fury, and 
 produce the most terrible commotions. Upheaved in 
 liquid mountains, the billows, driven before the gale, 
 simultaneously assail the promontory on every side, 
 and expend their violence upon its immovable walls 
 of granite. 
 
 Such is the North Cape, the advanced post of Arctic 
 Europe.
 
 V. 
 
 fteak nf ^Icneritfe. 
 
 " A summer-isle of Eden glowing in a purple sphere of sea. "TENNYSON. 
 
 |FF the west coast of Africa, in long. 18 
 and lat. 27 to 29 N., lie a beautiful group 
 of islands, the Canaries, which the older 
 geographers loved to clothe in the radiant 
 colours of fable. These were the Happy Isles of the 
 Blest, where angry winds never blew; where the 
 bright seas were never shaken by storms; where man 
 drank of the fountains of eternal youth, and his serene 
 life was free from the shadow of worldly cares or 
 human ambition. When they came to be visited by 
 European navigators, the contrast between the wild 
 Atlantic and their verdurous groves and glades was 
 so great, that they lost little of their ancient repute, 
 and to adventurous spirits they seemed to offer a de- 
 lightful retreat, when they should grow weary of the 
 intrigues of European courts. It is now known that 
 their natural advantages, though great, are hardly such 
 as to justify the glowing language in which they were 
 formerly described. Yet they possess a warm and
 
 160 PEAK OF TENEUIFFE. 
 
 genial climate, and, being all of volcanic formation, are 
 generally fortunate in a fertile soil. When viewed from 
 the sea, they seem so many oases of verdure, cradled in 
 the bosom of ocean; and this is especially true of Tene- 
 riffe, which raises its pyramidal bulk, 12,236 feet in 
 height, out of a wonderfully luxuriant girdle of vines, 
 laurels, pines, and junipers. Lanzarote is little else 
 than a mass of lava and ashes, with a crater which 
 burst into activity as recently as 1824. But Ferro, 
 anciently reputed the westernmost point of the Old 
 World, is pleasantly green and fertile; and Palma and 
 Gran Canaria the latter fully forty miles in circumfer- 
 ence rejoice in an abundant and various vegetation. 
 
 We shall here confine our attention to II Pico, or 
 Teneriffe, the great volcano of which is in every respect 
 remarkable. While within three thousand feet of the 
 full height of Mont Blanc, its sides are as richly 
 clothed as those of Etna, and its form is as sharply 
 defined as that of Stromboli. It rises from the sea 
 like a huge pyramid, and at sunrise and sunset its 
 black pyramidal shadow stretches for fifty miles across 
 the deep, so that the contiguous islands seem to repose 
 in a melancholy twilight. Its declivities exhibit a 
 well-marked succession of zones of vegetation, each 
 differing in character, and assuming more and more of 
 the sub- Alpine features as they approach the summit, 
 that singular sugar-loaf peak, or Piton, which crowns 
 the mountain-top, and springs out of a dreary sea of 
 volcanic ashes. 
 
 The ascent of the Peak has often been accomplished, 
 and between the narratives of different explorers it is
 
 GORGE OF OUCANEA. 161 
 
 difficult to chose. We shall select, however, that of 
 the French savant, M. Berthollet, as being, in all 
 probability, the least known to English readers. 
 
 He tells us that it was on the 8th of July he re- 
 solved to undertake the ascent of the Pic de Teyde, or, 
 as it is generally called in Europe, the Peak of Tene- 
 riffe. It was his design to ascend on the south side; 
 for though he knew that no former traveller had at- 
 tempted it, and that the paths leading thither were 
 almost impracticable, he was fired by the hope of dis- 
 covering some rare plants which had escaped the 
 researches of Brousonnet and Charles Smith. His 
 starting-point was Chasna, a village picturesquely 
 situated to the south of the Teyde, at an elevation of 
 4700 feet above the sea, though not more than three 
 leagues distant from the southern shore of the isle. 
 His companion was Mr. Macgregor, then British Consul 
 at the Canaries; and, attended by a couple of guides, 
 the two friends started at five in the morning. Two 
 hours' steady walking brought them to the base of the 
 central mountain. The pines of the Canaries, which 
 had covered nearly the whole of the district they had 
 been traversing, now became much rarer ; as they 
 advanced into the gorge of Oucanea they insensibly 
 disappeared, and were replaced by resinous brooms. 
 Oucanea is a place worthy of a pilgrimage : a volcanic 
 eruption, attended in all probability by violent com- 
 motions, by formerly overthrowing the base of the 
 central mass, created the great ravine which now exists. 
 The principal crater is easily recognized; it poured forth 
 
 (731)
 
 162 A PANORAMA OF PEAKS. 
 
 a torrent of vitrified lava which inundated all the sur- 
 rounding tract, and flowed over a space of upwards of 
 two leagues in the direction of the sea-coast. The 
 wild confusion of the scene is further increased by the 
 presence of enormous rocks or boulders, which seem to 
 have been detached from the neighbouring acclivities. 
 
 On emerging from the ravines of Oucanea, our 
 travellers continued to climb the mountain before 
 them; the white brooms, several clumps of which they 
 had already met near the crater, now appeared in great 
 abundance, and soon formed a zone of vegetation which 
 dominated exclusively round the bases of the peak. 
 
 The station at which they had arrived is called the 
 Degollada of Oucanea. The Teyde rose right in front 
 of them: they could count the black lava-torrents 
 which furrowed its slopes, and discover all the central 
 mountains of Teneriffe; for it is from this point only 
 that it is possible to embrace with a single glance the 
 whole group of volcanic peaks. This is a very striking 
 and imposing spectacle, of which no language can give 
 any just idea. The mountains of the Canary archipel- 
 ago, which perhaps in some remote antiquity formed 
 a completely circular chain, are now intersected by 
 several broad passages, whose rent and convulsed ap- 
 proaches sufficiently bear witness to the violent causes 
 that produced them. The lofty crests rise upwards of 
 9500 feet above the sea; the whole space enclosed within 
 the line of circumvallation of these trachytic mountains 
 constitutes an immense crater, of earlier origin than the 
 peak itself, which, indeed, the geologist Escolar aptly 
 entitles el hijo de las Canadas (the son of the Canaries).
 
 IN THE CANADAS. 165 
 
 It is nearly in the centre of this elliptical crater, the 
 major diameter of which measures about five leagues, 
 that the Teyde, with its cloud of smoke, raises its 
 elevated crest. The vast circuit around it is designated 
 at Teneriffe under the name of the "gorges of the Peak" 
 (Canadas del Teyde, or simply Canadas). 
 
 The track ascending to the Degollada of Oucanea, in 
 the depth of the gorges, is exceedingly rugged; the 
 counterscarp of the mountain is almost perpendicular, 
 and at several places breaks up into precipices not less 
 than nine hundred and fifty feet in height. When M. 
 Berthollet and Mr. Macgregor descended into the interior 
 of the Canadas, they could scarcely conceive how they 
 should manage to reach the bottom ; however, they suc- 
 ceeded. The level of these gorges is 2730 metres (8860 
 feet) above that of the sea, and the summit of the Teyde 
 rises other 985 metres (3230 feet). On one side stretched 
 the vast acclivities of the great cone, and on the other 
 the mountain-chain which they had just descended, the 
 almost perpendicular cutting of which had formerly 
 served as the wall of this immense crater of elevation. 
 What an astonishing spectacle ! And if the imagination 
 transports itself into the ages of geological revolution 
 when this formidable volcano was in all its activity, it 
 cannot conceive without terror of a fiery gulf more than 
 nine leagues in circumference and nine hundred and 
 fifty feet in depth ! Then only is it possible to form 
 an idea of the condition of fermentation of that epoch 
 of incandescence, and the formation of the Teyde in 
 the middle of this gulf will seem but a secondary 
 effect.
 
 166 ATMOSPHERIC RAREFACTION. 
 
 After having contemplated these great volcanic catas- 
 trophes, and before advancing farther towards the base 
 of the Teyde, our travellers betook themselves for a few 
 minutes' repose to the fountain of La Piedra, for they 
 were suffocated by the heat. In this elevated region the 
 air is always calm and transparent, the sky always of a 
 brilliant azure, and the lightest cloud never comes to 
 disturb the " pure serene." The intensity of the solar 
 rays in these ravines, their refraction on the expanses 
 of glittering white tufa, their dazzling scintillation on 
 all the fragments of pumice-stone and obsidian which 
 strew the soil, are so many causes productive of a high 
 temperature. From this elevated point one seems to 
 rule the clouds, and therefore none of those beneficent 
 mists which, at the lower levels, come to refresh the 
 atmosphere, bedew earth and revivify vegetation. The 
 inhabitant of the plains cannot traverse this zone with- 
 out speedily feeling its influence. The extreme dry- 
 ness of the air closes up the pores, arrests perspiration, 
 and cracks the skin ; an immoderate thirst incessantly 
 torments him, and he frequently seeks in vain for the 
 concealed spring which can quench it only for a moment. 
 It is in vain too that, to escape the burning arrows of 
 the sun, he attempts to take refuge under the clumps 
 of flowering broom or in the shadow of some projecting 
 rock ; everywhere the earth is burning, everywhere the 
 heat is insupportable, everywhere prevails that dead 
 tranquillity which disheartens him, and he is speedily 
 forced to abandon a shelter that no breath of air can 
 reach. 
 
 The fountain of La Piedra yields a deliciously fresh
 
 VOLCANIC TRACTS. 167 
 
 water ; the goats, which are allowed to wander freely 
 in these ravines, and the bees whose hives are situated 
 in the neighbourhood, frequent it to quench their thirst; 
 all around it the white broom flourishes: this useful 
 shrub is the ornament of the Canadas ; the goats browse 
 on its stems, while the bees incessantly plunder its 
 balmy flowers. Without the broom, which all-provi- 
 dent Nature has so abundantly spread in this valley, 
 how could those herds and precious swarms subsist, 
 which form for the inhabitants of the south of Teneriffe 
 one of the most important branches of rural economy ? 
 
 Our travellers next continued their ascent through 
 the defile of the Canada blanca ; afterwards, their 
 guides led them across a torrent of lava to enter an- 
 other defile, which opened into a third. The tracts 
 thus invaded by the volcanic eruptions are called, in 
 the language of the natives, mal pais. As they ad- 
 vanced, the obstacles seemed to increase in difficulty ; 
 every moment they were called upon to climb the heaps 
 of scoria and masses of obsidian which blocked up the 
 passes. For upwards of two hours they dragged their 
 weary limbs over this terrible soil. Then their guides, 
 who had already halted several times for the purpose 
 of holding council, seemed uncertain as to the route 
 which should be followed. At length one of them in- 
 formed the travellers that they had lost the track, and 
 the enterprise must be abandoned. Such, however, was 
 not the opinion of our travellers ; they had advanced 
 too far to be willing to return ; but they owned that it 
 was necessary to extricate themselves from their difficult
 
 168 ARRIVAL AT T1IE ESTANCIA. 
 
 position, for night was approaching. The locality into 
 which their ignorant guides had plunged them was 
 assuredly discouraging: lavas, accumulated in great 
 blocks, everywhere surrounded them ; beyond, they 
 appeared to spread out in vast sheets ; in what direc- 
 tion to bend their steps, our explorers could not deter- 
 mine. At last, by dint of sheer hard work and exertion, 
 they contrived to make a way for the unfortunate 
 horse which carried their provisions, and had narrowly 
 escaped destruction some ten times in the course of the 
 journey. 
 
 They were worn out with fatigue when they arrived 
 at the base of a mountain of pumice-stone heaped up 
 perpendicularly. When they had overcome this ob- 
 stacle, their boots were reduced to shreds ; but as they 
 had already reached one of the slopes of the Teyde, 
 they took courage, and prepared for further efforts. M. 
 Berth ollet, who had visited the spot in 1825, recognized 
 its features ; and, certain now of his path, led the little 
 company, without further difficulty, to the Estancia, 
 where they arrived about nine o'clock, by the light of a 
 cloudless moon. Notwithstanding the great elevation 
 of this station, they found the temperature very endur- 
 able; the air was exquisitely pure, and occasionally 
 some light gusts of the north wind brought them the 
 resinous odours of the broom. The guides, immediately 
 on their arrival at the station, levied a contribution on 
 the surrounding bushes, kindled an immense fire, and 
 proceeded to roast an unfortunate goat which they had 
 killed in the Canadas. Soon after supper, they grouped 
 themselves around the temporary hearth, and fell asleep.
 
 PLATFORM OF THE HAMBLETA. 169 
 
 M. Berthollet was not so fortunate; the day's march 
 had fired his blood, and his system was in such a state 
 of irritation that he could enjoy only a few fitful snatches 
 of slumber. The spectacle before his eyes had, more- 
 over, too powerful an attraction for him ; the serenity 
 of the sky, the solitariness of the scene, the fantastic 
 groups of rocks piled around the bivouac, the solemn 
 shadows reposing on the gorges from which the travel- 
 lers had just escaped, formed a strange, a weird, and an 
 imposing spectacle. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the morning when they aban- 
 doned their bivouac, and resumed their adventurous 
 march towards the summit of the peak. 
 
 The path which at first they followed was sufficiently 
 steep, yet by no means impracticable ; but on approach- 
 ing the Altavista, they found the chaotic condition of 
 the soil, through the accumulation of volcanic matter, 
 a formidable difficulty, and it was only with the 
 utmost caution they could thread their way through a 
 labyrinth of crags and crevasses. After having got clear 
 of this mal pais del Teyde, as the guides called it, they 
 reached the platform of the Eambleta. All the indica- 
 tions in this place point to the existence of a crater 
 anterior to that of the peak, for it is from thence have 
 issued the numerous lava-rivers which in past times 
 inundated the Canadas. The Teyde will have had its 
 intervals of repose, and it was probably after one of 
 these that a fresh outbreak produced the peak. This 
 volcanic " capital," which covers the ancient gulf, rises, 
 in fact, in the middle of the Rambleta ; hence it crowns
 
 170 A WONDERFUL PROSPECT. 
 
 the mountain, and the fissures of its crest, which were 
 plainly discernible to the adventurous explorers, were 
 lighted by the first rays of the sunrise. They already 
 " began to be aware " (as old writers say) of sulphurous 
 odours ; they touched the goal of their enterprise ; but 
 they had still to climb the declivities of this little cone, 
 the height of which is estimated at about 475 feet. 
 The pumice-stone and the fragments of scoria rendered 
 this ascent particularly fatiguing ; however, after resting 
 several times to take breath, they finally gained the 
 summit. 
 
 The prospect enjoyed by the traveller from this tre- 
 mendous elevation is necessarily very majestic ; it would 
 be impossible to formulate any accurate idea of its 
 various features, or to describe the conflicting emotions 
 which it awakens in the mind of the spectator. He is 
 half-dizzy with surprise, wonder, awe ; admiration com- 
 pels him to a breathless silence. From this grand 
 natural watch-tower, which the volcanic eruptions have 
 raised to a height of nearly 12,300 feet above the sea, 
 his glance embraces the seven verdurous oases of the 
 archipelago : to the east, the lofty summits of Canaria 
 pierce through the sunlit clouds ; beyond, Lanzerote and 
 Fortaventura sleep in their girdle of blue waters; to 
 the west, the deep shadow of the Teyde stretches in an 
 immense triangle as far as Gomera; and close at hand 
 lie Palma and Ferro. Beneath him he sees the green 
 slopes of Teneriffe, with the bold outline of its coasts, 
 its mountainous ramifications, its table-lands, and its 
 picturesque valleys. Long wanders the enraptured gaze 
 over the multitude of ridges and hollows indicated by
 
 SHADOW OF THE TEYDE. 171 
 
 the play of light and shade ; and every moment it dis- 
 covers some new beauty, some fresh object of interest 
 and attraction. 
 
 The panorama, charming as it was, lay at too great a 
 distance from our travellers for them to distinguish 
 every detail. They were forced to be content with the 
 general outlines of the picture, and its splendid masses 
 of colour; and, indeed, could they have seized all its 
 points, the impression of grandeur and supernatural 
 beauty would have been weakened. It was not pos- 
 sible for them to appreciate even the heights and the 
 distances, for the mountains seemed to be dwarfed by 
 the colossal shadow of the Teyde. The immensity of 
 the spectacle overwhelmed them with admiration ; but 
 it quickly changed its aspect. As the sun advanced on 
 its westward path, the vapours rose on every side, and 
 gradually gathered into condensed masses, floating 
 around the hills and over the valleys. A wreath of 
 clouds soon encircled each lofty peak ; and before long 
 the whole surface of the island was shrouded in a 
 pearly mist, over which the eye of the spectator wan- 
 dered as over a cloudy sea. 
 
 As the descent of the peak presents no features of 
 interest, we shall take leave of our adventurers upon 
 its majestic summit.
 
 VI. 
 
 feter-f otte. 
 (ISLAND OF MAURITIUS.) 
 
 ilT some distance from the east coast of Mada- 
 gascar, in the warm waters of the Indian 
 Ocean, and in latitude 20 S., lies the fine 
 island of Mauritius. It owes its name to 
 the Dutch, its original discoverers, who so christened 
 it in honour of their great statesman, Prince Maurice of 
 Holland. From them it passed to the French, who re- 
 named it He de France, and held it for about a century, 
 when it was conquered by the British. Its possession 
 was confirmed to us by the treaties of 1814 and 1815 ; 
 and we restored to it its old title. Thickly wooded 
 and copiously watered, with a healthy climate and a 
 fertile soil, it forms a valuable colony. 
 
 The Mauritius is traversed by several mountain- 
 chains, the culminating point of which, named the 
 Peter-Botte, rises 2874 feet above the sea. For a long 
 time this singular peak, with its round and barren crest, 
 frequently hidden by impenetrable mists, defied the 
 efforts of the most enthusiastic mountain-climbers, and
 
 UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT. 173 
 
 remained one of the virgin summits of the world. Unless, 
 indeed, we accept the tradition which connects its name 
 with that of a mysterious traveller who ascended it 
 without assistance. Having arrived, says the story, at 
 the upper contraction of the peak, which is called the 
 col, he carried over it, by means of an arrow armed with 
 a long piece of line, a rope strong enough to -sustain his 
 weight ; but the unfortunate adventurer, in the course 
 of his descent, was precipitated into the ravines that 
 border the mountain, and his corpse was never found. 
 
 Various attempts were made at various times to 
 accomplish the ascent of this formidable mountain, but 
 none proved successful until the month of September 
 1832. 
 
 In the previous year, Mr. Lloyd, an engineer, had 
 attained a point near the col, where he had raised a lad- 
 der against the perpendicular face of the rock. Although 
 it did not reach more than half-way up the precipice, 
 he came to the conclusion that it was possible to over- 
 come this first obstacle ; and, consequently, in the fol- 
 lowing year he resumed his efforts, accompanied by 
 Lieutenant Taylor and several other officers. 
 
 The bold adventurers started on the 7th of September. 
 After having crossed a ravine which intersects the lower 
 portion of the peak, they made rapid progress to the 
 point where Mr. Lloyd had left his ladder in the pre- 
 ceding year. Here they found themselves on a ridge 
 not more than seven feet wide, which on the one 
 hand was dominated by a wooded gorge, and on the 
 other was abruptly terminated by a pi-ecipice rising
 
 174 A GALLANT NEGRO. 
 
 upwards of 1600 feet above the plain. One of the 
 extremities of this ridge was similarly terminated by a 
 precipice of equal depth ; the other abutted upon the 
 mountain, and there raised itself with numerous gaps 
 and projections, like the blade of a knife broken into 
 notches of different size. After extending to the moun- 
 tain-neck, or col, it joined on to a narrow ledge which 
 ran around the mountain, and above which rose, in dis- 
 dainful haughtiness, the summit of the Peter-Botte. 
 
 The travellers now addressed themselves to their 
 task : they reared the ladder which Mr. Lloyd had left 
 there the year before, and firmly planted its foot against 
 a projecting crag. Then a negro servant of Mr. Lloyd 
 mounted to the summit; where, boldly trusting to his 
 agility and presence of mind, he climbed along the per- 
 pendicular rock, clinging to it after the manner of the 
 apes, with hands and feet, and availing himself of every 
 projection, though a single false movement would have 
 precipitated him into the depths below. His daring, how- 
 ever, was crowned with success. He gained the top- 
 most point, and uttering a loud hurrah! exclaimed, 
 " All goes well ! " A rope which he had carried with 
 him he firmly secured, and then the rest of the party, 
 four in number, hauled themselves up by it. In this 
 way they gained the mountain-neck, sometimes on their 
 knees, sometimes straddling across the top of the ridge ; 
 being able, as Lieutenant Taylor afterwards said, to 
 fling at one and the same time their left shoe into the 
 wooded ravine, and their right into the plain which lies 
 on the other side of the mountain. 
 
 The head of the peak, as we have said, consists of an
 
 Ml RITI US.
 
 TWICE MISSED. 177 
 
 enormous rock, about six feet and a half in height, 
 which, owing to its bulging form, extends considerably 
 beyond its base, like a pear set erect upon its stalk ; the 
 ledge which circles round its neck is about seven feet 
 wide, and everywhere terminated by a precipice, except 
 at the point of access discovered by our explorers. 
 
 How should they cross this head and its expansion ? 
 Fortunately, one of the faces, though jutting beyond the 
 base, rises perpendicularly on the prolongation of the 
 lower precipice, instead of exceeding or overpassing it 
 like the others ; and, to add to the good fortune of our 
 party, it corresponded precisely to the point at which 
 they had arrived. This being ascertained, they estab- 
 lished a communication with the lower part of the 
 mountain by means of a double rope, and in this way 
 hauled up their equipment, such as a crow-bar, a 
 hammer, additional ropes, and the like. 
 
 They had prepared some iron arrows, attached to the 
 end of a rope ; the difficulty consisted in launching them 
 over the head of the Peter-Botte, since the latter pro- 
 jected beyond the base on which they were established. 
 Mr. Lloyd, having wound round his body a stout rope, 
 one end of which was held by his companions, cautiously 
 passed to the other side of the mountain ; and there, 
 armed with the arrow-loaded gun, inclining over the 
 abyss, supported by the cord around his loins, and his 
 feet forming a prop or buttress against the brink of the 
 precipice, he fired. Twice the arrow missed ; he then 
 had recourse to a stone fastened to a cord, and balancing 
 it diagonally, like a sling, he attempted to make it pass 
 over the rock. Vain hope ! Disappointment seized 
 
 (731) 12
 
 178 THE SUMMIT REACHED. 
 
 upon the travellers ; when, at a last effort, a momentary 
 gust of wind beat back the stone upon the rock, so that 
 it fell on the other side ! Immediately the ladders were 
 arranged and made fast ; a good cable served as a balus- 
 trade ; and the engineer, Lloyd, was the first to haul 
 himself to the summit of the rock, with joyous shouts 
 and loud hurrahs. The others followed ; and the Union 
 Jack, waving freely and gracefully on the crest of the 
 vanquished Peter-Botte, was immediately saluted by 
 a frigate lying in the roads, and by the land battery. 
 Then the hardy adventurers broke the neck of a bottle 
 of good wine, and standing erect on this elevated pin- 
 nacle, baptized it in the name of King William, drink- 
 ing to His Majesty's health, and hailing 
 
 " The flag that has braved a thousand years 
 The battle and the breeze " 
 
 with hearty acclamations. 
 
 It is satisfactory to state that the descent was safely 
 accomplished, and that the adventurers returned that 
 same evening to Port Louis, where they met with the 
 reception due to their courage. That the ascent of the 
 Peter-Botte added anything to the sum of scientific 
 knowledge cannot, indeed, be asserted; but we think 
 it may be said that every fresh manifestation of intre- 
 pidity and resolution is a decided gain to humanity.
 
 VII. 
 Jttotmt JUhos. 
 
 GLANCE at the map of Greece will show the 
 reader that the coast of Macedonia throws off 
 into the " blue ^gean " three narrow penin- 
 sulas, like the prongs of a trident. The 
 easternmost of these is the only one of special interest. 
 It is the Hagion Oros, or Holy Mountain of the Greeks,* 
 the Monte Santo of the Italians, otherwise Mount 
 Athos ; though, strictly speaking, the last-named appel- 
 lation belongs only to the high peak which forms its 
 seaward termination. This peninsula is a mountain- 
 mass, about forty miles long by four miles broad, con- 
 nected with the mainland of Macedonia by a low, narrow 
 isthmus, through which Xerxes, warned by the wreck 
 of the fleet of Mardonius on its difficult shores, cut a 
 navigable canal. From the isthmus the ground rises 
 rapidly into a steep central ridge, which traverses the 
 peninsula like a backbone, and is broken up laterally 
 into deep romantic gorges, clothed with forests of beech 
 and chestnut on the higher slopes, and on the lower 
 
 * The ancients called it Acte.
 
 180 A CENTRE OF TEMPESTS. 
 
 with oaks and plane-trees, the olive, cypress, arbutus, 
 catalpa, and a rich undergrowth of heath and broom ; 
 in addition to which, as if the hand of a benignant 
 Nature never wearied of pouring forth its stores, abund- 
 ant creepers trail over the trees, and wreath the branches 
 with their gay festoons. The peak itself, says Mr. 
 Tozer, is, from its height (6400 feet) and solitary position, 
 its conical form and delicate colour, a most impressive 
 mountain. It rises far above the region of firs, in a 
 steep mass of white marble, which, from exposure to 
 the atmosphere, assumes a faint, tender tint of gray. 
 " I have seen," he adds, " its pyramidal outline from the 
 plains of Troy, nearly one hundred miles off, towering up 
 from the horizon, like a vast spirit of the waters, when 
 the rest of the peninsula was concealed below. So great 
 is the distance that it is visible only at sunset, when 
 the faintness of the light allows it to appear. From 
 its isolated position it is a centre of attraction to the 
 storms in the north of the ^Egean ; in consequence of 
 which the Greek sailors have so great a dread of round- 
 ing it in winter, that it would be no unreasonable 
 speculation for an enterprising government to renew 
 the work of Xerxes." 
 
 Mount Athos was formerly the station of a fire- 
 beacon, intended for the guidance of the mariners of the 
 ^Egean. The Greek sculptor Deinocrates conceived the 
 magnificently extravagant idea of carving it into a 
 statue of Alexander the Great, holding a city in his 
 hands. 
 
 A few names of towns such as Uranopolis, Diuna, 
 Olophyxos, and Cleones are nearly all that antiquity
 
 THE MOUNTAIN-PENINSULA. 181 
 
 lias left us in the sacred peninsula. At the extremity 
 were the promontories of Nymphseum and Akrothoon. 
 But if antiquity has done little for it, Nature has done 
 much. Its scenery is everywhere of the most striking 
 character, and includes the finest imaginable combina- 
 tions of those three essential elements of a romantic 
 landscape, rock, wood, and water. In every view is 
 found the deep blue stretch of the classic ^Egean ; and 
 on the horizon, to the north and east, tower the heights 
 of Mount Pangseus, and the bold and varied outlines of 
 the historic islands of Thasos, Samothrace, Imbros, and 
 Lemnos. Turning to the slopes of the Holy Mountain, 
 the traveller sees a softer but not less pleasing picture. 
 They are dotted with farms and monastic buildings, 
 around which the blooming corn-fields bear witness to 
 human industry skilfully exercised. Striking inland, 
 he comes upon dells filled with spreading planes and 
 chestnuts, and embowered with creepers, " a wilder- 
 ness of leafy shade, places which Shelley would have 
 delighted in," which he has described in his " Alastor ; " 
 and from the openings in the luxuriant foliaged 
 screen the majestic peak is frequently visible, its lower 
 declivities melting into purple haze, while its summit 
 assumes an unearthly, ethereal, delicate tint of violet. 
 
 In the centuries immediately following the coming of 
 Christ and the proclamation of the gospel, the imperial 
 persecutions compelled a great number of Christians to 
 withdraw into the deserts. While many sealed with 
 their blood their witness to the truth, others, less 
 confident in their moral strength, preferred to escape 
 from the conflict, and, in imitation of the disciples
 
 182 AN ERA OF HERMITS. 
 
 of St. John, in retirement from the world, to lead 
 an austere and devout life. Thus it came to pass 
 that thousands of Christians peopled the solitudes of 
 Syria and the Thebaid. It was probably about the 
 same time that some fugitives from Pagandom sought 
 out a refuge upon Mount Athos, the peninsular form 
 and abrupt declivities of which offered many oppor- 
 tunities for a secure retreat. The 'exact date of this 
 hegira cannot be determined. Several of the monas- 
 teries possess relics and works of ancient art which are 
 described as presents from the Empress Pulcheria; 
 others attribute their foundation to the time of Con- 
 stantine. At all events, hermitages and saintly retreats 
 existed here at a very early period; and when the 
 Moslems overran Egypt, their number would be in- 
 creased by the monks who fled before the baleful 
 Crescent. 
 
 Owing to this remote antiquity, and to the exemption 
 it has enjoyed from the storms of war, Mount Athos 
 possesses at the present day many features of almost 
 unexampled interest. Nowhere in Europe, it is said, 
 can such a collection of ancient jewellery and gold- 
 smith's work be found as is presented by the relics 
 treasured up in its monasteries ; nowhere else can the 
 peculiarities of the Byzantine school of painting be so 
 advantageously studied; and some of the illuminated 
 manuscripts are masterpieces of scriptorial art. With 
 the single exception of Pompeii, the monastic buildings 
 are the oldest specimens extant of domestic archi- 
 tecture ; and within their walls the life of the Middle 
 Ages is in constant course of reproduction, with all its
 
 AN UNGALLANT COMMUNITY. 183 
 
 manners and customs, its dress, and its modes of 
 thought and belief, absolutely unchanged. 
 
 If Athos offers a delightful field of exploration to 
 the traveller, it is with this exception, he must visit 
 it unaccompanied by wife, sister, mother, or children. 
 St. Kevin was riot more jealous of the presence of the 
 " other sex " on his holy island, than the monks of their 
 intrusion into the sacred shades of the peninsula. Not 
 only, says Mr. Tozer, are women prevented from land- 
 ing on its shores, but no cow, ewe, she-goat, sow, hen, 
 or other creature of the forbidden sex, is, under any 
 circumstances, admitted. " This restriction, absurd as 
 it seems at first sight, is in reality a singular parallel to 
 some of the ordinances of the Mosaic law such, for 
 instance, as those in Leviticus xix. 19, where garments 
 of mixed linen and woollen texture are forbidden to be 
 worn ; the object in both cases being to enforce the 
 main precept by keeping it before the minds of the 
 people in a number of minor analogous cases." And it 
 may be observed that the prohibition was justifiable on 
 the grounds of policy ; the presence of woman would 
 have been incompatible with the peace and serenity of 
 a monastic community. Even the Turkish governor, 
 during the term of his residence, must forego the 
 domestic pleasures of the harem. This officer, the 
 representative of the Porte, and the only Mohammedan 
 allowed to live here, is in reality of very little influence 
 in the affairs of the monks, and his duties are chiefly 
 limited to the collection of taxes. The defensive force 
 of the district consists of about twenty-five Christian 
 soldiers, who are under the direction of the Holy
 
 184 MONASTERIES OF MOUNT ATHOS. 
 
 Synod, a federal representative body, to which each of 
 the twenty monasteries sends a delegate (am-nrpoa-wn-os). 
 The independence and privileges of Athos are of very 
 ancient date. Shortly before the conquest of Constan- 
 tinople, the monks of the peninsula agreed to submit to 
 the rule of Mahomet II. on his guaranteeing them all 
 the rights and liberties they then enjoyed; and this 
 guarantee has been observed with much fidelity by the 
 Turkish sultans. 
 
 The monasteries of Mount Athos now number twenty; 
 or, as some authorities say, twenty-three. They are 
 scattered all over the mountain, at a short distance 
 from the sea, Eleven are situated on the eastern slope. 
 Among the most ancient may be named those of Aghia- 
 Labra, or the Holy Monastery ; Vatopedi ; Iveron ; and 
 Xilandari. Aghia-Labra occupies the summit of the 
 Cape of Monte Santo, the Akrothoon of the ancients. 
 This monastery, which now contains about four hun- 
 dred monks, was founded by St. Athanasius early in 
 the fourth century ; and to this origin it owes a peculiar 
 consideration as, indeed, its designation indicates. 
 
 The convents on the western slope are all of later 
 date, and consequently of inferior interest. 
 
 Between the two declivities, and on the culminating 
 point of the mountain, stands the small church of the 
 Metamorphosis (or Transfiguration). There are also a 
 town and some small villages on the peninsula. Its 
 metropolis, so to speak, is the town of Caryes, or " the 
 Hazels," which occupies a central position, and is sur- 
 rounded by groves of the trees from which it takes 
 its name. It consists mainly of one long street, with
 
 THE MONASTIC LIFE. 185 
 
 open shops, forming a kind of bazaar; and is inhabited 
 entirely, by monks. 
 
 Mr. Tozer remarks that one of the greatest sources of 
 interest in a visit to Athos consists in this, that it 
 exhibits in one view all the different phases of Eastern 
 monastic life. First, we are introduced to the hermits, 
 who, like St. Anthony, the first anchorite though free 
 from his peculiar temptation dwell here in complete 
 solitude, and practise the severest exclusion. In the 
 /ca&o-yuara, or retreats, we meet with small associations 
 of monks, living together in retirement, and labouring 
 together, on the communistic principle, like the early 
 Christians : " And all that believed were together, 
 and had all things common " (Acts ii. 44). Then, when 
 several of these retreats are grouped round a central 
 church, they compose a skete, or aa-KrjT^piov, which in 
 some cases differs from a monastery only in not possess- 
 ing an independent constitution. And, finally, we find 
 the regular monasteries; each with a corporate existence 
 of its own, possessing land on the mountain, and the 
 right of representation in the Synod. These must be 
 subdivided into two classes : first, the Coenobite, with 
 one hegumen or warden, a common stock, and a common 
 table ; second, the Tdiorrhythrine, in which " each man 
 is a rule to himself," and the constitution is based on 
 republican principles, the government being vested in 
 the hands of two superiors, annually elected. Here the 
 inmates usually take their meals in their own cells, and 
 enjoy considerable freedom, both as to the disposal of 
 their time and the accumulation of private means.
 
 186 ATHOS AND ITS MONKS. 
 
 The Idiorrhythrine rule is, as Mr. Tozer remarks, a 
 departure from the original form, and of comparatively 
 recent introduction ; and it is worthy of note that the 
 majority of the monasteries on the eastern slopes have 
 adopted this less rigorous system of discipline, while 
 those in more secluded positions, under the rugged 
 precipices of the western side,' have, with only two ex- 
 ceptions, remained Coenobite. The lands which these 
 monasteries possess out of Athos lie partly in Mace- 
 donia, partly in the ^gean Islands, and still more 
 largely in the Danubian principalities, having been 
 bestowed upon them in the old time by the Hospodars 
 of Moldavia and Wallachia. 
 
 The number of monks on Mount Athos exceeds 
 3000. There is also a population of 3000 to 3500 
 Koar/j-iKoi, or seculars; some of whom reside permanently 
 in the convents as servants or labourers, but without 
 taking monastic vows, while others accept engagements 
 for a limited period. The number of monks in the 
 separate monasteries varies from twenty-five to three 
 hundred, but one hundred may be regarded as the 
 average. 
 
 The following account of a visit to the Aghia-Labra 
 is from a French source: * 
 
 I set out from Athens, he says, accompanied by a 
 dragoman, or interpreter. The wind was favourable, 
 and we were soon far distant from the Piraeus. The 
 brig cast anchor off Cape Sunium, the headland ren- 
 dered classic by Falconer's poem of " The Shipwreck," 
 and Byron's well-known description in " Childe Harold." 
 
 * M. Papety, in the "Revue des Deux Moudes."
 
 IN THE "BLUE AEGEAN." 187 
 
 The famous temple of Pallas Athene is situated on the 
 summit of the promontory, which rises precipitously 
 from the sea. Nine of the columns of the neos, or nave, 
 are extant, while three others surround an angle of the 
 fa9ade which faces towards the east. These are of the 
 Doric order, and constructed of gray marble. But it 
 must have needed the "eagle eyes" of a Greek sailor 
 to descry, as Pausanias assures us, at this distance of 
 thirty-six miles, the lance of the statue of Pallas, which 
 formerly dominated over the Athenian Acropolis. 
 
 We doubled the island of Andros and the extremity 
 of Eubcea, whose rich vegetation forms a striking con- 
 trast to the barrenness of the scenery around it. Next 
 day we came in sight of the isles of Ipsara and Scio, 
 and also discovered the island of St. Estrata. The 
 watchful vision of the seamen could now make out the 
 cloud-like Athos. I recollect with pleasure the evenings 
 I spent on the quarter-deck, in the midst of all this 
 beautiful panorama of sea and land. The pilot, with 
 much shuddering, related the story of the Vrakopoula, 
 a kind of vampire, from which one can save oneself 
 only by piercing him to the heart at midnight that is, 
 at the moment when he issues from his tomb. He told 
 us also that in Milo, his native isle, every night might 
 be seen three white phantoms, who fluttered along the 
 shore, and spell-bound the belated fishermen. I felt 
 myself thrown back to past ages on hearing him call 
 those shadows sirens. 
 
 On the third day after our departure from Athens, we 
 saw Mount Athos before us. We perceived its convents, 
 like small white specks, or a girdle of detached forts.
 
 188 A REMARKABLE IMAGE. 
 
 Immediately on disembarking, I directed my steps 
 towards a pathway almost covered witli flowering haw- 
 thorns and carob-trees, which, after a quarter of an 
 hour's climbing, conducted me to the convent of Aghia- 
 Labra. 
 
 The convent-church is rich in the possession of one 
 of the most complete and authentic specimens of the 
 Byzantine school of painting. The cupola is entirely 
 occupied with a colossal image of Christ, represented 
 under the pure and majestic traits afterwards adopted 
 by the artists of the Renaissance. His complexion, to 
 use their expression, is wheat colour ("couleur de bid"). 
 With one hand He points to the gospel, which, with the 
 other, He holds to His heart. He has fair long hair, 
 but the beard is black, and so are His eyebrows, which 
 thus communicate to His half-closed eyes an expression 
 both of power and tenderness. The painters of the 
 Byzantine school proportioned the size of their figures 
 to the importance of the role which they attributed to 
 the personages represented ; thus the saints increase in 
 stature according as they are placed nearer and nearer 
 to our Lord ; while He himself so completely overtops 
 them, that nothing but His bust is ever seen. 
 
 At the bottom of the cupola are erect figures of arch- 
 angels, clothed in golden dalmatics, and holding great 
 sceptres, surmounted by an image of Christ, in their 
 hands. The brilliant colours of their costumes are 
 " brought up " by the black background on which they 
 are denned. Their attitude breathes a tranquil majesty. 
 Above them may be perceived some small angels, who
 
 THE CONVENT-CHURCH. 189 
 
 like pure spirits, seem, as they approach the Saviour 
 throned in the centre, to disengage themselves more and 
 more from the material. These angels borrow nothing 
 from the human form but the head; the body is replaced 
 by a greater or less number of wings. They might be 
 described as flames floating in the azure of heaven, and 
 it is in the midst of these asteroids that, on a ground 
 
 * o 
 
 of gold, the image of Christ, immense, and dominating 
 the whole church, appears. Wherever one kneels in 
 prayer, one kneels immediately in the eye of God. 
 
 The pendants represent the four evangelists writing 
 to the dictation of an apostle. The remainder of the 
 church is covered with subjects drawn from the Old and 
 New Testaments. In the two arms of the cross are 
 figured the saints of the Church Militant and those who 
 protected the rising Christianity. They are all repre- 
 sented erect, and full front, having among them no bond 
 of composition, and outlining themselves, as it were, 
 upon a black ground. The same arrangement is notice- 
 able in all the other convents; where, in conformity 
 with the immutable rules of the Byzantine art, we find 
 exactly the same subjects treated in exactly the same 
 manner, and exactly the same personages in exactly the 
 same attitudes. 
 
 Towards the lower end of the nave, on the left, a 
 painting, accompanied by an almost illegible inscription, 
 would seem to represent one of the French princes who 
 carved out for themselves a domain in Greece on their 
 return from the crusades. He wears the head-gear of 
 the Merovingian kings, and a dalmatic which, as well 
 as his crown, is ornamented with fleuvs de Us. In his
 
 190 FIGURES OF THE ASCETES. 
 
 hands he holds the facade of a church, which probably 
 he had erected at his own cost. In front of him stands 
 his son, similarly attired. 
 
 Under the exterior portico are figured, in the attitude 
 of prayer, the ascetes, or anchorites, who, in imitation 
 of the fathers of the desert, inhabit the mountain-caves, 
 preserving the most absolute seclusion. These soli- 
 taries, reduced by excessive abstemiousness almost to 
 the condition of skeletons, have no other clothing than 
 a girdle of leaves. Their beard, pointed, descends to 
 the ankle. By the side of these figures runs the inscrip- 
 tion : "Such was the life of the ascetics!" It is, in 
 truth, the ideal of an ascetic life, which the artist has 
 here set forth within his narrow limits. Art itself is 
 for the hermits nothing more than the expression of 
 that life, whose frightful austerity reflects itself in the 
 paintings with which they embellish the various monas- 
 teries. These hermits also carve small wooden crosses, 
 masterpieces of patience, which preserve to this day 
 the character of their ancient frescoes. 
 
 By the monks of Aghia-Labra its very remarkable 
 paintings are attributed to a monk named Manuel Pau- 
 selinos; but they do not know at what date lie flourished. 
 The figures are executed on fresco by small hatchings, 
 so fine as to be invisible at a distance. The tones are 
 very pale, and make no pretension to imitate or rival 
 reality. The whole is rather coloured than painted. 
 
 I had to expedite my visit to other parts of the 
 mountain, and a longer sojourn at Aghia-Labra would 
 have taught me nothing. I therefore quitted the
 
 CONVENT OF IVEKON. 191 
 
 monastery. On the road to Caryes, I caught sight of 
 several ruined towers. This tract of the mountain is 
 finely wooded, and contains game in abundance ; a use- 
 less luxury, for the monks never hunt. Beyond, we 
 crossed a dilapidated bridge, and arrived at a hermitage, 
 where new cenobites arrive daily, and where the scene 
 is so agreeable as to seem destined, at some not distant 
 date, for the site of a new convent. 
 
 Continuing my pilgrimage without halting at the 
 convents of Caracallon and Philotheon, which are in no 
 way remarkable, I arrived by abrupt paths at the con- 
 vent of Iveron. The buildings composing it are grouped 
 with more attention to order than those of the other 
 monasteries. Access to the cloister is obtained by a 
 single gate, which is closed every night, for fear of attack 
 or surprise. On entering, we observe some booths 
 where the religious sell the rudely -imprinted images 
 they obtain from Caryes ; various utensils fabricated in 
 the convents ; amulets of horn and copper the former 
 chiselled by a knife, the latter struck out by a wedge ; 
 monastic vestments, and tunics woven from bark tissues, 
 imported from Constantinople ; veils, likewise of Turk- 
 ish manufacture, but embroidered by the monks with 
 wonderful skill, and intended for the service of the altar. 
 
 Caryes is situated in the centre of Athos, and over- 
 looks a wooded valley. The aspect of the town is that 
 of a cluster of Turkish pleasure-houses. The twenty- 
 three convents of Athos send each, to represent them in 
 the protalion at Caryes, a senator or epistate, who is 
 generally the ex-superior or igoremenos of the preceding 
 year. To each senator is allotted a separate house.
 
 192 VISIT TO CARYES. 
 
 His functions last but a twelvemonth. From these 
 twenty-three representatives is annually chosen the 
 head of the little republic. The great council adminis- 
 ters the revenues of the convents, and inflicts the pun- 
 ishments incurred by the monks for transgressing the 
 statutes. At Caryes also resides, as already stated, the 
 Agha who represents the Turkish Government. 
 
 The appearance of Caryes is sufficiently curious. 
 The town is divided into several streets almost entirely 
 occupied by gloomy booths or shops, with very low 
 fronts. The articles sold in these are imported from 
 Salonika, and among them are found all kinds of uten- 
 sils, carved in wood, and images of saints and Madonnas 
 sculptured out of horn. A printing-press is one of the 
 attractions of Caryes; it turns out a large number of 
 rude engravings exclusively representing religious sub- 
 jects, or views of convents, chiefly remarkable for not 
 bearing the slightest resemblance to the places they are 
 said to represent. 
 
 The total absence of women, common to all parts of 
 Mount Athos, becomes more marked at Caryes by the 
 movement of an agglomerated population, where one 
 sees only caloyers, merchants, purchasers, vendors, pro- 
 menaders. Caryes offers the spectacle, unique in 
 Europe, of a town of monks exercising themselves in all 
 the labours of civil life. At intervals in the streets the 
 traveller comes upon wooden benches, occupied by 
 monks and novices sitting cross-legged, and threading 
 through their fingers their rosaries of mother-of-pearl. 
 
 I had visited the most interesting portions of Athos,
 
 A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE. 193 
 
 and nothing remained for me but to rejoin the com- 
 mander of the Argus, who was waiting my return to 
 set sail. A boat was sent to carry me to the part of 
 the isthmus near which the brig was anchored. An 
 incident which almost immediately followed on our 
 departure, showed me that the population of Athos is 
 not exclusively composed of pacific monks. We had 
 embarked some hours, and were skirting the coast, when, 
 towards midnight, we were silently accosted by a boat, 
 the rowers of whicli attempted to board our own ; the 
 sight of our arms made them beat a retreat, and we got 
 quit of them with a violent shock ; a noise of oars indi- 
 cating a rapid flight was the only reply vouchsafed to 
 our indignant questions. Had our military equipment 
 disconcerted a hostile project, or simply frightened away 
 some curious visitors ? I do not know, but the former 
 hypothesis appears to me the more probable. Since the 
 Mohammedan conquest, in fact, pirates have never 
 ceased to infest these waters. 
 
 At sunrise we found ourselves near the narrowest 
 part of the isthmus, where some traces of the canal 
 excavated by Xerxes are still visible. I crossed the 
 isthmus to the so-called " Gates of Cassandra," where 
 we lighted a fire, the preconcerted signal. A boat came 
 for us, and we steered towards Athens. 
 
 This visit to the monasteries of Mount Athos had 
 enabled rne to seize more accurately and clearly the 
 different phases of the Byzantine school, and its real in- 
 fluence on the destinies of Art. Originating at a period 
 
 when the human race, abandoning its exhausted tradi- 
 (D 13
 
 194 THE BYZANTINE SCHOOL OF ART. 
 
 tions, sought to translate into the language of the past 
 the new thoughts and feelings which were about to 
 dictate the law of the future, the Byzantine school ren- 
 dered to Christianity, and to the art which was its 
 expression, the most eminent services. While the intel- 
 lectual heritage of antiquity was at its disposal, the 
 Byzantine artists adapted to their use all the elements 
 they could borrow from it. Their art reached its apogee 
 about the third century, and continued to flourish until 
 the seventh ; the protection of the Constantinopolitan 
 emperors encouraged its progress and sustained its 
 flight. Withering, in the centuries which followed, 
 under the invasions of the barbarians, obscured and 
 sophisticated in its technical portion during the long 
 intellectual night into which Europe was plunged, this 
 art nevertheless survived; and the school preserved 
 these traditions which, transmitted at a later date to 
 the Western nations, were, under more favourable cir- 
 cumstances, to receive so magnificent a development. 
 This honour suffices to immortalize it; but there stopped 
 the services it was able to render. The prolonged 
 influence of this transitional art, confined to principles 
 of dogmatic inflexibility, finished by suffocating by 
 crushing the life out of the more elevated and perfect 
 art which was called to replace it. There was wanting 
 to the Byzantine school that principle, as indispensable 
 to man's intellectual as to his moral development, 
 liberty. This principle our Christian art received from 
 Italy, and thenceforth drew from it a marvellous vitality 
 in the combination of every individual force and every 
 spontaneous inspiration.
 
 CONVENT-CHURCH OF IVERON. 195 
 
 Thus far, M. Papety. But a few notes from Mr. 
 Tozer's valuable narrative are essential to complete our 
 sketch of Mount Athos and its monks. 
 
 The general features of the church attached to the 
 Athos monasteries may be understood from a description 
 of that of Iveron. Entering at the west end, we find 
 ourselves in the proaulion or porch, a corridor, exter- 
 nally supported by light pillars, and running the entire 
 width of the building. Here are represented Apocalyp- 
 tic scenes, more particularly the punishment of the 
 wicked ; and in one place we may examine some 
 pictures of the (Ecumenical Councils that of Nice being 
 specially interesting. For observe : the great Athan- 
 asius figures as a young man stooping down to write 
 the Creed, while Arms is seen between his two oppon- 
 ents, Spiridien and Nicholas, vigorously contending : to 
 the right of this animated group a band of Arians, in 
 philosopher's garb, are entering the council-chamber to 
 recant their heresy, or are being driven into a prison 
 by a man armed with a club. 
 
 Next we pass into the first narthex or antechapel, 
 which contains representations of various forms of mar- 
 tyrdom; on either side of the entrance are figures of 
 SS. Peter and Paul. In the second narthex are frescoes 
 of saints and hermits, who frown from the walls in 
 austere gloom. "These narthekes, which are divided 
 by walls from one another and from the body of the 
 church, seem originally," says Mr. Tozer, " to have been 
 intended for catechumens and penitents, and must have 
 been introduced into the monastic churches more for 
 the sake of maintaining the usual type, than with a
 
 196 FIGURES AND FRESCOES. 
 
 view to actual use: as it is, they are employed for 
 the celebration of the more ordinary services; and when 
 the body of the church is too small for the number of 
 worshippers, they serve to provide additional room." 
 
 We now enter the main body of the church, which is 
 in the form of a Greek cross, with a central cupola sup- 
 ported on four pillars, symbolical of the four Evangelists. 
 At the east end and in the transepts are semi-cupolas ; 
 but the sanctuary is wholly concealed by the cionostase, 
 a wooden screen reaching nearly to the roof, and most 
 elaborately carved and gilt, with pictures in carved 
 settings of our Lord and saints. The position of two of 
 these frescoes is always the same in every monastery: 
 in the cupola, a colossal figure of the Saviour ; and over 
 the western entrance-door, the Repose (/cot/u^o-*?) of the 
 Virgin. The walls elsewhere are blazoned with Scrip- 
 tural subjects ; arid generally in one of the transepts 
 may be seen a group of young warrior-saints, with St. 
 George conspicuous among them. How singular the 
 irony of fate, which has made this favourite hero of the 
 Eastern monks the patron-saint of " merry England " ! 
 
 A graceful brass coronal hangs from the drum of the 
 cupola, and to this are suspended silver lamps, small 
 Byzantine pictures, and ostrich eggs : these are symbol- 
 ical of faith, in allusion to the curious but beautiful 
 fable, embodied by Southey in his " Thalaba," that the 
 ostrich hatches its eggs by gazing steadfastly at them. 
 The floor is partially ornamented with opus Alexan- 
 drinum, a kind of inlaid work, or mosaic, of white 
 marble, porphyry, and verd antique; and at suitable 
 places lecterns, elaborately enriched with mother-of-
 
 THE REFECTORY. 197 
 
 pearl and tortoise-shell, are erected. Around the sides 
 are ranged the stalls, which are duly provided with 
 misereres, though the monks mostly stand during the 
 whole service. 
 
 Having completed our examination of the church, we 
 return to the proaulion ; where are two semantra, or 
 instruments for summoning the brethren to prayers. 
 One of these is a flat long board, narrow in the centre, 
 so that it may be held by one hand while the other 
 strikes it with a wooden mallet. The second is of iron, 
 resembling a piece of the tire of a wheel ; and this is 
 operated upon with a hammer. At dead of night the 
 monotonous sound of these strange rude instruments, 
 summoning the caloyers to prayers, has a very peculiar 
 and impressive effect. 
 
 Outside the west end of the church, a graceful cupola, 
 supported on pillars, protects the stone basin in which 
 is blessed the holy water used in the Epiphany cere- 
 monies and other rites of the Greek Church. Opposite 
 is the refectory (rpaTre^a), a building in the form of a 
 Latin cross. Along its interior walls are arranged small 
 stone tables, one of which at the upper extremity is 
 placed so as to form a high table. The pulpit, attached 
 to the wall, stands at the angle where one of the tran- 
 septs joins the nave : here, during meals, is read a 
 homily. Most of the refectories are decorated with 
 frescoes of saints along the side walls, and a represen- 
 tation of the Lord's Supper over the high table. 
 
 Over the entrance of the refectory rises a bell-tower, 
 in the lower story of which has been constructed a new 
 library. Among its contents is a curious Greek trans-
 
 198 A MONASTIC IDOL. 
 
 lation of Goldsmith's "History of Greece." Of the 
 contents of the monastic libraries generally, a full and 
 interesting description is given in Mr. Curzon's " Mon- 
 asteries of the Levant." 
 
 The monks of Mount Athos are described as "pale 
 grave men, with long beards and flowing hair, dressed 
 in dark-blue serge gowns and high caps." Few of 
 them are clergy; few, teachers or missionaries; while 
 none are students or literati. Yet they realize the 
 " primitive idea of monasticism " in a way in which it 
 is nowhere else realized. When St. Anthony and his 
 disciples retired to the Thebaid, it was not for the pur- 
 pose of study or for the benefit of their fellow-men; 
 but simply to withdraw themselves from the dangerous 
 temptations of the world, and to devote their lives to 
 religious exercises and spiritual meditation. This is 
 the monastic ideal still favoured in the Eastern Church; 
 and, accordingly, as in the days of St. Anthony no dis- 
 tinction of monastic orders existed, so here only one 
 rule is followed, and that is the rule of St. Basil. The 
 services of the Church consume six or seven hours of 
 every week-day, and a still greater portion of the Sun- 
 day ; which, in truth, is a startling exemplification of 
 the Horatian phrase: 
 
 " Partem solido demere de die." 
 
 On some of the greater festivals not less than from six- 
 teen to twenty hours are devoted to religious exercises. 
 The life of these enthusiasts is one of the strictest bodily 
 mortification. They abstain wholly from meat in the
 
 A CCEXOBITE MONASTERY. 199 
 
 Coenobite, and almost entirely in the Idiorrhythrine 
 convents. Nearly half the year is spent as fast-days, 
 when exhausted nature is scantily supported on a 
 single meal of bread, vegetables, and water ; and during 
 the first three days of Lent, those whose constitutions 
 can bear the strain go absolutely without food. Fur- 
 ther: such a boon as a "sound night's rest" they never 
 know, their slumber being broken in upon by the first 
 services between one and two A.M. The remainder of 
 the time not occupied in public prayer is spent by the 
 superior in administering the affairs of the community, 
 and by the lower monks in such menial duties as are 
 exacted from them. 
 
 Mr. Tozer savs that the most thoroughly monastic 
 
 / O v 
 
 group he met with during his excursions, was in the 
 small secluded Coenobite monastery of Constamonita. 
 Here, on his arrival, he was shown into the guest- 
 chamber, a small and gloomy room, and cordially wel- 
 comed by the hegumon. While they were conversing, 
 entered to them (as the old play-books say) a very old 
 man, of so venerable appearance that the most indiffer- 
 ent person would instinctively have risen in his pre- 
 sence. Snowy white was his flowing beard ; while his 
 body was so frail and spare, that he looked like a re- 
 suscitation of one of the ancient hermits. The man 
 who waited was not unworthy of the group : a tall, 
 gaunt caloyer, with stern features, like those of a 
 Covenanter. He spoke fervently of the protection 
 afforded to them by the sacred relics, of the devoted 
 lives of some of the hermits, and their prophetic power; 
 of the need of mastering and keeping down the passions,
 
 200 CHAPEL OF THE TRANSFIGURATION. 
 
 in order to gain an insight into the higher spiritual 
 mysteries, until at length he resembled one inspired, 
 and his utterance was confused and broken by his 
 ardour. The sight of those three men together in the 
 
 o o 
 
 dark monastic chamber, shut out from all the joys 
 and innocent sanctities of domestic life, was one not 
 to be readily forgotten. 
 
 And now for a few last words. We ascend to the 
 summit of the Holy Mountain, the narrow area of 
 which is entirely occupied by a small chapel, dedicated 
 to the Transfiguration. On the north side the rocks 
 descend in tremendous precipices, while to the south 
 lies a narrow platform of rock, a few feet wide, from 
 which again the cliffs abruptly fall away. As our 
 English traveller approached from the east, he caught 
 the solemn tones of chanting from the sacred interior, 
 and on coming round to the platform in front was 
 rewarded with a singularly picturesque scene. The 
 moonlight fell clearly and fully on the weird, ghostly 
 figures of the monks, with their long dark beards and 
 unshorn locks drooping over their sombre robes : some 
 sat close to the window of the chapel, where service 
 was being held ; some lay about in groups, dimly per- 
 ceptible in the heavy shadows, or outlined sharply 
 against the white rocks. 
 
 " There were about sixty of them," writes our author- 
 ity, " besides a number of Russian pilgrims. We were 
 not less an object of wonder to them than they were to 
 us. They even forgot the usual salutations. ' Where 
 do you come from ? ' (OTTO TTOU elaOe) was all that they
 
 A VIGIL SERVICE. 201 
 
 could say. We told them that we were Englishmen, 
 and that we came from the Lavra [the nearest monas- 
 tery] ; on hearing which they brought us to the wood 
 fire they had lighted, and made some coffee for us. In 
 connection with the fire, the classical reader will re- 
 member that this peak was one of the stations of the 
 fire-beacons which carried Agamemnon's telegram to 
 Clytemnestra. At intervals, as we sat there, the priest 
 came out, arrayed in gorgeous vestments, and swung 
 the incense about us ; until at last, as the vigil service 
 lasted the whole night, I betook myself to a small 
 crevice in the rock, where I slept, wrapped in my plaid, 
 for a couple of hours ; after which I lay awake, gazing 
 up into the bright heaven, and feeling the strange sen- 
 sation of being elevated on such a rocky pinnacle, with 
 nothing but sea and sky around coelum undique et 
 undique pontus. 
 
 " At dawn the service ceased, and the monks kissed 
 one another, and were sprinkled with holy water. 
 When the sun rose, the shadow of the peak was pro- 
 jected over sea and land to the west, in a distinctly- 
 marked pyramid ; but daylight added little to the 
 view, as the greater part of the peninsulas of Athos 
 and Sithonia had been visible during the night, and 
 the distance was hazy. Eight of the monasteries, how- 
 ever, could be distinguished, and the expanse of sea 
 was an extraordinary sight. On a clear day, both Ida 
 and Olympus may be seen. Half an hour after sunrise, 
 the Eucharistic service the Liturgy, as it is called 
 commenced; and at its conclusion a bunch of grapes 
 was brought in and blessed this being the first day on 

 
 
 202 AN OLD TRADITION. 
 
 which they are allowed to be eaten. Then they de- 
 scended the mountain by the zigzag path in companies, 
 singing psalms ; and, after breakfasting on the grass by 
 the Chapel of the Virgin, we dispersed to our several 
 destinations." 
 
 An old tradition relates that before the birth of 
 Christ a heathen image perhaps an altar to Zeus 
 had existed on the summit, but was destroyed by St. 
 Athanasius. Another makes it the scene of our Lord's 
 temptation. And a third, of modern date, declares 
 that just prior to the Greek Revolution in 1821, a 
 luminous cross was seen here by the monks, with the 
 historic words, " In this conquer."
 
 VIII. 
 
 fttount (Etna. 
 
 " 'Tis the last 
 
 Of all the woody, high, well-watered dells 
 On Etna; and the beam 
 Of noon is broken there by chestnut-boughs 
 Down its steep verdant sides ; the air 
 Is freshened by the leaping stream, which throws 
 Eternal showers of spray on the mossed roots 
 Of trees, and veins of turf, and long dark shoots 
 Of ivy-plants, and fragrant hanging bells 
 Of hyacinths, and on late anemones, 
 That muffle its wet banks; but glade, 
 And stream, and sward, and chestnut-trees 
 End here; Etna beyond, in the broad glare 
 Of the hot noon, without a shade, 
 Slope behind slope, up to the peak, lies bare : 
 The peak, round which the white clouds play." 
 
 MATTHEW ARNOLD. 
 
 OUNT ETNA, one of the most remarkable of 
 the European volcanoes, is situated on the 
 east coast of the island of Sicily, between 
 Taormina (the ancient Tauromenium) and 
 Catania (the ancient Catana). Its elevation above the 
 sea, into which it strikes its roots, is 10,874 feet, though 
 liable to some changes after eruptions. A highroad 
 winds round its lower slopes with a total circuit of 
 93 miles; but if we take the sea, and the rivers Simeto 
 and Cantara, as defining its natural boundaries, we must
 
 204 THE LOWEST REGION. 
 
 reckon its total circumference at 120 miles; and even 
 this limit will not include the whole of the district over 
 which it pours its lava-floods. Its Greek name is pro- 
 bably derived from ATOco ; its modern Sicilian designa- 
 tion, Mongibello, from the Latin Mons and the Arabic 
 Gibel both words signifying " mountain," and the com- 
 pound being intended to indicate pre-eminence, the 
 " mountain of mountains," which Etna assuredly is, so 
 far as the Mediterranean basin is concerned. 
 
 The ascent of Mount Etna is peculiarly interesting, 
 because it conducts the traveller through three distinct 
 zones of climate and vegetation, which graduate, so to 
 speak, from the semi-Oriental to the Alpine. The low- 
 est of these zones is named Piedimontana, in allusion 
 to its position, and Colta, as descriptive of its fertility. 
 It stretches up the acclivities of the mountain to a dis- 
 tance varying from two miles on the north, to ten or 
 eleven miles on the south. Its soil, consisting of de- 
 composed volcanic matter, yields abundant harvests of 
 corn, and wine, and fruit. The air is soft and bland > 
 the winds breathe warmly, as if influenced by the sub- 
 terranean fires ; the slopes laugh with flowers, and are 
 decked with groves of chestnuts and Oriental planes ; 
 orchards and vineyards seem to yield their treasures 
 almost spontaneously; while the landscape everywhere 
 echoes with the music and brightens with the sunshine 
 of copious streams. Villages and convents are numer- 
 ous : the former are reckoned at sixty-five, with a popu- 
 lation of 300,000 ; and their condition generally appears 
 peaceful and prosperous. 
 
 Every picture, however, must have its shade; and
 
 1OUNT ETNA. FROM TAORM1I
 
 THE WOODED ZONE. 207 
 
 here, as in other parts of Etna, the slopes are furrowed 
 by the black channels of ancient lava-streams, bearing 
 significant witness to the terrible power of the sub- 
 terranean fires, and conveying to the mountaineers a 
 warning of possible calamity which they regard with 
 supreme indifference. 
 
 From the Piedimontana we pass into the Regione 
 Nemorosa, or Selvosa, or II Bosco, the wooded region, 
 or forest, the characteristics of which have been de- 
 scribed with so much accuracy and beauty in Mr. 
 Matthew Arnold's poem, "Empedocles on Etna." The 
 botanical aspects of the forest differ, however, in dif- 
 ferent districts. At Bronte, pines of goodly stature 
 abound. At Paterno, the oak, the beech, the ilex, and 
 the fragrant lime. Poplars mingle with the oaks and 
 pines near Matello ; while hawthorn and cork-trees, fir, 
 beech, and oak intermingle their shades in the district 
 extending from Nicolosi to Zaffarana. Between Mascali 
 and Piraino, a " woody tract " known as the Carpinetto, 
 groves of oak-trees and of immense chestnuts afford a 
 delightful shelter to numerous flocks and herds. Here 
 is found that botanical marvel, the " Castagno di Cento 
 Cavalli," which can receive a hundred horsemen be- 
 neath its leafy canopy. The scenery of this region is 
 rich in picturesque effects, which recall the old poetic 
 descriptions of the classic Arcady. It is diversified by 
 occasional cones, the craters of extinct volcanoes ; some 
 of which are still bare and rugged ; but most rejoice in 
 the adornment of luxuriant groves. The forest recesses 
 are the home of game and wild animals of almost every
 
 208 THE DESERT REGION. 
 
 description: the wild boar, the roebuck, the fox, the 
 badger, the porcupine, wild cats, weasels, ferrets, the 
 eagle, the falcon, the partridge, and a host of song-birds. 
 And here, too, the Etnean flora, which includes 477 
 species, may be examined in all its beauty. 
 
 We pass on to the Desert Region, 11 Diserta, Netta, 
 or Discoperta, the upper part of which is fitly called 
 the "Abode of Snow." It begins at an elevation of 
 about 6279 feet. At first the traveller meets with a 
 few stunted plants and lichens, as in the frozen wastes 
 of Greenland; but soon he leaves even these scanty 
 traces of vegetation behind him, and climbs a dead 
 ascent of ashes, scoriae, and lava to the great cone, itself 
 some 1100 feet in height, which incessantly pours forth 
 a cloud of sulphureous vapour. From June to October 
 this region is bare and black; but during the rest of 
 the year Nature conceals its desolation with a thick 
 mantle of snow. The air is chill and piercing, and the 
 eye nowhere lights on a sign of life or motion. Even 
 the eagle does not mount to a solitude so inhospitable ; 
 and it is wholly abandoned to the discordant voices of 
 the thunder and the storm. 
 
 We must not omit to allude to what Sir Charles 
 Lyell has aptly and justly called the grandest and most 
 original feature in the physiognomy of this remarkable 
 mountain namely, the number of comparatively small 
 cones scattered over its declivities, especially in the 
 Regione Nemorosa. These, in relation to the colossal 
 bulk of Etna, are like the protuberances on the rind of 
 an orange ; but in the levels of Lincolnshire they would
 
 THE VAL DEL BOVE. 211 
 
 pass for lofty hills. About eighty of these minor vol - 
 canoes are found at different parts ; cones of eruption, 
 with rent and broken craters, which now in general 
 form the most romantic wooded basins imaginable, but 
 in some instances retain their original ruggedness and 
 naked desolation. On the western and northern slopes 
 lie fifty-two, and on the eastern twenty-seven. Monte 
 Minardo, near Bronte, is upwards of 700 feet in height; 
 Monti Rossi, near Nicolosi, a double cone, is 450 feet 
 high, and two miles in circumference at the base. 
 
 Another remarkable feature of Etna is the great 
 depression on the eastern side, known as the Val del 
 Bove, which may be reached either from Aio Reale or 
 Catania. Commencing near the summit of the volcano, 
 it cuts right through the Wooded Region, in a vast cir- 
 cular chasm from 3000 to 4000 feet deep, until it 
 touches the edge of the Piedimontana, or cultivated 
 zone, near the coast. On one side it is prolonged by 
 another and narrower valley, the Val di Calanna; which 
 opens into a third ravine, the Val di San Giacomo, 
 extending to a point near the village of Zaffarana. 
 Everywhere it is surrounded by precipices of lava, 
 tuffa, or breccia, traversed by vertical dikes of blue 
 basalt or trachyte, and diminishing in height from 4000 
 feet to 1000 feet. A description of this chasm has been 
 attempted by almost every traveller, but none is more 
 faithful or eloquent than that of the late eminent 
 geologist, Sir Charles Lyell. 
 
 Let the reader picture to himself, he says, a large 
 amphitheatre, five miles in diameter, with precipices
 
 212 A GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION. 
 
 surrounding it on three sides. The plain thus enclosed 
 has been flooded by repeated streams of lava; and 
 though apparently level, when seen from a distance, 
 is even more rugged in reality than the surface of a 
 billowy sea. Further : in one part the valley is broken 
 up by a ridge of rocks; two of which, Mersara and 
 Capra, are very prominent. They are of gigantic 
 dimensions, and from many points seem almost isolated. 
 The face of the surrounding precipices is picturesquely 
 diversified by vertical dikes of lava, which usually 
 stand out in relief like bold cliffs, are very various in 
 outline, and of immense altitude. In the autumn their 
 black forms may often be seen relieved by clouds of 
 fleecy vapour which settle behind them, and do not 
 disperse until mid-day; so that they fill the valley with 
 pearly mists, while the sunlight is pouring on every 
 other part of Sicily, and on the higher regions of Etna. 
 The desolation of the scene is enhanced, rather than 
 mitigated, by the strips of green herbage and forest- 
 land which here and there contrast with the black, 
 hard lava-tracts that have failed to overspread them. 
 A profound silence prevails ; for no torrents dash from 
 the sterile rocks, no " musical lapses " of waterfalls fill 
 the echoes of the valley. Every drop of rain from the 
 heavens, every drop of moisture from the melting ice 
 and snow, is instantly absorbed by the porous lava; 
 and the dearth of springs is so great that the herdsman 
 is compelled to supply his flocks, during the hot season, 
 from stores of snow laid up in the hollows of the moun- 
 tain during winter. 
 
 The scenery is so stern in character, so severe in its
 
 VOLCANIC CHARACTERISTICS. 213 
 
 grandeur, that no poet would ever select it for a valley 
 of enchantment. It would accord far better with one 
 of Dante's circles in the " Inferno," or that well-known 
 picture of the nether world so powerfully painted by 
 Milton. If, as Sir Charles Lyell says, we can imagine 
 ourselves spectators, in the night's deep darkness, of 
 one of those fiery currents which have so often tra- 
 versed the great valley, we may easily recall 
 
 " Yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, 
 The seat of desolation, void of light, 
 Save what the glimmering of these livid flames 
 Casts pale and dreadful. " 
 
 The circular form of the Val del Bove, and its vertical 
 dikes of lava, reminding the spectator, only on a gigan- 
 tic scale, of the Atrio del Cavallo, on Vesuvius, points 
 to its former existence as a vast crater ; and Sir Charles 
 Lyell recognizes the existence at some remote period of 
 a double axis, or two points of permanent eruption, to 
 Etna, with a " saddle " or intercolline area between 
 them. These may either have been contemporaneous, 
 like Kilauea and the summit crater of Mauna Loa, in 
 Hawaii; or successive, like Somma and Vesuvius. The 
 one is represented by the present cone, Mongibello; 
 the other, by that of Trifoglietto, in the Val del Bove, 
 about three miles to the south-east of the former, which 
 has attained a complete ascendency, and continues in 
 full vigour. The expansion of the Val del Bove to its 
 present size, and the removal of the matter which 
 formed the Trifoglietto cone, Sir Charles Lyell attri- 
 butes partly to the subsidence of the ground, partly to 
 the effects of aqueous erosion, and partly to lateral
 
 214 ASCENDING MOUNT ETNA. 
 
 and paroxysmal explosions unaccompanied by any out- 
 burst of lava. 
 
 ASCENT OF MOUNT ETNA. 
 
 The ascent of the mountain is generally undertaken 
 from Catania, which is about 29 miles from the summit. 
 A carriage-road proceeds to Nicolosi (12 miles); thence, 
 in summer, mules will carry the traveller to the Casa 
 degli Inglesi, at the foot of the cone ; in winter, to the 
 Grotta delle Capre only, 8 miles from Nicolosi, in the 
 upper part of the Wooded Region. From the Casa degli 
 Inglesi to the summit, 2 miles, the traveller must be 
 content to foot it. 
 
 It is customary to start from Catania soon after noon, 
 in order to be in time for sunrise on the summit ; this 
 "effect" being the great attraction of the ascent. In 
 about four hours the traveller drives to Nicolosi, whence 
 he may make a short excursion to Monti Rossi, the 
 twin-cones formed by the eruption of 1669. At ten 
 P.M. he will push forward to the Casa degli Inglesi, 
 where he will pass the night. Then he will ascend to 
 the summit, view the sunrise, pay a visit to the Torre 
 del Filosofo, and catch a glimpse of the yawning chasm 
 of the Val del Bove; after which he will return to 
 Nicolosi, and, by such stages as he thinks proper, to 
 Catania. So much for "generals;" now for "parti- 
 culars." 
 
 On leaving Catania we begin at once to ascend, 
 passing through a landscape which presents a strange 
 combination of the attractive and displeasing. The
 
 AT NICOLOSI. 215 
 
 villages are surrounded by "purple orchards ;" the way- 
 side cottages peep out smilingly through a screen-work 
 of trellised vines ; corn-fields wave with golden crops on 
 either hand ; and delicious odours come from the depths 
 of groves of almond, orange, and olive trees. But these 
 delightful features are painfully contrasted by tracts of 
 black and hideous lava, often overhanging the road in 
 low precipices, often traversing the fields in huge barren 
 dikes. With these significant memorials of a terrible 
 past before his eyes, the traveller finds it difficult to 
 enjoy the prosperity of the present, which seems to him 
 darkened by the shadow of a possibly disastrous future, 
 for he knows that the volcanic fires have lost nothing 
 of their fatal force. 
 
 He passes successively through the villages of Pasquale, 
 and Gravina, which is near the Monti Rossi, and Mas- 
 calucia, which may almost be called a town, enjoying, 
 as he ascends, some glorious prospects of the island- 
 scenery, with glimpses of azure sea beyond. Between 
 Torre di Grifo and Nicolosi, however, the scene changes, 
 and the radiant landscape is replaced by a dreary expanse 
 of lava and scoriaa, which clumps of dwarf oaks and 
 broom do but little to relieve. This expanse marks the 
 course of the lava-flood of 1537, which, poured out of 
 the Monti Castellani, in the Bosco of Paterno, divided 
 into two branches, flowing, the one to Torre di Grifo 
 and the other to Borello. 
 
 Nicolosi is " a frightful assemblage of low huts," at 
 an elevation of 2264 feet above the sea. In a place 
 where terrible earthquakes are of frequent occurrence, 
 architecture cannot be expected to flourish ; and the
 
 216 THE PIANA DEL LAGO. 
 
 "low huts" of Nicolosi are rudely built up of lava and 
 scoriae. A little to the north is situated the vine- 
 embowered convent of S. Nicola dell' Arma, now used 
 as a hospice, but retaining the character originally given 
 to it when founded by Simone Count di Policastro in 
 1156. In its vicinity rise the finely- wooded and roman- 
 tic cones of Serrapizzuta and Santo Nicola. 
 
 We now cross the boundary of the cultivated region, 
 and enter the dells and glades, cool and leafy and well- 
 watered, of the forest zone. This may be defined as 
 beginning at the Casa di Binazzi, about four miles from 
 Nicolosi. Traversing the ferny growth and turfen 
 slopes, we reach, at eight miles from Nicolosi, the Casa 
 del Bosco, 6233 feet above the sea, and on the verge of 
 the open or Desert Region. Here, on the left, rises the 
 cone of Monte Vittoria; on the right, that of Monte 
 Nero ; and near at hand is the natural rocky arch of 
 the Grotta del Capre. 
 
 The difficult part of the ascent now begins, and for 
 nine miles the way lies over rugged lava or loose shift- 
 ing ashes, seldom brightened by any considerable patches 
 of vegetation. A pile of lava-blocks marks the mid- 
 point between the Bosco and the summit ; and to the 
 right stretches the long rude volcanic ridge of Montagn- 
 uola ; thrusting its roots down into the Val del Bove on 
 the east. We pause for breath on the narrow area, 
 comparatively level, of the Piana del Lago, so called in 
 memory of a small lake filled with lava by the eruption 
 of 1607 ; and then betake ourselves to the welcome 
 shelter of the Casa degli Inglesi, a lava-built hut,
 
 THE CONICAL SUMMIT. 219 
 
 erected by the English officers stationed in Sicily in 
 1811. An inscription over the door reads thus : 
 "^Etnam perlustrantibus has sedes Britanni in Sicilia, 
 1811." The altitude of this small but substantial 
 asylum is 9592 feet above the sea, and the surrounding 
 atmosphere is Arctic in its rigour. 
 
 Here we abandon our mules, and trust to our physical 
 energies to carry us up the steep summit-cone which 
 rises so boldly and abruptly out of a "rugged sea of 
 lava and scorise." The base of the cone is at an eleva- 
 tion of 9760 feet, and the summit at an elevation of 
 10,874 feet. 
 
 " The lower part of the cone," says Mr. Dennis, " com- 
 posed of ashes intermingled with blocks of lava, is com- 
 paratively easy to mount; it is when the lava ceases, 
 and you enter on the mass of sulphur, ash, and fine 
 dust, sprinkled with lapilli, which forms the upper 
 part, that the great difficulty begins. In no case is it 
 easy to climb a steep which rises at an angle of 45 or 
 more, but here the difficulty is greatly increased by the 
 looseness of the ash, which yields beneath the feet at 
 every step, so that you often lose ground in the attempt 
 to advance ; and by the hot vapour charged with hydro- 
 chloric acid which gushes from the sides of the cone, 
 blinding the eyes, disgusting the nose and palate, almost 
 suffocating the lungs, already sufficiently oppressed by 
 the rarefaction of the atmosphere, and disturbing the 
 stomach sometimes to the extent of inducing sickness. 
 Happy is he who to these difficulties has not to add 
 that of a strong wind; to contend with which, under 
 these circumstances, is a severe trial of strength. After
 
 220 THE CRATER. 
 
 resting a while on the summit the disagreeable sensations 
 wear off, and the mind is left to the full enjoyment of 
 the glorious scene around and beneath." As Mr. Arnold 
 says, 
 
 " Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts 
 Thick breaks the red flame ; 
 All Etna heaves fiercely 
 Her forest-clothed frame. 
 
 On reaching the summit our attention is necessarily 
 attracted, in the first place, by the yawning depths of 
 the crater, with its ever-rolling clouds of vapour and 
 smoke, sometimes of a snowy whiteness, sometimes lurid 
 and ghastly, sometimes kindled into brilliancy by the 
 jets of fire and flame. The sides are rugged and uneven, 
 and of as many colours as the rainbow, owing to their 
 incrustations of ammonia, vitriolic salts, and sulphur; 
 but a glowing orange predominates. Such considerable 
 changes are yearly effected through the force of the 
 subterranean action, that an accurate description of the 
 size and aspect of the crater is impossible. In one day 
 its circuit has been enlarged from three miles to six ; but 
 its ordinary measurement is two and a half miles. Let 
 the reader conceive of this huge abyssmal pit as filled 
 with wreathing clouds of sulphurous vapour; or some- 
 times, as in 1839, when it was visited by Mr. Gladstone, 
 with seething lava. 
 
 Having satisfied our curiosity with a prolonged ex- 
 amination of the crater, we may spare a glance to the 
 sunrise, as its flush of dawn comes up from the Ionian 
 Sea, and touches isles, and capes, and peaks with an 
 unearthly light. Then we see that the mountain defines
 
 A FINE PROSPECT. 221 
 
 itself on the panorama of the island-plain in a pyramidal 
 purple shadow, and also reflects itself in a diminished 
 but perfect image on the mists of the western horizon. 
 At times, the sun, instead of soaring above the ocean's 
 rim, seems to emerge from the waters beneath it, and 
 upwards and upwards to force its way through the 
 liquid mass, until its full-orbed glory fills the radiant 
 sky. 
 
 The view from the summit of Mount Etna is neces- 
 sarily very extensive, and it is not less diversified. It 
 includes every characteristic of a striking landscape; 
 the sublime, the picturesque, the softly beautiful. Ris- 
 ing from the plain in undisputed prominence, without a 
 neighbouring peak to question its grandeur, Etna looks 
 forth, as it were, from its lofty pinnacle over a subject 
 world, and sees woods and plains, cities and villages, 
 rivers and seas, lying at her feet. Not only the whole 
 of Sicily, but the Mediterranean and the Italian shores 
 are within the gorgeous panorama, which, from morn to 
 night, kindles with a succession of glorious colours. To 
 the east the spectator's gaze wanders along the range of 
 the Corleone heights, and catches the wreath of vapours 
 which encircles the brow of Mount Eryx, formerly cele- 
 brated for its Temple of Venus, " Erycina ridens." Be- 
 yond this limit extends the shining sea on every side, 
 as if to enclose and preserve this glorious picture of 
 nature. To the west rise the mountains of Palermo ; 
 and to the north lie in the tranquil haze Milazzo and 
 the islands of Lipari, and the black volcanic pyramid of 
 Stromboli ; while the eye marks every undulation of 
 the soil, and every break and curve in the coast-line
 
 222 VIEW OF ETNA. 
 
 along the Straits of Messina and the rugged shores of 
 Calabria. To the south it lingers over Augusta, and 
 the historic Syracuse, and the headland of the ancient 
 Pachynus, now Cape Passaro; and finally endeavours to 
 pierce the clouds that rest in luminous folds upon the 
 ruins of Agrigentum and the modern town of Girgenti. 
 
 Admiral Smyth has estimated the radius of vision 
 from the summit at 150 miles; hence the circumference 
 must amount to about 937. But when the horizon is 
 clear the spectator can detect Malta, at a distance of 130 
 miles; and even Monte S. Giuliano, and the ^Egadian 
 Isles, at a distance of 160 miles; and the Marquis of 
 Ormonde asserts that he saw the glow and shimmer of 
 the Gulf of Taranto, and the dark outline of the 
 mountains of the Terra di Lecce, which are fully 245 
 miles off! 
 
 Mr. Dennis remarks that Etna itself, when viewed 
 from its crest, presents a very interesting and impres- 
 sive appearance. The snow-wreaths, according to the 
 season, stretch to a greater or less distance down the 
 slopes, sometimes shrouding the whole Desert Region in 
 their white pall, and descending even into the woods 
 beneath; sometimes, as in summer, lying only about 
 the base of the cone. The belt of forest girdles the 
 volcano with verdure, out of which rise the wooded 
 cones in picturesque confusion ; while streams of lava 
 strike across it in every direction, like black roads, 
 " the highways of destruction to the country beneath." 
 But the grandest view in all this panorama is where, 
 on the east, lies the awful chasm of the Val del Bove, 
 with clouds of smoke issuing from its still active cones.
 
 MR. GLADSTONE'S ASCENT. 223 
 
 Mr. Gladstone, who ascended the mountain in 1839, 
 has left on record a descriptive narrative, from which 
 we borrow the following passage: 
 
 To ascend the highest peak, he says, our choice lay 
 between a precipice and a corner of a crater. We went 
 over the lava in a very warm atmosphere; sometimes, 
 on passing a rift, too hot for a moment or two to 
 breathe. We got upon the back of the peak, and 
 worked up through the sulphur -clouds, which here 
 alone were seriously disagreeable. We here gazed 
 upon the eastern view, embracing the Messina moun- 
 tains and the fine kindred outline of the Calabrian 
 coast, as described by Virgil: 
 
 " Haec loca, vi quondam et vasta convulsa ruina, 
 (Tantum.aevi longinqua valet mutare vetustas) 
 Dissiluisse ferunt, cum protenus utraque tellus 
 Una f oret ; venit medio vi pontus, et undis 
 Hesperium Siculo latus abscidit, arvaque et urbes 
 Litore diductas angusto interluit aestu. " 
 
 Aeneid, iii. 414. 
 
 From thence it stretched all along: the southern coast to 
 
 o 
 
 Cape Passaro. But our chief object from this point was 
 the crater of the opposite side, into which, having now 
 reached a position higher than any part of it, we had 
 a considerable insight. We enjoyed keenly our full 
 clear sight of the volcanic action, and even at the 
 moment I could not help being struck with the re- 
 markable accuracy of Virgil's account. The great fea- 
 tures of this action are the sharp and loud clap which 
 perceptibly shook from time to time the ground of the 
 mountain under our feet; the sheet of flame, which 
 leapt up with a sudden momentary blast, and soon
 
 224 FEATURES OF VOLCANIC ACTION. 
 
 disappeared in smoke ; then the shower of red-hot 
 stones and lava. At this time, as we found on our way 
 down, lava masses of 150 or 200 Ibs. weight were being 
 thrown to a distance of probably a mile and a half; 
 smaller ones we found even more remote. These showers 
 were most copious, and often came in the most rapid 
 succession. Even while we were ascending the exterior 
 of the cone, we saw them alighting on its slope, and 
 sometimes bounding down with immense rapidity within 
 perhaps some thirty or forty yards of our rickety foot- 
 ing on the mountain-side. They dispersed like the 
 sparks of a rocket; they lay, beneath the snow, over 
 the mountain, thicker than even the stars in heaven; 
 the larger ones ascended as it were with deliberation, 
 and then descended first with speed and then with fury. 
 Now they passed even over our heads, and we could 
 pick up some newly fallen, and almost intolerably hot. 
 Lastly, there was the black gray column, which seemed 
 smoke, and was really ash, and which was shot from 
 time to time out of the very bowels of the crater, far 
 above its edge, in regular unbroken form.
 
 IX. 
 jttont glara. 
 
 "Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains. 
 They crowned him long ago." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 [HE Alps form the most important European 
 mountain - system, and contain the loftiest 
 peaks. They strike across the north of Italy, 
 from the shore of the Mediterranean, and 
 extend to the borders of Hungary. Geographers divide 
 them into distinct groups or masses, to which distinct 
 names are attached. Thus, from the borders of the Gulf 
 of Genoa to Monte Viso, along a line of about 100 miles, 
 stretch the so-called Maritime Alps; from Monte Viso to 
 Mont Cenis, about 60 miles, the Cottian Alps; from Mont 
 Cenis to the Col de Bonhomme, about 50 miles, the 
 Graian or Graisen Alps; the Pennine run from the 
 Col to Monte Rosa, 60 miles ; the Helvetian, from 
 thence to Mont Bernardine, 50 miles ; from Mont Ber- 
 nardine to the Drey-Herren-Spitz, or Three Lords' Peak, 
 in the Tyrol, 140 miles, the Rhgfitian; and from thence 
 to the neighbourhood of Vienna, about 200 miles, the
 
 226 THE ALPINE GROUPS. 
 
 Noric Alps. Those lower ranges which lie in the Aus- 
 trian provinces of Carinthia, Carniola, and Dalmatia, 
 and connect the Alpine system proper with the ranges 
 of the Balkan, are respectively designated the Carnic, 
 Julian, and Dinaric Alps. 
 
 The loftiest heights and the most extensive glaciers 
 are found in the Pennine group, which includes Mont 
 Blanc, 15,750 feet; Monte llosa, 15,152 feet; and the 
 Matterhorn, 14,837 feet. 
 
 Next come the Helvetian, which send their roots far 
 down into the heart of Switzerland, and include the 
 Grabenhorn, 15,440 feet; the Finsteraarhorn, 14,111 
 feet; and the Jungfrau, 13,718 feet. 
 
 The highest passes practicable for pedestrians are the 
 Col de Gdant, 11,172 feet, and the Mont Cervin, 11,096 
 feet, both in the Pennine group. Four carriage-roads 
 cross the Helvetian, and two the Rhsetian chain; one 
 of which, through the Stelvio Pass, 9174 feet, is the 
 highest carriage-road in Europe. A railway now crosses 
 the Graian Alps, by means of a tunnel through Mont 
 Cenis. 
 
 The culminating summit of the Alps is Mont Blanc, 
 which, 
 
 " On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, 
 With a diadem of snow," 
 
 has long reigned supreme among European mountains. 
 Its position is remarkable, for it is almost equidistant 
 between the Pole and the Equator. A huge pyramidal 
 mass, elongated from north to south so that it resembles
 
 VARIOUS ASCENTS OF MONT BLANC. 227 
 
 the hump of a dromedary, girt round with soaring 
 aiguilles or pinnacles, furrowed by enormous glaciers, 
 and shrouded perpetually in ice and snow, it presents 
 a remarkably majestic aspect, and impresses the spec- 
 tator with a wonderful feeling of sublimity and power. 
 Hence it has long exercised a strange fascination over 
 the minds of men, and its ascent has become one of 
 those enterprises which offer a peculiar attraction to 
 the adventurous. Its summit was first reached by 
 Paccard and Jacques Balmat in August 1785 ; in the 
 following year it was attained by De Saussure, who 
 made some interesting scientific experiments. Since 
 that time ascents have entered into the ordinary holi- 
 day programme of the bolder class of tourists ; though 
 the undertaking is one which requires considerable 
 strength, endurance, and resolution, and the direction 
 of efficient guides. Several ladies have accomplished 
 it, however: among others, Mademoiselle Paradis, 1809 ; 
 Mademoiselle d'Angeville, 1838; Mrs. Hamilton, 1854; 
 Mademoiselle Formaren, 1856 ; Miss Walker, 1862. 
 The ascent and descent usually occupy the best part of 
 three days; but in 1875, a Mr. C. H. Taylor, of Chicago, 
 achieved the task in a little over eighteen hours. He 
 started about ]2.30 A.M. on Tuesday, July 27th, and 
 returned to his hotel before 8 P.M. on the following 
 evening. He was accompanied by only two guides, 
 a Swiss and a German. A famous dog, named 
 Tschingel, after the first glacier, had succeeded in the 
 attempt in the previous week, having started on 
 Thursday the 22nd, in the company of his master, 
 Mr. W. A. Coolidge, and his master's aunt, Miss
 
 228 DE SAUSSURE S ASCENT. 
 
 Brevoort, reached the summit on Saturday, and de- 
 scended in the course of the same day. Tschingel 
 deserves special commemoration in a volume devoted 
 to Mountain-Climbing, for he has ascended Mont Blanc 
 half a hundred times, as well as the Jungfrau, and 
 numerous lesser peaks. 
 
 The ascents of Mont Blanc have not always been 
 made from a thirst for adventure or to gratify a common- 
 place curiosity, but in the highest interests of science ; 
 and to those accomplished by Saussure, Agassiz, Forbes, 
 Tyndall, and Charles Martins, we are indebted for much 
 of our knowledge of glaciers and glacial phenomena. 
 In the annals of Science no mountain occupies a more 
 distinguished place ; while it has furnished the artist 
 with inexhaustible sources of inspiration. 
 
 The story of these ascents, however, has been so often 
 told, that it is impossible to enliven it with any novel 
 interest, and we should gladly have omitted it from 
 these pages, had we not felt unwilling to incur the re- 
 proach of placing Hamlet before the reader with the 
 part of " Hamlet " omitted. It must be confessed that 
 a book on Mountains and Mountain -Climbing, which 
 took no special notice of the monarch of the European 
 peaks, would be open to severe criticism. Yet, for the 
 reason we have given, we shall confine ourselves to a 
 narration of only two or three of the more remarkable 
 and interesting episodes in its annals. 
 
 We begin with the ascent by M. de Saussure in 1787; 
 and we shall allow that courageous man of science to 
 tell his own story: 
 
 On my way to Chamounix, he says, in the early part
 
 MONT BLANC, FROM MONT BUET.
 
 THE FIRST DAY'S MARCH. 231 
 
 of July, I met at Sallenche the courageous Jacques 
 Balmat, who was bound for Geneva to inform me of his 
 recent success, he had ascended to the top of the 
 mountain with two other guides. It was raining when 
 I reached Chamounix, and bad weather continued for 
 four weeks. But I was determined to wait until the 
 end of the season rather than miss the favourable 
 moment. 
 
 At length this long-desired opportunity arrived, and 
 I started on the 1st of August 1787; accompanied by a 
 servant, and by eighteen guides, who carried our scien- 
 tific instruments and all the apparatus of which I had 
 need. My eldest son ardently desired to go with me, 
 but I feared that he was not strong enough, nor suffi- 
 ciently accustomed to this kind of labour. I begged 
 him, therefore, to abandon his intention; and he re- 
 mained at Prieure', where he made with much care 
 similar observations to those which I was making on 
 the summit. 
 
 In order to feel perfectly free in my selection of places 
 where to pass the nights, I took with me a tent; and on 
 the first evening I reposed under its canvas roof on the 
 summit of the peak of La Cote. This part of the 
 journey is without difficulty and danger ; we are always 
 upon turf or rock, and it is accomplished easily in five 
 or six hours. But from thence to the summit the route 
 lies wholly over ice or snow. 
 
 The second day's march is not the easiest. You must 
 first cross the glacier of La Cote, to gain the foot of a 
 small chain of rocks which lie embedded in the snows 
 of Mont Blanc. This glacier is both difficult and
 
 232 THE SECOND DAY. 
 
 dangerous. It is intersected by broad, deep, irregular 
 crevasses ; and often you can traverse these only upon 
 bridges of snow, which are sometimes very slight, and 
 suspended over formidable abysses. One of my guides 
 nearly perished here. The day before, in company with 
 two others, he had gone to reconnoitre the route; 
 fortunately they had taken the precaution of tying 
 themselves together with ropes : the snow gave way 
 beneath him in the middle of a broad deep crevasse, and 
 he remained suspended between his two comrades. We 
 passed very near the opening which had formed under 
 him, and shuddered ' at the sight of the peril he had 
 incurred. So difficult and so tortuous is the passage of 
 this glacier, that we spent three hours in climbing from 
 the top of the Cote to the foremost rocks of the isolated 
 chain, though the distance, as the crow flies, does not 
 exceed a quarter of a league. 
 
 After reaching these rocks, we kept away from them 
 at. first, in order to mount by a winding path to a snow- 
 loaded valley, which runs from north to south to the 
 foot of the loftiest summit. The snow was cut at 
 intervals by enormous and superb crevasses, the sharp 
 clean section of which showed the snow arranged in 
 horizontal layers, each layer representing a year's forma- 
 tion. However wide the crevasses, you can nowhere 
 discover their bottom. 
 
 My guides were fain to have spent the night near one 
 of the rocks which we fell in with on this route ; but 
 as the loftiest were still from 3000 to 4200 feet below 
 the summit, I wished to ascend to a higher point. For 
 this purpose, it was imperative that we should encamp
 
 NIGHT-QUARTERS. 233 
 
 in the middle of the snows ; but I had much difficulty in 
 reconciling my companions to such a course. They im- 
 agined that during the night an absolutely unendurable 
 degree of cold prevailed in the upper regions of the 
 snow, and seriously feared lest they should perish there. 
 At length I told them that, for myself, I was deter- 
 mined to go forward with those companions on whom 1 
 could rely ; that we would dig deeply in the snow, and 
 cover the excavation with the canvas of the tent; be- 
 neath which we would all ensconce ourselves, and we 
 should not suffer from the cold, however rigorous it 
 might prove. This arrangement' reassured them, and 
 we pushed ahead. At four o'clock in the evening we 
 reached the second of the three great table-lands of snow 
 we had to traverse. And there we encamped, at an 
 elevation of 8750 feet above Prieure, and 11,970 feet 
 above the sea, or 540 feet higher than the Peak of Tene- 
 riffe. We did not proceed to the final plateau, because 
 it lies open to the avalanches ; and the first plateau, by 
 which we had just crossed, is not exempt from this 
 danger. We had traversed two of these avalanches, 
 which had fallen since Balmat's last journey, and covered 
 the valley throughout its extent with wreck and ruin. 
 
 My guides at once set to work to excavate a place 
 which might form our quarters for the night ; but they 
 quickly felt the rarefaction of the air. Robust as they 
 were men to whom the seven or eight hours' marching 
 they had just accomplished was as nothing scarcely 
 had they thrown out five or six spadefuls of snow 
 before they were compelled to abandon the task ; it 
 was necessary to relieve one another every minute.
 
 234 ABODE OF SILENCE. 
 
 A guide who had gone back a short distance to pro- 
 cure some water from a crevasse we had noticed in 
 passing, was taken ill as he went, returned without the 
 water, and spent the evening in severe agony. Even I 
 myself, accustomed as I was to the mountain-air, who 
 feel better in it than in the air of the plains, was 
 exhausted with the fatigue of preparing my meteorologi- 
 cal instruments. Our physical uneasiness filled us with 
 a burning thirst, and yet we could obtain a little water 
 only by melting some snow ; for the water we had seen 
 in our ascent proved to be frozen when we returned to 
 it, and the small charcoal chafing-dish we carried with 
 us did but satisfy very slowly twenty thirsty persons. 
 
 From the middle of this plateau, enclosed between 
 the topmost peak of Mont Blanc to the south, its lofty 
 eastern terraces and the dome of the Goute' on the west, 
 we could see nothing but snow ; snow spotlessly pure, 
 of a dazzling whiteness, and on the higher summits 
 forming a very singular contrast with the intensely blue, 
 nay, the purple-black sky of these elevated regions. No 
 living being was visible, no appearance of vegetation ; 
 it is the abode of cold and silence. When I pictured to 
 myself Dr. Paccard and Jacques Balmat first arriv- 
 ing at close of day in these dreary deserts, without 
 shelter, without succour, without knowing even whether 
 men could easily exist in the localities to which they 
 directed their steps, and yet persevering in their in- 
 trepid enterprise, I could not but admire their strength 
 of mind and courage. 
 
 My guides, constantly preoccupied with fear of the 
 cold, closed so carefully every chink and crevice of our
 
 THE THIRD PLATEAU. 235 
 
 tent that I suffered greatly from the heat and from the 
 air corrupted by our breath. In order to breathe freely, 
 I was compelled to go out into the night. The moon 
 shone with the greatest splendour in the midst of a sky 
 as black as ebony. Jupiter, all radiant, emerged from 
 behind the loftiest peak to the east of Mont Blanc; and 
 the light reverberated from all this vast amphitheatre 
 of snow was so dazzling, that I could distinguish only 
 stars of the first and second magnitude. At length we 
 began to sleep; when we were awakened by the crash 
 of a great avalanche which covered a part of the slope 
 we had ascended the day before. At dawn the ther- 
 mometer marked 3 below freezing-point. 
 
 We did not start until late, as we had first to melt 
 the snow for our breakfast and for our refreshment on 
 the march. It was drunk up as fast as it was melted ; 
 and my guides, while scrupulously respecting the wine 
 I had given them to carry, were continually stealing the 
 water I had set apart for future consumption. 
 
 We began by ascending to the third and last plateau ; 
 then we diverged to the left in order to gain the loftiest 
 rock lying east of the topmost peak. The acclivity is 
 exceedingly abrupt, as much as 39 in some places; 
 everywhere it abuts upon precipices ; and so hard was 
 the surface of the snow, that those who went in advance 
 could not steady their steps until they had broken it 
 with a hatchet. We spent two toilsome hours in climb- 
 ing this acclivity, which measured about 1500 feet in 
 height. Having: reached the summit-crag, we turned 
 
 O O O' 
 
 to the right, that is, to the westward, in order to 
 ascend the final incline, the perpendicular height of
 
 236 AT THE SUMMIT. 
 
 which was nearly 900 feet. This incline was only at 
 an angle of 28 to 29, and offered no danger ; but owing 
 to the excessive rarefaction of the air, a man's strength 
 is very readily exhausted. Near the summit, I had to 
 stop to take breath at every fifteen or sixteen steps. 
 At intervals, indeed, I experienced a weakness which 
 compelled me to sit down; but always as my respir- 
 ation recovered itself my physical energies revived ; 
 and, on resuming my march, I felt for the moment as 
 if I could dart like an arrow to the veiy crest of the 
 mountain. The guides, in proportion to their strength, 
 were in the same condition ; some better, some worse. 
 Hence, it took us two hours to climb from the last 
 rock to the summit ; and when we arrived there it was 
 eleven o'clock. 
 
 M. de Saussure's first looks and thoughts, in the 
 moment of victory, were given to Chamounix, where he 
 knew his wife and sisters, with their eyes fixed to the 
 telescope, were following his steps with an anxiety 
 which might, perhaps, be exaggerated, but was not the 
 less distressing ; and he owns that he felt a tender and 
 consoling sentiment when he saw the fluttering folds of 
 the flag which they had promised to hoist as soon as 
 their fears were to some extent relieved by seeing him 
 safe at the summit. 
 
 He was then free to give himself up to the enjoyment 
 of the magnificent spectacle before him. A light vapour 
 suspended in the lower regions of the air concealed from 
 view the lowest and remotest objects, such as the plains 
 of France and Lombardy. But this was not much to
 
 GREAT CREVASSE AT THE FOOT OF MONT BLANC
 
 PITCHING THE TENT. 239 
 
 be regretted ; for he saw what he had come to see, the 
 aggregate and mighty whole of all those lofty peaks, the 
 organization of which he had so long desired to know. 
 He could hardly believe his eyes ; it seemed to him a 
 dream, when beneath his feet he beheld those majestic 
 summits, those formidable spires and pinnacles, the 
 Midi, the Argentiere, the Gdant, even to the bases of 
 which he had found it so difficult and so dangerous to 
 make his way. He eagerly embraced their relationship 
 to one another, their connection, their structure ; and a 
 single glance dissipated the doubts which years of study 
 could not have removed. 
 
 Meanwhile, the tent was pitched, and the little table 
 made ready on which he intended to essay his experi- 
 ments. But when he began to arrange his instruments, 
 he found himself interrupted every moment by the 
 excessive difficulty of respiration. The air on the top- 
 most peak of Mont Blanc 
 
 " The difficult air of the iced mountain top," 
 
 as Byron calls it has only half the density of our or- 
 dinary atmosphere, and hence the traveller has to make 
 up for this want of density by the frequency of his re- 
 spirations. Now, this frequency necessarily accelerates 
 the circulation, and all the more because the arteries 
 are no longer counterbalanced from without by a 
 pressure equal to that which they usually experience. 
 Consequently our adventurers suffered from an access 
 of fever. 
 
 So long as Saussure remained perfectly quiet, he felt 
 no very great uneasiness, simply a slight palpitation of
 
 240 MAKING EXPERIMENTS. 
 
 the heart. But after the least exertion, or if he fixed 
 his attention on any particular subject for several con- 
 secutive moments, and especially when, by stooping, he 
 contracted his chest, he was forced to rest, and draw his 
 breath steadily for two or three minutes. The guides 
 experienced analogous sensations. They had no appe- 
 tite; and, in truth, their provisions, which had all frozen 
 on the route, were not calculated to excite it ; they did 
 not care even for wine or brandy. And, indeed, it was 
 found that strong liquors increased the uneasy sensa- 
 tions, undoubtedly because they still further quickened 
 the already accelerated circulation. Nothing but fresh 
 water relieved them or gave them any pleasure; and it 
 was not without a considerable expenditure of time and 
 labour that they kindled a fire and melted some snow, 
 in order to procure the welcome boon. 
 
 With true scientific zeal and courage, De Saussure 
 remained on the summit until half-past three in all, 
 four hours and a half; but though not a moment was 
 wasted, he could not complete all the experiments which 
 he had frequently made in three hours on the sea-shore. 
 He performed with care, however, those which were 
 most essential. 
 
 On quitting this magnificent watch-tower, or observa- 
 tory, Saussure, in three-quarters of an hour, reached the 
 rock which forms the eastern shoulder of the summit. 
 The descent of this incline, the ascent of which had been 
 so painful, was easy and agreeable. The snow was 
 neither too hard nor too soft, and as the physical move- 
 ments which they made in descending did not compress
 
 DESCENDING THE MOUNTAIN. 241 
 
 the diaphragm, they failed to embarrass the respiration, 
 and our adventurers were not incommoded by the rare- 
 faction of the air. Moreover, the declivity being wide, 
 and distant from the precipices, it presents nothing to 
 alarm the traveller or delay his progress. But this was 
 not the case with the descent which, from the top of the 
 shoulder, led to the plateau where De Saussure had 
 passed the previous night. The rapidity of this descent, 
 and the insupportable glare of the sun, reflected by the 
 snow, dazzling their eyes, and rendering more formidable 
 in appearance than they even were in reality the pre- 
 cipices which it revealed beneath their feet, proved very 
 serious obstacles. Again : as the hardness of the snow 
 had made their morning march very difficult, so now its 
 softness, due to the action of the sun, gravely inconveni- 
 enced them ; because, beneath its yielding surface or upper 
 crust, they always found the bottom hard and slippery. 
 Sooth to say, all the little company dreaded this part 
 of the descent ; and some of the guides, while De Saus- 
 sure was making his experiments on the summit, had 
 sought in vain for an easier route. However, it was 
 accomplished in safety, and in less than an hour and a 
 quarter. They passed near the spot where they had 
 slept, or at least reposed, on the preceding night, and 
 pushed forward fully another league, to the rock near 
 which they had encamped on their ascent. There De 
 Saussure resolved to halt for the night ; and their tent 
 was pitched against the southern extremity of this rock, 
 in a very curious situation. It stood on a foundation 
 of snow, and on the brink of a steep declivity which 
 strikes down into the valley beneath the Dome de Goute, 
 
 (731) 16
 
 242 APPEARANCE OF THE CLOUDS. 
 
 and is terminated, southward, by the massive summit 
 of Mont Blanc. At the bottom of the slope yawned a 
 broad and deep crevasse, which separated them from 
 the valley, and in which everything was swallowed up 
 that fell from the vicinity of De Saussure's tent. 
 
 This position was chosen in order to be out of reach of 
 avalanches ; and because, the guides being able to shelter 
 themselves in the hollows of the rock, the tent was not 
 so inconveniently crowded as on the night before. 
 
 De Saussure tells us, in his interesting narrative, that 
 he occupied himself in watching the masses of cloud 
 that floated above the valleys and mountains, but be- 
 neath his feet. These clouds, instead of presenting 
 smooth and even surfaces, as we see them from the 
 lower levels of earth, were broken up into a variety of 
 exceedingly fanciful forms, towers, castles, giants, 
 and seemed to be uplifted by vertical winds, issuing 
 from different points of the countries underneath them. 
 Above all these clouds the horizon was embroidered by 
 a girdle composed of two bands : the lower, a dark red ; 
 the upper, much clearer, and throwing off apparently a 
 beautiful flame of rosy dawn, unequal, transparent, and 
 variously tinted. 
 
 De Saussure's thoughts were not unnaturally as rose- 
 hued as the horizon on which he gazed ; for he had the 
 pleasure of knowing that he had successfully carried out 
 a project on which he had brooded for seven-and-twenty 
 years that is, since his first journey to Chamounix, 
 in 1760; a project frequently abandoned, but always 
 resumed, though it had been a source of continual 
 anxiety and disquietude to his family. His preoccu-
 
 RETURN TO CHAMOUNIX. 243 
 
 pation, indeed, had assumed the character of a disease ; 
 his gaze had never rested on Mont Blanc, which was 
 visible from so many points of the district where ho 
 lived, without his experiencing a painful sensation. 
 And now as, in the silence of the night, after having 
 recovered in some measure from his fatigue, he recapit- 
 ulated the observations he had collected, and retraced 
 the magnificent panorama of mountains he had seen, 
 his satisfaction was without alloy. 
 
 On the 4th of August, the fourth day of the expedi- 
 tion, the adventurers resumed their march about six 
 o'clock ; and in less than an hour they reached the cabin. 
 Afterwards they descended a snowy incline at an angle of 
 46, and traversed a great crevasse on a bridge of snow 
 only three inches thick. Another hour's descent, and, to 
 avoid the crevasses which continually interrupted their 
 route, they descended a slope of 50. "When they struck the 
 glacier which they had to cross, they found it so changed 
 in four-and-twenty hours that they could not recognize 
 their former track. The crevasses had widened, the 
 bridges had fallen in ; often, finding no means of issue, 
 they were compelled to retrace their steps; still more 
 often they had recourse to their ladder to bridge the 
 crevasses, which, without this assistance, would have 
 been impassable. At half-past nine, however, they 
 gained the solid rock, having triumphed over every 
 obstacle; and about three hours later they arrived in 
 safety at the Priory of Chamounix. 
 
 Thus was accomplished the first scientific ascent of 
 Mont Blanc.
 
 244 ASCENDING MONT BLANC. 
 
 ASCENT BY M. CHARLES MARTINS. 
 
 An ascent of Mont Blanc was successfully achieved 
 by M. Charles Martins, author of the very valuable and 
 interesting record of travel, Du Spitzberg au Sahara, in 
 1844; when he was accompanied by Auguste Bravais, a 
 lieutenant in the French navy, and Auguste Lepileur, a 
 physician. 
 
 The three explorers quitted Geneva on the 26th of 
 July. On foot they followed the cumbrous four-wheeled 
 car which carried their equipments, and arrived at 
 Chamounix on the 28th. They spent some days in the 
 necessary preparations. With the view of sojourning 
 at the highest possible elevation on Mont Blanc, they 
 had brought from Paris a military tent, with its pegs 
 and uprights, some goat-skin overcoats, sheep-skin bags, 
 coverlets, and other necessaries. Numerous physical and 
 meteorological instruments were required for the pro- 
 jected experiments; and three days' supply of provisions. 
 In all, the baggage weighed eight hundredweights and 
 three-quarters, to be transported to a height of 10,000 
 feet above the vale of Chamounix; yet each porter can 
 carry only thirty-three pounds, besides his rations. 
 
 No wonder, then, that M. Charles Martins and his 
 friends found themselves at the head of a retinue of 
 forty-three persons; three being guides, Couttet, Merg- 
 nier, and Balmat, thirty-five porters, and two young 
 people of the valley, who had asked permission to accom- 
 pany them. On the 31st of July, at half-past seven in 
 the morning, they quitted Chamounix. The weather 
 was beautiful, though, as the wind blew from the south-
 
 THE PIERRE DE I/ECHELLE. 245 
 
 west, and the barometer had slightly sunk, the travellers 
 had not much confidence in its continuance. Along the 
 right bank of the rushing Arve, and through green and 
 smiling meadows, wound the gallant procession. On 
 arriving opposite the hamlet Des Pelerins they turned 
 to the left. The last house in the village is that of 
 Jacques Balmat, the courageous peasant who first scaled 
 the virgin snows of the mighty peak, and afterwards 
 perished miserably (in 1834) in the glaciers which over- 
 hang the valley of Sixt. 
 
 On emerging from the purple vineyards which sur- 
 round the hamlet Des Pelerins, our adventurers entered 
 the forest ; it is composed of tall firs and aged larches, 
 the withered branches of which are festooned with long 
 wreaths of gray lichens. In the preceding spring an 
 enormous avalanche, loosened from the Aiguille du 
 Midi, had dug a deep furrow across the forest, like a 
 colossal ploughshare. Uprooted trees now strewed the 
 soil which they had formerly shaded ; others had been 
 split in twain, and their shattered crests lay at their 
 feet ; some, with roots laid bare, hung inclined towards 
 the valley. These results are due to the pressure of 
 the air impelled before it by the avalanche, to the local 
 wind it creates, and partly to its own mass. 
 
 The caravan separated in the wood, and each man 
 sought out his own path. A narrow track skirts the 
 precipice, washed by the torrent of the Pe'lerins, and 
 leads to the moraine of the Glacier des Bossons ; then 
 it mounts in the midst of the heaped-up crags which 
 compose it, and reaches the Pierre de 1'Echelle, an enor- 
 mous rock, under which is concealed the ladder always
 
 246 THE ALPINE FLORA. 
 
 employed in crossing the crevasses of the glacier. This 
 stone or cliff is 8050 feet above the sea-level, or about 
 the same elevation as the Hospice of St. Bernard. There 
 the daring climber bids farewell to earth, he quits it 
 to set foot upon the glacier, and thenceforward, even 
 to the summit of Mont Blanc, he meets only with a 
 few isolated rocks, rising, like islands, out of a sea of 
 eternal snow. 
 
 On the occasion of the ascent of M. Martins, the cirque 
 of the Glacier des Bossons was as it always is a chaos 
 of se'racs* aiguilles, and pyramids of ice, into the midst 
 of which plunges the eastern wall of the Grands Mulcts. 
 The vertical layers of which these walls are built up 
 differ considerably in height, and form, as it were, a 
 series of steps, by means of which it is possible to climb 
 to every point. The rock, decomposed under the influ- 
 ence of the atmospheric agents, accumulates between 
 the layers ; and in this rude soil, sheltered by the cliff', 
 warmed by the sun which it reflects, and moistened by 
 the snow, flourish some charming Alpine plants. In a 
 few weeks these accomplish all the phases of their vege- 
 tation. Of phanerogamic plants M. Charles Martins 
 estimates there are twenty-four species, and to these 
 must be added twenty-six species of mosses, two hepa- 
 ticas, and thirty lichens, bringing up to eighty-two the 
 total of the plants which grow on these isolated rocks, 
 in the midst of a sea of ice, deprived apparently of 
 every kind of vegetation. But more: these plants 
 serve as the nourishment of a rodent, the campagnol 
 des neiges, which of all mammals lives at the highest 
 
 * Cubical masses of compact snow, resembling the stracs, or Swiss cheeses.
 
 PIERRE OE L'ECHELLE.
 
 MAGNETIC MEASUREMENTS. 249 
 
 level in the Alps, though nearly all its congeners are 
 inhabitants of the plain. 
 
 Bravais had undertaken the task of measuring the 
 variations of the magnetic intensity with the height. 
 For this purpose he employed a compass in which a 
 needle is suspended horizontally to a thread of raw silk. 
 This needle is made to oscillate during a series of per- 
 fectly equal intervals of time, and by the number of 
 oscillations is computed, after infinite and minutely 
 careful corrections, the relative intensity of the mag- 
 netic force of the place compared with that of Paris, 
 which is taken as equal to unity. The reader will 
 appreciate the importance of these measurements when 
 we remind him that it is hoped they will one day reveal 
 the still mysterious laws of the currents which circulate 
 around the terrestrial globe that colossal magnet, the 
 two poles of which do not coincide with the two ex- 
 tremities of the ideal axis around which the earth 
 describes its daily revolution. 
 
 Meantime the sun approached the horizon. Already 
 he had disappeared behind the mountains of Vergy; the 
 valleys of Sallenche and Chamounix had long slept in 
 the shadow, while the neighbouring granitic points 
 seemed to glow red-hot, like iron just taken from the 
 furnace ; soon, too, the Aiguille of Varens and the rocks 
 of the Fiz were extinguished, and the gloom spread to 
 the glaciers of Mont Blanc. The snow, so luminous but 
 a moment before, assumed the ghastly livid tint of a 
 corpse ; the death-chill seemed to invade those regions 
 along with the advancing obscurity, and to reveal all
 
 250 ATMOSPHERIC PHENOMENA. 
 
 their horror. The Aiguille of the Goute', and the Monts 
 Maudits, paled in quick succession ; only the crest of 
 Mont Blanc remained illuminated for some time longer, 
 until its living rose-tint also gave way to the livid hue, 
 as if life had deserted it in its turn. Towards the hori- 
 zon, above the sea of clouds, the sky appeared of a 
 bright green colour, resulting from the combination of 
 the yellow rays of the sun with the blue of the celestial 
 vault ; the contours of the isolated clouds were circum- 
 scribed by an orange border of the greatest splendour. 
 In those lofty regions that soft gloaming-light which 
 has such a charm in the leas and vales is wholly un- 
 known; night abruptly follows day. 
 
 Our explorers sheltered themselves behind a wall of 
 stone which had been raised in front of a cavity. Their 
 guides were grouped on the terraces of the rock, around 
 small fires which they laboriously kindled with juniper- 
 wood brought from the vicinity of the Pierre de 1'Echelle ; 
 they sang in unison some slow monotonous songs, which 
 derived from the scene and time a melancholy sweet- 
 ness. Gradually the voices ceased, the fires died out, 
 and no sound could be heard but that of the avalanches 
 down-thundering from the neighbouring heights. Be- 
 fore long the moon arose behind the Monts Maudits, 
 and silvering, though unseen by our travellers, the 
 Dome du Goute, illuminated the snows with a strange 
 phosphorescent radiance. When it had passed the 
 Aiguille du Goutd it was surrounded by a greenish 
 aureole, which shone defined upon a sky as black as 
 ink; the stars sparkled brightly; the wind did not 
 subside, but blew in strong and abrupt gusts, succeeded
 
 A VOLUNTEER GUIDE. 251 
 
 by a moment of perfect calm. Everything betokened 
 bad weather on the morrow, and yet not one of M. 
 Martins' party breathed the word " return : " all wished 
 to exhaust their last chance, and not to give up until it 
 was absolutely impossible to continue the ascent. 
 
 Next morning, while they were engaged in readjust- 
 ing the burdens of the porters, M. Martins suddenly 
 caught sight of an old man, unknown to the exploring- 
 party, who was slowly ascending the acclivity leading 
 to the Petit Plateau ; stooping upon the snow, and 
 sometimes supporting himself by his hands, he pro- 
 gressed slowly, but with the firm and measured step 
 which indicates the trained mountaineer. This old man 
 proved to be Marie Couttet, aged eighty, who in his 
 youth had acted as guide to De Saussure. Formerly 
 his surprising agility had procured him the sobriquet 
 of " The Chamois." And he well deserved it. No one 
 excelled him in intrepidity. One day he accompanied 
 an English tourist on a difficult journey. The English- 
 man preserved throughout the air of cool indifference 
 characteristic of the true "gentleman," and the most 
 rugged and perilous passages drew from him neither a 
 gesture of astonishment nor a word indicative of the 
 slightest hesitation. Irritated by his imperturbable com- 
 posure, Couttet bethought himself of a venerable pine 
 which projected horizontally over the edge of an escarp- 
 ment three hundred yards in depth ; he marched boldly 
 along the trunk, and on gaining the extremity sat down 
 upon it, and then suspended himself by his feet above 
 the precipice. The Englishman looked on without 
 emotion, and when Couttet returned to his side, gave him
 
 252 THE GRAND PLATEAU. 
 
 a piece of gold on condition that he did not repeat the 
 exploit. Such, in his youth, was the man who preceded 
 M. Charles Martins up the lower slopes of the Petit 
 Plateau. His intellect had grown feeble before his 
 body : he thought he had discovered a new route to 
 the summit of Mont Blanc, and recommended himself 
 to every tourist who attempted the ascent. Though 
 his offer was refused, he would still go as a volunteer, 
 up to a certain elevation, in order to demonstrate 
 the excellence of the new route he had discovered. 
 Knowing the old man's monomania, we had carefully 
 concealed from him the day of our departure; but 
 having learned that we were at the Grands Mulets, he 
 had started on the same evening, crossed the glacier, 
 and towards midnight arrived at our bivouac, where 
 he took his place around the fire with our guides. At 
 dawn he was the first to start, to point out the track. 
 
 The Grand Plateau is a vast cirque of snow and ice, 
 the bottom of which is a plain slightly raised towards 
 the south. But M. Martins had scarcely time to deter- 
 mine the configuration of places, the clouds having 
 completely enveloped him and his companions, and the 
 snow whirling in dense showers around their heads. 
 There was no time to hesitate ; either they must im- 
 mediately redescend or erect their tent. Two porters, 
 Auguste Simond and Jean Cachat, offered to remain 
 with the three travellers and the guides. The others 
 flung their loads down upon the snow, and hastily made 
 their way towards the Petit Plateau : they disappeared 
 like shadows in the mist, which every moment increased
 
 RAISING A TENT. 253 
 
 in density. Left alone, the little band of courageous 
 souls began by removing the snow, to the depth of 
 thirteen or fourteen inches, over a rectangular space 
 thirteen feet long by six and a half feet wide ; then, 
 guided by a rectangular cord which had been previously 
 prepared, each knot of which corresponded to one of 
 the stakes of the tent, they planted in the snow some 
 long, strong, wooden plugs, of which the head was 
 furnished with a hook. This done, the tent was raised 
 on the cross-beam and two supports which formed its 
 framework, the buckles of the ropes being passed 
 around the head of the plugs. The adventurers then 
 hastened to get their instruments under cover, and next 
 their provisions. And well was it they lost no time, 
 for several bottles of wine left outside could not after- 
 wards be recovered, being buried deep by the falling 
 snow in less than an hour. Beneath the tent they 
 improvised a kind of flooring, by placing some light 
 planks of deal upon the snow. At one end reposed the 
 guides, and at the other their employers; and so 
 narrow was the space that no one could stand upright 
 he must remain seated or recumbent. The " kitchen " 
 occupied the centre. The first step was to melt some 
 snow in a vessel warmed by the flame of a spirits-of- 
 wine lamp; for at such an elevation coal burns very 
 badly. Bravais hit upon the lucky idea of pouring 
 the hot water on the tent-pegs ; and as the water froze 
 immediately, instead of being sunk in shifting snow, 
 they were soon embedded in masses of compact ice. 
 Besides, a rope fixed to the bolt which joined the 
 horizontal main-beam to one of the vertical supports,
 
 254 A FRAIL ASYLUM. 
 
 and attached like a shroud to the side from which the 
 wind blew, was stoutly moored to a couple of stakes 
 thrust into the snow. These precautions taken, our 
 explorers had nothing to do but to wait. All observa- 
 tions were impossible, except those of the barometer in 
 the tent, and of a thermometer outside, the former 
 marked 2. 7 below zero on their arrival ; at two o'clock 
 it had sunk to -4.0 ; and at five, to -5.8. Meanwhile, 
 night had gathered in, and they lighted a lantern, 
 which, suspended above their heads, illuminated the 
 little "interior." The guides, huddled together, con- 
 versed in a low voice, or slept as tranquilly as in their 
 beds. The wind redoubled its violence; it blew in 
 gusts, interrupted by those moments of profound calm 
 which had been a source of astonishment to Saussure in 
 similar circumstances. The wind raged furiously in 
 the vast amphitheatre of snow, on the edge of which 
 their little tent was placed. A veritable avalanche of 
 air, the wind seemed to crash down upon them from 
 the summit of Mont Blanc. Then the canvas of the 
 tent expanded like a sail filled by the breeze; the 
 supports bent and vibrated like the strings of a violin ; 
 arid the horizontal main-beam yielded in a curve. In- 
 stinctively they supported the canvas with their backs 
 while the gale lasted, for their safety depended on the 
 solidity of this comparatively frail asylum. By step- 
 ping outside, they could easily form an idea of what 
 would become of them if it were carried away. M. 
 Charles Martins remarks that until now he had never 
 been able to understand how travellers, full of health 
 and vigour, had perished at only a few paces from the
 
 A SNOW-STORM. 255 
 
 spot where the storm had surprised them; but his 
 experience on this occasion assisted him in compre- 
 hending it. 
 
 Within the tent, the cold was insupportable. The 
 thermometer oscillated between 2 and 3 above zero. 
 Their goat-skin clothing and sheep-skin bags protected 
 them sufficiently, though the hair of the pelisse wa. a 
 glued by the ice to the canvas of the tent. During the 
 night the wind diminished in violence. Unfortunately 
 for our mountain-climbers, the temperature continued 
 to decrease, and at half-past five in the morning the 
 thermometer marked -12.l. The freshly -fallen snow 
 was twenty inches thick ; but the canvas of the tent 
 was not covered with it, the wind having swept it 
 away as fast as it fell ; and it continued to drive hori- 
 zontally great clouds of hail and snow from the Grand 
 Plateau. The barometer remained as low as on the 
 preceding evening. During a brief interval of calm, the 
 summits of Mont Blanc, the Monts Maudits, and the 
 Dromedary became visible, all terminated by a white 
 crest in a north-easterly direction : this was the snow 
 which the south-west gale had driven through the air. 
 
 It was impossible to ascend to the summit ; even on 
 the Grand Plateau the adventurers were doomed to inac- 
 tion. Recognizing the uselessness of struggling against 
 adverse circumstances, they arranged their instruments 
 in the tent, and closed up its entrance with snow. This 
 was at seven A.M., when the thermometer still indicated 
 seven degrees below zero. The recently-fallen snow 
 having hidden every chink and crevasse, they fastened
 
 256 CONTINUING THE ENTERPRISE. 
 
 one another to the guiding-rope, and descended rapidly 
 to the Grands Mulcts. After a few minutes' rest, they 
 traversed the Glacier des Bossons. The narrow path- 
 way leading to the Pierres - Pointues, covered by the 
 fresh snow, had become slippery and difficult. The 
 snow had fallen still lower down, as low even as the 
 place called the Bacures Dessous, which is only 2500 
 feet above Chamounix. Their return reassured every- 
 body ; for bad weather had prevailed in the valley as 
 on the summits, and a rumour had got abroad that the 
 adventurers had perished. 
 
 On the 25th of August, however, the weather changed 
 to fair ; the barometer rose steadily, and a north-west 
 wind blew gently in the upper regions of the atmo- 
 sphere. M. Martins knew that his tent was still stand- 
 ing on the Grand Plateau he had sighted it from the 
 ridge of the Brevent ; but it seemed to be buried deep 
 in snow on the south-west side, while the opposite was 
 swept completely clear. Assured, therefore, that they 
 would find their instruments in good order, they started 
 again on the 27th the three enthusiasts of science 
 at half an hour after midnight. The moon brightened 
 their march ; and at half-past three they reached the 
 Pierres -Pointues. The sky was serenely pure; only a 
 few isolated clouds resting on the Col de Balme and 
 the Monts Vergy. A fresh and steady breeze, and the 
 subdued scintillation of the stars, were signs of favour- 
 able weather. Castor and Pollux beamed with a tran- 
 quil light above the Aiguilles of Charmoz. 
 
 On reaching the upper precipices, our travellers 
 closed up their line, and were careful that the angles
 
 THE PETITS-MULETS. 257 
 
 formed by their zigzags should open fifteen degrees at 
 least. They sank to their knees in the snow, the tem- 
 perature of which was uniformly -11.0 at a depth of 
 four inches. The rarefaction of the air and the thick- 
 ness of the snow, from which they were every moment 
 compelled to extricate their limbs, forced them to move 
 slowly ; at every twenty paces they halted suffocated, 
 with their feet painfully cold, and on the point of freez- 
 ing. During their brief halts, they struck them with a 
 stick to warm them and restore the circulation. This 
 portion of the ascent was very fatiguing. However, 
 an unclouded sun and a tranquil atmosphere favoured 
 their exertions; but on reaching the declivity which 
 separates the Rochers-Rouges from the Petits-Mulets, 
 they suddenly caught sight of the heights to the south 
 of Mont Blanc, and, beyond these, the plains of Italy. 
 But they had no longer any shelter; the north-west 
 wind, previously imperceptible, carried off Mergnier's 
 hat; and M. Martins says that, though he was thickly 
 clad, he suddenly felt as if stripped to his skin, so cold 
 was the wind and so penetrating. Striking obliquely 
 to the right, they soon reached the Petits-Mulets, some 
 protogenic rocks situated at 500 feet below the summit. 
 And now they were near their goal; but they 
 marched slowly, with heads drooping, chests panting, 
 like a convoy of invalids. The rarefaction of the air 
 made itself painfully felt : every moment the procession 
 halted. Bravais tried how long he could push forward, 
 using his utmost speed; at the thirty-second step he 
 was brought to a stand-still, incapable. At length, at 
 a quarter to two, they attained the eagerly-desired 
 
 (731) 17
 
 258 THE PYRAMIDAL COLOSSUS. 
 
 summit, which consists of a ridge running east-north- 
 east to south - south - west ; this ridge was not, as 
 Saussure had found it, a narrow knife-like edge, but 
 fully sixteen to twenty feet in width. On the north 
 side it abutted on an immense snow-slope, with an 
 inclination of from 40 to 45 degrees, which terminates 
 at the Grand Plateau ; southward it is continued with 
 a small smooth level surface, parallel to the crest, in- 
 clined about 12 degrees, and some 330 feet in breadth. 
 This surface is prolonged towards the south, where it 
 connects itself to a rapid slope, abruptly interrupted at 
 the level of the great rocky precipices which overhang 
 the Allde-Blanche. After recovering their breath, they 
 hastened to enjoy the magnificent panorama spread out 
 before them in all the rich colouring of the cloudless 
 day. Its details we have already described in our 
 sketch of De Saussure's ascent. 
 
 It does not appear that the height of Mont Blanc has 
 varied materially since it was first measured by Schuck- 
 burgh in 1775. This uniformity is certainly astonishing, 
 when we remember that the summit is composed wholly 
 of ice and snow, to a depth, according to De Saussure, 
 of nearly 220 feet. It appears evident that Mont Blanc, 
 like the neighbouring Aiguille du Midi, is a pyramid. 
 The Rochers-Rouges, the Petits-Mulets, the Tourette, 
 are the still projecting points of this pyramidal colossus ; 
 the remainder is covered with a hood or cap of snow, 
 which does not melt on account of the elevation of the 
 mountain. The temperature of the air, on the summit, 
 is rarely as high as zero, but nearly always very far 
 below it. If the reader asks how it is that the thick-
 
 ABLATION AND INCREASE. 259 
 
 ness of this hood of snow is always the same, how it is 
 that the altitude of the mountain does not change accord- 
 ing to the seasons, and even according to the years, we 
 answer that, in reality, the quantity of snow which falls 
 there, the winds which sweep it, the evaporation which 
 diminishes its thickness, the condensation of the clouds 
 which increases it, vary from one year to another ; so 
 that the form of the summit is never the same. If he 
 will compare the descriptions of De Saussure, Clissold, 
 Markham Sherwill, Henry de Tilly, and Bravais, re- 
 corded successively in 1787, 1822, 1827, 1834, and 1844, 
 he will see that each of these travellers found a differ- 
 ence in configuration, except in the fundamental char- 
 acter, a ridge, like an ass's back, running from north to 
 south. How could it be otherwise ? Torrents of snow, 
 brought on the wings of the wind from every point of 
 the compass, descend upon Mont Blanc ; they have 
 scarcely fallen before they are swept away, displaced, 
 carried off, until their surface resembles that of a care- 
 fully cultivated field. Even in the fairest weather, 
 when the most absolute tranquillity prevails in the 
 plain, a light smoke seems to escape from the summit, 
 drawn out horizontally by a strong wind; if in a 
 southerly direction, it is a good sign. It is, the Savo- 
 yards say, " Mont Blanc smoking its pipe." But in the 
 aggregate all these varied causes of ablation and increase 
 balance one another, so that the height of the summit 
 continues uniform. Nature never proceeds on any other 
 principle ; nothing is always and absolutely stable ; 
 everything changes, the atom as the ocean. This 
 oscillation round a certain mean is the fixity of life ;
 
 260 A GLORIOUS SPECTACLE. 
 
 immobility is death, and the general forces of Nature, 
 which govern the organic as well as the inorganic 
 world, never rest. 
 
 M. Martins had scarcely completed his meteorological 
 and geodesical operations when the sun drew near the 
 lines of the Jura in the direction of Geneva; it was a 
 quarter past six, and the thermometer indicated 11. 8 
 for the temperature of the air, 17.6 for that of the 
 snow on the surface, and 14.0 at eight inches in 
 depth. The travellers found it exceedingly painful to 
 come in contact with the snow, even through their thick 
 boots. However, they endured their sufferings bravely. 
 They would fain have lingered on the peak long enough 
 to kindle some fires which might be visible, according 
 to agreement, to the astronomers of Geneva, Lyons, and 
 Dijon; for these, if simultaneously observed from the 
 three cities, would have enabled their differences of 
 longitude to be accurately determined; but the keen, 
 biting air was so intense that further delay would have 
 been fatal to life. Auguste Simond expressed an inten- 
 tion of remaining behind for this purpose; but his com- 
 panions very prudently refused to allow him. And since 
 that time the desired result has been obtained without 
 difficulty by means of the electric telegraph. Departure 
 was resolved upon ; and the triumphant ascensionists 
 may we use the word ? were beginning to descend, 
 when they were suddenly arrested by the most magni- 
 ficent spectacle which man has ever contemplated. The 
 shadow of Mont Blanc, forming an immense cone, ex- 
 tended to the whitely-gleaming mountains of Piedmont ; 
 it advanced with majestic slowness towards the horizon,
 
 THE DESCENT BEGUN. 261 
 
 and rose high into the air above the Bocca di Nonna. 
 But then the shadows of the other mountains succes- 
 sively blended with it, as the sun sank behind each great 
 peak, and formed, as it were, a regal retinue for the 
 monarch of the Alps. By an effect of the perspective, 
 all converged towards it; and these shadows, of a 
 greenish blue towards their base, were surrounded by a 
 very vivid purple tint which shaded softly into the rose 
 of the heavens. It was a splendid spectacle. A poet 
 might have said that angels with kindling pinions in- 
 clined around the throne on which sat the Invisible 
 Presence of the Deity. The shade passed from the sky, 
 and still the travellers stood as if rooted to the spot; 
 motionless, but not mute with astonishment, for their 
 admiration found expression in involuntary cries and 
 exclamations. Only the auroras of Arctic Europe can 
 furnish a spectacle equal in magnificence to the unex- 
 pected phenomenon which none before M. Martins and 
 his companions had beheld from the summit of Mont 
 Blanc. 
 
 The sun was sinking fast, and the travellers must set 
 out. They fastened themselves all to one rope, and 
 descended hastily towards the Grand Plateau. When 
 passing near the Petits-Mulets, M. Martins found a couple 
 of stones among the snow ; and, from the glassy beads 
 upon their surface, knew they were fragments of rock 
 dispersed by the lightning which so often strikes these 
 lofty peaks. After leaving the Petits-Mulets they made 
 no further halt, but descended, " like an avalanche," in 
 a straight line, and without picking out their route ; 
 each one was dragged on by his predecessor, and
 
 262 ON THE GRAND PLATEAU. 
 
 Mergnier, leading the way, sprang with leaps and 
 bounds down the declivity, sinking at every movement 
 into the snow, which sufficiently moderated the impetus 
 of the swift procession. On reaching the Grand Plateau, 
 they paused a moment to take breath ; resumed their 
 rapid march, and finally reached their tent at a quarter 
 to eight. In fifty-five minutes they had descended 
 from the summit, which is fally 2500 feet above the 
 Grand Plateau.
 
 Ill the Indian: Jtrdupekgo. 
 
 JNE of the great volcanic belts of the world 
 is carried through the superb islands of the 
 Indian Archipelago. It may be traced in a 
 curving line, indicated by numerous active 
 and extinct volcanoes, throughout the entire length of 
 Sumatra and Java, and thence by the islands of Bali, 
 Lornbock, Sumbawa, Flores, the Servatty Islands, Banda, 
 Amboyna, Balchian, Makian, Tidore, Ternate, and Gilolo, 
 to Morty Island. After a break of about two hundred 
 miles to the westward, the chain of fire begins again in 
 North Celebes, and strikes through Sian and Sanguir 
 to the Philippine Archipelago. An offshoot of the main 
 belt diverges at Banda, and passes under the sea to the 
 north-eastern coast of New Guinea ; whence it may be 
 followed through New Britain, New Ireland, and the 
 Solomon Islands, to the eastern border of the Indian 
 Ocean. 
 
 The islands thus occupied are remarkable for the 
 picturesque character of their scenery and the extraor- 
 dinary fertility of their vegetation. No more singular
 
 264 VOLCANOES OF JAVA. 
 
 development of the subterranean fires can be found 
 in any quarter of the globe ; for not only does the 
 archipelago owe its natural wealth, but to a certain 
 degree its existence, to their activity. They have piled 
 up ranges of mountains and built up isolated peaks 
 from 7000 to 12,000 feet in height, and have clothed 
 their sides with the fairest fruits and flowers of the 
 Tropical world. Thus Java, though it contains no 
 fewer than forty -five volcanoes, averaging 10,000 feet 
 high, is not the less the very garden of the East, and 
 rich beyond all that the liveliest imagination can sug- 
 gest. Its mountains are not bare and rugged, like those 
 of Scandinavia, nor clothed in a cerecloth of perpetual 
 snow, like those of Alpine Europe ; but from base to 
 crest exhibit the most luxuriant variety of vegetation. 
 Hence the ascent of a mountain in the Indian Archi- 
 pelago reveals a constant succession of rich and radiant 
 landscapes, and possesses a peculiar interest for the 
 scientific naturalist. 
 
 THE PANGERANGO MOUNTAIN : JAVA. 
 
 In 1861, Mr. Wallace, the author of several important 
 works of travel, ascended one of the loftier summits of 
 Java the Pangerango, an extinct volcanic cone about 
 10,000 feet above the sea. He started from a town 
 called Tchipanas, situated at its base; with two hunters 
 as companions, and a couple of coolies to carry his bag- 
 gage. The first mile, he says, was open country ; after 
 which they entered the great forest that covers the 
 whole of the mountain from a height of about 5000 feet. 
 Through the dense shades of this forest, up a tolerably
 
 THE " RHINOCEROS FIELD." 267 
 
 steep ascent, they proceeded for a mile or two ; the trees 
 being of great size, and the luxuriant undergrowth con- 
 sisting of fine herbaceous plants, tree-ferns, and shrubby 
 vegetation. The ferns were as numerous as they were 
 various, and of a beauty that would have enchanted 
 any English fern-grower. It is said that as many as 
 three hundred species may be found on this one moun- 
 tain. 
 
 A little before noon they arrived at the small plateau 
 of Tjeburong, at the foot of the steeper part of the 
 mountain, where, in the neighbourhood of a curious 
 cavern and a picturesque waterfall, a plank-house has 
 been erected for the accommodation of travellers. Con- 
 tinuing their ascent, they came to a rugged, steep, and 
 narrow road, winding zigzag up the cone, which was 
 strewn with irregular masses of rock, and overgrown 
 with a dense but less lofty vegetation. They passed a 
 torrent of water, the temperature of which was little 
 below boiling point ; and could not but admire its 
 singular effect as it seethed and eddied over its rocky 
 bed, and sent up clouds of white steam, which lingered 
 among the overhanging profusion of ferns and lyco- 
 podia. 
 
 At an elevation of 7500 feet the travellers found a 
 hut of open bamboos, at a place called Kandang-Badak, 
 or " Rhinoceros Field ;" and here they resolved to rest 
 and refresh themselves. From this point Mr. Wallace 
 made two visits to the summit, occupying the interval 
 in botanical researches. He also made an excursion to 
 the active crater of Gedeh, which is on the same moun- 
 tain, but at a lower elevation. He describes it as a vast
 
 268 SUMMIT OF PANGERANGO. 
 
 semicircular chasm, bounded by perpendicular walls of 
 black rock, and surrounded by miles of rugged scoria- 
 covered slopes. Its depth is not remarkable. The sides 
 are besprinkled with patches of sulphur and variously- 
 coloured products, and continual streams of smoke and 
 vapour ascend from several vents. The summit-cone of 
 Pangerango is nothing more than an irregular, undulat- 
 ing plain, with a low bordering ridge, and one deep 
 lateral chasm, apparently the remains of an ancient 
 crater. The view from this elevated point is necessarily 
 one of great extent and splendour ; including, as it does, 
 a considerable portion of the island, with its rich plains, 
 its deep valleys, and its undulating mountain-ranges. 
 
 But what renders the ascent of Pangerango specially 
 interesting, is the gradual transition apparent on its 
 colossal sides from the characteristics of a Tropical to 
 those of a Temperate flora. In climbing the 11,000 
 feet which constitute its height above the sea, the 
 traveller seems to pass from the prolific nature of Tropi- 
 cal Asia to the more reserved and austere features of 
 Temperate Europe. At first, indeed, he meets with 
 temperate forms, with herbaceous plants ; and at 3000 
 feet encounters the familiar strawberries and violets of 
 the West though the former are tasteless and the latter 
 pale and small. Weedy compositse also assist in giving 
 a European character to the wayside growth. From 
 2000 to 5000 feet the forests and ravines glow with all 
 the profuse magnificences of the Tropical World; the 
 splendour of the general effect being greatly enhanced 
 by the abundance of noble tree-ferns, sometimes fifty 
 feet in height, and always very beautiful and striking.
 
 VEGETATION OF THE MOUNTAIN. 269 
 
 In places where the ravines have been cleared of timber, 
 they crowd the sides and hollows until nothing but 
 waving fronds is visible; and where the ro.ad crosses 
 one of these valleys, the view of their feathery crowns, 
 in varied positions above and below the eye, has a 
 picturesqueness of effect which is never to be forgotten. 
 The splendid foliage, says Wallace, of the broad-leaved 
 musacesB (the well-known plantains and bananas) and 
 zingiberacese, and the elegant and varied forms of plants 
 allied to begonia and melastoma, continually attract the 
 attention in this region. The spaces between the trees 
 and larger plants are filled with hosts of orchids, ferns, 
 and lycopods, which festoon every trunk and branch, 
 and fasten and droop and intertwine their trailing arms 
 in ever- various complexity. 
 
 At about 5000 feet the traveller meets with horse- 
 tails (equiseturri) not unlike those of Europe. At 6000 
 feet, and from thence to the summit of the mountain, 
 wild raspberries are as plentiful as brambles in an Eng- 
 lish lane. At 7000 feet cypresses appear, and the forest- 
 trees diminish in size, and are more thickly incrusted 
 with mosses and hoary lichens. These minor forms of 
 vegetation rapidly increase as we ascend, until the 
 rocky masses and blocks of scoria that form the moun- 
 tain slope are altogether hidden by them. 
 
 At 8000 feet we encounter European types in greater 
 plenty. Several species of honeysuckle, St. John's-wort, 
 and Guelder-rose abound; and at about 9000 feet we 
 fall in with the rare and rarely beautiful royal cowslip 
 (primula imperialis), which blooms nowhere else in 
 the world, it is said, but on this solitary mountain sum-
 
 270 AN ABUNDANT FLORA. 
 
 init. It lias a tall, stout stem, sometimes more than 
 three feet high ; the root leaves are eighteen inches 
 long ; and instead of a terminal cluster, it throws off 
 several whorls of cowslip-like flowers. The forest-trees, 
 though gnarled and gloomy, and dwarfed to the size of 
 bushes, extend to the very rim of the old crater, but 
 have not made their way into the summit -hollow. 
 Here we find much open ground, with thickets of 
 shrubby artemisias and gnaphaliums, resembling our 
 English southernwood and cudweed, only growing to a 
 height of six or eight feet; while buttercups, violets, 
 whortle-berries, sow-thistles, chickweed, white and yel- 
 low cruciferse, plantain, and annual grasses everywhere 
 abound. In the shelter of shrubs and bushes, wherever 
 these are found, flourish the St. John's-wort and honey- 
 suckle in balmy profusion ; and in the damp shade of 
 the thickets thrives the imperial cowslip. 
 
 The following genera, belonging to distant and more 
 temperate regions, are found in the Pangerango : 
 
 Two species of violet, three of ranunculus, three of 
 impaticus, eight or ten of rubus, and several kinds of 
 primula, hypericum, swertia, convallaria (lily of the 
 valley), vaccinium (cranberry), rhododendron, gna- 
 phalium (cudweed), polygonum, digitalis (foxglove), 
 lonicera (honeysuckle), plantago (rib-grass), artemisia 
 (wormwood), lobelia, oxalis (wood-sorrel), quercus (oak), 
 and taxus (yew). A few of the smaller plants (plan- 
 tago major and lanceolata, jonchus oleraceus, and arte- 
 misia vulgaris) are identical with European species. 
 
 Now, as the flora of the lowlands, for " thousands of 
 miles around," is of an entirely different character, the
 
 A PHENOMENON EXPLAINED. 271 
 
 occurrence of the semi-European vegetation on isolated 
 mountain-peaks in an island south of the equator, is a 
 remarkable fact. No such Alpine flora is found on the 
 Peak of Teneriffe which is so much nearer Europe, 
 and also of greater height nor on the mountains of 
 Bourbon and Mauritius. The case of the Javanese peaks 
 calls, therefore, for explanation. Well, an analogous 
 phenomenon exists elsewhere. The loftier peaks of 
 the Alps, and even of the Pyrenees, afford a number of 
 plants exactly identical with those of Lapland, but no- 
 where found in the intervening plains. On the summit 
 of the White Mountains, in the United States, every 
 plant is identical with species growing in Labrador. 
 In these cases, says Mr. Wallace, all ordinary means of 
 transport fail. Most of the plants have heavy seeds, 
 which could not possibly be carried such immense dis- 
 tances by the wind; and the agency of birds in so 
 effectually stocking these Alpine heights is equally out 
 of the question. The difficulty was so great, that some 
 naturalists were driven to solve it by supposing that all 
 these species had been separately created twice over on 
 these distant peaks; a supposition which all that we 
 know of the order of creation effectually negatives. 
 The ascertained existence at some remote period of a 
 glacial epoch seems, however, to dispose of the question 
 in a satisfactory manner, and to offer an explanation 
 which men of science can accept. In that age of ice, 
 when the Welsh mountains laboured with glaciers, and 
 the mountainous parts of Central Europe and much of 
 America north of the great lakes were covered with ice 
 and snow, and suffered from a climate resembling that
 
 272 THE EXPLANATION CONTINUED. 
 
 of Labrador and Greenland at the present day, an 
 Arctic flora overspread all these regions. When the 
 long, dreary winter-epoch passed away, and the snow- 
 shroud and the glaciers receded up the mountain slopes, 
 and were driven towards the North Pole, the plants 
 peculiar to it receded also always clinging, as they 
 still cling, to the borders of the perpetual snow-line. 
 And hence it arises that the same species are now found 
 on the summits of the mountains of Temperate Europe 
 and America as in the bleak Polar regions. 
 
 But we must carry our explanation a step further. 
 On the higher slopes of the colossal Himalaya, on the 
 mountain-summits of Central India and Abyssinia, occur 
 numerous plants which, though not identical with those 
 of European mountains, belong to the same genera, and 
 are regarded as representing them. The majority of 
 these could not exist in the warm intervening plains. 
 Mr. Darwin accounts for this class of facts in the same 
 way ; for, during the extreme severity of the ice-age, 
 temperate forms of plants will have made their way to 
 the confines of the Tropics, and on its departure will 
 have gradually retired up the southern mountains, as 
 well as northward to the hills and plains of Europe. 
 " But in this case," adds Wallace, " the time elapsed, and 
 the great change of conditions, have allowed many of 
 these plants to become so modified that we now con- 
 sider them to be distinct species. A variety of other 
 facts of a similar nature have led him to believe that 
 the depression of temperature was at one time sufficient 
 to allow a few north-temperate plants to cross the 
 Equator (by the most elevated routes), and to reach the
 
 JAVA AND THE ASIATIC MAINLAND. 273 
 
 Antarctic regions, where they are now found." In this 
 way may we explain the presence of a flora of European 
 type on the volcanoes of Java. 
 
 It may be objected to this explanation, that between 
 Java and the Asiatic mainland a great breadth of sea 
 intervenes, which must have effectually prevented the 
 immigration of temperate forms of plants during the 
 long winter of the primeval world. But the answer to 
 this is, that abundant and incontestable proof can be 
 brought forward of the former junction of Java, with 
 the continent. Indeed, Mr. Wallace has almost con- 
 clusively demonstrated that the Asiatic mainland at 
 one time included not only the island of Java, but also 
 Sumatra and Borneo, and extended even to the small 
 island of Bali. For evidence of this fact, the reader is 
 referred to Mr. Wallace's charming work on the " Malay 
 Archipelago." It is enough to indicate it here as con- 
 firming our explanation of the causes to which is due 
 the European character of the vegetation that so abun- 
 dantly and vigorously covers the slopes of the moun- 
 tains of Java. 
 
 THE GUNUNG-TALANG MOUNTAIN: SUMATRA. 
 The great island of Sumatra, winch in extent is equal 
 to that of Great Britain, does not possess so large a num- 
 ber of volcanoes, proportionately, as Java, and probably 
 a considerable portion of it is non-volcanic in origin ; but 
 some of its peaks are of colossal size and wonderfully 
 romantic character. Among these we may particularize 
 the Gunung-Talang (or Scelassie), which attains an 
 elevation of 8,480 feet above the sea, and broke out 
 
 (731) 18
 
 274 A VOLCANIC PEAK. 
 
 into violent activity in October 1845. At that time it 
 was ascended by several Dutch travellers, one of whom 
 has left on record the particulars of their enterprise. 
 
 On their way from Solok to Mocara Pamy, they had 
 caught sight at intervals when on the higher grounds 
 of vast columns of smoke rising from the Talang. 
 The view, not unnaturally, begat in them a strong 
 desire to visit the "burning mountain." This desire 
 they resolved to gratify ; and having made the necessary 
 preparations, they started, on horseback, at five o'clock 
 in the morning of the 21st of October. 
 
 After about a quarter of an hour's travelling, they 
 came upon a deep ravine covered with rolled pebbles, 
 which made the road so dangerous that they were com- 
 pelled to dismount and lead their horses. Crossing a 
 small bamboo-bridge without parapet, they climbed an 
 acclivity of considerable steepness, and thence enjoyed 
 a prospect so magnificent as amply to recompense them 
 for all their previous exertions. Its principal feature, 
 however, was the Talang, which continued to emit its 
 dense clouds of smoke. 
 
 Near Batol-Banjak, where they halted, fragments of 
 trachyte are found in great abundance. In the neigh- 
 bourhood several thermal springs indicate the wide area 
 of the volcanic action ; their waters are pungent and 
 strongly sulphurous. 
 
 In the evening they reached Batol-Bedjandjang, situ- 
 ated at the very foot of the volcano. Next morning 
 they resumed their journey in a disagreeable mist and 
 incessant showers of drizzling rain. The thermometer
 
 THE GUNUNG-TALANG CRATER. 275 
 
 stood at 20 C. The track took them across three 
 abrupt ridges in succession, each about 650 feet in 
 length. From the crest of the highest the view extended 
 over a table-land covered with a rich vegetation of trees 
 and shrubs, at the extremity of which a fresh ascent, of 
 about 1400 feet, awaited them. The soil, composed of a 
 mixture of sulphurous earth and calcareous particles, 
 began to grow perceptibly hot, and jets of white smoke 
 issued from the numerous crevasses that spread across it. 
 
 At eleven o'clock they reached the base of the top- 
 most peak, which rose about 320 feet above them. 
 Though the vicinity of the crater had for some time 
 been evident, from the strong sulphurous odour which 
 infected the air, the activity of the volcano now showed 
 itself much more plainly. In the midst of the blocks 
 of ancient lava which surrounded them vegetation lived 
 a sickly life, and the eye rested with little satisfaction 
 on withered bushes and blackened and burned-up trees. 
 Our travellers pushed forward all the more rapidly that 
 the surrounding landscape offered so little which was 
 attractive, and arrived at a crevasse situated between 
 the two summits, on one of which the crater was visible 
 in all its impressive grandeur. 
 
 Truly majestic was the spectacle ! 
 
 In front yawned the crater, the gloomy basin in 
 which the volcanic forces had toiled for ages; and 
 beyond was the new mouth, still seething and whirl- 
 ing, like a tube surrounded by flames and clouds of 
 smoke. The deadly silence which prevailed was inter- 
 rupted only at times by the subterranean din of volcanic 
 reports.
 
 276 A FIERY LAKE. 
 
 To the south-west, about 400 feet from the summit, 
 lay the active crater. Its western border was formed 
 by a vertical wall, through which a portion of the lava 
 escaped. On the south side an inclined crest or ridge 
 disappeared in a depth which the eye could not 
 fathom. To whatever distance the gaze extended, 
 crevasses emitting puffs and cloudlets of smoke were 
 conspicuous. 
 
 To obtain a nearer view of this fiery lake, the travel- 
 lers descended the rapid slope, assisting themselves with 
 their hands as well as with their feet, and taking good 
 care not to quit one rocky projection until they were 
 sure of their footing upon another. Then they were 
 able to survey the violent commotion of the interior of 
 the basin, while almost deafened by a roar like that of 
 the paddle-wheels of a large number of steamships in 
 simultaneous movement. 
 
 M. Van der Ven, one of the party, here met with a 
 very narrow escape; for, having advanced close to an 
 opening, the hot lava suddenly yielded beneath his feet : 
 fortunately it rested upon a stratum which had already 
 hardened, and thus he had time to fling himself hastily 
 backwards. They were unable to remain long in the 
 crater, on account of the intense heat ; and they pro- 
 ceeded from thence to a small lake of sulphur lying 
 above the arete upon which they had been stationed. 
 It was a small circular basin, about 160 feet in diameter. 
 Three of the party descended the length of an almost 
 vertical wall, about twenty-two feet high, to a pool of 
 boiling water. By supporting themselves with one 
 hand at the crevasses, they were able to collect a few
 
 A THUNDER-STORM. 277 
 
 spoonfuls with the other ; but it emitted so powerful a 
 sulphurous odour that they were glad to beat a retreat 
 in all haste. 
 
 Then they recrossed the table-land or summit-plateau 
 to regain the point at which they had commenced their 
 investigations, where they proceeded to secure as com- 
 fortable quarters for the night as were available. At 
 about ten o'clock in the evening, they were wrapped up 
 in their mantles and engaged in wooing sleep on their 
 uneasy beds of stone, when the rain began again with 
 great violence. Electric clouds in swift succession swept 
 across the sky, and blazed with incessant gleams of 
 lightning. Thrice was the tent blown down by the 
 furious gale. The water trickled over them in con- 
 tinuous rills, and they trembled with cold. They were 
 immersed in an almost Cimmerian darkness, for the 
 wind had extinguished their lamps; but as the light- 
 ning waxed fierce and more frequent they contrived, by 
 its lurid glare, and after many efforts, to pitch their 
 tent securely, and beneath its feeble shelter wait anxi- 
 ously for the dawn of day. 
 
 After contending for some hours with the fury of the 
 unchained elements, they hailed with pleasure a cloud- 
 less morning sky, pure, fresh, tranquil, and radiant with 
 sunshine. Recovering their energies, they started on 
 the descent, following the eastern face, where the de- 
 clivities are less dangerous, as far as the bottom of the 
 extinct crater ; and then ascending on the opposite side 
 to the second summit, whence they enjoyed a glorious 
 prospect of hills and vales, lakes, rivers, and islets, all 
 basking in the golden glory of the day.
 
 278 MOUNTAINS OF JAVA AND SUMATRA. 
 
 The descent of the mountain was accomplished with- 
 out any misadventure. 
 
 The mountainous character of Sumatra and Java will 
 best be understood from an enumeration of their prin- 
 cipal summits. Sumatra can boast of Indrapura, 12,140 
 feet; Loesa, 11,150; Dempo, 10,440; Abong-Abong, 
 10,350 ; Singallang, 10,150 ; Merapi, 9,700 ; and Ganong- 
 Pasaman, 9,500. But the peaks of Java are on even a 
 grander scale: as Slamat, 12,300 feet; Semirer, 11,950; 
 Ardjoono, 11,800; La woo, 10,650; Soombing, 10,570; 
 Idjong, 10,170; Sindoro, 10,140; and Geeleh, 9,860. 
 The crater of Taschem contains a lake, nearly a quarter 
 of a mile in length, so strongly impregnated with sul- 
 phuric acid that the stream issuing from it poisons the 
 sea for some distance from its mouth, and no fish can 
 survive its influence.
 
 XL 
 
 (Ehhnboram 
 
 GLANCE at the map of South America re- 
 veals to us the fact that, on the western 
 side, a grand range of mountains traverses its 
 entire extent, from Tierra del Fuego to the 
 Isthmus of Panama. Nay, this remarkable longitudinal 
 mass is prolonged even into the northern division of 
 the American Continent, extending to the very shores of 
 the Arctic basin. It would seem as if Providence had 
 erected a mighty barrier capable of resisting the wild- 
 est fury of the Pacific waters. Beginning at the Pan- 
 ama isthmus, an unbroken line, known as the Andes, 
 which seldom recedes far from the ocean, and frequently 
 descends to the very shore, stretches southward to the 
 Strait of Magelhaens, and after a sudden break re- 
 appears in Tierra del Fuego, to terminate in Cape 
 Horn. This line, according to the provinces it tra- 
 verses, is named the Bolivian, the Peruvian, the Chilian, 
 and the Patagonian Andes. Sometimes the chain con- 
 sists of a single compact ridge, crested, as it were, by 
 peaks of great loftiness, and of two or even three parallel
 
 280 LOFTY SUMMITS OF THE ANDES. 
 
 ranges, with lofty valleys or table-lands between them ; 
 the whole uniting at various points in huge mountain- 
 knots or clusters. There are two such ranges in Ecua- 
 dor, Bolivia, and Peru; three in New Granada; and 
 only one in Chili. The intervening plains or table- 
 lands, called puramos or punas, are verdureless wastes, 
 swept by frequent storms. They are available, how- 
 ever, for purposes of transit; as are also the quebradas, 
 or passes, which intersect the ranges at irregular inter- 
 vals. Some of the loftiest volcanoes in the world are 
 included in the Andean system as Antisana, 19,132 
 feet; Cotopaxi, 18,875 feet; and Pichincha, 15,976 feet 
 but, instead of lava, they usually discharge stones, 
 ashes, and torrents of water, mixed with mud and 
 bitumen. Nearly the entire chain, from north to south, 
 rises above the level of the perpetual snow-line. 
 
 In Colombia the highest point of the Cordilleras (as 
 they are often called) is found in the central range, 
 the active volcano of Nevada da Tolima, the summit of 
 which slightly exceeds the elevation of 18,000 feet. In 
 Ecuador we meet with the grand summits of Pichincha, 
 15,976 feet; Illiniza, 17,380 feet; and Chimborazo, 
 21,424 feet, in the western range : Cotopaxi, 18,875 
 feet; Antisana, 19,137 feet; and Cayambe, 19,386 feet, 
 in the inland range. In Peru the principal summits 
 are the Nevada de la Vinda, 16,000 feet; and the trun- 
 cated cone of Arequipa, 20,320 feet. In Chili, the cul- 
 minating point is Aconcagua, 23,910 feet. In Pata- 
 gonia the highest summits are about 8,000 feet in 
 height. 
 
 Necessarily, the Andes are comparatively unknown
 
 AT RIOBAMBA. 283 
 
 to travellers, and the great majority of its mountains 
 have been unattempted by human enterprise. Some of 
 the most remarkable, however, have yielded to the 
 courage and patience of the explorer; and among others 
 the "giant of the Western star," Chimborazo, which 
 was long considered, though erroneously, the monarch 
 of the Andes. 
 
 We propose to describe the ascent of Chimborazo by 
 M. Boussingault and Colonel Hall, as recorded in the 
 former's " Voyages aux Volcans de 1'Equateur." 
 
 Riobamba, he says, is perhaps the most singular dio- 
 rama of the universe. Not that there is anything re- 
 markable in the town itself; and it is situated on one 
 of those treeless, grassless table-lands so common in 
 the Andes, which have all, at their lofty elevation, a 
 characteristic wintry aspect, impressing the spectator 
 with a certain feeling of melancholy. This is due, 
 perhaps, to the circumstance that, in order to reach it, 
 we pass at first through the most picturesque scenes; 
 and it is always with regret that we quit the climate 
 of the Tropics for the frosts and keen winds of the 
 North. 
 
 From this point, however, the traveller beholds a 
 vast sweep of mountain-heights, the Capac-Urcu, the 
 Tunguragua, the Cubilla, the Carguairazo, and finally, in 
 the north, the snow-crowned Chimborazo; besides the 
 celebrated peaks of the Paramos, which, though they 
 possess not the glory of the eternal snows, are full of 
 interest to the geologist. 
 
 This magnificent amphitheatre, which everywhere
 
 284 METEOROLOGICAL PHENOMENA. 
 
 limits and contracts the horizon of Riobamba, is a 
 continual subject of varied observations. It is curious 
 to observe the aspect of its glaciers at different hours 
 of the day, to see their apparent elevation modified 
 from one moment to the other by the effect of atmos- 
 pheric refraction. With what interest, too, do we see, 
 in a space so circumscribed, all the great phenomena of 
 meteorology produced ! Here it is one of those clouds, 
 of vast breadth, aptly designated by Saussure a " para- 
 site cloud," which clings midway to a lofty trachytic 
 cone; clings so closely that not even a strong wind 
 has any effect upon it. Soon the thunder bursts from 
 the heart of this mass of vapour; hail and rain deluge 
 the base of the mountain, while its snowy summit, 
 soaring far above the storm, shines in the golden light 
 of day. Farther on, it is a pinnacle of ice resplendent 
 with glory; it is so sharply outlined against the intense 
 azure of the firmament that all its contours, all its 
 irregularities can be distinguished: the purity of the 
 atmosphere is remarkable, and though the snowy sum- 
 mit is wreathed with a cloud which seems to emanate 
 from its bosom, it is but as a ring of smoke ; already it 
 is nothing more than a silvery vapour; and now it has 
 disappeared. Again it reproduces itself, once more to 
 melt into " thin air." This intermittent cloud-formation 
 is a very frequent phenomenon on the summits of snow- 
 shrouded mountains; it is chiefly observed in fair and 
 tranquil weather, and always some hours after the cul- 
 mination of the sun. In such conditions, the glaciers 
 may be compared to condensers launched towards the 
 upper regions of the atmosphere, to dry the air by
 
 THE TWO DECLIVITIES. 285 
 
 cooling it, and thus to conduct to the surface of the 
 earth the water which it contains in the state of 
 vapour. 
 
 These table-lands, with their belts of glaciers, some- 
 times present a singularly gloomy aspect; especially 
 when a warm wind fills them with humid air from the 
 lower regions. The mountains become invisible, and 
 the horizon is masked by a ring of clouds which ap- 
 parently touch the earth. The day is cold and damp, 
 the mass of vapour being almost impenetrable to the 
 solar light. A prolonged twilight prevails, the only 
 one known between the Tropics; for under the equatorial 
 zone night abruptly follows day, and it seems as if the 
 sun were extinguished when it sets. 
 
 Let us now turn our attention to Chimborazo. For 
 the purpose of studying it geologically, it might be 
 sufficient to approach its base; but the enthusiasts of 
 science have been led to cross the threshold of perpetual 
 snow, and accomplish its ascent, in the hope of making 
 some additions to the stores of meteorological know- 
 ledge. 
 
 From Riobamba Chimborazo presents two declivities 
 or slopes of very different inclination. The one, which 
 faces the Arenal, is very abrupt, and covered with 
 numerous pinnacles of trachyte which force their way 
 through the encrusting ice. The other, which descends 
 towards the site called Chillapullu, not far from Mocha, 
 is, on the contrary, of a very gentle gradient, but of 
 considerable extent. After a careful examination of 
 the environs of the mountain, M. Boussingault and 
 Colonel Hall resolved to attack it on this side. On the
 
 286 BEGINNING THE ASCENT. 
 
 14th of December 1831, they took up their quarters in 
 the " me'tairie " of Chimborazo, where they found some 
 dry straw to sleep on, and some sheep-skins to protect 
 them from the cold. This " me'tairie " is situated at an 
 elevation of 12,000 feet; the nights there are fresh, 
 and it is not an agreeable place of sojourn owing to the 
 scarcity of fuel. It lies within that botanical zone of 
 the graininacese which must be crossed before the 
 traveller can reach the perpetual snow-line; and it is 
 there that all woody vegetation terminates. 
 
 On the loth, at seven o'clock, the two explorers started 
 on their enterprise, accompanied by an Indian guide. 
 They followed up the winding course of a brook, en- 
 closed between two walls of trachyte, which derived 
 its waters from the glacier; and then, quitting this 
 crevasse, skirted the base of Chimborazo in the direc- 
 tion of Mocha. The ascent was gradual; but the mules 
 picked their way with difficulty through the fragments 
 of rock accumulated at the foot of the mountain. The 
 slope became very rapid; the soil was loose and shift- 
 ing, and at almost every step the mules halted, paying 
 no attention to the spur. Their breathing was difficult 
 and accelerated; they panted laboriously. The travel- 
 lers had gained a height equal to that of Mont Blanc, 
 for the barometer indicated an elevation of 15,650 feet. 
 
 After covering their faces with masks of light taifetas, 
 as a protection against atmospheric inconveniences, 
 they began to climb an arete which abuts high up the 
 glacier. It was noon. They mounted slowly, and as 
 they entered upon the snow suffered more and more 
 from difficulty of respiration; however, by pausing for
 
 THE ARENAL ROUTE. 287 
 
 a moment at every eighth or tenth step, they were 
 able to recover themselves. Continuing the ascent, 
 they experienced much fatigue from the want of con- 
 sistency of the snowy soil, into which at every step 
 they sank up to their waists. In spite of all their efforts, 
 they found it impossible to advance; and, in fact, a 
 short distance beyond, the crumbling snow was up- 
 wards of four feet deep. They betook themselves to 
 rest on a block of trachyte, which resembled an island 
 in the midst of a sea of snow. The elevation, according 
 to their instruments, was 16,735 feet ; so that after 
 great fatigue they had ascended only 925 feet above 
 the point where they had begun their march. 
 
 At six o'clock they were on their way back to the 
 " metaiiie." The weather had been magnificent; never 
 had Chimborazo appeared so majestic; but after their 
 fruitless journey they could not contemplate it with- 
 out a feeling of vexation. They resolved to attempt the 
 ascent on the more precipitous side that is, on the side 
 facing the Arenal. They knew that Humboldt, in his 
 ascent of the mountain, had taken this route. At Eio- 
 bamba the point to which he attained had been dis- 
 tinctly shown to them, though they had found it im- 
 possible to obtain any exact particulars of the route he 
 had followed. None of his Indian guides were alive. 
 
 At seven o'clock, on the following day, they started 
 on the Arenal route. The sky was remarkable for its 
 purity. To the east was visible the famous volcano of 
 Sangay, situated in the province of Macas, which, 
 nearly a. century before, M. la Condamine had seen in 
 a state of permanent incandescence. By degrees, as
 
 288 DARING CAVALIERS. 
 
 they pressed forward, the level rose perceptibly. In 
 general, the trachytic table-lands which support the 
 isolated peaks that form so remarkable a feature of 
 the Andes, rise gradually towards the base of these 
 same peaks. The numerous deep crevasses which fur- 
 row these table-lands seem all to radiate from a common 
 centre, and at the same time to contract as they recede 
 from that centre. They may aptly be compared to the 
 cracks noticeable in a broken pane of glass. 
 
 When they dismounted from their mules, they had 
 reached an elevation of 16,000 feet. The ground had 
 become impracticable for these animals, which sought, 
 moreover, with their usual extraordinary instinct, to 
 make known to their riders the fatigue they suffered : 
 their ears, generally so erect and attentive, were entirely 
 prone, and during their frequent halts for breath they 
 incessantly gazed towards the plain. Few cavaliers, it 
 may be assumed, have ridden their steeds to such an 
 elevation; and before one can mount, on mule-back, 
 over a shifting soil, to a point beyond the perpetual 
 snow -line, one must have had several years' equestrian 
 experience in the Andes. 
 
 After examining the character of the surrounding 
 localities, they discovered that, to gain an arete which 
 rose towards the summit of Chimborazo, they must 
 first ascend an exceedingly steep precipice immediately 
 in front of them. To a large extent it was formed of 
 blocks of all sizes disposed slope- wise ; here and there 
 these trachytic fragments were covered by more or less 
 extensive sheets of ice; and at many points it could 
 plainly be seen that these rocky fragments rested on
 
 IN SINGLE FILE. 289 
 
 the hardened snow, consequently they were the result 
 of landslips which had recently taken place in the 
 upper part of the mountain. Such landslips are fre- 
 quent ; and among the glaciers of the Cordilleras, what 
 the traveller has most reason to fear is the avalanches, 
 in which stones have a much larger share than snow. 
 
 At eleven o'clock they completed the passage of a 
 tolerably extensive sheet of ice, in which they had been 
 compelled to cut steps with their axes to steady their 
 feet. It had not been accomplished without danger, 
 a stumble would have cost them their lives. Again they 
 plunged into the midst of fragments of trachyte ; but 
 this they regarded as a kind of terra firma, and pro- 
 gressed with considerable rapidity. They marched in 
 single file Boussingault first, then Colonel Hall, and 
 the negro last; he followed exactly in Boussingault 's 
 footsteps, so as not to compromise the safety of the 
 instruments intrusted to him. Absolute silence was 
 preserved during the march, experience having shown 
 that nothing is so exhausting as a conversation main- 
 tained at so great an elevation; and when the travellers 
 halted, if they exchanged a few words, it was always 
 in a low voice. To this precaution Boussingault attri- 
 buted, in a great degree, the health he had always 
 enjoyed during his numerous ascents of the American 
 volcanoes. " This salutary precaution," he says, " I 
 imposed despotically on all my companions ; and on the 
 Antisana Peak, an Indian who neglected it, and shouted 
 with all the strength of his lungs to Colonel Hall, who had 
 wandered from the route during a thick mist, was seized 
 with vertigo, and experienced a slight hemorrhage." 
 
 (731) 19
 
 290 " DISCOURAGED." 
 
 In due time they arrived at the ridge or arete by 
 which they hoped to gain the summit ; but it proved 
 in reality to be something very different from what it 
 had appeared at a distance. There was not much snow 
 upon it, but its escarpments were difficult to climb. 
 They found themselves compelled to make almost in- 
 credible exertions; and in these aerial regions gym- 
 nastics are painful ! At length they reached the foot of 
 a vertical wall of trachyte several hundred feet in 
 height. For a moment the adventurers felt discouraged, 
 when the barometer told them that they were at only 
 18,400 feet of elevation. Considerable as this will 
 seem to " home-keeping youth " and dwellers in the 
 plains, it was a trifle to them ; for it was not even the 
 height they had attained upon Cotopaxi, and Humboldt 
 had ascended much higher upon Chimborazo. Moun- 
 tain-climbers, when baffled, are always strongly disposed 
 to seat themselves, and Boussingault and his com- 
 panions yielded to the inclination. It was the first 
 time they had rested, sitting. They had suffered much 
 from excessive thirst, and their first care was to suck 
 some icicles, so as to relieve it. 
 
 Though it was past noon, the cold was very keen, 
 and the thermometer had sunk to 4. A thick mist 
 surrounded them. When it cleared awa} r , they took 
 account of their situation. Looking towards the Pena- 
 Colorada, or Red Rock, they had on their right a 
 frightful abyss ; on their left, towards the Arena!, they 
 distinguished an advanced rock resembling a belvedere 
 or prospect- tower. It was important to reach this, in 
 order to discover whether it were possible to double the
 
 A DANGEROUS PASSAGE. 291 
 
 Red Rock, and, at the same time, whether they could 
 ascend higher. It was no easy task to scale this rocky 
 belvedere; but Boussingault, with the help of his two 
 companions, succeeded. He then saw that, if they con- 
 trived to master a steep snow-slope which abutted on 
 a face of the Red Rock opposite to the side by which 
 they had approached it, they might attain a very con- 
 siderable elevation. To obtain a sufficiently clear idea 
 of the topography of Chimborazo, let the reader figure 
 to himself an immense mass of rock, supported on every 
 side by flying buttresses. The ardtes are the flying 
 buttresses which, from the plain, seem to abut on the 
 enormous central block in order to steady it. 
 
 Before undertaking this dangerous passage, Boussin- 
 gault sent his negro to test the consistency of the snow. 
 It proved to be of satisfactory hardness. Hall and the 
 negro succeeded in doubling the base of the position 
 occupied by Boussingault, and the latter joined them as 
 soon as they were planted firmly enough to receive 
 him. Just as they were on the point of resuming their 
 march, a stone from the upper part of the mountain fell 
 close beside Colonel Hall. He stumbled, and came to 
 the ground. At first his companion thought he was 
 wounded, but was reassured on seeing him rise and 
 examine with his lens the fragment of rock so uncour- 
 teously submitted to his investigation; the unlucky 
 trachyte was identical with that on which they were 
 marching. 
 
 Very cautiously they moved forward. On the right, 
 they were able to support themselves against the rock ; 
 on the left, the declivity was frightful, and before
 
 292 ATMOSPHERIC RAREFACTION. 
 
 pushing ahead they familiarized themselves thoroughly 
 with the precipice; a precaution which should never 
 be neglected in mountain-climbing whenever a danger- 
 ous place has to be passed. Saussure gave this warning 
 long ago, but it cannot be too often repeated ; and M. 
 Boussingault asserts that in all his adventurous ex- 
 plorations of the Andean summits he never lost sight 
 of this prudent precept. 
 
 They now began to feel more powerfully the effect of 
 the atmospheric rarefaction. At every two or three 
 steps they were compelled to halt, and often even to lie 
 down for some seconds. The moment they were seated, 
 all painful sensations vanished ; their suffering lasted 
 only while they were in movement. The snojv soon 
 threw in their way an additional and a very formidable 
 obstacle. Of soft snow, the depth did not exceed three 
 or four inches; underneath was a compact and very 
 slippery ice, in which the travellers were obliged to cut 
 steps. The negro went first, in order to dig out these 
 standing- places ; the work exhausted him in a moment. 
 In endeavouring to pass ahead to relieve him, Boussin- 
 gault slipped; but fortunately he was seized by Hall 
 and the negro. For a second all three were in extreme 
 peril. This incident produced a moment's hesitation ; 
 but taking fresh courage, they resolved to push forward. 
 The snow became more favourable; they made a last 
 vigorous effort, and at three-quarters past one stood upon 
 the long-desired arete. There they felt convinced that 
 more was impossible. They were at the foot of a prism 
 of trachyte, of which the upper base, crowned with a 
 cupola of snow, formed the summit of Chimborazo.
 
 UPON THE ARETE. 293 
 
 The ardte to which their indomitable courage had 
 carried them, was only a few feet wide. All around 
 them gloomy precipices frowned, and deep chasms 
 yawned. The deep colouring of the rock contrasted 
 strongly with the dazzling whiteness of the snow. 
 Long stalagmites of ice appeared suspended above their 
 heads, as if a magnificent cascade had suddenly frozen. 
 The weather was admirable ; only a few light clouds 
 perceptible in the west. The air was perfectly calm, 
 and their gaze embraced a prospect of immense extent. 
 The situation was as superb as it was novel, and the 
 adventurers enjoyed a keen sensation of triumph. 
 
 The point to which they had attained namely, 19,500 
 feet above the sea-level was considerably higher than 
 had hitherto been reached by any explorer. 
 
 After a brief interval of repose, they threw off all 
 fatigue ; and, indeed, they do not seem to have experi- 
 enced the " bad quarter of an hour " which most moun- 
 taineers are doomed to undergo. Three-quarters of an 
 hour after their arrival, Boussingault's pulse, as well as 
 Colonel Hall's, beat only one hundred and six pulsations 
 in a minute. They were thirsty and slightly feverish, 
 but not to a painful extent. Colonel Hall was par- 
 ticularly lively, and never ceased to utter the smartest 
 sayings, though busily engaged in drawing what he 
 called " the hell of ice " which surrounded them. The 
 travellers noticed that the intensity of sound seemed 
 remarkably attenuated; Boussingault affirms that the 
 voice of his companion was so modified, that in any 
 other circumstances he would have failed to recognize 
 it. He was much astonished also by the feeble noise
 
 294 PAINFUL EXPERIENCES. 
 
 produced by the hammer with which he struck some 
 smart blows on the rock. It is well known that the 
 rarefaction of the air generally affects in a very marked 
 manner persons who ascend the loftier heights. On 
 the summit of Mont Blanc, Saussure experienced much 
 physical uneasiness and pain at the heart; and his 
 guides, though inhabitants of Chamounix, all suffered 
 in the same way. Acosta informs us that the first 
 Spaniards who ascended the great American mountains 
 were attacked by nausea and internal pain. Bouguer 
 suffered several times from hemorrhage among the 
 Cordilleras of Quito ; so did Zumstein on Monte Rosa ; 
 and, finally, Humboldt and Bonpland, when they 
 ascended Chimborazo on the 23rd of June 1802, ex- 
 perienced a desire to vomit, and bled at the lips and 
 gums. As for Boussingault and Colonel Hall, though 
 they were conscious of much difficulty of breathing, and 
 of extreme lassitude while in motion, they felt quite at 
 ease as soon as they rested. The cause of this insensi- 
 bility to the effects of the highly-rarefied air is difficult 
 to determine ; but M. Boussingault himself attributes it 
 to their prolonged sojourn in the elevated towns of the 
 Andes. " When one has seen the movement," he says, 
 " which goes on in towns like Bogota, Micuipampa, 
 Potosi, at an elevation of 8200 to 13,000 feet; when 
 one has been a witness of the strength and prodigious 
 agility of the toreadors in a bull-fight at Quito, at an 
 elevation of 9700 feet; when, finally, one has seen 
 young and delicate women abandoning themselves to 
 the dance all night in localities almost as elevated as 
 Mont Blanc there, where the celebrated Saussure
 
 DESCENT OP CHIMBORAZO. 295 
 
 found scarcely strength enough to consult his instru- 
 ments, and where his vigorous mountaineers fell into a 
 swoon while digging a hole in the snow ; if I add, too, 
 that a celebrated battle that of Pichincha was fought 
 at an altitude little below that of Mont Blanc, one will 
 understand, I think, that man may accustom himself to 
 breathe the rarefied air of the highest mountains." 
 
 While the explorers were making their observations 
 upon the summit of Chimborazo, the weather had 
 maintained its serene and equable character; the sun 
 was even powerful enough to cause them some slight 
 inconvenience. About three o'clock, however, they 
 perceived some clouds forming below, in the plain. The 
 thunder soon began to peal below their station. The 
 noise was not intense, but it was prolonged; they 
 thought at first that it was a bramido, or subterranean 
 roaring. Dense clouds quickly surrounded the moun- 
 tain base; slowly they rolled their way upward: the 
 adventurers felt they had no time to lose ; for unless 
 they cleared the dangerous passes before the storm 
 reached them, the peril would be great. A heavy 
 snow-fall, or a frost rendering the path slippery, would 
 have been sufficient to render impracticable their 
 return ; and they had no provision for a sojourn upon 
 the glacier. 
 
 The descent was difficult. After from 1000 to 1300 
 feet had been accomplished, they entered the upper 
 part of the belt of clouds; lower down they were 
 caught in a storm of hail, which greatly cooled the air ; 
 and at the moment of their falling in with the Indian
 
 296 TRACHYTIC MOUNTAINS. 
 
 in charge of the mules, the clouds hurled upon them 
 a volley of hailstones large enough to wound them 
 severely on the hands and face. 
 
 As they continued their descent, they noticed that 
 sleet mingled with the hail. Night surprised them on 
 the way ; and it was eight o'clock before they re-entered 
 the " me'tairie." 
 
 The observations collected by Boussingault during 
 this expedition, all tended to confirm his theory as to 
 the nature of the trachytic mountains which form the 
 crest of the Cordilleras. Upon Chimborazo he remarked 
 all the characteristics which he had already noticed on 
 the volcanoes of the Equator. Chimborazo itself is an 
 extinct crater. Like Cotopaxi, Antisana, Tunguragua, 
 and the mountains generally which cover the table- 
 lands of the Andean system, its mass is composed of 
 trachytic debris, accumulated without order. These 
 fragments, often of enormous size, have been upheaved 
 in the solid state ; their angles are always sharp ; there 
 is no indication that they were fused, or even soft. In 
 none of the Andean volcanoes did Boussingault observe 
 any flow of lava ; and in this he has been confirmed by 
 later travellers : from their craters have issued only 
 muddy torrents, showers of ashes, and incandescent 
 blocks of more or less solid trachyte, often hurled to 
 considerable distances.
 
 XII. 
 
 In 
 
 [IN the North Pacific Ocean, at an almost equal 
 distance from California, Mexico, China, and 
 Japan, between the parallels of 18 50' and 
 22 20' north latitude, and the meridians of 
 154 53' and 160 15' west longitude, lie the fair and 
 flourishing group of the Sandwich Islands, discovered 
 by Captain Cook in 1778. They enjoy the advantages 
 of a fertile soil and an equable climate; and their 
 beauty of scenery and luxuriance of vegetation entitle 
 them to be described as oases of the ocean 
 
 " Summer isles of Eden, lying in dark purple spheres of sea." 
 
 Their formation is entirely volcanic; and the principal 
 island, Hawaii, or Owhyhee, possesses the largest per- 
 petually active and the largest extinct crater in the 
 world. All of them are mountainous, with bold, roman- . 
 tic outlines ; and on Hawaii the two culminating sum- 
 mits are nearly 14,000 feet in height. Their natives 
 are of a quiet and orderly race, and have freely adopted 
 the manners and customs, as well as the system of
 
 298 VOLCANOES OF HAWAII. 
 
 government, of civilization. They profess the Christian 
 religion; and have constituted their islands an indepen- 
 dent kingdom, with legislative houses and courts of 
 justice. Apparently this insular state is destined, from 
 its position, to become in the future a centre of great 
 commercial importance. 
 
 But in these pages our object is mountains, and 
 nothing but mountains; and we are attracted to the 
 Hawaiian Archipelago by the great volcanic peaks 
 which crown its principal island. These have been the 
 subject of description by several writers by Admiral 
 Wilkes, the Rev. William Ellis, Mr. Brigham, and Mr. 
 Manley Hopkins but for our present purpose we shall 
 adopt the narrative of Miss Isabella L. Bird, who visited 
 Hawaii in 1873, ascended its colossal crater-mountain, 
 and has recorded her experiences in graphic and pictur- 
 esque language.* 
 
 The two peaks of Hawaii are named Mauna Kea 
 (which rises to the height of 13,950 feet) and Mauna 
 Loa (which has an elevation of 13,760 feet). The latter 
 presents a singularly impressive aspect from the sea, 
 with its abrupt precipices and dome-like summit. On 
 its eastern slope, at an altitude of 4000 feet, is situated 
 the terrific crater of Kilauea, a " sea of fire," one 
 of the most extraordinary volcanic phenomena on the 
 face of the globe. A pilgrimage to this crater was 
 undertaken by Miss Bird, and we cannot do better than 
 repeat it under her guidance. 
 
 The starting-place is the village of Hilo. After about 
 
 "Six Months in the Sandwich Islands." London, 1875.
 
 AN EXPANSE OF LAVA. 299 
 
 four miles of tolerable road, the track, formed of rough, 
 hard lava, and reduced to a width of twenty-four 
 inches, plunges into the depths of a Tropical forest. It 
 is difficult to imagine a scene of more luxuriant beauty : 
 palms, breadfruit trees, eugenias, candle-nuts of immense 
 size, bananas, bamboos, papayas, and tree-ferns are bound 
 together by lianas of every description, with stems 
 varying in size from the thickness of a man's arm to the 
 slenderness of whipcord ; binding all in an impassable 
 network, and waving with festoons and delicate tendrils 
 in the breeze. It is a striking change to emerge from 
 this rich greenery upon a grove of cocoa-nut trees, suf- 
 fused with the glow of day ; and another change is ex- 
 perienced when the traveller quits the grove and enters 
 upon an immense expanse of lava, the remains of a 
 torrent which once flowed from Kilauea towards Hilo, 
 and now lies hardened into hummocks, coils, rippled 
 waves, smooth still pools, and great dark hollows. 
 Here, as Miss Bird remarks, we may vividly realize the 
 universally igneous origin of Hawaii. From the hard 
 black rocks which border the sea, to the loftiest moun- 
 tain dome or peak, every stone, every atom of dust, 
 every foot of fruitful or barren soil bears the Plutonic 
 mark. In truth, the island has been built up, course 
 upon course, ridge upon ridge, mountain upon moun- 
 tain, to a height nearly equal with that of Mont Blanc, 
 by the same volcanic forces which are still in operation, 
 and may hereafter augment at intervals the elevation of 
 the blue dome of Mauna Loa. Hawaii is actually and 
 at the present time being wrought up from the ocean ; 
 and this great sea of lava, or pahoehoe, is no vindictive
 
 300 TROPICAL VEGETATION. 
 
 eruption, spreading ruin and death over a fertile region, 
 but an architectural and formative process. 
 
 There is no water, except a few deposits of rain-water 
 in holes, but the moist air and incessant showers have 
 aided nature to mantle this frightful expanse with an 
 abundant vegetation, principally ferns of an exquisite 
 green, the most conspicuous being the sadleria, the 
 gleichenia Hawaiiensis, a running wire-like fern, and 
 the exquisite microlepia tenuifolia, dwarf guava, with 
 its white flowers resembling orange flowers in odour, 
 and ohelos (vaccinium reticulatum), with their red and 
 white berries, and a profusion of small-leaved ohias 
 (metrosideros polymorpha), with their deep crimson 
 tasselled flowers, and their young shoots of bright 
 crimson, relieved the monotony of green. These crim- 
 son tassels, deftly strung on thread or fibres, are much 
 used by the natives for their leis, or garlands. The ti 
 tree (cordyline terminalis), which abounds also on the 
 lava, is most valuable. They cook their food wrapped 
 up in its leaves. The porous root, when baked, has 
 the taste and texture of molasses candy, and when 
 distilled yields a spirit ; and the leaves form wrappings 
 for fish, hard poi, and other edibles. Occasionally a 
 clump of tufted cocoa-palms, or of the beautiful candle- 
 nut, rose among the smaller growths. To the left a 
 fringe of palms marked the place where the ocean 
 and the lava met; while, on the right, the traveller is 
 seldom out of sight of the dense timber belt, with 
 its fringe of tree-ferns and bananas, which girdles 
 Mauna Loa. 
 
 The ascent is gradual that is, about 4000 feet in
 
 CRATER OF KILAUEA. 301 
 
 thirty miles. Only strong and sure-footed horses are 
 useful on the journey, for it is a constant scramble over 
 rocks, up or down natural steps, or along difficult 
 ledges. But the track is generally discernible, owing to 
 the vegetation having been worn off the lava. 
 
 Of a volcano in general we think as a colossal cone ; 
 but Kilauea is something wholly different. Though 
 situated at a height of nearly 4000 feet on the flank of 
 Mauna Loa, it resembles a vast abyss sunken on a roll- 
 ing plain. An abyss of nine miles in circumference, and 
 from 800 to 1100 feet in depth, according to the condi- 
 tion of the molten sea below in different years. Some- 
 times the seething lava-tide is at its flow, sometimes at 
 its ebb. All around its margin, and upon its dreary 
 sides, are indications of violent volcanic force : steam- 
 cracks, deposits of sulphur-crystals, blowing cones, and 
 jets of sulphurous vapour. Frequently the abyss is 
 rent by earthquakes, and at intervals it is the theatre 
 of eruptions of extraordinary but dreadful magnificence. 
 The activity of Kilauea, however, is not confined to 
 these occasional outbursts; its wonderful phenomena 
 are always being manifested in a lake or lakes in the 
 southern part of the crater. Well might the imagina- 
 tion of the Hawaiian represent it as the abode of their 
 all-powerful goddess Pele. Earth has scarcely any scene 
 more dreadful or more majestic; it is, indeed, a Hale- 
 man-man, a House of Everlasting Fire. Had Dante 
 seen it, what new horrors he would have introduced 
 into his "Inferno"! The very heaven above shines 
 with a lurid glare, as if, like the abyss, it were involved 
 in perpetual conflagration.
 
 302 " PELE'S HAIR." 
 
 The first descent down the terminal wall of the crater 
 is very steep; but it is covered, and so is the slope which 
 extends to the second stage, with a bright carpet of 
 ohias, ohelos, sadlerias, polypodiums, silver grass, and 
 bulbous plants with berry-clusters of vivid blue. Then 
 the explorer comes to a stretch of rough blocks and 
 ridges of broken lava, apparently forming part of a 
 break which surrounds the entire crater, and marks, 
 in all probability, a tremendous subsidence of its flow. 
 All below is a region of desolation and darkness, filled 
 with weird sights and sounds ; broken up into rugged 
 cliffs and terraces, into lakes and rivers, into whirlpools 
 and chasms of lava, sometimes black and shining, 
 sometimes of an ashen gray, sometimes white with 
 alum, or yellow with sulphur. 
 
 The lowest level of the crater, which measures about 
 a mile across, and has from the brink the appearance 
 of a sea at rest, is really an expanse of hardened waves 
 and convolutions of ashy-coloured lava, traversed by 
 huge cracks of black lava of recent formation, and by 
 fissures emitting hot and sulphurous vapours. " Strange 
 to say, in one of these," on the occasion of Miss Bird's 
 visit, " deep down in that black and awful region, three 
 slender metamorphosed ferns were growing, three ex- 
 quisite forms, the fragile heralds of the great forest of 
 vegetation, which probably, in coming years, will clothe 
 this pit with beauty. Truly they seemed to speak of 
 the love of God." In some of the crevices may be seen 
 the curious filamentous lava, like spun glass of a 
 greenish or yellowish-brown colour, which is called 
 " Pele"s hair."
 
 A LAKE OF FIRE. 305 
 
 After threading his way for some distance across this 
 lava-desert, with its hummocks and depressions, exactly 
 resembling a storm-tossed sea which has been suddenly 
 petrified, the traveller reaches the brink of Hale-man- 
 man, the crater within the crater, the lake or pit of fire 
 that boils with ceaseless fury. It is the most unutter- 
 able of wonderful things; and Miss Bird declares that 
 the words of common speech are quite useless to de- 
 scribe it. In fact, it is indescribable, as it is unimagin- 
 able ; a sight which at once takes possession of every 
 faculty of sense and soul ; a sight which realizes in the 
 most dreadful manner the Scriptural images of that 
 " fire which is not quenched," " the place of hell," " the 
 lake which burneth with fire and brimstone," "the 
 everlasting burnings." Then, as if billows of fire broke 
 upon a fiery coast, the air is rent with groanings, and 
 rumblings, and detonations, with seething, hissing, 
 splashing noises, with a roar like that of breakers on 
 remote reefs and rocks. And the lava rises in jets and 
 waves, in bubbling fountains, in burning cones ; never 
 the same in appearance for two minutes together ; but 
 always terrible, always sublime, always striking the 
 spectator's soul with an ever -deepening impression 
 of awe ! 
 
 For what he sees, perhaps, is some such spectacle as 
 this : * 
 
 An irregularly-shaped lake, possibly 500 feet at its 
 narrowest part, and nearly half a mile at its broadest, 
 almost divided into two by a low bank of lava, which 
 
 * Tu the following description we have adopted Miss Bird's language with some 
 slight alteration. 
 
 (731) 20
 
 306 " FIRE IN MOTION. 
 
 stretches nearly across its narrowest diameter. The sides 
 of the lake nearest to us are absolutely perpendicular, but 
 nowhere more than forty feet high; but on the opposite 
 side they are bold and craggy, and probably attain an 
 elevation of 150 feet. The prominent object is fire in 
 motion; but the surface of the double lake is continually 
 skimming over for a second or two with a cooled crust 
 of a lustrous gray-white, like frosted silver, broken by 
 jagged cracks of a bright rose-colour. Nearly always 
 the movement is made from the sides to the centre, but 
 the central motion in itself always appears independent, 
 and takes a southerly direction. Before each outburst 
 of agitation much hissing is audible, with a throbbing 
 internal roaring, as of imprisoned gases. Now it seems 
 furious, demoniacal, as if no power on earth can bind 
 it; then playful and sportive; then for a second languid, 
 but only while it is accumulating fresh force. At first no 
 fewer than eleven fountains of fire were playing joy- 
 ously around the lakes ; and sometimes the six of the 
 nearer lake ran together in the centre, to go wallowing 
 down in one vortex, from which they reappeared bulg- 
 ing upwards, till they formed a huge cone thirty feet 
 high. Then this cone too, in its turn, plunged down- 
 wards in a seething whirlpool ; only to reappear in ex- 
 actly the same number of fountains in different parts of 
 the lake, leaping, tumbling, raging, soaring on high ! 
 Sometimes the whole lake, abandoning its usual centri- 
 petal motion, as if impelled southwards, assumed the 
 form of mighty waves, and beating heavily against the 
 partial barrier with a roar like that of the Pacific surf, 
 lashed it, and rent it, and boiled over it in clots of liv-
 
 A JET OF LAVA. 309 
 
 ing fire. It was all confusion, commotion, force, terror, 
 glory, majesty, mystery, and even beauty. Then the 
 colour! "Eye hath not seen it!" Molten metal has 
 not that crimson glow, nor blood that vivid light. 
 
 The crust perpetually broke up into ridges and fur- 
 rows, and great pieces were sucked downwards, to be 
 thrown up again on the billowy crests. The eleven 
 lurid fountains played the greater part of the time, 
 leaping round the lake with "a strength of joyousness" 
 which was perfectly beautiful, on which the spectator, 
 after his emotions of awe and dread, learned to look 
 with pleasure. For three hours the lava-bank which 
 partially separated the lakes rose considerably, owing to 
 the cooling of the spray which overflowed it, and within 
 it was formed a considerable cavern, with a roof of fiery 
 stalactites. Meantime, the surges of the further lake 
 broke in a southerly direction, and tumbled like Atlan- 
 tic breakers against the bold and craggy cliffs which 
 form its southern boundary, throwing up a fiery foam, 
 and filling the air with unutterable noises. 
 
 Almost close below the spectator was an intermittent 
 jet of lava, which kept cooling round what was pos- 
 sibly a blow-hole forming a cone with an open top; 
 the cone being about six feet high on its highest 
 side, and about as many in diameter. Up this cone 
 or chimney the lava sprang every second or two, and 
 cooling as it fell over the edge, rapidly increased its size 
 and elevation. Its fiery interior, and the singular sound 
 with which the lava was regurgitated, had an awful 
 effect. No smoke rose from the lake, but the wind 
 carried a light blue lava in the opposite direction.
 
 310 A SAFETY- VALVE. 
 
 Then the lava was possessed with a new impulse. 
 The fire was thrown to a great height ; the fountains 
 and jets all wallowed together ; new ones appeared and 
 floated merrily round the margin, until suddenly con- 
 verging towards the centre they united in one glowing 
 mass, which upheaved itself pyramidally, and disap- 
 peared with a mighty crash. Suddenly, innumerable 
 billows of fire flung themselves into the air, and the 
 lake divided into twain, recoiling on either side ; and 
 then all its fires blended together, and rose as if up- 
 heaved by some subterrene force, and the lake surged 
 over the temporary rim which it had formed, flowing 
 majestically downwards, while the central surface dashed 
 and swayed in wild commotion, as if disturbed by some 
 mysterious but irresistible force. 
 
 Such is the crater of Kilauea. 
 
 Kilauea seems to act as a kind of gigantic safety- 
 valve to the volcano of Mauna Loa. At least, each time 
 that an eruption has taken place from the summit- 
 crater, this lateral crater has been abnormally quiescent. 
 These eruptions have been of a terribly formidable 
 character. As, for instance, in 1855 (the fourth eruption 
 recorded), when for several months the lava-flood rolled 
 steadily towards Hilo, spreading through the dense 
 forests, and creeping shorewards until it seemed as if for 
 that portion of the island was reserved the awful fate 
 which swept Herculaneum and Pompeii from the face 
 of the living world. For thirteen months the inunda- 
 tion continued its progress, until arrested by some 
 natural obstacles which piled the waves up in hillocks,
 
 ERUPTIONS RECORDED. 311 
 
 only eight miles from Hilo. It had travelled forty 
 miles, as the crow flies ; or sixty, including sinuosities. 
 Its breadth varied from one to three miles, and its 
 depth from two hundred to five hundred feet, according 
 to the configuration of the mountain-slopes over which 
 it took its way. In all it covered nearly 300 square 
 miles of land, and its cubic contents were estimated at 
 38,000 millions of feet ! 
 
 In 1859 occurred another eruption. On this occasion 
 the lava-flood ran fifty miles in eight days; and then, 
 slackening its course, steadily progressed towards the 
 sea, into which it extended a new promontory. 
 
 But far more disastrous were the circumstances at- 
 tending the eruption of 1868. 
 
 It began on the 27th of March, with a shock of earth- 
 quake; and the shocks were repeated daily, with in- 
 creasing violence, until " the island quivered like the lid 
 of a boiling pot" in the intervals, or trembled like a ship 
 struck by a heavy wave. Then the summit-crater, 
 Moknarveorveo, sent up columns of smoke and steam 
 and lurid fiery light ; and the southern slope of its dome 
 was cloven in four deep chasms, and from each chasm 
 issued a river of molten matter, the four rivers flowing 
 down the mountain-sides in divergent lines. Suddenly 
 these paused in their impetuous onset, and the blue 
 mountain-dome rose into the still air without any sign 
 of fire, steam or smoke. 
 
 The lull, however, was of brief duration. The earth- 
 quake shocks returned, and became nearly continuous ; 
 the throbbing, jerking, and quivering motions grew 
 more positive, intense, and sharp; they were vertical,
 
 312 A TERRIBLE CATASTROPHE. 
 
 rotary, lateral, and undulatory. Late in the afternoon 
 of a beautiful day (April 2nd), the catastrophe came. 
 The crust of the earth swelled and sank, like a sea in a 
 storm. Hills were overthrown and rocks cloven in 
 twain ; houses were shattered to the ground ; trees 
 swayed like reeds ; and a great terror fell upon men and 
 animals. The earth opened in numerous clefts and 
 fissures, and horses and their riders were laid prostrate. 
 To all it seemed as if " the rocky ribs of the mountains, 
 and the granite walls and pillars of the earth, were 
 breaking up." At Kilauea the shocks were as frequent 
 as the tickings of a watch. In Kau, to the south of 
 Hilo, three hundred were counted on this day of dread ; 
 and an eye-witness has recorded that the earth swayed 
 to and fro, north and south, then east and west, and 
 round and round, while the trees crashed as if torn by 
 a strong rushing wind. People sat on the ground, 
 steadying themselves with interlocked hands and feet to 
 avoid being rolled over. They saw an avalanche of 
 "red earth," which they supposed to be lava, break from 
 the mountain-side, and rush downwards with fearful 
 velocity ; in three minutes it travelled as many miles, 
 and buried a hamlet with thirty-one inhabitants and 
 five hundred head of cattle beneath its ruins. The 
 shore subsided; and, simultaneously, a wave, estimated 
 at from forty to sixty feet in height, hurled its mass 
 upon the coast and receded five times, destroying whole 
 villages, and even strong stone houses, and carrying 
 away six-and-forty natives. 
 
 Five days later, the ground south of Hilo was sud-
 
 THE LAVA-RIVERS. 315 
 
 denly broken open, and a lava-flood, which had tra- 
 velled subterraneously for twenty miles, poured forth 
 with tremendous fury. Four great fountains threw up 
 glowing lava, and rocks weighing several tons, to a 
 height of from 500 to 1000 feet. " From these great 
 fountains to the sea," says Mr. Whitney, "flowed a 
 rapid stream of red lava, rolling, rushing, and tumbling, 
 like a swollen river, bearing along in its current large 
 rocks that made the lava foam as it dashed down the 
 precipice and through the valley into the sea, surging and 
 roaring throughout its length like a cataract, with a 
 power and fury perfectly indescribable. It was nothing 
 else than a river of fire from 200 to 800 feet wide and 
 20 deep, with a speed varying from ten to twenty-five 
 miles an hour." On its way to the sea it again divided 
 into four streams, between which men and beasts were 
 hopelessly shut up. One stream hurried to the shore in 
 four hours, but the others occupied two days in travel- 
 ling ten miles. The aggregate width was a mile and a 
 half. " Where it entered the sea, it extended the coast- 
 line half a mile ; but this worthless accession to Hawaiian 
 acreage was dearly purchased by the loss, for ages at 
 least, of 4000 acres of valuable pasture-land and a much 
 larger quantity of magnificent forest. The whole south- 
 east shore of Hawaii sank from four to six feet, which 
 involved the destruction of several hamlets and the 
 beautiful fringe of cocoa-nut trees. About one hundred 
 lives were lost on this occasion. 
 
 MAUI, another of the Hawaiian group, has a great 
 extinct volcano, known to the natives as Haleakala, the
 
 316 ASCENT OF H ALEAK ALA. 
 
 "house of the sun." It was ascended in 1873 by Miss 
 Bird. 
 
 She started, with several companions, and a train of 
 mules and horses, loaded with mountain-gear, at two in 
 the morning. The road, at first very good, soon degene- 
 rated into a wood road, then into a bridle track, and 
 finally into a mere trail ; and at dawn the excursionists 
 found themselves more than half-way up the mountain, 
 with rocks, scorise, tussocks, ohelos, and a few common 
 composite all around them. The vegetation grew coarser 
 and scantier the higher they ascended, but nowhere 
 entirely ceased. Even at the summit, which is 10,200 
 feet above the sea, bloomed a few tufts of grass and some 
 dwarf ferns. The cold was severe, and the rarefied air 
 rendered walking difficult. 
 
 The sunrise flushed the cloud-belt below with delicate 
 rosy tints, and now and then the vaporous masses 
 parted, and revealed enchanting gleams of verdurous 
 meadows and deep-blue sea. At seven, after a rough 
 ascent, the travellers reached the summit, where the 
 view was barred by a rugged wall of rock. Entering 
 through a gap, they found themselves in the presence of 
 the largest crater on the face of the globe. Owing to 
 its peculiar formation, its entire extent, though the sur- 
 rounding precipices stretch over a circuit of nineteen 
 miles, can be seen at once, and the effect is singularly 
 impressive. Two thousand feet deep lies its huge ir- 
 regular floor, which is strewn with numerous cones, in 
 clusters or standing alone, as high as Arthur's Seat. On 
 the north and east are the Koolau and Kaupo Gaps, 
 through which, in the remote ages, tremendous lava-
 
 THE CRATER-PIT. 317 
 
 torrents have found their way to the sea. The specta- 
 tor might be forgiven for imagining that once upon a 
 time the volcanic forces broke into sudden tumult, 
 shattered the mountain-summit, exhausted all their fury, 
 and then subsided into an everlasting calm. 
 
 The crater is composed of a hard gray clinkstone, 
 traversed by innumerable fissures. Its internal cones 
 are regular in shape, with fiercely red sides, and their 
 central cavities lined with layers of black ash. They are 
 all built up of cinders of light specific gravity, and the 
 ash is largely tinged with the hydrated oxide of iron. 
 Small quantities of sulphur are scattered about, but 
 there are no hot springs, no jets of steam or sulphurous 
 vapour. The volcano is absolutely lifeless. 
 
 Our travellers divided the time between glimpses into 
 this abyss of desolation, and watching the ever-varying 
 cloud-scenery which lends so great a charm to the view 
 from Haleakala. Before them spread the gaunt, deso- 
 late, hideous pit, with its lurid red cones and its con- 
 gealed rivers and surges of black lava and gray ash, 
 crossing or mingling all over the area, with splatches 
 of yellow or rusty colour and coils of satiny rock, with 
 dark, gloomy walls, everywhere riven and splintered, 
 and clouds sailing in through the deep valley-gaps, and 
 filling the crater with their white swirling masses. 
 " Before noon clouds surrounded the whole mountain 
 not in the vague, flocculent, meaningless masses one 
 usually sees, but in Arctic oceans, where lofty icebergs, 
 floes, and pack, lay piled on each other, glistening with 
 the frost of a Polar winter; then Alps on Alps, and 
 peaks of well-remembered ranges gleaming above gla-
 
 318 A STRANGE CONTRAST. 
 
 ciers, and the semblance of forests in deep ravines loaded 
 with new-fallen snow. Snow-drifts, avalanches, oceans 
 held in bondage of eternal ice, and all this massed to- 
 gether, shifting, breaking, glistening, filling up the broad 
 channel which divides Maui from Hawaii ; and far away 
 above the lonely masses, rose, in turquoise blue, like dis- 
 tant islands, the lofty Hawaiian domes of Mauna Kea 
 and Mauna Loa, with snow on Mauna Kea yet more 
 dazzling than the clouds. There never was a stranger 
 contrast, than between the hideous desolation of the 
 crater below and those blue and jewelled summits rising 
 above the shifting clouds. After some time the scene 
 changed, and through glacial rifts appeared as in a 
 dream the Eeka mountains which enfold the low valley, 
 broad fields of cane 8000 feet below, the flushed palm- 
 fringed coast, and the deep-blue sea sleeping in perpetual 
 calm. But, according to the well-known fraud which 
 isolated altitudes perpetrate upon the eye, it appeared 
 as if we were looking up at our landscape, not down ; 
 and no effort of the eye or imagination would put things 
 at their proper levels." 
 
 The travellers began to descend soon after noon, and 
 reached the village of Makawao at nightfall, fatigued 
 physically, but delighted with the recollections of their 
 enterprise. 
 
 Let us now return to Hawaii, and undertake the as- 
 cent of Mauna Loa. 
 
 We start, as usual, in single file, the guide leading 
 the way, and follow a difficult path through long grass 
 and ferns and dead and living koa trees, all, dead and
 
 MAUNA LOA. 319 
 
 living, encrusted with a long gray hairy lichen, which 
 gives them the appearance of being coated with frost. 
 
 After two hours' ascent we reach the boundary of the 
 wooded region, and halt while our mules are fed, and 
 our native attendants collect fuel for the fire we shall 
 certainly need upon the summit. On resuming our 
 journey, we cross wide up-reaching tracts of pahoehoe, 
 or smooth lava, a dreary wilderness extending seven 
 thousand feet towards the crest. A dreary wilderness 
 of lava, broken up into such a variety of shapes that it 
 fatigues the imagination to dwell upon them. Here, in- 
 deed, we recognize something of the awful character of 
 the volcanic power. Mauna Loa occupies the whole of 
 the southern districts of Hawaii ; it is nearly three miles 
 high, and its base is one hundred and eighty miles in 
 circumference. Yet the colossal bulk of this huge 
 mountain, exceeding 8000 feet in height, is one hopeless 
 waste of unproductive lava. 
 
 It is no easy work to toil up its barren, broken, con- 
 torted, and deep-furrowed acclivities. Pinnacles have 
 to be doubled, crevasses crossed, impracticable lava- 
 streams avoided. We are called upon to wind round 
 the bases of fissured hummocks, to leap from crag to 
 crag, to scale precipitous steeps, and to tread warily 
 over crusts that ring with an ominously hollow sound. 
 No animal but a mule could carry us safely through 
 such a labyrinth of difficulties; stepping over deep 
 clefts which lead downwards, it may be, to the sea of 
 fire, traversing hilly lakes shattered by frequent earth- 
 quakes, painfully labouring up the sides of mounds of 
 scoriae frothed with pumice-stone, and again, for miles,
 
 320 THE GREAT CRATER. 
 
 stumbling over rolling surfaces of billowy lava ! And 
 all this under a Tropic sun and a cloudless sky. 
 
 Towards the afternoon, however, the clouds begin to 
 gather, and accumulate below us in wonderful snow-like 
 masses, pure and brilliant to us who look down upon 
 them from a sunlit height, though dark and gloomy 
 enough to the eyes of the dwellers in the plains, and 
 these masses soon interpose between us and the " nether 
 world " an impenetrable screen, which confines us to the 
 solitariness of the mountain-top. 
 
 The cold now becomes intense, though the rarefied air 
 so quickens the circulation of the blood that our pulses 
 beat one hundred a minute. We wrap ourselves in our 
 thickest coverlets, and press forward and upward, for- 
 ward and upward, climbing dizzy ledges and skirting 
 yawning crevasses, until we surmount the topmost ter- 
 race, and stand upon the " ghastly volcanic table-land, 
 creviced, riven, and ashy, and twenty-four miles in cir- 
 cumference," which forms the summit of Mauna Loa. 
 Dismounting from our mules, we cross this table-land 
 until we come to the edge of the great crater of Moknar- 
 veorveo, which is 11,000 feet in length by 8000 feet in 
 width, or about six miles in circumference. Moreover, 
 it is about 800 feet in depth. A fitting theatre for the 
 action of forces so vast and terrible as those of the 
 Hawaiian volcano ! 
 
 In a deep gorge at one end of the crater rises a jet or 
 fountain of pure yellow fire a jet composed of several 
 smaller jets, which unite together and leap upwards to 
 a height of 200, 300, and even 600 feet. And all around 
 spreads a mighty murmur, like that of far-off ocean-
 
 A NIGHT-SCENE. 321 
 
 breakers, now rising and now swelling, and filling the 
 soul with a sense of unutterable awe. This, indeed, is 
 one of those voices of Nature which compel the atten- 
 tion even of the most indifferent, and seem to speak of 
 the mutability of worldly things and the eternity of the 
 Creator. 
 
 The area of the crater appears from our standing- 
 point like " a dark gray and tolerably level lake," the 
 dark gray relieved here and there by stains of white 
 and yellow, and blotches of black, and the level inter- 
 rupted by numerous irregular fissures. No steam or 
 smoke proceeds from any part of the surface, which wears 
 the peculiar look of deadness and gloom so eloquent of 
 the past action of fire. About thirty feet above the 
 level projects a ledge or ancient beach, marking the 
 former elevation of the lava ; and here are various signs 
 of present volcanic activity, such as smoke-jets and 
 steaming sulphur-banks. 
 
 When the sun has set, and night come on with its 
 sudden darkness, as it does in the Tropics, the hitherto 
 dead and dreary crater seems to leap into life. Gleams 
 of fire, burning steadily in rows like blast-furnaces, 
 chequer the wide expanse ; others, isolated at vast in- 
 tervals, shine like stars ; rows of tiny jets indicate the 
 margin of the lowest level of the crater ; it is fire above 
 and below, fire everywhere ! Fire calm and stationary ; 
 fire flickering in irregular gusts ; fire streaming in wavy 
 lines ; and thus betraying that beneath the dark crust 
 of lava lurks an incandescent sea, descending, it may be, 
 to the very centre of the earth ! " Broad in the glare, 
 giving light enough to read by at a distance of three- 
 
 (731) 21
 
 322 THE FIRE-FOUNTAIN. 
 
 quarters of a mile, making the moon look as blue as an 
 ordinary English sky, its golden gleam changed to a 
 vivid rose colour, lighting up the whole of the vast pre- 
 cipices of that part of the crater with a rosy red, bring- 
 ing out every detail here, throwing cliffs and heights 
 into huge black masses there, rising, falling, never inter- 
 mitting, leaping in lofty jets with glorious shapes like 
 wheat-sheaves, coruscating, reddening, the most glorious 
 thing beneath the moon is the fire-fountain of Moknar- 
 veorveo." 
 
 The crater looks by night a wholly different thing 
 from what it does in the day. By day its crust was 
 black and even sooty, with a jet of molten gold play- 
 ing upwards from it; by night it was incandescent 
 everywhere, with "black blotches of cooled scum," 
 which were continually absorbed and continually re- 
 appearing. In the centre the lake glowed with a white 
 heat, and waves of white lava revolved in a swirling 
 vortex ; and from this centre rose the fountain, solid at 
 its base, which is estimated at 150 feet in diameter, but 
 tapering and thinning as it mounted, and falling from 
 its great elevation in a shower of fiery spray. " When 
 one jet was about half high, another rose so as to keep 
 up the action without intermission; and in the lower 
 part of this fountain two subsidiary curved jets of great 
 volume continually crossed each other. So, 'alone in 
 its glory/ perennial, self-born, springing up in sparkling 
 light, the fire-fountain played on as the hours went by." 
 
 That the entire interior of the huge dome-like summit- 
 peak of Mauna Loa is fluid, would seem to be probable ; 
 for the eruptions from its crater are not the result of an
 
 BLOWING CONES. 323 
 
 overflow, but of the yielding of the mountain-sides to 
 an irresistible pressure. Thus, in 1855, the mountain- 
 side split open, and the lava poured forth for thirteen 
 months in a slow-moving stream, which extended sixty 
 miles in length, and covered an area of three hundred 
 square miles. 
 
 The appearances of the crater alter every hour. 
 " Blowing cones " are formed with a report like that of 
 cannon; the lava-river broadens and advances; fresh 
 banks of lava are thrown up ; and stars of fire sparkle 
 over the blackened crust. The great fire-fountain 
 plunges upwards to a greater height, and intercrossing 
 jets play across its lurid base. The colours deepen into 
 an intense crimson, or soften away into rose-red, and 
 ruby flashes shoot across the wonderful scene. It is very 
 beautiful, but the beauty is of an unearthly character, 
 and awes rather than pleases, terrifies rather than charms. 
 
 We close this chapter with an adaptation of Miss 
 Bird's account of her ascent of Hualalai (" offspring of 
 the rising sun"), another of the Hawaiian volcanoes, 
 about 10,000 feet high. 
 
 She made the ascent twice : the first time guided by 
 her host and hostess; the second time, somewhat ad- 
 venturously, by herself alone. Forests of koa, sandal- 
 wood, and ohia, with an undergrowth of raspberries and 
 ferns, clothe its base ; the fragrant maile, and the grace- 
 ful sarsaparilla vine, with its clustered coral-coloured 
 buds, nearly smother many of the trees ; and in several 
 places the heavy i<t forms the semblance of triumphal
 
 324 ASCENT OF HUALALAI. 
 
 arches over the track. This forest terminates abruptly 
 on the great volcanic wilderness, with its starved growth 
 of unsightly scrub. But Hualalai, notwithstanding 
 its height, is covered with bracken, coarse burnt grass, 
 and similar vegetation to its very summit, which is 
 crowned by a small, solitary, blossoming ohia. 
 
 For two hours before reaching the top, the way lies 
 over streams and beds of lava, considerably disintegrated. 
 Pit craters extend over the whole mountain, all of them 
 more or less clothed with a coarse unhandsome vegeta- 
 tion. The edges are often very rugged and picturesque. 
 The depth varies from 300 to 700 feet, and the diameter 
 from 700 to 1200 feet. In some the walls are of a 
 smooth gray stone, in others they are composed of tufa. 
 In not a few places they are so crowded together that 
 the ridge dividing them is only wide enough for two 
 people to walk abreast upon it. The mountain was 
 rent by an earthquake in 1868, and a great fissure 
 stretches for some distance across it. From every point 
 of view on this side it is very striking, being a " com- 
 plete wilderness of craters," -and upwards of one hun- 
 dred and fifty lateral cones have been counted. 
 
 The object of Miss Bird's second ascent was to visit 
 one of the most magnificent of the summit-craters. It 
 is bordered by a narrow and very curious ridge of rock, 
 which is crowned by a mound, some 60 feet in height, 
 composed of fragments of black, orange, blue, red, and 
 golden lava, with a cavity or blow-hole in the centre, 
 estimated by Brigham as having a diameter of 1800 
 feet and a depth of 25. The interior is dark brown,
 
 A HEATHEN OFFERING. 325 
 
 much grooved horizontally, and as smooth and regular 
 as if turned. No steam-cracks or signs of heat are any- 
 where visible. Superb caves or " lava-bubbles," formed 
 by the sudden cooling and contraction of the lava, abound 
 at a height of 6000 feet. These are draperied with 
 ferns, and the drip from their roofs is the water-supply 
 of this porous region. 
 
 Owing to the vegetation which partially conceals its 
 ruggedness, Hualalai looks as if it had slept for ages ; 
 but it has been quiescent only since 1801, when it broke 
 out into violent eruption, flooding several villages, de- 
 stroying many plantations and fish-ponds, filling up a 
 deep bay twenty miles in extent, and forming the pre- 
 sent coast. The panic-stricken inhabitants threw living 
 hoffs into the destructive lava-torrent, and even costlier 
 
 o 
 
 offerings, with a view to propitiate their offended gods ; 
 but all proved useless, until King Kamehameha, attended 
 by a large retinue of priests and chiefs, cut off a portion 
 of his hair, which was considered sacred, and flung it 
 into the flood. Then it ceased to flow. Probably the 
 king or his counsellors had discovered some signs of its 
 approaching abatement before he essayed this proof of 
 his royal power. 
 
 And here we close our description of the Hawaiian 
 volcanoes.
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ararat. 
 
 |RARAT, strictly speaking, is the name given 
 to a mountainous district of Asia Minor, in 
 the province of Armenia, which has acquired 
 a peculiar interest from its connection with 
 the Scriptural records of the Deluge. It was unknown 
 to the ancient geographers, as it is to the modern Ar- 
 menians ; but evidence exists to prove that it was an 
 old and indigenous name for a portion of Armenia, and 
 it seems to have been applied to the elevated table- 
 land which overlooks the plain of the Araxes on the 
 north, and of Mesopotamia on the south. At a very- 
 early date this table-land was put forward as the spot 
 where the ark rested after the subsidence of the Noachian 
 Flood. Thus, Berosus the Chaldean, contemporary with 
 Alexander the Great, places that event on the mountains 
 of Kurdistan, which form the southern frontier of Ar- 
 menia. His opinion was adopted by the Syriac and 
 Chaldee versions of the Old Testament, and afterwards 
 by the Koran. Tradition's finger still points to the 
 Jebel Judi as the scene of the event, and legends record
 
 THE TWO ARARATS. 327 
 
 that fragments of the ark still lie upon its lonely 
 summit. And, indeed, it was only natural that the 
 Ararat range should be selected by an inhabitant of the 
 Mesopotamian plain, to whom it must have represented 
 the world's furthest limit, or at least its loftiest 
 summits. With this neighbourhood, at all events, are 
 connected all the Noachian associations and traditions ; 
 and European travellers have confirmed the opinion of 
 the natives so far as to confine the name Ararat to the 
 loftiest and most striking mountain in the district, 
 the great peak which the Armenians call Massis ; the 
 Turks, Agri-Dagh, or the " Steep Mountain ; " and the 
 Persians, Kah-i-Nuh, or "Noah's Mountain." Ararat, 
 then, as it is now called, starts immediately from the 
 plain of the Araxes, and terminates in two conical 
 summits, the Great and the Less Ararat, about seven 
 miles distant from each other ; the former attaining an 
 elevation of 17,260 feet above the sea-level, while the 
 latter is about 4000 feet lower. The crest of the 
 former, for about 3000 feet of perpendicular height, is 
 shrouded in eternal snow. Its middle region abounds 
 in immense masses of cinders, lava, and porphyry, in- 
 dicating the volcanic origin of the mountain ; and a 
 chasm on its northern side has been regarded as a 
 crater. On the 2nd of July 1840 it was the scene of 
 an outbreak, in which the village of Arguri and the 
 monastery of St. James were destroyed. A violent 
 earthquake brought down an avalanche of earth and 
 stones from the upper heights, which buried beneath 
 its ruins both the convent and the village. As the 
 shock wa followed by clouds of reddish smoke and a
 
 328 AN OLD TRADITION. 
 
 pungent sulphurous odour, it is assumed that the vol- 
 canic forces of Ararat are not extinct. 
 
 It was long believed that the summit of Ararat was 
 inaccessible, and the Armenians still adhere to the 
 belief; though its ascent was accomplished in 1829 by 
 Parrot,* and several later travellers have successfully 
 followed in his footsteps. The region immediately 
 below the snow-line they describe as bare and desolate, 
 unvisited by beast or bird, and haunted by a silence 
 And a solitude which are completely overpowering. 
 Arguri, the only village known to have been erected on 
 its slopes, was the spot where, according to an ancient 
 tradition, Noah planted his vineyard; and at Nachd- 
 jevan, in the plain of the Araxes, the patriarch is 
 reputed to have been buried. 
 
 Mount Ararat forms the culminating point of Western 
 Asia, and the loftiest peak of the Ala-dagh chain, an 
 eastern prolongation of the Anti-Taurus. It is situated 
 in lat. 39 42' N., and long. 44 35' E. 
 
 One of the legends connected with it relates that, in 
 the early ages of Christianity, a poor monk conceived 
 the idea of offering his prayers on the sacred summit, 
 and thrice attempted the ascent, but was thrice brought 
 back by angels to his starting-point, where he was 
 ordered to build the chapel destroyed along with the 
 village of Arguri in 1840. 
 
 We shall now borrow a few extracts from the narra- 
 tives of travellers who have been more successful than the 
 monk. M. Bellinger, in his " Voyage aux Indes," says : 
 
 * Tourncfort, the botanist, had made the attempt in 1700, but failed. Some 
 English travellers accomplished it in 1857.
 
 BELLINGER'S ADVENTURE. 331 
 
 " Early in the morning of the 23rd of April we set 
 out from Ouchayan; we descended the escarpment of 
 the ravine watered by the Asterck, which we crossed 
 upon a bridge remarkable for its architectural graceful- 
 ness. Afterwards we reascended by a very abrupt 
 path, carried over volcanic rocks, which appeared to 
 me to have furnished the materials of the bridge. It is 
 impossible to give any idea of the difficulties our horses 
 surmounted in climbing this steep ; twentj^ times mine 
 was on the point of stumbling and dragging me into 
 the river. At length we reached the summit without 
 accident, and found ourselves in a plain covered with 
 volcanic wreck, and clumps of artemisia and euphorbia. 
 From this plain we perceived very distinctly the snowy 
 summits of Ararat ; which, owing to its great elevation, 
 seemed close upon us, though it was more than twelve 
 leagues distant. This colossus of Armenia exhibits 
 
 O 
 
 itself under the form of two pyramids, the lesser of 
 which terminates in a sharp cone, while the other, with 
 its truncated crest, has the appearance of an extinct 
 crater." 
 
 Geographers differed in opinion as to the height of 
 this celebrated mountain until 1829, when the question 
 was solved by Professor Parrot, of Dorpat. As soon as 
 the district of Ararat had been conquered by the 
 Russian armies, M. Parrot formed the project of a pil- 
 grimage, at his own cost, to the famous mountain which 
 is consecrated in Holy Writ as the second cradle of the 
 human race. He set out in the middle of March 1829. 
 Let us now leave him to speak for himself, in the letters 
 which he addressed to his father :
 
 332 PARROTS ASCENT. 
 
 "MONASTERY OF ST. GREGORY, ON THE LOWER SLOPES OF ARARAT, 
 
 "September 22, 1829. 
 
 " We set out from Tiflis oil the first of September, and arrived 
 it was snowing all the way at the monastery of Etchmiadzin on 
 the eighth. We started again on the tenth, crossed the Araxes, 
 passed the night in the open air, and reached the monastery on 
 the evening of the eleventh. 
 
 " In our first tentative ascent of Ararat, on the east side of the 
 mountain, we attained an elevation of 12,996 feet above the sea ; 
 but when we had gained this altitude, we saw very clearly that to 
 reach the summit on this side would be impossible, owing to the 
 precipitousness . of the icy slope we should have to traverse. I 
 followed, therefore, some days later, the advice of a peasant, to 
 attempt the north-west side, accompanied by Messrs. Behagel and 
 Shleman, scholars of the university, the brave Deacon Abojan, 
 two infantry soldiers, a Cossack, and five of the people of the 
 village. On the first day, we mounted to the perpetual snow-line, 
 where we spent the night around a bivouac-fire. At daybreak we 
 set out for the summit, hoping to reach it at noon ; but at that 
 hour we had only succeeded in ascending as high as 14,400 feet. 
 As it appeared to me that we had still upwards of 1800 feet to 
 climb, at a pace which continually slackened, and more, seeing 
 that masses of cloud and fog were advancing towards the moun- 
 tain, and at nightfall would cover it with snow, I found myself 
 compelled to redescend." 
 
 "MONASTERY OF ST. GREGORY, 
 " September %Sth. 
 
 " I hasten to announce that I have succeeded in accomplishing 
 the ascent of Ararat. It was the third attempt which I under- 
 took on the 25th of this month, when I was accompanied by the 
 robust and intrepid Abojan, by five peasants, and two Eussian 
 soldiers. We arrived at the summit on the 27th, at three o'clock 
 in the afternoon. The difficulties were numerous, and probably I 
 owe the entire success to the ardour of the two soldiers and one 
 of the peasants, the others having been unable to follow us. 
 From our first entry on the frozen snow up to the summit, we
 
 A MEDITERRANEAN VOLCANO. 333 
 
 were compelled to dig out with the hatchet a series of steps or 
 notches in which to place our feet. These wei'e even more neces- 
 sary in the descent than in the ascent ; for the coup d'osil, plung- 
 ing from so great an elevation upon those immense precipitous 
 surfaces of shining ice, intersected by deep and obscure precipices, 
 has really an imposing character even for him who is inured to 
 such enterprises. This time, as on our second attempt, the 
 weather proved as favourable as could be wished. We had spent 
 the night in the midst of the frosts, in an atmosphere so tranquil 
 and serene that I scarcely felt the cold, which is extremely keen 
 at these great heights. The moon hei-self took care to guide our 
 uncertain steps on the cone of ice, when, after sunset, I found 
 myself far beyond the region of perpetual snow. The barometer 
 then gave 16,200 feet as our altitude above the sea- level." 
 
 Though M. Parrot did not discover on the summit 
 any crater of the ordinary form, and though it is 
 difficult to believe that it is represented by the enor- 
 mous crevasse which cleaves the mountain on its north- 
 west side, there can be no doubt, as we have said, of its 
 volcanic origin. Ararat and the plain present a suc- 
 cession of lava-tracts, from the snow-line to a circum- 
 ference of twelve miles round the base. This fact, and 
 its situation equi-distant from the Black Sea and the 
 Caspian, entitle us to regard it as a Mediterranean 
 volcano, one of the most ancient and considerable in 
 Asia. 
 
 We conclude with an account of the proceedings of 
 the scientific expedition conducted by M. Khodyko, in 
 August 1850, and recorded by M. de St. Martin in the 
 " Nouvelles Annales des Voyages." 
 
 " On the 29th of July, we pitched our camp on the
 
 334 KHODYKO' S ASCENT. 
 
 Great Ararat, at a distance of seven versts from the 
 source of Saretai-Boidak, and in proximity to the snow- 
 belt, the lower boundary of which stretched very far 
 down the mountain that year. After receiving a final 
 supply of fuel and provisions, Colonel Khodyko decided 
 on commencing the march on the 1st of August. 
 
 " The weather proving auspicious, we proceeded with- 
 out delay to pack up the instruments. The baggage of the 
 individuals who were to take part in the ascent were 
 placed on horseback, and our tents were struck at six in 
 the morning. At the outset, the beasts of burden advanced 
 without any difficulty upon the snow which covered the 
 ground ; but soon the extraordinary precipitousness of 
 the acclivities made them stumble and yield under their 
 load in such a manner that we were compelled to 
 abandon them. The stores were then placed upon four 
 sledges, which had been previously prepared in case of 
 accident. The soldiers of the detachment were harnessed 
 to them, and began to haul them up with all their 
 might, animating one another by lively sayings and 
 shouts of cheerful encouragement. 
 
 " Colonel Khodyko made light of every difficulty, and 
 kept close beside the sledges, while the idler members 
 of the expedition skirted the rocks on the left side of 
 the ravine, the course of which we carefully followed. 
 At the head of the column marched an Armenian, named 
 Simon, who, in 1845, had acted as guide to M. Abich. 
 He bore a cross, which we proposed to plant on the 
 summit of Ararat. 
 
 "Though frequently delayed by the slowness with 
 which the transportation of the baggage was necessarily
 
 KHODYKO'S ASCENT. 335 
 
 effected, the detachment succeeded in reaching, about 
 two o'clock in the afternoon, the first gap on this side 
 of the rocky mountain-ridge. At three o'clock we 
 crossed the ravine, keeping to the right, where we were 
 rejoined by M. Khodyko. We pushed forward for 
 some distance, and then halted under the enormous rock 
 of Taset-Kelessi, which constitutes in a certain degree 
 the lower stage or terrace of the summit. Here, the 
 abruptness of the incline, and the insufficient amount of 
 shelter from the snow, rendered the establishment of a 
 camp exceedingly difficult. Nevertheless, thanks to the 
 zealous exertions of the soldiers, the area was swept 
 clear, and our small company disposed themselves to 
 rest. We waited the dawn with the more impatience 
 that clouds were accumulated around the summit and 
 sharp ridges of the Taset-Kelessi, and that the pealing 
 of the thunder, joined to the glare of the lightning, 
 incessantly disturbed the silence of night. 
 
 " At six o'clock on the morning of the 2nd of August, 
 our company resumed their march ; but obstacles mul- 
 tiplied at every step. We gained the rocky crest which 
 stretches along the ravine on the left, and gradually rose 
 to the upper regions. The sky, which was tolerably 
 clear in the morning, gradually darkened with accumu- 
 lating clouds ; and towards noon a west wind arose, 
 bringing with it whirling clouds of hail and frozen 
 
 O C3 O 
 
 snow. This storm compelled Colonel Khodyko to empty 
 the sledges of all their contents, with the exception of 
 the instruments. The Cossacks employed in the work 
 of transportation, stimulated by the example of their 
 chief, did not the less gaily resume their laborious task,
 
 336 A TOILSOME JOURNEY. 
 
 with all the audacity, carelessness, and energy character- 
 istic of the Russian soldier. 
 
 "About one o'clock they reached the north-eastern 
 extremity of the chain of rocks, which at some distance 
 beyond loses itself in a formation composed of stony 
 ddbris, crossed in all directions by beds of snow and ice. 
 This tract extends to the base of the last escarpment of 
 the summit-peak, near which we found, erect, and firmly 
 planted in the ground, the cross planted in 1845 by one 
 of M. Abich's servants. Here we halted for a while, hop- 
 ing the storm would subside. But in vain. At half-past 
 two the wind increased in violence, and, what was worse, 
 a dense fog enveloped the summit of the mountain. We 
 resolved, therefore, to push forward, so as to secure some 
 degree of covert among the rocks of the escarpment from 
 the rapidly gathering hurricane. We toiled up the height 
 about half-way, and then were convinced against our 
 will of the impossibility of making any further progress 
 on that day. Our attendants were harassed and half- 
 frozen ; the snow lashed their faces and blinded them ; 
 while incessant gusts of wind obstructed the passage of 
 the heavy sledges with the instruments. To find a 
 refuge seemed difficult. Abrupt rocks were accumulated 
 so close together, that we could nowhere find a corner 
 spacious enough for our accommodation. M. Khodyko 
 at length decided, at five o'clock, to dismiss half his men ; 
 ordering them to return to our camp at Taset-Kelessi, 
 where, as a matter of precaution, we had left a tent. 
 Then the rest of us, six in number, took possession of a 
 small plateau, open to every wind. We made some 
 preparations for the night. Huddling ourselves together
 
 A MOUNTAIN TEMPEST. 337 
 
 in the smallest possible space, we had for our coverings 
 a carpet and a skin which had been used to protect the 
 instruments from the rain. And this uncomfortable 
 position was ours until morning. 
 
 " Meantime, the wind continued to augment in fury. 
 Rending at times the thick mantle of clouds which 
 shrouded the mountain on every side, it opened up to 
 us, by the pale glearn of the moon, either a nook of the 
 valley of the Araxes, or the outlines of the Lesser 
 Ararat, the summit of which sank already beneath our 
 feet, or the sombre steeps which surrounded our in- 
 hospitable asylum, situated at an elevation considerably 
 exceeding that of Mont Blanc. About ten o'clock in 
 the evening, to complete our misery, the tempest came ; 
 and by the vividness of the lightnings and the force of 
 the thunder we soon felt assured that we were caught 
 in the very bosom of the electric clouds. At each ex- 
 plosion, the lightning did not flash through the air in a 
 zigzag path, as is usual, but instantaneously filled the 
 void with a dazzling lustre, shaded with reflections of 
 green, red, and white. The thunder-peals followed al- 
 most immediately on the passage of the lightning ; their 
 awful detonations were long and distinctly repeated by 
 the innumerable echoes of the mountain-gorges. To- 
 wards midnight the storm subsided, but the snow con- 
 tinued to fall in flakes. Those of us who had not 
 changed our places were covered three to four inches 
 deep. The day at length began to break, but not with 
 any promise of favourable weather. The summits, it is 
 true, were released from their vaporous shrouds; but, 
 in revenge, the flanks of the Lesser Ararat, and all the 
 
 (731) 22
 
 338 UPON THE PLATEAU. 
 
 lower region accessible to the eye, disappeared beneath 
 a screen of clouds which, seen from above, resembled an 
 undulating icy sea. As the sun gradually rose above 
 the horizon, it emerged from the midst of these vapours ; 
 light at first like wreaths of smoke, but afterwards con- 
 densing into thick and snowy mists. Towards three 
 o'clock the sky slightly cleared, but the wind did not 
 diminish in impetuosity. Our situation became so in- 
 tolerable that we determined on continuing the ascent, 
 in the hope of discovering, beyond the rocks, a smooth 
 breadth of ground which we knew to be contiguous to 
 the summit. 
 
 " At four o'clock we quitted our resting-place, but we 
 did not reach the plateau in question until we had 
 crossed a third chain of rocks. It proved to incline at 
 an angle of 50, and was strewn with small-sized pyrites, 
 which emitted a strong odour of sulphur. To the right 
 stretches the ravine which touches on the Taset-Kelessi 
 and abuts on the summit-peak ; on the left extends 
 another, terminating at the Makinsk glacier, and not 
 less rude or precipitous than the former. On gaining 
 the centre of the table-land, we were forced to halt, 
 though only nine hundred paces from the summit, 
 fatigue and the wind preventing our further progress. 
 We succeeded, after almost incredible efforts, in pitching 
 a couple of tents, at a part where the ground was less 
 precipitous than elsewhere, though its slope was still 
 equal to 30, and even 40. And this position we main- 
 tained for three days and two nights, from the 3rd to 
 the 5th of August, during which period the wind, snow, 
 hail, and sleet continued almost uninterruptedly.
 
 THE TOPMOST SUMMIT. 339 
 
 " Sunset, on the 5th of August, marked the conclusion 
 of the storm. On the morning of the 6th, the wind had 
 completely sunk ; all the ravines of Ararat, the Great 
 and Less, were clear and open ; and on the horizon re- 
 mained only a slender wreath or girdle of clouds, crown- 
 ing the distant peaks of the Karabagh and the gigantic 
 terraces of the Savalan, whose outline was distantly 
 defined to the east. 
 
 " M. Khodyko resolved to employ the morning in ex- 
 ploring the summits, as well as in seeking an advantage- 
 ous site for the establishment of his instruments and 
 his camp. At three-quarters past eight he set out with 
 his Cossacks, and a quarter of an hour later planted his 
 feet on the topmost platform of the mountain. Three 
 summits dominate it. On two of these we discerned 
 pyramidal eminences, or cairns, built up of fragments of 
 stone, and crowned by beacon-posts ; they had been 
 erected by some soldiers who, a month before, had 
 voluntarily undertaken the ascent of the Ararat. We 
 rapidly climbed the nearest summit, and afterwards 
 crossed the second, which Abich had visited in 1845. 
 But great was our surprise when, having gained the 
 topmost stone, we saw before us a third summit, con- 
 siderably higher than the others, and separated from 
 them by a deep depression. The sides of this depression 
 were almost perpendicular, and it was with difficulty 
 we accomplished the passage. However, all obstacles 
 gave way before our perseverance, and at ten o'clock in 
 the morning it was the Feast of the Transfiguration 
 we stood in triumph on the culminating point of the 
 Greater Ararat.
 
 340 A RELIGIOUS CEREMONY. 
 
 " Here, first of all, we proceeded to erect the cross. In 
 the absence of the guide Simon, it had been intrusted 
 to a Cossack, named Dokhnoff. On arriving at the in- 
 dicated spot, he fell on his knees, prostrated himself be- 
 fore the symbol of human redemption, and immediately 
 set to work to plant it in the ground. This done, the 
 assistants gathered around the Christian memorial, which 
 they had thus erected on the summit of the Biblical 
 mountain; and the ceremony terminated with a fervent 
 prayer, at which was present a Persian and a Moham- 
 medan, Nooarsaz-Ali, who had arrived that day from 
 the lower encampment. Colonel Khodyko then made 
 arrangements for our departure, fearing that the wind, 
 which still blew violently, might render dangerous a 
 prolonged sojourn on the mountain. The descent from 
 the heights of Ararat exposed us to considerable hazard, 
 particularly on account of the rapid and slippery de- 
 clivities near its summit : the slightest false step might 
 have hurled us into the snow-wreaths of the Taset- 
 Kelessi ravine; but, with the help of our iron-shod 
 alpenstocks, we escaped every danger, and about noon 
 regained our camp in safety." 
 
 When M. Abich ascended Ararat, July 29, 1845, he 
 and his six companions remained an hour on the sum- 
 mit, without suffering any inconvenience from wind or 
 cold. Prior to undertaking the ascent, he had pitched 
 his tent for some time on the upper slope of the moun- 
 tain, in the valley or depression between the two peaks 
 already spoken of, at an elevation of about 6000 feet 
 above the sea. He declares that from this point the
 
 ERUPTION OF 1840. 341 
 
 summit may be reached with considerable facility. As 
 the period most suitable for such an enterprise, he names 
 the latter weeks of July or the opening days of August, 
 when the summer attains its maximum heat, and the 
 sky is clear and unclouded, the atmosphere calm and 
 undisturbed. After the middle of August fine weather 
 is not to be expected; atmospheric disturbances increase 
 in fury and frequency ; and the traveller incurs great 
 peril from violent thunderstorms, accompanied by tor- 
 nadoes of hail and snow. 
 
 We have referred to the eruption of July 2, 1840 
 which took place at the head of the great ravine, and 
 destroyed the monastery of St. James and the village of 
 Arguri. Its principal features are thus described by 
 Wagner, in his Reise nach dem Ararat: "Half an 
 hour before sunset, on the 2nd of July, when the air 
 was perfectly clear, the inhabitants of Armenia were 
 alarmed by a thunderous din, that rolled loudest and 
 most fearfully in the neighbourhood of the Great Ararat. 
 During an undulating motion of the earth, lasting about 
 two seconds, which extended from the mountain in an 
 easterly and south-easterly direction, and accomplished 
 great havoc in the districts of Sharur and Nakhichevan, 
 a rent was formed at the head of the great chasm, about 
 three miles above Arguri, from which gas and vapour rose, 
 ejecting with immense force stones and earth over the 
 mountain-slope and down into the plain. Very speedily 
 the vapour rose higher than the summit of the mountain; 
 it seems to have been wholly of aqueous composition, 
 for in the same night a heavy rain fell in the vicinity,
 
 342 ERUPTION OF 1840. 
 
 an unusual occurrence in this country during summer. 
 At first the vapour was tinged with various colours, red 
 and blue prevailing. Whether flames burst forth could 
 not be ascertained ; the smoke or vapour-columns, how- 
 ever, had a reddish tint, which, had the outbreak taken 
 place during night, would probably have been found to 
 be due to flame. Soon the blue and red of the vapour 
 passed into black, and the air became filled with a strong 
 and pungent smell of sulphur. While the mountain 
 continued to heave, and the earth to shake, along with 
 the incessant thunder, and noises as of a subterranean 
 cracking and growling, might be heard the whiz as of 
 bombs, caused by the force with which stones and large 
 masses of rock, some upwards of fifty tons weight, were 
 hurled through the air ; and the hurtling of these tre- 
 mendous missiles as they met in their wild flight, could 
 be distinguished from the thunderous sounds rolling in 
 the interior of the mountain. These large stones gener- 
 ally lay where they fell ; for, in consequence of the 
 gentle inclination of the ground at the base of Ararat, 
 to roll far was impossible. 
 
 " The eruption lasted an hour. When the vapour had 
 cleared away, and the shower of earth and stones had 
 ceased, the rich village of Arguri, and the monastery 
 and chapel of St. James, were no longer visible; all, 
 along with their inmates, had been buried under the 
 ejected mass. The earthquake which accompanied the 
 eruption destroyed, it is said, six thousand houses in 
 the neighbouring districts of Nakhichevan, Sharur, and 
 Ardulad. 
 
 " Four days later a second catastrophe occurred, and
 
 HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 343 
 
 spread still further the area of destruction at the moun- 
 tain's base. After the rent in the chasm, from which 
 the stones and vapour had issued, closed, there remained 
 in the same place a deep basin filled with water by the 
 melting of the snow, the rain, and a streamlet from 
 above, so as to form a small lake. The mass of stone 
 and clay, which served as a dam, and encircled the lake 
 like the rim of a crater, was burst by the weight of 
 water, and poured down the declivity of the mountain 
 with irresistible fury a deluge of thick mud, which 
 spread into the plain, and partially filled up the bed 
 and diverted the course of the small river Karasa. So 
 much of the gardens of Arguri as had escaped the 
 eruption were now destroyed, and the mud-torrent 
 carried trees, rocks, and the bodies of the inhabitants of 
 the village, down into the plain, and into the bed of the 
 Karasa. This flood was thrice repeated, and each time 
 accompanied by subterraneous noises." 
 
 Ararat derives its name, it is said, from Arai, a king 
 who lived 1750 years B.C. He was killed in a great 
 battle on an Armenian plain, which was thence desig- 
 nated Arai-arat, the " fall of Arai." Before him reigned 
 Amassis, the sixth in descent from Japhet, and after 
 him the country was named Amasia; hence comes 
 Massis, by which appellation to this day the Armenians 
 know the great and famous mountain. It is not to be 
 supposed that Noah's Ark rested on the summit of 
 Ararat. Such a theory is contradicted by the dif- 
 ficulties of the descent, and by the low temperature of 
 the atmosphere, which would have proved fatal to 
 many of the animals. And besides, in Genesis we read
 
 344 FAUNA AND FLORA. 
 
 only that it rested " on the mountains of Ararat." But 
 as the olive nourishes nowhere in the neighbourhood, 
 it seems very doubtful that this can be the mountain 
 intended by the author of the Mosaic record. Many 
 authorities prefer to identify it with the Gordya^an 
 mountains, which run to the south of Armenia, and 
 divide the valley of the Tigris from Iran. 
 
 The fauna of Ararat is of a very uninteresting character. 
 Birds are numerous to a point about half-way up the 
 great chasm ; and among them the most remarkable is 
 the rose starling, which has acquired celebrity as a 
 locust killer. The only mammal is the common hare. 
 Vegetation is not very abundant, owing to the want of 
 water ; but the sides of Little Ararat are tolerably well 
 covered with birches. The Alpine flora met with is the 
 same as that of the Caucasus, and include various species 
 of pyrethrums, centaureas, campanulas, and asters.* 
 
 * The ascent of Mount Ararat was accomplished in the year 1877 by Mr. James 
 Bryce.
 
 XIV. 
 Jftount inai. 
 
 1 God from the mount of Sinai (whose gray to;> 
 Shall tremble, he descending) will himself, 
 In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets' sound, 
 Ordain them laws." MILTON. 
 
 " With such a horrid clang 
 As on Mount Sinai rang, 
 While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake." MILTO.N. 
 
 j TRICTL Y speaking, Sinai is the general name 
 given to the cluster of mountains which 
 occupies and forms the southern extremity 
 of the Arabian peninsula; that peninsula, 
 rugged, rocky, and desolate, which extends between the 
 two ramifications of the Red Sea, separated from Egypt 
 on the west by the Bay of Suez, and from another por- 
 tion of Arabia on the east by the Bay of Akabah. 
 
 The general configuration of this mass of granite, 
 greenstone, and porphyry, which bears no trace of hav- 
 ing undergone volcanic action since its original eleva- 
 tion, is that of a wedge-shaped plateau, traversed by 
 intersecting ravines or wadys, from which spring the 
 bold cliffs and soaring peaks, gradual at first, but ter- 
 minating in a very steep ascent. A recent authority
 
 346 SINAITIC MOUNTAIN-GROUPS. 
 
 (Dean Stanley, in his " Sinai and Palestine ") distin- 
 guishes three chief and comparatively distinct groups : 
 
 1. The north-west cluster above Wady Feiran; the 
 culminating point of which is the fivefold peak of 
 Serbal, 6342 feet above the sea. 
 
 2. The eastern, which is also the central ; of which the 
 apex, 8063 feet high, is the Jebel Katherin. This in- 
 cludes the Jebel Musa, variously estimated at 6796, 
 7033, and 7097 feet. 
 
 3. The south-eastern group, closely connected with the 
 centra], which contains the highest Sinaitic summit, 
 Um Shaumer. 
 
 The three great peaks of Jebel Katherin, Jebel Musa, 
 and Um Shaumer, lie in a line about nine miles long 
 drawn from Musa, which is the most northerly ; and a 
 perpendicular to this line, traced on the map westwards 
 for about twenty miles, traverses almost the entire 
 length of the five-peaked chain of Serbal. From the 
 boldness of their outlines and the depth of their valleys, 
 the Sinaitic mountains present a succession of land- 
 scapes remarkable for sublimity. 
 
 Which of the great peaks of the Sinaitic peninsula is 
 to be regarded as the Mount Sinai of the Mosaic record, 
 the Mount of the Law, where " the red fire and smould- 
 ering clouds outbrake " ? 
 
 The question is one which has been a fertile source 
 of discussion among geographers. 
 
 Lepsius and Burckhardt identify Sinai with Serbal, 
 which lies thirty miles to the westward of Jebel 
 Musa, and close to the Wady Feiran and El Hessnse. 
 The latter is considered by Lepsius to be the ancient
 
 THE TRUE "MOUNT SINAI." 347 
 
 Rephidim, one of the halting-places of the Israelites in 
 their march through the wilderness. But this view 
 brings the Israelites to Sinai on the same day that they 
 fought and defeated the Amalekites, which is hardly 
 probable. On the other hand, the most ancient tradi- 
 tions are in favour of Serbal, which is the grandest of 
 the Sinaitic mountains. 
 
 Objections apply to the hypothesis of Hitter, who 
 represents Jebel Musa as Sinai, and in the Wady es 
 Sebayeh, on the south-east side, finds the scene of the 
 encampment of the Israelites. 
 
 The theory now very generally accepted is that of 
 Dr. Robinson ; who suggests that the modern Horeb of 
 the monks that is, the north-west and lower face of 
 the Jebel Musa, crowned with the glorious cliffs of Has 
 Safsafeh, and overlooking the plain Er-Rahah is the 
 scene of the giving of the law, and the " Mount Sinai " 
 which Moses ascended. The great support of Dr. 
 Robinson's suggestion is the conjunction of mountain 
 with plain which this site affords. Dean Stanley ob- 
 served at the foot of the precipices some alluvial 
 mounds, which answer exactly to "the bounds of the 
 people ; " and the broad sweep of comparatively level 
 ground, stretching away into ample lateral valleys, 
 would furnish sufficient space for the evolutions of the 
 Israelite host, when they " removed and stood afar off." 
 From every point of it the wondering and awe-stricken 
 people could easily see the tremendous spectacle of " the 
 mountain burning with fire to the midst of heaven." 
 
 At the foot of the mountain, and overlooking the 
 Wady Musa, stands the famous monastery of St.
 
 348 ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT. 
 
 Catherine, the patron-saint of mountains, a quadran- 
 gular pile of building, enclosed by walls, varying in 
 height from thirty to fifty feet, and so strengthened by 
 bastions as to assume the grim appearance of a medi- 
 eval fortress. In addition to cloisters and apartments 
 for the monks, we find in the interior a principal 
 church ; twenty-three smaller churches or chapels, each 
 dedicated to a different saint; and a library, in which 
 some valuable manuscripts were formerly preserved. 
 
 A visit to this convent, and to the mountain above it, 
 is described in the Tour du Monde, by Messrs. Bida 
 and Hachette. We borrow some interesting passages 
 from their narrative : 
 
 It was at noon, on the 28th of February, they 
 reached the consecrated spot. After a brief interval of 
 repose, they bent their steps towards the convent, the 
 external aspect of which, they remark, is by no means 
 religious in character. The traveller sees himself con- 
 fronted by massive crenelated walls, forming an irre- 
 gular square of 245 feet in length by 204 in breadth, 
 and constructed of blocks of granite about twenty 
 inches in height, and a little more in length. Its small 
 bastions are a warning to the Bedaween that, in case of 
 need, their attacks could be repelled by artillery. 
 
 The great gate of the convent is kept shut ; and is 
 opened only when the superior, one of the four inde- 
 pendent archbishops of the Greek Church, comes from 
 Cairo, at long intervals, to honour the monks with a 
 visit. 
 
 Founded, it is said, in the year 527, by the Emperor 
 Justinian and his wife Theodosia, on the site of a tower
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT. 851 
 
 raised by the Empress Helena, this monastery was 
 protected in the following century by Mohammed him- 
 self, who, as is well known, borrowed largely from 
 Christianity in building up his new creed. In 1403, a 
 treaty concluded between the Knights of St. John of 
 Jerusalem and the Sultan of Egypt refers to the taxes 
 levied on the pilgrims of the Holy Land, among whom 
 were included the visitors to the convent of Mount 
 Sinai. About this time, the buildings were repaired 
 and enlarged. There were then many other monas- 
 teries upon Mount Sinai, " beloved of God, and worthy 
 of all honour," as the Emperor Marcian writes in an 
 imperial rescript. The French general Kleber, on his 
 way to Egypt, in the early years of the French revolu- 
 tion, rebuilt some portions of the convent- walls. 
 
 We were impatient to penetrate into the interior. 
 From a postern in the wall hung a rope, to which we 
 fastened our letter of recommendation. It was received 
 by a monk. After waiting half an hour we obtained 
 admission; not, as formerly, being hauled up to the 
 postern in a loop of the rope or in a basket, but by a 
 small side-door, low, and loaded with iron truly for- 
 midable is its apparatus of bolts and bars. Yet all these 
 precautions are useful only so far as they impose upon 
 the Bedaween. A dozen European soldiers would 
 carry the monastic fortress by storm in a quarter of an 
 hour. 
 
 The superior came to meet us, and placed at our dis- 
 posal everything which we might find agreeable; the 
 useful, we had stowed away in our tent. He conducted 
 us into every part of the convent. We found the
 
 352 THE CONVENT-CHURCH. 
 
 interior a confused mass of irregular buildings, arranged 
 without order on the different levels of an uneven and 
 broken site. Through a labyrinth of narrow passages, 
 corridors, and courts, we visited the cells, communicat- 
 ing with outer galleries of timber, the apartments, 
 plainly furnished, reserved for the accommodation of 
 strangers, the cellars, the workshops, the small factories 
 of things necessary for the existence of the " religious " 
 and the support of the convent, the great church 
 dedicated to St. Catherine, the twenty-three chapels, 
 and, what most astonished us, an ancient mosque 
 situated in the centre of the enclosure. The superior 
 informed us that it had been erected for the use of the 
 Arabs employed in the convent. Probably, too, it was 
 a concession enforced by Moslem authority ; and it is 
 a kind of palladium against the tribes of the Sinaitic 
 peninsula. Externally, the church is more than modest; 
 in the interior, it is profusely decorated. It is divided 
 into three aisles, separated by granite columns, which 
 support a roof of timber, painted, and sown with golden 
 stars. The sanctuary is enclosed by a screen, carved 
 and gilded ; the altar, in mosaic work of shell and 
 mother-of-pearl, is loaded with the specimens of jewel- 
 lery offered by wealthy devotees ; the episcopal throne 
 is of wood, carved and gilded ; the pavement of marble, 
 serpentine, and granite. 
 
 The superior pointed out to us some Byzantine 
 paintings ; the medals of the founders, Theodosius and 
 Helena; in the apse, a mosaic representing Moses 
 young, handsome, beardless on his knees before the 
 burning bush ; and, in another scene, receiving from the
 
 THE CONVENT-GARDENS. 353 
 
 hands of God the tables of the Law. The site of the 
 bush, we are told, was on the left hand of the high 
 altar ; it has been enclosed in a chapel, into which we 
 were not allowed to enter until we had removed our 
 shoes not, unquestionably, as is often asserted, in imi- 
 tation of a Mohammedan custom, but in remembrance 
 of Jehovah's words to Moses, when He spake to him 
 from the midst of the flaming bush: " Put oft' thy shoes 
 from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest 
 is holy ground." 
 
 This church is dedicated to St. Catherine, whose 
 tomb, ornamented and surrounded by lamps and tapers 
 always lighted, attracts a great number of pilgrims. 
 
 In the library, we were allowed to glance at rather 
 than to see the Greek and Arabic manuscripts, about 
 fifteen hundred in number. We obtained leave to 
 examine more closely the "gospels" of the Emperor 
 Theodosius, and a psalter which belonged (it is said) to 
 St. Catherine. 
 
 We afterwards walked through the gardens, which 
 glowed with flowers ; their verdure, in the midst of the 
 sterile rocks around us, had a charming effect, recalling 
 to us the vineyards of France in the sunny days of 
 May and June. The trees are all white or rose-tinted. 
 The almond trees, the figs, the olives, the vines, the 
 peaches, and especially the pear trees, produce so the 
 monks assured us excellent fruit. 
 
 March 2nd. Ascent of Sinai, or Jebel Musa (" Mount 
 of Moses "). at eight o'clock. Our excursion lasted five 
 hours. We set out through the gardens to the south of 
 
 (371) 23
 
 354 A MOSLEM TRADITION. 
 
 the convent, and plunged into a maze of pathways, 
 with steps dug out of the rock. We passed between 
 the Mountain of the Jews and Mount Horeb; and, in 
 succession, reached a fountain, a chapel dedicated to 
 the Virgin, and finally a small plateau, where we 
 paused to rest under a cypress tree, near a spring of 
 pure and crystal water. Ascending still higher, our 
 guides pointed out to us the ruins of a chapel formerly 
 erected in a hollow or depression, identified with the 
 cave in which Elijah took refuge when pursued by 
 Jezebel. 
 
 On the summit of Sinai may be seen the ruins of a 
 chapel and a mosque, both consecrated to Moses. 
 
 It marks the site, according to tradition, from which 
 Mohammed was transported to heaven. His camel has 
 left on the rock the imprint of one of his hoofs. 
 
 Whatever the creed or the philosophical conviction 
 of the traveller, he alone is to blame if he remains frigid 
 and unmoved on this narrow table-land, this mountain- 
 summit, hallowed by such noble memories, while his 
 gaze wanders from peak to peak, in the midst of the 
 solemn silence, in which the thought of man is free to 
 rise from earth to heaven. 
 
 A very full and interesting account of the Monastery 
 of St. Catherine and the Sinaitic peaks is given by 
 Dean Stanley. He speaks of the emotion with which 
 the pilgrim finds in the heart of the desert so stately a 
 convent, with its massive walls, its gorgeous bannered 
 church, its galleries of chapels, cells, and guest-chambers, 
 its library of precious manuscripts, the sound of its rude
 
 THE EMPEROK JUSTINIAN. 355 
 
 cymbals calling to prayer, and changed by the echoes 
 into music as it rolls through the desert valley, the 
 double standard of the Lamb and Cross floating high 
 upon its topmost towers. The fact that the monks 
 are not Arabs but Greeks that there in the midst of 
 the wilderness, the "very focus of the pure Semitic 
 race," he hears the accents of the Greek tongue, meets 
 the natives of Thessalonica and Samos, sees in the con- 
 vent-garden the produce of the isles of Greece not 
 tamarisk, and palm, and acacia ; but olive and almond, 
 poplar 1 and cypress is also not less strange than im- 
 pressive. Another circumstance which he cannot forget 
 is, that the monastery is not, as it were, of native growth ; 
 was founded by no patriarch, no pilgrim prince, no 
 ascetic king, but by a Byzantine emperor, the most 
 worldly of his race. The renown of Justinian, as of one 
 who loved to rear great architectural monuments, had 
 spread even to the recesses of Sinai ; and the hermits, 
 " when they heard that he delighted to build churches 
 and found convents, made a journey to him, and com- 
 plained how the wandering sons of Ishmael were wont 
 to attack them suddenly, eat up their provisions, deso- 
 late the place, enter the cells, and carry off everything ; 
 how they also broke into the church and devoured even 
 the holy wafers." Justinian was by no means unwilling 
 to raise for them such an asylum as they desired, 
 because it enabled him to convert it into a point of 
 defence against the Arabian tribes. The choice of the 
 site was dictated by the existence of an old tower, 
 ascribed to the Empress Helena. It stood close to the 
 localities associated by tradition with the Well of Jethro
 
 356 THE ONE MEMORIAL. 
 
 and the Burning Bush, in what is truly "hallowed 
 ground." 
 
 As centuries have passed away, even the convent in 
 the mountain-solitudes of Sinai has not escaped their 
 influence. The numerous cells with which the heights 
 were formerly thronged have long been vacant. The 
 episcopal city of Paran probably owing to the growth 
 of Justinian's foundation has perished almost without 
 a history. The Nunnery of St. Episteure has dis- 
 appeared ; we see only the ruins of the Convent of the 
 good physicians Cosmo and Damian, the Hermitage of 
 St. Onufrius, the Convent of the Forty Martyrs ; and if 
 the Convent of St. Catherine has been preserved, its 
 preservation is .due more to the massiveness of its walls 
 than any other single cause. Yet, as Dean Stanley 
 says, it is a thought of singular, almost of melancholy 
 interest, that amidst all these revolutions the Sinai tic 
 convent is still the one seat of European and of Chris- 
 tian civilization and worship, not only in the peninsula 
 of Sinai, but in the whole country of Arabia. Even 
 now it retains, or until recently it did retain, its hold 
 on the superstitious feelings, if not on the affections, 
 of the Bedaween. Burckhardt, and after him Dr. 
 Robinson, relate the deep conviction cherished by 
 thase wild children of the desert that the rains of 
 heaven, on which the produce of the peninsula de- 
 pends, are withheld or poured down at the bidding of 
 the monks. 
 
 We append, with some slight alterations, Dean Stan- 
 ley's account of his ascent of Jebel Musa, Has Safsafeh, 
 and St. Catherine.
 
 FAMOUS SPOTS. 357 
 
 In the ascent of Jebel Musa there were two points 
 which especially struck him : first, the little plain just 
 before the last ascent; the long flight of rude steps, 
 leading from the base to the summit, winds through 
 crags of granite until it brings you in sight of a grand 
 archway standing between two of these huge cliffs. 
 You pass this, and yet another, and then find yourself in 
 that world-renowned spot.* The tall cypress which 
 stands in the centre of the little basin is seen towering 
 above the rocks before you catch sight of the whole. 
 A ruined church on the hill-slope is built over the so- 
 called Cave of Elijah ; and a well and tank on the other 
 side of the basin are also ascribed to the prophet. It 
 is a solemn and beautiful scene, entirely secluded, and 
 entirely characteristic, with the exception of the cypress, 
 which marks the hand of strangers. 
 
 Next, the summit itself, whatever else may be its 
 claims, bears evident indications of being, or having 
 been, regarded as the spot most universally sacred on 
 
 * "Between the Egyptian and the Arabian deserts, formed by two gulfs of the 
 Erythraean Sea, is a peninsula of granite mountains. It seems as if an ocean of 
 lava, when its waves were literally running mountains high, had been suddenly 
 commanded to stand still. These successive summits, with their peaks and pin- 
 nacles, enclose a series of valleys, in general stern and savage, yet some of which 
 are not devoid of pastoral beauty. There may be found brooks of silver brightness, 
 and occasionally groves of palms and gardens of dates, while the neighbouring 
 heights command sublime landscapes, the opposing mountains of Asia and of Afric, 
 and the blue bosom of two seas. On one of these elevations, more than five thou- 
 sand feet above the ocean, is a convent ; again, nearly three thousand feet above 
 this convent is a towering peak, and this is Mount Sinai. 
 
 " On the top of Mount Sinai are two ruins a Christian church, and a Moham- 
 medan mosque. In this, the sublimest scene of Arabian glory, Israel and Ishmael 
 alike raised their altars to the great God of Abraham. Why are they in ruins? Is 
 it that human structures are not to be endured amid the awful temples of nature 
 and revelation ; and that the column and the cupola crumble into nothingness in 
 sight of the hallowed Horeb and on the soil of the eternal Sinai? 
 
 "Ascending the mountain, about half-way between the convent and the utmost 
 height of the towering peak, is a small plain surrounded by rocks. In its centre are 
 a cypress tree and a fountain. This is the traditional scene of the greatest event of 
 time." Tancred, bk. iv., c. 7.
 
 358 A MOUNTAIN-AMPHITHEATRE. 
 
 earth; for there, side by side, and from reverence for 
 the same event, on which both religions are founded, 
 stand the ruins of a small Christian church once 
 divided amongst all the Christian sects and of a small 
 Mohammedan mosque. From whatever point this fam- 
 ous peak is seen, these two fragments of worship, almost 
 always visible upon it, more distinctly than anything 
 else proclaim what it is. 
 
 Dean Stanley next proceeded to gain the summit of 
 the other end of the range, called the Has Safsafeh (or 
 " Willow-Head "), which overlooks the great plain of 
 the Er-Rahah. The whole party descended, and after 
 winding through the various basins and cliffs which 
 compose the range, reached the crest of the rocky preci- 
 pice. The effect of the scene was instantaneous. They 
 gazed with admiring awe on the great amphitheatre of 
 granite peaks around them, and on the deep, wide, 
 yellow plain below, sweeping to the very base of the 
 cliffs. A yet higher mass of granite, immediately above 
 this elevated point, should be ascended, for the greater 
 completeness of view which it affords. The plain below 
 is then seen stretching, not only between the ranges of 
 Ilaha and Furci'a, but also into the lateral valleys 
 which, on the north-east, unite it with the wide Wady 
 of the Sheikh. Behind extends the granite mass of the 
 range of Jebel Musa, cloven into deep gullies and basins, 
 and ending in the traditional peak, crowned by the 
 memorials of its double sanctity. 
 
 Next day the Dean and his companions ascended the 
 highest peak, not of the whole peninsula, but of the 
 Sinai range. Its historical or legendary interest is con-
 
 A SINGULAR ROCK. 361 
 
 nected solely with the story from which it derives its 
 name : that a retinue of angels bore the body of St. 
 Catherine from Alexandria, over the Red Sea and the 
 desert, and placed it on this mountain-crest. The rock 
 here assumes the likeness of a human body, with its 
 arms swathed like that of a mummy, and headless the 
 counterpart, say the monks, of the corpse of the decapi- 
 tated Egyptian saint. 
 
 The view from the summit is glorious, embracing not 
 only the labyrinth of bare granite peaks visible from 
 Jebel Musa, but a panorama of the whole peninsula, 
 including the five-peaked ridge of Serbal, the masses of 
 Um Shaumur, and the gulf of the Red Sea, with the 
 high mountains of Egypt and Arabia on the remote 
 horizon.
 
 XV. 
 
 HE Himalaya* that is, Hima-alaya, the 
 " Abode of Snow " is a range of mountains 
 extending from the Equator to the 45th 
 parallel of north latitude, and over 73 degrees 
 of longitude. But, in fact, as a glance at any good "map 
 of the world will inform the reader, this great central 
 range, which the Arab geographers termed " The Stony 
 Girdle of the Earth," may really be traced from the 
 mountains of Formosa, in the China Sea, to the Pyrenees, 
 where they sink into the Mediterranean. The Himalaya 
 proper, however, are not more than 1500 miles in length. 
 Their western prolongation is called the Hindu Kush. 
 Or we may take another division ; and, starting from 
 the Pamir Steppe, or " Roof of the World," as a centre, 
 may regard the western range as a boundary wall to 
 the high table-land of Western Asia, separating the 
 waters of the Arabian Gulf from those of the Caspian, 
 the Black Sea, and the Aral. That portion consists 
 of the Hindu Kush, the Paropamisan Mountains, the 
 
 * Pronounced as if written Himah-layJi.
 
 EXTENT OF THE HIMALAYA. 363 
 
 Elburz, the Zagros of Kurdistan, Ararat and the Ar- 
 menian Mountains, the Taurus and Anti-Taurus, which 
 are continued through Europe, as already hinted, in the 
 mountains of Greece and European Turkey, the Alps, 
 the Cevennes, and the Pyrenees. Turning to the south- 
 east, we find a range stretching from the Pamir to the 
 China Sea, with branches running down into the Malay 
 Peninsula and Annam. The eastern prolongation con- 
 sists of the Kuen-lung, which reaches the Pacific ; and 
 the Pe-ling, which separates the Yang-tsze from the 
 Yellow River. And, lastly, a north-east range strikes 
 from the Pamir to Behring Strait, including the Tengu 
 Tagh, and several ranges in Siberia and Kamtchatka. 
 
 We shall here, however, confine ourselves to the 
 Himalaya proper, the palace or Pantheon of the Hindu 
 gods, which may be said to be enclosed by the Indus, 
 the Brahmaputra, and the great northern plain of India. 
 Of this magnificent mountain-mass, which raises its 
 principal peaks to an elevation of nearly 30,000 feet, 
 very ample descriptions have been furnished by recent 
 travellers, and especially by Mr. Andrew Wilson and 
 Mr. Frederick Drew. 
 
 In Hindu mythology, says Mr. Wilson, these moun- 
 tains are personified as the husband of Manaka. He 
 was also the father of Durga, the great goddess of 
 destruction, who became incarnate as Parvati, or the 
 "daughter of the mountain," in order to beguile Siva 
 and withdraw him from a penance which he had under- 
 taken to perform in the Himalaya. Siva himself is also 
 known as Himalaya, and under this title is celebrated 
 in Kalidasa's beautiful poem of the Kumara Sambhana,
 
 364 THE HINDU PANTHEON. 
 
 or " Birth of the War-God." It is, then, with the god 
 of destruction, and his no less terrible spouse, that the 
 Himalaya are more specially associated, rather than 
 with the brighter form of Vishnu, the Preserver ; but, 
 says Mr. Wilson, the whole Hindu Pantheon are also 
 regarded as dwelling among the inaccessible snowy 
 peaks of these inaccessible mountains. And, assuredly, 
 neither Cretan Ida nor Thessalian Olympus can boast 
 of so divine a company. The Aryan imagination seems 
 to have been inspired by the tremendous character of 
 the scenes among which it flourished ; and, with much 
 that is mean and debasing, there is so much of the 
 grand and exalted, that, looking up to the snow-crowned 
 heights of the Kailas, we may justly affirm that 
 
 "Every legend fair 
 Which the supreme Caucasian mind 
 Carved out of Nature for itself, is there. " 
 
 On the Indian side the Himalaya are steep and 
 abrupt ; on the north, as a rule, they incline gradually 
 towards the great central table-lands of Asia. Yet it is 
 on the Indian side that the snow-line that is, the 
 lower boundary of the region of perpetual snow reaches 
 the lowest level. This is owing to the dry ness of the 
 atmosphere on the northern side, while on the southern 
 a considerable quantity of moisture is accumulated by 
 the Indian monsoon. From Bhotan to Kashmir, the 
 snow-line on the southern slope descends to 16,200 feet; 
 on the higher Himalaya we may place it at 18,600. 
 The rule must not be made arbitrary, however; and 
 where snow can lodge, it is not common to find exposed
 
 PASS IN THE HIMALAYA.
 
 THE VALLEY OF GLACIERS. 367 
 
 tracts above 16,000 feet at any period of the year; and 
 even in August a snowstorm will often cover every- 
 thing down to 10,000 feet, or even lower. 
 
 Glaciers of immense size are abundant in the Hima- 
 laya, and descend far below the snow-line. The lower 
 portions of them are thickly covered with ddbris of 
 rock, and in some places among the de'bris flourishes 
 living grass. Mr. Wilson describes a remarkable glacier- 
 scene in the neighbourhood of the Chandra River, which 
 cuts its way through high mural precipices, the clefts 
 of which are filled with the frozen torrents. Here 
 nothing is to be seen but snow, rocks, and glaciers; 
 and " the great ice-serpents crept over into this dread 
 valley as if they were living monsters." In the local 
 dialect Shigri means " a glacier ; " but the word is 
 applied to the upper Chandra valley, which, therefore, 
 may fairly and really be described as the " Valley of 
 Glaciers." 
 
 Greensward there is none ; woodland shade there is 
 none: 
 
 " Bare is it, without house or tract, and destitute 
 Of obvious shelter as a shipless sea. '' 
 
 That, however, is by no means the worst of it ; and 
 in the course of the afternoon, on the occasion of Mr. 
 Wilson's traversing it, a fierce storm of wind, rain, and 
 snow increased the savagery of the scene. It seemed 
 as if some of the clouds of the monsoon had been driven 
 across the ranges of lofty mountains which shut out the 
 valley from the Indian plain; and soon the storm- 
 clouds began to roll grandly among the snowy peaks 
 which towered on every side. So far the spectacle was
 
 COLOSSAL GLACIERS. 371 
 
 bridges there are none ; and it was impossible not to pity 
 the poor women who, on so cold a morning, were forced 
 to wade shivering through the streams, with the rapid 
 water rising almost up to their waists. Still onward 
 moved the travellers, with twenty-thousand-feet snowy 
 peaks and overhanging glaciers on every side, and great 
 beds of snow fringing the margins of the mural preci- 
 pices. After a few miles the Chandra ceased its 
 southerly flow, and diverged to the westward ; but the 
 scenery retained its character of terror and sublimity. 
 Out of the huge beds of snow above, wherever a gap 
 in the mountain-walls presents itself, 
 
 " The glaciers creep 
 
 Like snakes that watch their prey ; from their far fountains 
 Slow rolling on ; there many a precipice, 
 Frost and the sun, in scorn of mortal power, 
 Have piled dome, pyramid, and pinnacle 
 A city of death, distinct with many a tower 
 And wall impregnable of beaming ice. 
 Yet not a city but a flood of ruin 
 Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky 
 Rolls its perpetual stream." 
 
 Before long the travellers made closer acquaintance 
 with some of these colossal glaciers. They came to one 
 which, as it stretched right down into the river, defied 
 all attempts to flank it. "At first," says Mr. Wilson, 
 "it looked as if we were painfully crossing the huge 
 ridges of a fallen mountain ; but this soon proved to be 
 an immense glacier, very thickly covered over with 
 slabs of clay-slate, and with large blocks of granite and 
 gneiss, but with the solid ice underneath exposed here 
 and there, and especially in the surfaces of the large
 
 COLOSSAL GLACIERS. 371 
 
 bridges there are none ; and it was impossible not to pity 
 the poor women who, on so cold a morning, were forced 
 to wade shivering through the streams, with the rapid 
 water rising almost up to their waists. Still onward 
 moved the travellers, with twenty-thousand-feet snowy 
 peaks and overhanging glaciers on every side, and great 
 beds of snow fringing the margins of the mural preci- 
 pices. After a few miles the Chandra ceased its 
 southerly flow, and diverged to the westward ; but the 
 scenery retained its character of terror and sublimity. 
 Out of the huge beds of snow above, wherever a gap 
 in the mountain-walls presents itself, 
 
 "The glaciers creep 
 
 Like snakes that watch their prey ; from their far fountains 
 Slow rolling on ; there many a precipice, 
 Frost and the sun, in scorn of mortal power, 
 Have piled dome, pyramid, and pinnacle 
 A city of death, distinct with many a tower 
 And wall impregnable of beaming ice. 
 Yet not a city but a flood of ruin 
 Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky 
 Rolls its perpetual stream." 
 
 Before long the travellers made closer acquaintance 
 with some of these colossal glaciers. They came to one 
 which, as it stretched right down into the river, defied 
 all attempts to flank it. "At first," says Mr. Wilson, 
 "it looked as if we were painfully crossing the huge 
 ridges of a fallen mountain ; but this soon proved to be 
 an immense glacier, very thickly covered over with 
 slabs of clay-slate, and with large blocks of granite and 
 gneiss, but with the solid ice underneath exposed here 
 and there, and especially in the surfaces of the large
 
 372 BLOOM AMIDST FROST. 
 
 crevasses which went down to unknown depths. Some 
 of these edges must have been two or three hundred 
 feet in height." 
 
 Some of Mr. Wilson's attendants accounted for the 
 rocks which covered this glacier as being due to the fall 
 of a mountain-peak that had formerly existed in the im- 
 mediate neighbourhood. They acknowledged, moreover, 
 that the apparently immutable ice-river must move, be- 
 cause every summer they had to strike out a new path 
 across it, and to erect fresh marks to indicate the way. So 
 numerous are the crumbling peaks and precipices about 
 the great fountains of this glacier, that its rock-strewn 
 surface is easily explained without the intervention of a 
 landslip. Its formation is plainly due to the junction 
 of several large glaciers in a great valley above. When 
 they had filled this up, they overflowed its rim in one 
 huge ice-stream descending to the river. So thick and 
 compact was the de'bris on its surface, that it afforded 
 sustenance to delightful clusters of flowers and grasses. 
 Coleridge, in his " Hymn to Mont Blanc," tells of 
 
 " The living flowers that skirt the eternal frost;" 
 
 but here the blossoms bloom sweetly on the eternal 
 frost itself. 
 
 Mr. Wilson also describes his journey through the 
 Great Schinkal Pass ; which opens from the province of 
 Lahaul into that of Zanskar, and attains an elevation of 
 18,000 feet. 
 
 " The first day and a half," he says, " were the worst 
 part of this journey. Its features changed greatly after
 
 THE SCHINKAL PASS. 373 
 
 we reached the point where the Kado Tokpho divides 
 into two branches, forded the stream to the right, and 
 made a very steep ascent of about 1500 feet. Above that 
 we passed into an elevated picturesque valley, with a good 
 deal of grass and a few birch bushes, which leads all the 
 way up to the glacier that covers the summit of the 
 pass. The usual camping-ground in this valley is called 
 Ramjakpuk, and that place is well protected from the 
 wind ; but there are bushes to serve as fuel where we 
 pitched our tents a mile or two below, at a height of 
 about 15,000 feet. Towards evening there was rain and 
 a piercing cold wind, with the thermometer at 36 F., 
 and many were the surmises as to whether we might 
 not be overtaken by a storm of snow on the higher 
 portion of the pass next day." 
 
 They found the thermometer in the morning at 32 ; 
 the hoar-frost sparkled on the grass, and a crust of ice 
 spread over every stream. For some distance they pur- 
 sued an easy path ; afterwards came a long ascent, and 
 then they entered upon the colossal glacier which forms 
 the crest of this awful Pass. The ground bordering on 
 the glacier was broken up by immense ridges of granite 
 and slabs of slate. Some of these rested on the ice- 
 river itself, and others had been thrown up by it on the 
 rocky mountain -side. Soon, however, the travellers got 
 clear of these obstacles, and were fairly on the glacier ; 
 which was intersected by innumerable narrow crevasses, 
 many of them concealed by white honeycombed ice, 
 diversified by blocks of stone erect upon small platforms 
 or tables of ice, and by a few rills, and even large 
 brooks, the results of the morning's sunshine. It was
 
 374 THE GLACIAL LAKE. 
 
 not properly an ice-stream, this huge glacier, but an ice- 
 lake, for it was nearly circular ; and all around it was 
 fed by glaciers and snow-slopes, while it overlapped 
 into the valleys beneath in several directions. 
 
 When the travellers reached the centre of the glacial 
 lake, at the summit of the Pass, they saw at once whence 
 it derived its perennial supplies. Steep slopes of snow 
 or neve, overhung by immense beds of snow, frowned on 
 every side. It was more like a " Place de la Concorde " 
 than the basin of the Aletsch glacier in Switzerland; 
 and the encircling masses of ne've were far more abrupt, 
 precipitous, and impressive than in any similar Alpine 
 scene. On the right the long deep inclines of snow 
 sheeted declivities shone with a striking grandeur. A 
 precipice of unbroken snow rose up steeply, for more 
 than a thousand feet, to vast overhanging walls of 
 " stratified we've," which occasionally yielded in immense 
 masses with a tremendous din. Wherever the eye 
 rested, it rested upon ridges and fields, domes, walls, 
 and cliffs of snow. Nowhere else would it be pos- 
 sible, not even in the Arctic wastes, to gain a more 
 vivid idea of the might of the eternal Winter, or of 
 the mingled power, savageness, and beauty of high 
 Alpine life. 
 
 Mr. Wilson introduces here an episode of travelling, 
 which proves that Himalayan explorations, however 
 carefully conducted, are not without danger. He had 
 given strict orders that all the bigarres, or porters, 
 should keep close in his rear; but on reaching the 
 summit of the Pass he found that three of them were
 
 A POSITION OF PERIL. 375 
 
 missing, and that these three carried his tent-poles, his 
 bedding, and the portmanteau containing his money. 
 He might have dispensed with the tent-poles, though 
 the want of them would have caused much inconveni- 
 ence in a treeless region, where they could not have 
 been replaced. The lack of bedding could have been 
 supplied only by purchasing sheep-skins, furs, or vermin- 
 haunted blankets ; but this would have been impossible, 
 owing to the loss of the rupees. 
 
 No wonder that our traveller's indignation was ex- 
 cessive, for he and his followers were placed in a posi- 
 tion of some peril. Though the morning had glowed 
 with sunshine, bad weather had been threatening for 
 several days ; even now the sky was dark and lowering ; 
 clouds were gathering all around; and to have been 
 overtaken by a snowstorm on the grim glacier would 
 have been death to all. It was not difficult to cross it 
 while the sky was clear, and the snow-walls indicated 
 the track; but what must have been their fate in a 
 blinding snow-drift, on a glacier fully 18,000 feet high, 
 with no central moraine, and overlapping in several 
 directions ? Moreover, the snow would quickly have 
 concealed the rotten honeycombed ice which partially 
 bridged over numerous crevasses. Resolved not to re- 
 trace his route, Mr. Wilson ordered his servants and 
 the bigarre's to continue the passage of the glacier, and 
 to encamp at the first suitable spot on the Zanskar side ; 
 while he himself, with one attendant, rode back in quest 
 of the missing coolies and their loads. In this resolu- 
 tion lay an obvious hazard, for Mr. Wilson might have 
 been cut off from his people and baggage ; but it was
 
 376 IN A SNOWSTORM. 
 
 the only thing to be done in the circumstances, unless 
 he had been willing to turn back. 
 
 " So I waited," says Mr. Wilson, " until ray party 
 disappeared on the brow of the glacier, and then rode 
 back in a savage and reckless humour over ice which I 
 had previously crossed in a very cautious manner. I could 
 easily retrace our track until we got to the great stony 
 ridges, and then the mare I had taken with me was useful. 
 On getting off there, and descending the valley a short 
 way, I found my three light-laden gentlemen quietly re- 
 posing, and immediately forced them to resume their bur- 
 dens and go on before me. Even then they showed some 
 unwillingness to proceed; and I had to act the part of the 
 Wild Horseman of the Glacier driving them before me, 
 and progging whoever happened to be hindermost with 
 the iron spike of my heavy alpenstock, which consider- 
 ably accelerated their movements. There was the most 
 urgent reason for this, because, had we been half an 
 hour later in getting over the summit of the Pass, the 
 -probability is that we should have been lost. It began 
 to snow before we got off the glacier ; and when we de- 
 scended a few hundred feet it was snowing so heavily 
 on the ice-lake we had just left that we could not have 
 seen there two yards before our faces, and it would 
 have been quite impossible to know in which direction 
 to turn, the tracks of our party being obliterated, and 
 the crevasses, which ran in every direction, affording no 
 guidance. Even on the narrow glaciers of the Alps, a 
 number of people have been lost by being caught in 
 snowstorms ; so it can be imagined what chance there 
 would have been for us on a great lake of ice above
 
 ELEVATION OF THE HIMALAYA. 377 
 
 18,000 feet high. Without the tracks and a sight of the 
 surrounding snow-walls to guide us, we could only have 
 wandered about hopelessly in the blinding storm ; and 
 if we did not fall into a crevasse, through rotten ice 
 concealed by the new-fallen snow, we might have 
 wandered on to one of the outlets where the ice flowed 
 over in steep hanging glaciers which it would have been 
 impossible to descend." 
 
 We have referred to the various levels of the limit of 
 perpetual snow. These differ greatly, as we have seen, 
 according to the exposure of the mountain-face, the dry- 
 ness of the atmosphere, and other local conditions. 
 Thus, for that portion of the Himalaya which lies be- 
 tween the Sutlej and the north-west frontier of Nepdl, 
 General Strachey records the following figures : 
 
 On the south 15,500 feet. 
 
 On the north 18,600 feet. 
 
 On the southern face of Kailas, which lies 
 
 further within Tibet 19,500 feet. 
 
 Hence it appears that the westernmost Himalaya, 
 though in a higher latitude, exhibit a higher level for 
 the snow-line than the easterly ranges. Glaciers, in this 
 district, occur at an elevation of about 17,000 feet; 
 though where the air is free from moisture they are not 
 found even at an altitude of 18,000 feet. 
 
 Let us glance at the mountain-peaks and glaciers of 
 the great Himalayan chain which borders Kashmir on 
 the north-east, and sends down lofty branches to en- 
 close and protect its Eden-valley. 
 
 Beginning with the mass of the Nariga Parbat, we
 
 378 THE KASHMIR RANGE. 
 
 find that many points of its ridges and spurs are 20,000 
 feet high; while its apex, the one which bears the name, 
 is no less than 26,629 feet, or 11,000 feet higher than 
 Mont Blanc. This colossal summit rises from a lofty 
 ridge that for ten miles is upwards of 22,000 feet in 
 height; the faces of this ridge, on the east and south, 
 form an enormous cliff or precipice, of from 6000 to 
 10,000 feet, on the greater part of which hangs a per- 
 petual shroud of snow, white and deathly; from the 
 most elevated point great buttresses radiate; and the 
 clefts and fissures are filled with large glaciers. Such 
 is the majestic height of the great ridge and its gigantic 
 peak, that they are visible from long distances over the 
 neighbouring ranges of 16,000 feet altitude, which be- 
 come quite dwarfed to the eyes. 
 
 The southern portion of the ridge serves as the 
 watershed between the Indus and Jhelum basins, and is 
 about 20,000 feet high. On both sides it is furrowed 
 with glaciers. From thence, the chain for about 120 
 miles takes a general south-easterly direction. 
 
 For the first fifty or sixty miles it is not of such a 
 height as to bear perpetual snow or give birth to 
 glaciers. The average elevation may be taken at 14,000 
 feet. Its line is broken by several gaps, through two 
 of which run the much-traversed roads that connect the 
 Kishanganga and Aster rivers ; these passes are respec- 
 tively 13,200 and 13,500 feet high, and are available for 
 laden horses. 
 
 After a length of sixty miles the range increases in 
 height; some of the peaks tower to 17,000 and 17,400 
 feet, and collect sufficient snow to form small glaciers.
 
 THE DRAS PASS. 379 
 
 Further on, still pursuing a south-east course, we come 
 to a gap in the mountain-barrier, which is the lowest 
 passage between the Indus on the one side, and the 
 Chinab and Jhelum basins on the other along the 
 whole length of 300 miles from the eastern sources of 
 the Chmab to the head of the Klmgan tributary of the 
 Jhelum. This is the celebrated Dras Pass ; the Zojl La 
 of the Tibetans. 
 
 According to Mr. Drew, the height of this mountain- 
 passage is 1 1,300 feet. An important characteristic of 
 it is its steep ascent from the Kashmir side, while it 
 falls but slightly to the elevated table-land of Ladakh. 
 The traveller from Kashmir rises steeply, in the last 
 mile or so, a height of about 2000 feet to the level of 
 the Pass ; he then finds himself in a narrow valley, the 
 floor of which sinks with so gradual an incline that in 
 twenty miles we do not descend more than 1000 feet. 
 The Pass itself that is, the high-level valley at the top 
 of the breathless ascent, up which men and beasts toil 
 pantingly and with laborious effort is a level grassy 
 hollow slightly exceeding a quarter of a mile in width. 
 Rugged and rocky are the mountains which border it ; 
 the peaks immediately visible are 2000 or 3000 feet 
 above the valley, but the ridges of which they form the 
 ends reach in the distance to 5000 and 6000 feet above 
 it, or 16,000 and 17,000 feet above the sea. By this 
 noble gateway, this " enchanted portal " in the vast 
 mountain-barrier, the traveller rises into the high-level 
 country of Ladakh, where the valleys even are at no 
 lower level than 10,000 feet, or more than twice the 
 height of Ben Nevis. Indeed, nowhere in the Upper
 
 380 THE BHOT KOL PASS. 
 
 Indus basin south of the latitude-parallel of this Pass 
 shall we find any ground, even in the valleys, so low as 
 10,000 feet. 
 
 Continuing along the main chain, we find that the 
 summits rise higher and higher; peaks of 18,000 
 feet, and some that approach even 20,000 feet, occur, 
 and the general level is not much below them. Long 
 spurs, too, or branch ridges that jut out, are very lofty. 
 Ten miles east-south-east from the Pass a distinct ridge 
 branches off; and this, making a bold curve, forms the 
 eastern and southern boundary of Kashmir. Then, 
 after some further travel about twenty-six miles from 
 the east Pass the traveller arrives at an opening 
 which, though not so low as the other, yet, considering 
 the loftiness of the mountains it traverses, must be 
 regarded as a considerable depression. It is named 
 the Bhot Kol Pass, and bristles with ice and snow. 
 
 From the Dras Pass hither the peaks have been of a 
 height to form glaciers, and there is a glacier in every 
 hollow of the ridge. These ice-rivers are found also in 
 the recesses of many of the branch ridges. Usually 
 they are of no great dimensions; generally two or three 
 miles in length. They do not extend very low; but 
 one the Mechuhir Glacier has its foot at 10,850 feet 
 above the sea. Looking from a point near the Bhot 
 Kol Pass to the north-east, the traveller can see at a 
 glance a number of these small glaciers embedded in 
 the hollows of the mountains, the narrow rock-ridges of 
 which curve round and enclose them. 
 
 From the last-named Pass eastwards the range con- 
 tinues at a great elevation, and frequently attains to
 
 IN THE BUSHA VALLEY. 381 
 
 20,000 feet nearly. Lastly, at a distance of twelve to 
 fourteen miles from the Pass, rise two colossal summits, 
 each of them a few hundred feet over 23,000. They 
 are called Nun and Kun or together, Nun Kun ; and 
 as they tower fully 3000 feet above their neighbours, 
 are conspicuous from afar. According to the point 
 from which they are viewed, their aspect varies greatly. 
 
 We have dwelt in detail upon this part of the Hima- 
 layan range, in the belief that such particulars will 
 assist the reader in forming a distinct idea of the 
 enormous magnitude of that vast mountain - barrier. 
 But we must now proceed to a few more generalizing 
 sketches. 
 
 At Arandu, in the Busha valley (province of Baltis- 
 tan), occurs a remarkable glacier, of which Mr. Drew 
 has furnished an interesting description. 
 
 The village of Arandu lies close at its foot, and all 
 the valley above is filled with the great mass of ice. 
 The elevation of the village and of the foot of the 
 glacier is between 10,000 and 11,000 feet. This is one 
 of those colossal glaciers which sweep down from the 
 highest mountains, and occupy a great length of the 
 valley. 
 
 The valley which it fills up with its burden is a mile 
 and a half wide ; the height of the ice at its irregular 
 termination is about 200 feet; but probably increases 
 higher up. Crossing not far above the end, says Mr. 
 Drew, we find a very irregular mass of ice, with ridges 
 and hollows of no even run, so covered with stones that 
 in going over the whole mile and a half, which is the
 
 382 THE ARANDU GLACIER. 
 
 width of the glacier, the traveller hardly once puts his 
 feet on ice. On the higher part are thick mounds ot 
 stones ; on the slopes are fewer ; again in the hollows 
 are accumulations of them : all this is because the ice 
 has been so much melted as it nears its terminal 
 moraine that the stones of the lateral and central moraines 
 have slipped and become mixed together. "Thus it is," 
 says our authority, " for some miles up ; but when we 
 go further up still, then the moraine matter appears in 
 lines, and strips of clean ice come into view between 
 them. If, when one has passed along, say fifteen or 
 twenty miles of the glacier, one rises on the hill-side to 
 gain a view over it, one sees the great ice-stream lying 
 with its enormous length in the valley, with a very 
 low slope of surface ; at this part the incline is not 
 more than 1 or 2, though below the slope had been 
 rather more; in the centre is a wide strip of snow- 
 white ice, moulded by melting into such forms as to 
 give the appearance of waves of a rapid stream; on 
 either side are lines of moraines; steep rocky banks 
 make the boundary of all ; above these are mountains 
 with an immense spread of perpetual snow, from which 
 spring glaciers, some ending off abruptly high above the 
 main valley, others continuing on and coming down, 
 with a steep slope, to join and coalesce with the large 
 glacier. As we go up, large glaciers come in which 
 themselves have a moderately low slope; to these again 
 join some of the steeper ones, leading from the mass of 
 perpetual snow above. The highest spot I reached was 
 in the centre of the glacier twenty or twenty-five miles 
 up from its foot ; up to this place the width had been
 
 RIVER-SOURCES. 383 
 
 very regular. I should say from a mile and a quarter 
 to a mile and a half; but here a greater expanse of ice 
 was visible ; the ice was white-surfaced, looking like a 
 frozen and snow-covered lake, and here it was far 
 clearer of de'bris than it was below still moraine-lines 
 lay along the centre. This wider part (which is about 
 13,500 feet above the sea) is where several glaciers, 
 meeting, combine to form the great stream which 
 thence, as before said, flows on with a gentle incline. 
 From the foot of the glacier at Arandu to the summit 
 of the feeding glaciers the distance must be over thirty 
 miles." 
 
 As might be expected, the snows and springs of the 
 Himalaya give birth to numerous rivers, some of which 
 are remarkable for their volume of water and extent of 
 course. 
 
 Thus, in the Western Himalaya rises the rivers of 
 the Panjab (or " five waters "), the Chilum, the Chinab, 
 the Ravee, the Bejah, and the Sutlej. 
 
 Then, from the south-west base of Kailas flow the 
 mighty streams of the Indus and the Brahmaputra. 
 
 At the foot of Jumnutie, a triple-peaked mountain, 
 25,749 feet high, rises the Jumna ; and in the shadow 
 of the lofty Panchaparvata (or "five mountains") well up 
 the streams which unite to form the sacred Ganges. 
 Of these sources the holiest and most famous is the 
 Gangavatari or Gangtitri, about 13,000 feet above the 
 sea, in lat. 31 N. 
 
 The Gogra or Saraja has its source in the mountains 
 to the south-east of Nanda Devi. These are the loftiest
 
 384 THE "COWS MOUTH. 
 
 summits of the Himalaya, the Dhawalagiri, the Kun- 
 chain-junga, and Mount Everest, all of which exceed 
 28,000 feet in elevation. 
 
 The K6si or Kooso has its rise in several springs 
 between the Gosainthair and the Kunchain-junga, and 
 traverses the kingdom of Nepal. 
 
 The Eastern Himalaya, from Sikkim to the Brahma- 
 putra, contributes all its waters to that noble river. Its 
 peaks form the boundary of Bhotan, into which country 
 it projects in numerous spurs and branches. 
 
 Some of the finest Himalayan scenery is to be found 
 in the neighbourhood of the head waters of the Ganges. 
 The " sacred river " is formed by the junction of two 
 considerable streams, the Bhagirathi and the Alak- 
 nunda ; which junction takes place at Deoprag, about 
 ten miles below Serinagur, in lat. 30 10' N., and long. 
 78 35' E, at about 1000 feet above the sea-level. The 
 Bhagirathi, which is usually regarded as the true 
 source of the Ganges, and occupies a conspicuous posi- 
 tion in the Hindu mythology, wells up in the shadow 
 of a wild deep glen, above Gangutri ; the cold crystal 
 waters issuing from a low-arched cave at the bottom of 
 a tremendous glacier called the " Cow's Mouth." 
 
 A pilgrimage to the sources of the Ganges was made 
 by Mr. Hodgson, and as his narrative furnishes many 
 interesting glimpses of the grand scenery of the Hima- 
 laya, we shall transfer it to these pages. 
 
 After doubling the spur of Mount Gangtitri, Mr. 
 Hodgson and his companions came in sight of the
 
 AT GANGUTRI. 387 
 
 noble Miauri peak. In the distance rose, one above 
 another, the masses of the Rudr-Himalaya, surmounted 
 by the lofty summit of the Dudge', the snows of which 
 shone with dazzling lustre in the cloudless noon. At a 
 great depth beneath them rolled the foaming river in its 
 narrow and rocky channel. Above Gangtitri, they ob- 
 served a great peak of singular form. A cascade pre- 
 cipitated itself into the middle of a vast expanse of 
 snow, which stretched almost from the mountain-crest 
 to the river-bed. The travellers mounted above a 
 torrent which roared from the brink of a rock of 
 granite. Of granite, too, were the rocks among which 
 the rapid river made its way. On its bank, to the 
 right, could be seen Gangutri, a small temple dedicated 
 to the gods Ganga Mai and Bhagirathi. 
 
 Pursuing their upward course, the travellers were 
 delighted with the succession of glorious landscapes 
 that opened upon them landscapes in which were 
 blended the savage and sublime. The rocks are of a 
 remarkably clear bright granite, and sprinkled with 
 black shining spots like felspar. Near Gangutri the 
 river widens. The temple is built of stone, and con- 
 tains images of Ganga, Bhagirathi, and other gods. It 
 is situated on a platform of rock, on the right bank of 
 the river, and about twenty feet above its level. In 
 the vicinity is a wooden building, intended for the 
 accommodation of strangers. Farther on, if you follow 
 the course of the river, you come to some "cedar- 
 covered plains ; " but, in general, nowhere can you see 
 aught else than fragments of rocks which have fallen 
 from the neighbouring mountains.
 
 388 EARTHQUAKE-SHOCKS. 
 
 Fatigued with a long day's march, our travellers had 
 betaken themselves to rest, when, between ten and eleven 
 o'clock P.M., they were aroused by earthquake- shocks. 
 They rushed from their tent, and became eye-witnesses 
 of the effect of the earth's convulsive movement, during 
 which they keenly felt all the horror of their situation. 
 Their tent was pitched between enormous masses of 
 rock, some of which exceeded one hundred feet in dia- 
 meter, and had probably been heaped up by former 
 earthquakes. The scene which surrounded them, 
 illuminated by the sad gleam of a sickly moon, was truly 
 frightful. At the second shock, the rocks rolled in all 
 directions from the crest of the peak into the river-bed. 
 The terrific din caused by their descent is beyond all 
 description, and Mr. Hodgson writes that "it would 
 never be effaced from his memory." When the noise 
 of falling stones had ceased in their immediate neigh- 
 bourhood, the travellers could hear afar the report of 
 similar catastrophes. They regarded with alarm the 
 rocks above their heads, in the fear that the next shock 
 would detach some fragments, under which they would 
 be crushed to death. But, happily, no more shocks 
 occurred that night. 
 
 On the 27th, however, and on the day following, 
 some light movements were experienced. In spite of 
 their desire to quit as soon as possible so dangerous 
 a neighbourhood, Mr. Hodgson and his companions 
 resolved, having ventured so far, to trace the course of 
 the river as far as they could. Consequently, they set 
 out on the 29th of May, with the view of reaching its 
 source. The two Brahmins of Gangutri could give
 
 AN AVALANCHE OF SNOW. 391 
 
 them no information as to the distance, never having 
 travelled beyond the precincts of their temple. 
 
 After dragging themselves laboriously among the 
 debris of rocks and newly-fallen avalanches, they 
 entered upon a field of snow which covered the river, 
 and was about thirty feet in depth. Beyond, where its 
 bed again became visible, it was loaded with enormous 
 masses of granite that had been precipitated into it. 
 On each side rose an uninterrupted range of lofty rocks, 
 like a wall. They plunged after a while into the very 
 midst of the wreck and ruin of a recent avalanche of 
 snow. A similar avalanche, five hundred feet thick, 
 had fallen across the river's channel, and was com- 
 pletely frozen. Near at hand were visible the remains 
 of a great landslip. Hemmed in by rocks, the river 
 was broken up into a series of cataracts ; and the path 
 of the travellers became toilsome and difficult in the 
 extreme. Towards the head of the stream rose several 
 lofty peaks, shaped like towers. Soon afterwards they 
 arrived at a point where the waters of the river, liter- 
 ally churned into foam, are precipitated, cataract- wise, 
 into a snow-field. This they left behind them, and 
 ascended to a torrent which issues from a cavern 
 situated on the left. Here, in an opposite direction, the 
 Ganges winds around a great snowy peak; to the left rises 
 a rampart of precipitous rocks. Judging now that the 
 river-source lay at a greater distance than they had 
 supposed, the travellers sent to Gangutri for a small 
 tent. 
 
 As they continued their slow ascent, they continuously 
 skirted a wall of rock, while, on the right, towered
 
 392 A SNOW-PLAIN. 
 
 peaks of snow with their summits fully 6000 feet above 
 their heads. They recrossed the river near some land- 
 slips, leaping from rock to rock. The snow-line was 
 not more than two hundred feet above them ; a proof 
 of the great elevation to which they had attained. 
 
 The cedars had now disappeared; but the river-banks 
 and the slopes of the valley were occasionally relieved 
 by clumps of birches and dwarf pines. The place being 
 in many respects safe and convenient, the travellers 
 determined on halting for rest and refreshment. The 
 volume of water having greatly diminished, they hoped 
 on the following day to reach the source. The march 
 was very laborious and painful, owing to the rocky 
 ddbris which fall daily at this season when the snow 
 is melting. And it is necessary for the traveller to seek 
 a place of shelter towards noonday, if he does not wish 
 to expose himself to the danger of being crushed. Our 
 explorers suffered much from the cold, for all night the 
 thermometer was below freezing-point ; but with wood 
 from the neighbouring thickets they kindled a great 
 fire. The earth was spongy, and strewn with stones. 
 Frequently the silence of the night was interrupted by 
 the fall of avalanches. 
 
 At sunrise, on the 30th of May, they resumed their 
 march across a field of snow. A broad torrent, the 
 banks of which were fringed with icicles, rushed 
 tumultuously towards the Ganges. They mounted a 
 frozen avalanche, which completely concealed the river, 
 though its channel had become much wider. Among 
 the rocks they saw large fragments of ice suspended. 
 By a rough and rocky road, crossing a small stream,
 
 THE FOUR SAINTS. 393 
 
 they pursued their way, with masses of granite on the 
 right, and on the left snow-crowned peaks soaring to 
 a height of 7000 and 8000 feet above their own level. 
 Here the Ganges attained a breadth of 2200 feet or 
 more. They then found themselves beyond the 
 boundary of the wooded region, and left behind them 
 the last stunted pines. It is true they continued to meet 
 here and there with a few bushes, but they had ceased 
 to be trees, and were nothing better than large bushes. 
 Before them rose the most glorious object on which the 
 eye of man ever rested, the majestic snow-shrouded 
 mountain, with its triple-peaked summit. As these three 
 peaks had hitherto been unknown and unnamed, Mr. 
 Hodgson availed himself of the usual privilege of dis- 
 coverers, and christened them St. George, St. Patrick, 
 and St. Andrew, the patron saints of the United 
 Kingdom. Advancing still further, they discovered, 
 between St. George and St. Patrick, a fourth and less 
 lofty peak, to which, in honour of Wales, they gave the 
 name of St. David. The four peaks were afterwards 
 included in the general designation of the " Four Saints." 
 In this vicinity the river receives several tiny falls, and 
 one which is about twelve feet high. The incline of its 
 bed is considerable, and it is strewn with blocks of 
 granite, white, yellow, and red. Our explorers began 
 to toil and pant, breathless and exhausted, for the track 
 was difficult in the extreme, and by a steep ascent con- 
 ducted them to masses of shattered rocks. 
 
 The summits of the mountain, rent and torn, were 
 fully 4000 feet in height : huge boulders threatened an 
 immediate fall ; and many, indeed, came tumbling, ever
 
 394 A GIGANTIC MOUNTAIN-MASS. 
 
 and anon, down the deeply-furrowed sides. Mr. Hodg- 
 son, in all his wanderings, had never seen so dangerous 
 a ruin ; which spread over an area of half a mile. The 
 travellers hastened to escape from the perilous pass, 
 where the fractures of the rocks were so fresh that it 
 seemed probable they had been occasioned by the 
 recent earthquake. 
 
 They halted at a point where they felt themselves 
 safe from landslips or falling rocks, and from which 
 they could leisurely contemplate the magnificent appear- 
 ance of the mountain. The " Four Saints " are situated 
 on the uppermost plane of the Valley of Snow, to the 
 right of which rises another gigantic peak, shining 
 brilliantly with ice and snow, the formidable Moira. 
 The valley of snow, in the depth of which the river 
 lies concealed, appeared to the travellers of great extent, 
 and they waited impatiently for the daylight that they 
 might examine its features. 
 
 They were now about one hundred and fifty feet 
 beyond the river-bed. During the day the sun had 
 much power, because the mountains reflected its rays ; 
 but as soon as it sunk behind them the air turned very 
 cold, and a keen frost prevailed during the night. 
 
 Wherever the explorers discovered table-lands, or 
 platforms, in the neighbourhood of great snow-crowned 
 mountains, they observed that their position was hori- 
 zontal. The colour of the rocks of the " Four Saints " 
 seemed to be a bright yellow, mingled with brown and 
 black. The St. George peak, according to Mr. Hodgson's 
 measurement, rose 22,240 feet above the sea ; and that 
 of St. Patrick, 22,385 feet.
 
 A WONDERFUL PANORAMA. 395 
 
 From Gangutri, the travellers had been accompanied 
 only by a small train of attendants ; but here they sent 
 back all whom they could possibly spare, in order to 
 make their supply of barley last some days, if they 
 succeeded in passing the snowy masses that towered 
 before them. After completing their computations and 
 measurements, they felt at liberty to examine the won- 
 derful scene that spread around them. 
 
 The dazzling splendour of the snow was enhanced by 
 its contrast with the deep dark blue of the firmament, 
 which is to be attributed to the rarefaction of the air ; 
 throughout the night the stars sparkled with a brilliancy 
 which is never seen in a denser atmosphere. They rose 
 above the snowy summits, and their lustre shone with 
 the swiftness of flashes of lightning. The stillness was 
 awful, and interrupted only by the din of the fall of an 
 occasional avalanche. In the pale moonlight everything 
 seemed drear, wild, frightful; a Pagan might have 
 thought the place a haunt of evil spirits. 
 
 To give an idea of the imposing aspect of one of these 
 snow-crowned mountains, we may mention that its sum- 
 mit, at a distance of three miles, appeared to the travel- 
 lers under a very wide angle which raised its elevation 
 upwards of eight thousand feet above their standing- 
 point; and that the same peak when viewed from the 
 remotest districts of Hindustan, and necessarily at a 
 very slight angle, never fails to excite the spectator's 
 admiration. The reader can judge how this feeling 
 is deepened when this gigantic mass, in its shroud of 
 snow, stands revealed from summit to base in all its 
 immensit3 r .
 
 396 RISE OF THE GANGES. 
 
 On the 31st of May, following the course of the river, 
 though at some distance above its banks, the travellers 
 came upon an astonishing spectacle. At the foot of a 
 huge bed of snow, the Ganges issued from a small cave 
 or grotto. On both sides the river was fenced in by 
 rocks. But in front, and beyond, and above the cave, 
 rose a glacier, three hundred and eighty feet high, the 
 formation of several centuries, and completely perpen- 
 dicular. Even its isolated fragments were several feet 
 thick. On the edge of this wonderful wall of frozen 
 snow, and immediately above the opening from which 
 the river issued, hung great pieces of gray ice, formed 
 by the drops of water which fall when the snow melts ; 
 for, towards noon, the sun's rays have much force. The 
 Brahmin of Gangutri, who accompanied Mr. Hodgson, 
 had never heard of this remarkable spot, and was igno- 
 rant that any person had penetrated to it. However, 
 this ignorance would seem to be of modern growth ; at 
 least, nowhere else is the name of the " Cow's Mouth " 
 so applicable as to this wonderful spring, and this name 
 supposes that curious Hindus in times long past had 
 found their way to its shades. Such a shower of blocks 
 of snow rained about the heads of our explorers, that 
 they had scarcely time to complete their observations. 
 With a peal from their hunting-horns they saluted the 
 fountain of the Ganges, and then ascended on the left 
 the bed of snow which lies beyond it. 
 
 This vast snow-field extends over a breadth of two 
 miles and a half, and fills the entire space between the 
 right and left part of the summit. Before our travellers 
 stretched a view of about two thousand feet. There it
 
 A VAST AREA OF SNOW. 397 
 
 is limited on the left by the base of the " Four Saints," 
 and on the right by the valley which lies at the back 
 of Moira. The base of the latter appears to be planted 
 at a higher elevation even than that of the "Four 
 Saints," and the snow-field mounts up to a point where 
 it appears to terminate in the shape of a ridge.* 
 
 * J. A. Hodgson, in " Asiatic Researches ."
 
 XVI. 
 
 JCELAND, the "Ultima Thule" of the ancients, 
 is the largest island in the North Atlantic. 
 It lies at a distance of 130 miles east of 
 Greenland, and 500 miles north-west of 
 Scotland ; and extends from N. lat. 63 22' to 60 44', 
 or 202 geographical miles, and from W. long. 13 38' to 
 11 25', or about 168 geographical miles. Its circum- 
 ference is variously given at 752 to 830 miles, and its 
 superficial area at 37,000 and 40,000 square miles. It 
 is about five times the size of Sicily, about one-sixth 
 larger than Ireland, and one-fifth the size of Portugal. 
 Owing to the character of its soil and climate, its popu- 
 lation is very scanty; assuming it to number 70,000 
 souls, it rates only at 1.75 per whole area. 
 
 Early writers have been accustomed to speak of Ice- 
 land as a realm of fire and frost, a region of almost 
 perennial winter, where Nature presents herself in her 
 most savage and inhospitable aspects. Thus, Chasby 
 asserts that the whole of Iceland may be described as 
 a burnt-out lava-field, from eruptions previous to the
 
 A VOLCANIC ISLAND. 399 
 
 peopling of the country. Henderson speaks of it as a 
 most rugged and dreary country, where all life dies, 
 death lives, and nature breeds all monstrous and pro- 
 digious things. Even Professor Forbes paints it in the 
 gloomiest colours. Undoubtedly, the island has been 
 the scene of volcanic phenomena on a startling scale. 
 Undoubtedly, it has suffered severely from wintry 
 storms, and rains, and avalanches; and the greater 
 portion of its table-land consists of black rock and 
 glittering ice. There is no prodigality of colour, though 
 vivid contrasts are not wanting. The sunny freshness 
 and fairness of southern lands is nowhere visible. The 
 green shadows of the woods are absolutely wanting in 
 valley, and plain, and on sloping hill. But let it not 
 be thought that Iceland can show the traveller no land- 
 scapes worthy of his admiration, or that it is one un- 
 broken waste of snow and lava. " During the delight- 
 fully mild and pleasant weather of July and August, 
 seen through a medium of matchless purity, there is 
 much to admire in the rich meads and leas stretching to 
 meet the light blue waves ; in the fretted and angular 
 outlines of the caverned hills, the abodes of giant and 
 dwarf; in the towering walls of huge horizontal steps 
 which define the fjords ; and in the immense vistas of 
 silvery cupolas, ' cravatted ' cones, and snow-capped 
 mulls, which blend and melt with ravishing reflections 
 of ethereal pink, blue, azure, and lilac, into the gray and 
 neutral tints of the horizon. There is grandeur, too, 
 when the storm-fiend rides abroad : amid the howl of 
 gales, the rush of torrents, the roar of waterfalls ; when 
 the sea appears of cast-iron ; when the sky is charged
 
 400 MOUNTAINS OF ICELAND. 
 
 with rolling clouds torn to shreds as they meet in 
 aerial conflict; when the pale-faced streams shudder 
 under the blast ; when grim mists stalk over the low- 
 lands ; and when the tall peaks and ' three-horns,' 
 parted by gloomy chasms, stand like ghostly hills in the 
 shadowy realm. And often there is the most pictur- 
 esque of contrasts : summer basking below, and winter 
 raging above ; peace brooding upon the vale, and ele- 
 mental war doing fierce battle upon the eternal snows 
 and ice of the upper world." 
 
 Iceland is of volcanic formation, and nowhere else do 
 we meet with lava-streams of such immense size. The 
 principal portion of its area is occupied by volcanoes, 
 extinct or active, or by the secretions and accumulated 
 growth of volcanic material. Its outline is curiously 
 irregular, and broken by jokulls, or immense mountain- 
 ous masses of glacier-like ice, formed by the enormous 
 pressure of the superincumbent snow; by fells, or 
 mountain-peaks; by snow-heights; and true glaciers. 
 In the north-eastern quarter are fifteen considerable 
 summits, of which the highest is Herdubreid, 5,447 feet. 
 In the south-eastern, twenty, of which the loftiest is 
 Orsefajokull, 6,426 feet. In the north-west we meet 
 with twenty-three, including Hvammsfell, 3,897 feet; 
 and in the south-west, sixteen, including Eyjafjallajokull, 
 5,593 feet, and Hekla, 5,108 feet. The perpetual snow- 
 line varies, according to position, from 2,000 to 3,500 
 feet above the sea-level; the mean may be stated at 
 2,830 feet. Glaciers are not numerous, and seem to be 
 confined to the southern and south-eastern shores. 
 
 The volcanoes have been arranged by Captain Burton
 
 SOME GREAT ERUPTIONS. 401 
 
 into eight great systems : 1. The Oranga-Glamu ; 2. the 
 Leirhnukr, Krafla, and Heidurfjall, near the My-vatn 
 Lake ; 3. the Snsefellsjokull ; 4. the Hofsjokull ; 5. the 
 Hekla system; 6. the Vatnajb'kull, which reaches its 
 apex in the colossal Orsefa ; 7. the Katla, or Kotlu-gja ; 
 and, 8. the Reykjanes system. 
 
 During the present century several formidable proofs 
 of the activity of the volcanic force have been given. 
 As, first, in December 1820 to June 1822, and January 
 to June 1823, by the Austjokull. In 1823, by the 
 Kotlu-gja, when the eruption of sand and ashes ex- 
 tended over a hundred square miles. In February 1827, 
 by the Skeidarjokull. In 1831, a submarine eruption 
 occurred off Cape Reykjanes. The twenty-sixth erup- 
 tion of Hekla took place on September 2, 1845, when 
 its ashes fell in the Orkneys. Kotlu-gja showed some 
 activity in May 1860 ; and an outburst of ashes from 
 Trolladyvegzier is recorded as having taken place in 
 1862. 
 
 An eruption of the Skaptarjb'kull, in the north-west 
 corner of the Vatnajokull group, occurred in 1873. The 
 following account of its phenomena appeared in the 
 Times : 
 
 " REYKJAVIK, March S3, 1873. 
 
 " On Thursday, the 9th of January, about three o'clock 
 A.M., we observed from Reykjavik a grand fire in 
 east-north-east direction, and all agreed that it was 
 ' some neighbouring farm burning,' with hay-stacks. 
 The fire shot up like lightning, displaying beautiful 
 evolutions in combination with the electricity above. 
 Indeed, it was exactly like a fine display of rockets and 
 
 (371) 26
 
 402 ERUPTION OF SKAPTARJOKULL. 
 
 wheels; and so bright was it, that during the dark 
 morning hours we all thought it must be very close to 
 Reykjavik. But when daylight dawned, and we could 
 discern the mountains, we observed a thick and heavy 
 column of vapour or steam far in the background, beyond 
 all mountains visible; so it was clear that it was far off, 
 and, according to the direction, it seemed most likely to 
 be in Skaptarjokull, the west part of Vatnajokull the 
 great waste of glaciers in the east and south of the 
 island. Morning and night this grand display was 
 visible during the 9th, 10th, llth, and 12th, and during 
 the day the column of steam and smoke stood high in 
 the sky. 
 
 " When similar news came from east, north, and west, 
 all came to the same conclusion, that it must be in 
 Skaptarjokull ; and according to the different points of 
 observation, the position of the crater ought to be be- 
 tween 64 7' and 64 18' N. lat., and 30 45' and 30 55' 
 W. long., from the meridian of Copenhagen. 
 
 " In the east, near Bernfjord, some shocks were felt, and 
 fire was seen from many farms. Ashes, too, had fallen 
 over the north-east coast, so that pasture-fields were 
 covered so far that the farmers had to take their sheep 
 into the huts and feed them. The Reykjavik news- 
 paper says : ' In the south no earthquakes were felt, 
 or noises heard in the earth, far or near, as far as 
 Markarfljot (near Eyjafjakajokull). Nowhere has been 
 observed any fall of ashes or dust, but all aver a bad 
 smell was felt, and also here in Reykjavik in the fore- 
 noon of the 10th. The people of Landeyjar (opposite 
 Westmann Islands) assert the same to have been the
 
 ERUPTION OF SKAPTAIUOKULL. 403 
 
 case there on the first day of the eruption ; but here, at 
 Reykjavik, it was not observed that day, but we felt 
 the air very close, particularly on the 9th, from three to 
 five o'clock in the afternoon, with some smell of sulphur 
 and powder, very like the smell from a lately discharged 
 gun-barrel.' 
 
 " No change was observed in the sun, moon, &c. The 
 sky was clear all these days. The direction of the wind 
 was from north-west, west-south-west, and the weather 
 fine. At Landeyjurn the wind had been east-north-east 
 on the 10th, with a strong breeze, and the columns of 
 steam got very high, and mist hid all the eastern horizon, 
 but no fall of ashes took place. 
 
 " This eruption lasted only four or five days, and is 
 riot likely to have done any damage to inhabited parts 
 or pasture grounds. 
 
 " The weather has been very changeable during the 
 whole winter, but very little snow has fallen in the 
 southern part of the country. The cod-fishing has been 
 very favourable when the boats have been able to go 
 out. During the stormy weather some fishermen were 
 lost. On the 1st of March we had a very heavy fall of 
 snow, but since then the weather has been mild but 
 rather stormy."* 
 
 The most celebrated of the Icelandic volcanoes, how- 
 ever, is Hekla; either because its eruptions have been 
 the most frequent and destructive, or because their con- 
 sequences have been the best known. Its ascent has 
 been often accomplished; but its explorers, in their 
 
 * The Vatnajokull was ascended by Mr. W. Watts in 1876.
 
 404 MOUNT HEKLA. 
 
 narratives, seem to have drawn freely upon their imagi- 
 nation for details. And so it has come to pass that 
 Hekla ranks, or has hitherto ranked, among the " Won- 
 ders of the World;" and readers have been accustomed 
 to picture it to themselves as a colossal cone, or " pillar 
 of heaven," upon the formidable summit of which "white, 
 black, and sanguine red lay in streaks and patches, with 
 volumes of sooty smoke and lurid flames, and a pitchy 
 sky." The Hekla of reality, however, is described by 
 Captain Burton* as a commonplace heap, half the 
 height of Hermon,"}- and a mere pigmy compared with 
 Alps or Andes, rising isolated from the plains ; not more 
 than three miles and a half in circumference. How all 
 the illusions of our childhood are passing away, vanish- 
 ing into the thinnest mist! Mont Blanc has ceased to 
 be formidable ; the Sahara is no longer "a sea of sand;" 
 and Hekla proves to be a very tame and ordinary pro- 
 tuberance ! Seen from the north-west, says Burton, it 
 shows now four, then five, distinct points : the north- 
 western lip of the northern crater, which hides the true 
 apex; the south-western lip of the same; the north- 
 eastern lip of the southern crater, which appears the 
 culminating point; and the two eastern edges of the 
 southern bowls. A pair of white patches are all that 
 the traveller sees of the so-called " eternal snows." On 
 the right of the picture is the steep, but utterly unim- 
 portant, Thre'hyrningr, crowned with its beach-mark; 
 to the left, the Skardsfjall, variegated green and black ; 
 
 * R. P. Burton, " Ultima Thule ; or, a Summer in Iceland," ii. 1G2. 
 
 t Hekla is the fifth in rank of the mountains of Iceland. The four highest are 
 Orasfajekull, 6426 feet ; Snssfell, 5964 feet; Eyjafjallajokull, 5593 feet ; and Herdu- 
 bried, 5447 feet. Hekla is about 5000 or 5100 feet.
 
 CAPTAIN BURTON'S ASCENT. 407 
 
 and in the centre, the Bjolfell, a western buttress of the 
 main building, which becomes, from various points of 
 view, " a saddle-back, a dorsum, and an elephant's head, 
 trunk, and shoulders." 
 
 We propose to adopt Captain Burton's graphic account 
 of his visit to Hekla; and as the gallant explorer wields 
 an accomplished pen, we shall transfer his language to 
 our pages with little alteration. 
 
 We came, he says, upon the valley of the Western 
 Rangd at a rough point, a gash in the hard yellow turf- 
 clad clay, dotted with rough lava blocks, and with masses 
 of conglomerate, hollowed, turned, and polished by 
 water : the shape was a succession of S's, and the left 
 side was the more tormented. Above the ford a cascade 
 had been formed by the lava of 1845, which caused the 
 waters to boil ; and below the ford, where the stream 
 divided, leaped a second. We then entered an Iceland 
 " forest," at least four feet high, composed of red willow, 
 woolly-leaved willow, and birch. About mid-afternoon 
 we reached Nsefrholt (birch-back hill), the "fashion- 
 able " place for the ascent, and we at once inquired for the 
 guide. Upon the carpe diem, principle, he had gone to 
 Reykjavik with the view of drinking his late gains ; 
 but we had time to engage another, and even alpen- 
 stocks with rings and spikes are to be found at the 
 farmhouse. 
 
 In the evening we scaled the stiff slope of earth and 
 palagonite which lies behind, or east of Naefrholt : this 
 crupper of Bjolfell, the Elephant Mountain, gives per-
 
 408 HISTORICAL DETAILS. 
 
 haps harder work than any part of Hekla on the normal 
 line of ascent. From the summit we looked down upon 
 a dwarf basin, with a lakelet of fresh water, which had 
 a slightly (carbonic) acid taste, and which must have 
 contained lime, as we found two kinds of shells, both 
 uncommonly thin and fragile. Three species of weeds 
 floated oft' the clean sandstrips. Walking northwards 
 to a deserted byre, we found the drain gushing under- 
 ground from sand and rock, forming a distinct river- 
 valley, and eventually feeding the Western Ranga. 
 
 Before nightfall we received a message that three 
 English girls and their party proposed to join us. This, 
 says Captain Burton jocosely, was a " scare ; " but 
 happily the Miss Hopes proved plucky as they were 
 young and pretty, and we rejoiced in offering this pleas- 
 ant affront of the feminine foot to that grim old solitaire, 
 Father Hekla. 
 
 We may here introduce a few historical details in 
 reference to this " Vesuvius of the North." The first 
 recorded eruption occurred in 1004, and since that time 
 about twenty-two have been noticed, according to the 
 Icelandic historians, Olafsen and Paul sen. One of extra- 
 ordinary violence broke out in 1766. Then, after an 
 interval of seventy-nine years, the volcanic forces again 
 manifested their activity. On the 1st of September 
 1845, the inhabitants of the neighbouring districts were 
 alarmed by a severe earthquake, followed by awful 
 subterraneous noises. Next day, about noon, two new 
 vents suddenly opened in the sides of the volcano ; and 
 from these poured forth two torrents of incandescent 
 lava, which spread over the barren heaths and scanty
 
 ERUPTION OF 1845. 409 
 
 pastures, scorching and destroying all they touched. It 
 was almost impossible to discern the outlines of the moun- 
 tain, owing to the ash-showers and clouds of vapour which 
 were almost continuously ejected. The water in the 
 river-channels grew so hot that all the fish were killed, 
 and it was impossible to cross them, even on horseback. 
 
 A fortnight elapsed, and the commotion was renewed. 
 Loud reports and dense discharges accompanied it, which 
 resounded over the whole island, and lasted for two- 
 and-twenty hours. Again two new craters opened, one 
 on the southern, and the other on the eastern side of 
 the cone, and the lava rolling from them descended a 
 distance of upwards of twenty-two miles. They united 
 in one thick seething stream, which, at a point three 
 thousand yards from its origin, measured a mile in 
 breadth, and forty to fifty feet in depth. The damage 
 caused by it was necessarily very extensive. 
 
 On the 12th of October, a fresh stream issued from 
 the southern crater, and accumulated at the mountain- 
 foot a mass of scoriae, slag, and fused materials, from 
 forty to sixty feet in height. At the same time, from 
 each of the other new vents a vast column of dust, ashes, 
 and vapour mounted upwards. 
 
 During the remainder of the year, and in the early 
 months of 1846, the volcanic forces maintained their 
 extraordinary activity. The eruption finally termin- 
 ated in October, with an explosion of increased fury; 
 volumes of ashes and scorise being hurled to an immense 
 height, while, illuminated by the reflections of the 
 molten lava within, they glowed in the distance like 
 huge pillars of flame.
 
 410 LEGENDARY ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 Some idea may be formed of the pressure exerted by 
 the subterranean fires and gases, from the fact that a 
 block of pumice weighing nearly half a ton was hurled 
 a distance of five miles. The burdens of ice and snow 
 with which the mountain-sides were charged, melted 
 in the great heat, and, descending in vast floods, swelled 
 the rivers and inundated the lower grounds. So many 
 terrible and ominous circumstances attended the pro- 
 longed eruption, that the spectator might well have 
 been forgiven for imagining the "foundations of the 
 earth " to be broken up. 
 
 Like Etna, Vesuvius, and especially Stromboli (says 
 Captain Burton), Hekla became mythical in medieval 
 Europe, and gained an extensive fame as one of the 
 orates of "Hel-viti." It was said that "Witches' Sab- 
 
 o 
 
 baths " were held upon its summit. The spirits of the 
 wicked, driven by demons, might be seen trooping into 
 the infernal crater ; and the minds of men do not easily 
 dismiss such traditions as these. So the Danes still say, 
 " Begone to Heckenfjaeld ! " the North Germans, " Go to 
 Hackelberg ! " and the Scotch consign you to " John 
 Hacklebirnie's house." Even Goldsmith, in his "Ani- 
 mated Nature," refers to the local creed : " The inhabi- 
 tants of Iceland believe the bellowings of Hekla are 
 nothing else but the cries of the damned, and that its 
 eruptions are contrived to increase their tortures." Uno 
 Von Triol, who in 1770, together with Sir Joseph Banks 
 and Dr. Solander, " gained the pleasure of being the first 
 who ever reached the summit of this celebrated volcano," 
 attributes its virginity to the popular superstitions.
 
 " HALF-WAY UP." 411 
 
 He writes about its wonders with much moderation ; 
 and rightly explains its great renown by its position on 
 the great water-way from Greenland to North America. 
 His English companions, however, do not imitate his 
 soberness of tone. As Burton says, it may be granted 
 that an unknown ascent "required great circumspec- 
 tion ; " and that in a high wind excursionists should lie 
 down. But the facts of the case do not explain the 
 " dread of being blown into [or down ?] the most dread- 
 ful precipices, for these do not exist." Moreover, to 
 " accomplish this undertaking," they travelled over three 
 hundred to three hundred and sixty miles of continuous 
 lava-tracts ; which is more than the maximum length 
 of the island, from north-east to south-west. 
 
 And now let us resume the narrative of Captain 
 Burton's ascent . 
 
 The next morning (the Captain loquitur), July 13th, 
 broke fair and calm, and the Miss Hopes were punctual 
 to a minute; an excellent thing in travelling woman- 
 hood. 
 
 We rode up half-way, somewhat surprised to find so 
 few parasitic craters; the only signs of independent 
 eruption on the western flank were the Kandh<5bar (red 
 hills), as the people call their lava hornitos and spiracles, 
 which are little bigger than the bottle-house cones of 
 Leith. 
 
 At an impassable divide we left our poor nags to pass 
 the dreary time, without water or forage, and we fol- 
 lowed the improvised guide, who caused not a little 
 amusement. His general port was that of a bear that
 
 412 THE CRATER OF HEKLA. 
 
 has lost its ragged staff, for his alpenstock had been given 
 to one of the ladies, and he was plantigrade rather than 
 cremnobatic; he had stripped to his underalls, which 
 were very short, whilst his stockings were very long, 
 and the heraldic gloves converted his hands into paws. 
 The two little snow fonds ("steep glassy slopes of 
 hard snow ") were the easiest of walking. We had 
 nerved ourselves to 
 
 " Break neck or limbs, be maimed or boiled alive ; " 
 
 but we looked in vain for the " concealed abysses," for 
 the "crevasses to be crossed," and for places where "a 
 slip would be to roll to destruction." We did not sight 
 the " lava wall, a capital protection against giddiness." 
 The snow was anything but slippery ; the surface was 
 scattered with dust, and it bristled with a forest of 
 dwarf earth-pillars, in which the ice was preserved by 
 a coating of blown volcanic sand. In about an hour 
 and a half we gained the crater which opened at nine 
 A.M. on September 2nd, 1845, and poured out lava till 
 the end of November. An inexperienced man might 
 pass it without observation. The sole remnant is the 
 upper lip prolonged to the right ; the dimensions may 
 have been one hundred and twenty by one hundred 
 and fifty yards, and the cleft shows a projecting ice- 
 ledge ready to fall. The feature is well marked by the 
 new lava-field of which it is the source: the bristly 
 " stone-river " is already mouldering to surface-dust. 
 A short distance beyond this bowl the ground smokes, 
 discharging snow-steam made visible by the cold air. 
 Hence, doubtless, the veracious travellers of old experi-
 
 THE SOUTHERN CRATER. 413 
 
 enced, at one and the same time, a high degree of cold 
 and heat. 
 
 In fifteen minutes more we reached the first or 
 southern crater, the 01-bogi (elbow or rim) of which 
 is one of the horns conspicuous from below. It is a 
 regular formation, about one hundred yards at the 
 bottom each way, with the right (or east) side red and 
 cindery, and the left yellow and sulphury; mosses and 
 a few flowerets grow on the lips ; in the bottom rise jets 
 of steam, and a rock-rib bisects it diagonally from north- 
 east to south-west. 
 
 From the First Crater we walked over the left or 
 western dorsum, across which it would be perfectly 
 feasible to drive a coach, and we congratulated one 
 another upon the achievement. Former travellers, 
 "balancing themselves like rope-dancers, succeeded in 
 passing along the ridge of slags, which was so narrow 
 that there was scarcely room for their feet," the breadth 
 being " not more than two feet, with a precipice on each 
 side several hundred feet of depth." It might be sup- 
 posed that the features of the scene had been altered by 
 the effects of an eruption ; but no eruption took place 
 between 1766 and 1845. Moreover, the lip would have 
 diminished, not increased. And one of the most modern 
 visitors repeats the "very narrow ridge," with the 
 classical but incorrect adjuncts of " Scylla here, Charyb- 
 dis there." Scylla which is, let us say, the crater 
 slope is disposed at an angle of 30, and Mr. Chapman 
 coolly walked down this "vast" little hollow. Captain 
 Burton adds : I descended Charybdis (the outer counter- 
 scarp) far enough to make sure that it is equally easy.
 
 41 4 REACHING THE SUMMIT. 
 
 Passing the " carriage-road " for so we named it 
 we crossed a neve without any necessity for digging 
 foot-holes. It lies where sulphur is notably absent. 
 The hot patches which account for the freedom from 
 snow, even so high above the congelation -line, are 
 scattered about the summit ; in other parts, the reading 
 of the thermometer, when placed in a hole eighteen 
 inches deep, made earth colder than air. After a short 
 climb we reached the apex; the ruddy-walled north- 
 eastern lip of the Red Crater (No. 2) ; its lower or 
 western rim forms two of the five summits seen from 
 the prairie, and hides the highest point. We thus ascer- 
 tained that Hekla is a linear volcano of two mouths, 
 or three, including that of '45, and that it wants a true 
 apical crater. But how is it possible to reconcile the 
 accounts of travellers ? Pliny Miles found one cone 
 and three craters ; Madame Ida Pfeiffer, like Metcalfe, 
 three cones and no crater. 
 
 When the summit was reached the guides raised a 
 song of triumph, whilst we drank to the health of our 
 charming companions, and, despite the cold wind which 
 eventually drove us down, carefully studied the extensive 
 view. The glorious day was out of character with a 
 scene niente che montagne, as the unhappy Venetian 
 described the Morea; the picture would have been 
 more complete with sleet and rain and blinding snow, 
 but happily they were conspicuous by their absence. 
 "Iceland, beyond a steep snow-bed, unpleasantly cre- 
 vassed, lay a grim photograph all bleak and white; 
 Langjokull looking down upon us with a grand and 
 freezing stare ; the Hrafortiunu Valley marked by a
 
 A VIEW OF PEAKS. 415 
 
 dwarf cone, and beyond, where streams head, the gloomy 
 regions stretching to the Springisandur, dreary wastes 
 of utter sterility, howling deserts of dark ashes, wholly 
 lacking water and vegetable life, and wanting the gleam 
 and the glow which light up the Arabian wild. Skaptar 
 and Oraefa were hidden from sight. Seawards, ranging 
 from west to south, the view, by contrast, was a picture 
 of amenity and civilization. Beyond castellated Hljod- 
 fell and conical Skjaldbried appeared the familiar forms 
 of Esja, and the long lava projection of the Gold Breast 
 country, melting into the western main. Nearer 
 stretched the fair lowlands, once a broad deep bay, now 
 traversed by the network of Olfusa, Thjorsa, and Mar- 
 karfljot : while the sixfold bunch of the Westmann 
 Islands, mere stone lumps upon a blue ground, seem- 
 ingly floating far below the raised horizon, lay crowned 
 by summer sea. Eastward we distinctly traced the 
 Fiskivotn, or fish -lakes. Run the eye along the 
 southern shore, and again the scene shifts. Below the 
 red hornitos of the slope rises the classical Three-horned, 
 not lofty, but remarkable for its trident top ; Tindfjall 
 (tooth-fell), with its two horns or pyramids of ice, cast- 
 ing blue shadows upon the untrodden snow; and the 
 whole mighty mass known as the Eastern Jokull; 
 Eyjafjall (island-fell), so called from the black button 
 of rock which crowns the long white dorsum; Katla 
 (Kotlu-gja), Mukrjokull, and Godalands, all connected 
 by ridges, and apparently neither lofty nor impractic- 
 able. I venture to predict that they will succumb to 
 the first well-organized attack."
 
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