THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEEHORN IHtY SAW MASSES OF ROCKS, BOULDERS, AND STONES, DART ROUND THE CORNER. THE ASCENT THE MATTEEHORN EDWARD WHYMPER WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS Toil and pleasure, in their natures opposite, are \-et linked together in a kind of necessarj' connection. — Livv. L X D X JOHN MUKEAY, ALBEMAELE STREET 1880 All ris-kts are rtserved /^ 7 ri/ y 7' PREFACE. In the year 1860, shortly before leaving England for a long con- tinental tour, the late Mr. William Longman requested me to make for him some sketches of the great Alpine peaks. At this time I had only a literary acquaintance with mountaineering, and had even not seen — much less set foot upon — a mountain. Amongst the peaks which were upon my list was Mont Pelvoux, in Dau- phine. The sketches that were required of it were to celebrate the triumph of some Englishmen who intended to make its ascent. They came — they saw — but they did not conquer. By a mere chance I fell in with a very agreeable Frenchman who accompanied this party, and was pressed by him to return to the assault. In 1861 we did so, with my friend Macdonald — and we conquered. This was the origin of my scrambles amongst the Alps. The ascent of Mont Pelvoux (including the disagreeables) was a very delightful scramble. The mountain air did not act as an emetic; the sky did not look black, instead of blue; nor did I feel tempted to throw myself over precipices. I hastened to enlarge my exj)erience, and went to the Matterhorn. I was urged towards Mont Pelvoux by those mysterious impulses which cause men to peer into the unknown. Not only was this mountain reputed to be the highest in France, and on that account w^as worthy of attention, but it was the dominating point of a most picturesque district of the greatest interest, which, to this day, remains almost unexplored ! The Matterhorn attracted me simply by its grandeur. It was con- sidered to be the most thoroughly inaccessible of all mountains, even by those who ought to have known better. Stimulated to make fresh exertions by one repulse after another, I returned, year h vi PREFACE. after year, as I had opportunity, more and more determined to find a way up it, or {o prove it to be really inaccessible. The chief part of this volume is occupied by the history of these attacks on the Matterhorn, and the other excursions that are described have all some connection, more or less remote, with that mountain or with Mont Pelvoux. All are new excursions (that is, excursions made for the first time), unless the contrary is pointed out. Some have been passed over very briefly, and entire ascents or descents have been disposed of in a single line. Generally speaking, the salient points alone have been dwelt upon, and the rest has been left to the imagination. This treat- ment has spared the reader from much useless repetition. In endeavouring to make the book of some use to those who may wish to go mountain-scrambling, w^hether in the Alps or else- where, prominence has been given to our mistakes and failures ; and to some it may seem that our practice must have been bad if the principles which are laid down are sound, or that the prin- ciples must be unsound if the practice was good. The principles which are brought under the notice of the reader are, however, deduced from long experience, which experience had not been gained at the time that the blunders were perpetrated ; and, if it had been acquired at an earlier date, there would have been lewder failures to record. My scrambles amongst the Alps were a sort of apprenticeship in the art of mountaineering, and they were, for the most part, carried out in the company of men who were masters of their craft. In any art the learner, who wishes to do good work, docs well to associate himself with master workmen, and I attribute mneli of tlie success whicli is recorded in tliis volume to my having been frequently under the guidance of the best mountaineers of the time. The hints and observations which are dispersed through- out the volume are not the result of personal experience only, they have been frequently derived from professional mountaineers, wlio liave studied tlie art from ilieir yontli upwards. FBEFACE. vii AVithout being unduly discursive in the narrative, it has not been possible to inchide in the text all the observations which are desirable for the general reader, and a certain amount of element- ary knowledge has been pre-supposed, which perhaps some do not possess ; and the opportunity is now taken of making a few remarks which may serve to elucidate those which follow. When a man who is not a born mountaineer gets upon the side of a mountain, he speedily finds out that walking is an art ; and very soon wishes that he could be a quadruped or a centipede, or anything except a biped ; but, as there is a difficulty in satisfy- ing these very natural desires, he ultimately procures an alpen- stock and turns himself into a tripod. This simple implement is invaluable to the mountaineer, and when he is parted from it involuntarily (and who has not been ?) he is inclined to say, just as one may remark of other friends, "You were only a stick— a poor stick — but you were a true friend, and I should like to be in your company again." Eespecting the size of the alpenstock, let it be re- marked that it may be nearly useless if it be too long or too short. It should always be shorter than the person who carries it, but it may be any length you like between three-fifths of your height and your extreme altitude. It should be made of ash, of the very best quality ; and should support your weight upon its centre when it is suspended at its two ends. Unless shod with an iron point it can scarcely be termed an alpenstock, and the nature of the point is of some importance. The kind I prefer is shown in the annexed illustration. It has a long tang running into the wood, is supported by a rivetted collar, and its termi- nation is extremely sharp. With a point of this description steps can be made in ice almost as readily as with an axe. A volume might be Avritten upon the use of the alpenstock. Its principal use is as a third leg, to extend one's base line ; and when the beginner g-ets this well into his head he finds the FBEFACE. imi)lemi.ut of extraordinary viilue. In these latter times the pure and pimple alpenstock lias gone out of fashion, and mountaineers now almost universally carry a stick with a })oint at one end and an axe-head at the other. A moveable axe - head is still a desideratum. There is a pick-axe made at Birmingham with a moveable head which is Letter than any other kind that I have seen, but the head is too clumsy to be held in the hand, and vari- ous improvements will have to be effected in it before it w'ill be fit for use in mountaineering. Still, its prin- ciple appears to me to be capable of adaptation, and on that account I have introduced it here. After the alpenstock, or axe-alpenstock, it is of most import- ance for the mountaineer to supply himself with plenty of good rope. Enough has been said on this subject in different parts of the narrative, as well as in regard to tents. Few other articles are neces- mrij, though many others are desiraUe, to carry about, and amongst the most important may be reckoned some simple means of boiling water and cooking. At considerable altitudes above the tree-line, it is frequently impossible to carry up wood enougli for a camp-fire, and nothing but spirits of wine can be employed. The well-known and convenient so-called "liussiun furnace" is the most compact form of spirit hiiiip ili.ii I know, and woiidcis can be effected witli one that is only PREFACE. three inches in diameter. In conjunction with a set of tins like those figured here (which are con- structed to be used either with a wood fire or over a spirit lamp), all the cooking can be done that the Alpine tourist requires. For prolonged expeditions of a serious nature a more elaborate equipage is necessary ; but upon such small ones as are made in the Alps it would be unnecessarily encumbering yourself to take a whole hatterie de cuisine* Before passing on to speak of clothing, a word upon snow-blindness will not be out of place. Very fine language is sometimes used to express the fact that persons suffer from their eyes becoming in- flamed ; and there is one well-known traveller, at least, who, when referring to snow-blindness, speaks habitually of the distressing effects which are pro- duced by " the reverberation of the snow." Snow- blindness is a malady which touches all mountain- travellers sooner or later, for it is found impossible in practice always to protect the eyes with the goggles which are shown overleaf. In critical situations almost every one removes them. The beginner should, however, note that at great alti- tudes it is not safe to leave the eyes unprotected even on rocks, when the sun is shining brightly ; and upon snow or ice it is indispensable to shade them in some manner, unless you wish to be placed liors de combat on the next day. Should you unfortunately find yourself in this predicament through the intensity of the light, there is no help but in sulphate of zinc and patience. Of the former material a half-ounce will be sufiicient for * 111 the lower cliagTam the tins arc shown as they appear when packed for travelling. I generally carry them at the top of a knap- sack, outside. rf— dfin. rUEFACE. a prolouged caiupaii^n, as a lotion comiDoundcd with two or three grains to an ounce of water will give relief ; but of patience you call liardlv lay in too large a stock, as a single had day sometimes throws a man on his hack for weeks.* The whole face sufifers under the alternation of heat, cold, and glare, and few muuii tain-travellers remain long without having their visages blistered and cracked in all directions. Now, in respect to this matter, prevention is better than cure ; and, though these inconveniences cannot be entirely escaped, they may, by taking trouble, be deferred for a long time. As a travelling cap for mountain expeditions, there is scarcely anything better than thf kind of helmet used by Arctic travellers, and with the eyes well shaded by its projecting peak and covered with the ordinary goggles one ought not, and will not, suffer much from snow- blindness. I have found, however, that it does not sufficiently shade the face, and that it shuts out sound too much when the side-flaps are down ; and I consequently adopt a woollen head- piece, which almost entirely covers or shades the face and extends well downwards on to the shoulders. One hears sufficiently * I txti-ucl rniiii No. 03 of the Alpine Jouriud tlir Inlldwing note Ly Gusttiv do VlIi, 11 retired lUissiuu oflieer, upon the preveutiou of .siiow-bliudiiess. " Wc were on llie march lioine along tlie mouiitaiu plaiiiH, when, dazzled by the intense sun-rays reflected by the endless snow-fields we were mareliing along, my eyelids lust all power to open ; I felt my elbow touched, and, loo]dng tlirougli my fingers, I beheld one of our friendly highlanders preparing a kind of black paste l)y mixing gunpowder with sndw. The (ieneral told me to let him do what he wanted. TJie Circassian apjilied the black stufl" under my eyes, on my cheeks, and to the sides of my nose. To my iisfonishment I could then open my eyes, and felt no more (lilliniKy to see plaiidy and clearly everything. I have tried that cxptriment many times since, and it never failed to relievo me, ulthougli 1 used common Indian-ink and black water- colour, instead of tin- above-mentioned pa^te." PREFACE. distinctly through the interstices of the knitted wool, and they also permit some ventilation— which the Arctic cap does not. It is a useful rather than an ornamental article of attire, and strangely affects one's appearance. For the most severe weather even this is not sufficient, and a mask must be added to protect the remainder of the face. You then present the appear- ance of the lower woodcut, and are completely disguised. Your most intimate friends — even your own mother — will disown you, and you are a fit subject for endless ridicule. The alternations of heat and cold are rapid and severe in all high mountain ranges, and it is folly to go about too lightly clad. Woollen gloves ought always to be in the mountaineer's pocket, for in a single hour, or less, he may ex- perience a fall in temperature of sixty to eighty degrees. But in respect to the nature of the clothing there is little to be said beyond that it should be composed of flannels and woollens. Upon the important subject of boots much might be written. My friends are generally f ^ ^ surprised to find that I use elastic-side boots whilst mountaineering, and condemn them under the false impression that they will not give support to the ankles, and will be pulled off when one is traversing deep snow. I have invariably used elastic-side boots on my mountain expeditions in the Alps and elsewhere, and have found that they give sujfficient support to the ankles and never draw oJBF. My Alpine boots have always been made by Norman — a maker who knows what the requirements are, and one who will give a good boot if allowed good time. It is fully as important to have proper nails in the boots as it xii PREFACE. is to have good boots. The quantity is frequently overdone, and wlicn there are too many they are absolutely dangerous. Ice- nails, which may be considered a variety of crampon, are an abomination. The nails should be neither too large nor too numerous, and they should be disposed everywhere irregularly — not symmetrically. They disappear one by one, from time to time ; and the prudent mountaineer continually examines his boots to see that sufficient numbers are left.* A handkerchief tied round the foot, or even a few turns of cord, will afford a tolerable substitute when nails cannot be procured. If the beginner supplies himself with the articles which have been named, he will be in possession of all the gear which is necessanj for ordinary mountain excursions, and if he uses his plant properly he will avoid many of the disagreeables which are looked upon by some as almost unavoidable accompaniments of the sport of mountaineering. I have not throughout the volume ignored the dangers which are real and unavoidable, and say distinctly that too great watchfulness cannot be exercised at great altitudes. But I say now, as I have frequently said before, that the great majority of accidents which occur to mountaineers, especially to mountaineering amateurs in the Alps, are not the result of unavoidable dangers ; and that they are for the most part the product of ignorance and neglect. I consider that fulling rocks are the greatest danger which a mountaineer is likely to encounter, and in concluding these prefatory remarks I especially warn the novice against the things whicli tumble about the ears of unwary travellers. * I niiilcrstiind tliiit scarcfly any nails were found in tlie l)oo1s of Dr. Moseloy, wlio lost his life recently on tiie ^Matterlmni, ami lliis faet suDii'iciitly aeeonnis for the aceidenl. CONTENTS. I860 CHAPTEE I. INTRODUCTORY. liEAClIY HEAD — DEVIL OF XOTRE DAME — VISP THAL — SCRAMBLING ALONE — THE WEISS- IIORX — ST. BERNARD — RASCALLY GUIDE — A VILLAGE CONCERT — STORM ON THE COL DE LAUTARET ....... Pages 1-12 1861 CHAPTEE II. THE ASCENT OF MONT PELVOUX. THE VALLEYS OF DAUPHINE THE PEAKS OF DAUPHINE MISTAKES IN THEIR IDENTIFICATION^EARLY ATTEMPTS TO ASCEND MONT PELVOUX — ^INTRODUCTION TO MONSIEUR REYNAUD GRENOBLE MEETING WITH MACDONALD NATIONAL SENTI- MENTS — ^WE ENGAGE A GUIDE — START FOR PELVOUX — PASS THE CAVERN OF THE VAUDOIS — MASSACRE OF THE VAUDOIS— FIRST NIGHT OUT WE ARE RE- PULSED ARRIVAL OF MACDONALD — THIRD NIGHT OUT TORRENTS ON FIRE FALLING ROCKS ASCENT OF THE PELVOUX THE PYRAMID VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT WE DISCOVER THE POINTE DES ECRINS — SURPRISED BY NIGHT ON FLEAS EN ROUTE FOR MONTE VISO — DESERTERS CAMP ON AN ANT-HILL ST. VERAN PRIMITIVE MANNERS — NATURAL PILI.ARS — ARRIVE AT BRIANfON 13-41 CHAPTEE III. MY FIRST SCRAMBLE ON THE MATTERHORN. THE WEISSHORN AND THE MATTERHORN — INTRODUCTION TO JEAN-ANTOINE CARREL — SUPERSTITIONS OF THE NATIVES IN REGARD TO THE MATTERHORN — RIDGES OF THE MATTERHORN EARLIEST ATTEMPTS TO ASCEND THE MOUNTAIN ATTEMIT BY THE MESSRS. PARKER — ATTEMPT BY MESSRS. HAWKINS AND TYNDALL ARRIVE AT c CONTENTS. iniEIL — UXWILUSGXIISS OF THE GUIDES TO HAVE ANYTIUXG TO DO \V1TI[ THE MATTERIIORX — THE CARRELS ENDEAVOVU TO CUT US OUT THE 'GREAT STAIR- CASE ' — THE COL DU LION — WE DECIDE TO CAMP THERE — GREAT EXCITEMENT FROM FALUNG STONES — LIGHT AND SHADE — THE ' CHIMXEV ' — DEFEATED — A COOL I'ROCEEDiXG ....... Pages 42-57 1862 CIIArTER IV. RENEWED ATTEMPTS TO ASCEND THE MATTERHORN. MR. KEXNEDY'S WIXTER ATTEMPT BEXXEN REFUSES TO START AGAIN THE THEO- DULE PASS — MEYNET, THE HUNCHBACK OF BREIL — ON TENTS FOR MOUNTAINEER- ING — MACDONALD AND I START FOR THE MATTERHORN — XARROW ESCAPE OF KRONIG — VIOLENT WIND TURNS US BACK — ENGAGE CARREL AND PESSION AND START AGAIN — THE 'GREAT TOWER ' — PESSION BECOMES ILL AND WE ARE OBLIGED TO RETURN — BAD WEATHER — SCRAMBLE ALOXE OX THE MATTERHORX — PIOXEERS OF VEGETATION — VIEW FROM THE TEXT — A SOLITARY BIVOUAC — MOXTE VISO SEEN BY MOONLIGHT AT NINETY-EIGHT MILES' DISTANCE — ON AIDS TO CLIMBERS — CLIMBING CLAW — FIND A NEW PLACE FOR THE TENT — I ATTAIN A GREATER ALTITUDE ALONE THAN HAD BEEN REACHED BEFORE, AND NEARLY COME TO GRIEF — MY FOURTH ATTEMPT TO ASCEND THE MATTERHORN— DEFEATED AGAIN BY WEATHER THE CARRELS GO MARMOT-HUNTING, AND WE START FOR A FIFTH ATTEMPT DEFEATED BY NATURAL DIFFICULTIES — TYNDALL ARRIVES AND CARRIES OFF THE CARRELS A CANNONADE ON THE MATTERHORX — TYXDALL IS REPULSED — CONFLAGRATION IN DAUPHINE ...... 58-87 1863 CHAPTER V. THE VAL TOURNANCHE— THE BREUILJOCH—ZERMATT— FIRST ASCENT OF THE GRAND TOURNALIN. THE DOUANE — "BUT WHAT IS THIS?" — DIFFICULTIES WITH MY LADDER — EXPLANATION OF TYNDALL's REPUI^E — ROMAN (?) AQUEDUCT IN THE VAL TOURNANCHE — ASCEND THE CIMES BLANCHES — WE DECEIVE A GOAT — WE INVENT A NEW PASS TO ZER- MA'rr (BREUILJOCH) — aqueous and glacier erosion — GLACIER VERSUS ROCKS — BEILKR'S DISIXTERESTEDXES.S — THE MATTERHORX CLIFFS — EXTRAORDINARY ACCI- DENT TO A CHAMOI.S — COL DE VALPELLINE — THE MASTER OF PRERAYEN — ATTEMPT TO ASCEND DENT D'ERIN (d'HERKNS) — THE VA CORXERE PASS — FIRST ASCENT OF THE GRAND TOURNALIN — SPLENDID VIIW ) l:oM THE SUMMIT — ON PANORAMIC VIEWS— GOUFFRE DES BUSSERAILLKS— AX KNI LlII'KliSING INNKEEPER . 88-11:5 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER VI. OUR SIXTH ATTEMPT TO ASCEND THE MATTERHORN. EXTREMES MEET THUNDER AND LIGHTNING ECHOES OF THUNDER GREAT ROCK- FALLS DURING THE NIGHT — DEFEATED BY THE WEATHER — MYSTERIOUS MISTS Pages 114-123 1864 CHAPTER VII. FROM ST. MICHEL TO LA BERARDE BY THE COL DES AIGS. D'ARVE, COL DE MARTIGNARE, AND THE BR^CHE DE LA MEIJE, RETURN AGAIN TO DAUnilNE MICHEL CROZ COL DE VALLOIRES — THE AIGUILLES d'ARVE WE MAKE A PASS BETWEEN THEM— COL DE MARTIGNARE ASCENT OF THE AIG. DE LA SAUSSE THE MEIJE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE BRECHE DE LA MEIJE MELCHIOR ANDEREGG LA GRAVE THE BRECHE IS WON — -THE VALLON DES ETAN9ONS ........ 124-144 CHAPTER VIII. THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE POINTE DES ECRINS. LA BERARDE — PIC THE PORTER— BIVOUAC ON THE GLACIER DE LA BONNE PIERRE DISSOLVING VIEWS — DRYNESS OF THE AIR — TOPOGRAPHY OF CENTRAL DAUPHINE ALPS — FIRST ATTEMPTS TO ASCEND THE ECRINS — A MIGHTY AVALANCHE OUR ASCENT OF THE FINAL PEAK ON SPLINTERS FROM SUMMITS LE JEU NE VAUT PAS LA CHANDELLE SHATTERED RIDGE ALMER'S LEAP — SURPRISED BY NIGHT A WARNING ........ 145-165 CHAPTER IX. FROM VAL LOUISE TO LA BERARDE BY THE COL DE PILATTE. CHALETS OF ENTRAIGUES — ARRIVAL OF REYNAUD — ON SNOW COULOIRS — SUMMIT OF XUE COL EXCITING DESCENT — REYNAUD COMES OVER THE SGHRUND THE LAST OF DAUPHINE ...=•... 16G-175 CHAPTER X. THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DE TRIOLET, AND FIRST ASCENTS OF MONT DOLENT, AIGUILLE DE TRELATETE, AND AIGUILLE D'ARGENTIERE. MAPS OF MONT BLANC — MR. ADAMS-REILLY — OUR COMPACT — THE PEAKS OF THE MONT BLANO RANGE — ACROSS THE COL DE TRIOLET — A MINIATURE ASCENT — REILLY xvi CONTENTS. ADVOCATES rATIESCE — ItlVOUAC ON MOST SUC — THE FIRST ASCEXT OF AIG. DE TREIATtTE — THE MORAINE OF THE MIAGE — ON MORAINES IN GENERAL — ERRONEOCS VIEWS RESPECTING THEM — OUR FIRST ATTEMPT TO ASCEND AIG. D'ARUENTIERE — A CONCEALED CAVERN — SUCCESS AT LAST — MR. REILLY'S MAP Pages 176-192 CHAPTER XL THE FIEST PASSAGE OF THE MOMING PASS— ZINAL TO ZERMATT. SWISS MENDICANTS — NIGHT OX THE ARPITETTA ALP — A PERILOUS PATH — ICE- AVAL^VNCHE — SUMMIT OF THE MOMING PASS — CROZ DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF — THE CLUB-ROOM OF ZEP^MATl' ...... 193-203 1865 CHAPTER XII. THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE GRAND CORNIER. ON CHOICE OF ROUTES — REGRETS — ZINAL — ASCENT OF THE GRAND CORNIER — EFFECTS OF SUN AND FROST — GREAT RIDGES SUFFER MOST — POINTS OF DIFFERENCE BE- TWEEN ATMOSPHERIC AND GLACIER EROSION — ABRICOLLA . . 204-214 CHAPTER XIII. THE ASCENT OF THE DENT BLANCHE. LESLIE SI'EPHEN — KENNEDY'S ASCENT — ON BERGSCHRUNDS — UNWELCOME ATTENTIONS — A RACE FOR LIFE — BENIGHTED — A SURPRISE . . . 215-222 CHAPTER XIV. LOST ON THE COL D'HEKENS— SEVENTH ATTEMPT TO ASCEND THE 1\LVTTERH0RN— THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE GRANDES J GRASSES. A LATE START AND THE RESULT — BEWILDERED — RETURN TO ABRICOLLA — CROSS COL D'hERENS TO ZERMATT — ASCEND THE THEODULHORN — NEW IDEAS REGARDING THE MA1TI;RH0RN — DECEITIVENESS of the east FACE — STRATIFICATION — DIP OF THE BEDS — TRY ANOTHER ROUTE — "SAUVE QUI PEUT " — BEATEN AGAIN — ASCENT OF THE OKANDES JORA.SSES — NARROW ESCAPi; FROM AN AVALANCHE . 223-238 CONTENTS. xvii CHAPTER XV. THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DOLENT. CONFUSION OF IDEAS A MIDNIGHT START SUMMIT OF THE PASS— EXTRAORDINAUr ICE-WALL — MANNER OF ITS DESCENT — ON ICE-AXES AND THEIR USE — ON ICE- SLOPES AND THEIR SAFETY — CRAMPONS — ARRIVAL AT CHAMOUNIX Pages 239-246 CHAPTER XVI. THE FIEST ASCENT OF THE AIGUILLE VERTE. CROZ LEAVES US — CHRISTIAN ALMER — SUNSET ON THE MER DE GLACE — ASCENT OF THE AIGUILLE ADVICE TO MOUNTAIN WALKERS VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT STORMS COME ON — A WORTHY PORTER — THE NOBLE ATTITUDE OF CHAMOUNIX . 247-254 CHAPTER XVII. THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DE TALEFRE. THE COL DU GEANT — THE GLACIER DE TALEFRE — EASY WAY FROM CHAMOUNIX TO COURMAYEUR — GLISSADING — PASSES OVER THE MAIN CHAIN OF MONT BLANC ........ 255-258 CHAPTER XVIII. THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE RUINETTE— THE MATTERHORN. FACILITY WITH WHICH THE RUINETTE CAN BE ASCENDED NOBLE PAN0RA5IA— ON CONCEALED CREVASSES — GUIDES* OBJECTION TO USE OF THE ROPE ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE ROPE ALMER DECLINES THE MATTERHORN ENGAGE THE CARRELS THEIR DEFECTION THE ITALIANS STEAL A BIARCH ARRIVAL OF LORD FRANCIS DOUGLAS — MEETING WITH CROZ, HUDSON, AND HADOW . . 259-272 CHAPTER XIX. THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. CHARLES HUDSON CAMP ON THE EAST FACE CROZ REPORTS FAVOURABLY ASCENT OF THE EASTERN FACE CROSS TO THE NORTHERN SIDE — ARRIVAL AT SUMMIT- DISCOMFITURE OF THE ITALIANS ASTONISHMENT AT BREIL MARVELLOUS PANO- RAMA ......... 273-283 xviii CONTENTS. CIIArTEE XX. THE DESCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. OUDKR OF THE DESC1:;XT A FRIGHTFUL AVALANCHE UADOW SLIPS — DEATH OF CROZ, llADOW, HL'DSOX, AND LORD F. DO0GLAS — TERROR OF THE TAUGWALDERS — THE UROKEX ROPE — AX APPARITION — AX INFAMOUS PROPOSITIOX — SURPRISED UV NIGHT — SEARCH FOR AXD RECOVERY OF THE BODIES — OFFICIAL EXAMINATIOX — THE END ........ Pages 284-298 APPENDIX. A. THE DEATH OF BENNEN B. STRUCK BY LIGHTNING UPON THE MATTERHORN C. NOTE ON THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN IN FRANCE . D. SUBSEQUENT HISTORY OF THE MATTERHORN E. TABLE OF ATTEMPTS TO ASCEND THE MATTERHORN F. TABLE OF ASCENTS OF THE MATTERHORN G. GEOLOGY OF THE MATTERHORN, BY SIG. F. GIORDANO H. PROFESSOR TYNDALL AND THE MATTERHORN PAGE 301 303 304- 304 315 31IJ 323 325 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. The Drawings were made on the Wood by H. J. Boot, Gcstave Doi;(5, C. Johnson, J. Mahoxet, J. W. North, P. Skelton, W. G. Smith, C. J. Staniland, and J. Wolf ; and were Engraved by J. W. and Edward Whymper. To face pngc 4+ FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 1 . " TlIFA' SAW MASSES OF ROCKS, BOULDERS AND STONES, BIG ] \ Frontispiece. and little, dart round the corner . . . | 2. Outlines op the Matterhorn from the North-East and FROM THE Summit op the Theodule Pass (to show Ridges, and Points attained on the different attempts to Ascend the Mountain) ..... 3. The Matterhorn, from near the Sumjiit of the Theodule Pass „ 46 4. 'The Chimney' ......... „ 76 5. " In attempting to pass the corner I slipped and fell " . „ 78 6. A Cannonade on the Matterhorn (1862) .... „ 84 7. "They scattered in a panic when saluted by the cries OF MY excited COMRADE "...... „ 107 8. The Crags op the Matterhorn, during the Storm, Mid- night, August 10, 1863 ,,120 9. The Club-Room of Zermatt in 1864 „ 202 10. The Matterhorn from the Riffelberg .... „ 227 11. Sections of the Matterhorn ...... „ 230 12. Fog-bow, seen from the Matterhorn on July 14, 18G5 . „ 288 13. The Hut on the Eastern Face (Zermatt side) of the JLvt- terhorn ......... )> 309 14. Geological Section of the Matteriiokn .... ,, 324 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. IN THE TEXT. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. .31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. Point of AhncNSTOCK .... hlrmixgiiam pick-axk with moveablk head Russian Furnace Cooking Tins . Snow Spectacles Arctic Cap The Complete Disguise Beaciiy Head . The Devil of Notre Dame The Church in Difficulties At the St. Bernard The Village of Biona Crossing Mont Cenis " Garibaldi ! " . A Bit of the Village ok Zermatt . BRIAN90N ...... ]\Iont Pelvoux from above La Bessee The Grand Pelvoux de Val Louise Buttresses of Mont Pelvoux . Portrait of the late R. J. S. Macdonald Outline to show Route up Mont Pelvoux The Blanket Bag .... Natural Pillar near Molines Portrait of the late J. J. Bennen Portrait of Jean-Antoine Carrel . The Col du Lion: looking towards the tete Diagram to show manner of fastening Tent-i The Author's Mountain Tent Climbing Claw Rope and Wish At Breil (Giomein) . The Matterhorn from Bueil "But what is this?" An Arch of the Aqueduct in the Val Tournanchi Water-worn PiOcks in the Gorge below the Corner Gl Striations produced by Glacier-action . DU Lion OLES LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 37. Chamois in Difficulties .... 38. " Carrel lowered me down " . 39. Portrait of the late Canon Carrel of Aosta 40. Portrait of Monsieur Favre . 41. Crossing the Channel .... 42. Portrait of the late Michel-Auguste Croz 43. Plan to show Koute .... 44. The Aiguilles d'Arve, from above the Chalets of Kieu 45. Portrait of Melchior Anderegg 46. Map of the Breghe de la Meije, etc. 47. Diagram to show Angle of Summit of Meije, etc. 48. The Vallon des Etan^ons .... 49. Map of the Central Dauphine Alps 50. The Pointe des Ecrins from the Col du Galibier 51. Outline to show Route up Pointe des Ecrins . 52. Fragment from the Summit op the Pointe des Ecrins 53. A Night with Croz .... 54. A Snow Couloir .... 55. Portraits of Mr. Reilly on a wet day 56. Our Camp on Mont Sue . 57. Ice-Avalanche on the Moming Pass . 58. Summit of the Moming Pass 59. Facsimile of a Letter from Croz . 60. Part of the Southern Ridge of the Grand Cornier 61. Part of the Northern Ridge of the Grand Cornier 62. Portrait of Leslie Stephen 63. The Bergschrund on the Dent Blanche . 64. Portrait of T. S. Kennedy 65. Diagrams to show Dip of Strata on the Matteuhorn 66. My Tent-bearer — The Hunchback . 67. The Grandes Jorasses and the Doire Torpfnt 68. The Summit of the Col Dolent 69. My Ice-axe 70. Kennedy Ice-axe 71. Leslie Stephen Ice-axe 72. Crampon .... 73. Portrait of Christian Almei 74. On the Mer de Glace Blanc PAG 15 102 108 109 121 123 125 128 130 138 140 142 143 146 155 156 159 164 169 184 185 198 200 208 210 211 215 217 222 229 234 237 241 243 244 244 245 248 249 d LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. lb. Wt:sTERX Side of tiik Col di: Talki^ri: 76. Glissading ...... 77. TuE Wronx; Way to use a Hope ox Glacier 78. The Right Way to use a Rope on Glacier 79. " Croz ! Croz ! ! Come here ! " . 80. The Summit of the Matterhorn in 1865 . 81. The Actual Summit of the Matterhorn . 82. Rope broken on the JIatteuhorn 83. Diagram of Fog-bow .... 84. Portrait of Monsieur Alex. Seiler 85. The Manilla Rope broken on the Matterhorn 8G. The ' Second ' Rope broken on the Matterhorn 87. The English Church at Zermatt 88. The End 89. The Chapel at the Schwarzsee 90. The Summit of the Matterhorn in 1874 (Northern End) 91. "The things which tumble about the ears of unwary travellers I'AGR 255 257 263 264 279 281 284 287 289 290 292 293 294 298 310 311 325 MAPS. To he placed at the end of the Volume. 1. Tin; JIatterhorn and its Glaciers (m colours). 2. The Valley of Zermatt: and the Central 1'ennine Alps. The Ijody ot the work has brcii inintitl by Missis. 'William CLo^^ es and Sons; ami the sepaiatc Plates have been i>riiiteil by the Airniou. THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOEN BEACHY HEAD. CHAPTEE I. On the 23d of July 1860, I started for my first tour in the Alps. As we steamed out into the Channel, Beachy Head came into view, and recalled a scramble of many years ago. With the impudence of ignorance, my brother* and I, schoolboys both, had tried to scale that great chalk cliff. Not the head itself — -where sea-birds circle, and where the flints are ranged so orderly in parallel lines — but at a place more to the east, where the pinnacle called the Devil's Chimney had fallen down. Since' that time we have been often in dangers of different kinds, but never have we more nearly broken our necks than upon that occasion. In Paris I made two ascents. The first to the seventh floor of * The author of Travels in Alaska. B THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEEHORN. Cll-VP. I. THE DEVIL OF NOTRE DAME. a house in the Qnartier Latin— to an artist friend, who was engaged, at tlio moment of my entry, in combat with a little Jew. He hurled him with great good-will, and with considerable force, into some of his crockery, and then recommended me to go up the towers of Notre Dame. Half-an-honr later I stood on the parapet of the great west front, by the side of the leering fiend which for centuries has looked down upon the great city, and then took rail to Switzerland ; saw the sunlight lingering on the giants of the Oberland ; heard the echoes from the cow-horns in the Lauterbrunnen valley and the ava- lanches rattling off the Jungfrau ; and crossed the Gemmi into the Valais. I was bound for the valley of Saas, and my work took me high up the Alps on either side ; far beyond the limit of trees and the tracks of tourists. The view from the slopes of the Weissmies, on the eastern side of the valley, 5000 or 6000 feet above the village of Saas, is perhaps the finest of its kind in the Alps. The full height of the three-jjeaked Mischabel (the highest mountain in Switzerland) is seen at one glance; 11,000 feet of dense forests, green alps, rocky pinnacles, and glittering glaciers. The peaks seemed to me then to be hopelessly inaccessible from this direction. I next descended the valley to the village of Stalden, and went up the Visp Thai to Zermatt, and stopped there several days. Numerous traces of the formidable earthquake-shocks of live years before still remained ; particularly at St. Nicholas, where the in- habitants had been terrified beyond measure at the destruction of their churches and houses. At this place, as well as at Visp, a large part of the poi»uliitioH was obliged to live under canvas for several months, ll is rijuarkalde lliat there was hardly a life lost CHAP. I. SOB AMBLING ALONE. 3 on this occasion, although there were about fifty shocks, some of which were very severe. At Zermatt I wandered in many directions, but the weather was bad, and my work was much retarded. One day, after spend- ing a long time in attempts to sketch near the Hornli, and in futile endeavours to seize the forms of the peaks as they for a few seconds peered out from above the dense banks of woolly clouds, I deter- mined not to return to Zermatt by the usual path, and to cross the Gorner glacier to the Kiifel hotel. After a rapid scramble over the polished rocks and snowbeds which skirt the base of the Theodule glacier, and wading through some of the streams which flow from it, at that time much swollen by the late rains, the first difficulty was arrived at, in the shape of a precipice about three hundred feet high. It seemed that it would be easy enough to cross the glacier if the cliff could be descended ; but higher up, and lower down, the ice appeared, to my inexperienced eyes, to be impassable for a single person. The general contour of the cliff was nearly perpendicular, but it was a good deal broken up, and there was little difficulty in descending by zigzagging from one mass to another. At length there was a long slab, nearly smooth, fixed at an angle of about forty degrees between two wall-sided pieces of rock. Nothing, except the glacier, could be seen below. It was an awkward place, but I passed it at length by lying across the slab, putting the shoulders stiffly against one side, and the feet against the other, and gradually wriggling down, by first moving the legs and then the' back. When the bottom of the slab was gained a friendly crack was seen, into which the point of the baton could be stuck, and I dropped down to the next piece. It took a long time coming down that little bit of cliff, and for a few seconds it was satisfactory to see the ice close at hand. In another moment a second diffi- culty presented itself. The glacier swept round an angle of the cliff, and as the ice was not of the nature of treacle or thin putty, it kept away from the little bay, on the edge of which I stood. We were not widely separated, but the edge of the ice was higher B 2 4 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOBN. chap. i. than the opposite edge of rock ; and worse, the rock was covered with loose earth and stones which liad fallen from above. All along the side of the cliff, as far as could be seen in both directions, the ice did not touch it, but there was this marginal crevasse, seven feet wide, and of unknown depth. All this was seen at a glance, and almost at once I concluded that I could not jump the crevasse, and began to try along i\ie cliff lower down ; but without success, for the ice rose higher and higher, until at hist further progress was stopped by the cliffs becoming perfectly smooth. With an axe it would have been possible to cut up the side of the -it^e ; without one I saw there was no alternative but to return and face the jump. Night was approaching, and the solemn stillness of the High Alps was broken only by the sound of rushing water or of fall- ing rocks. If the jump should be successful, — well ; if not, I fell into that horrible chasm, to be frozen in, or drowned in that gurgling, rushing water. Everything depended on that jump. Again I asked myself, " Can it be done ? " It must be. So, finding my stick was useless, I threw it and the sketch-book to the ice, and first retreating as far as possible, ran forward with all my might, took the leap, barely reached the other side, and fell awkwardly on my knees. The glacier was crossed without further troul)le, but tlie Riftel,* which was then a very small building, was crammed with tourists, and could not take me in. As the way down was unknown to me, some of the people obligingly suggested getting a man at the chalets, otherwise the path would be certainly lost in the forest. On arriving at the chalets no man could be found, and the lights * Tlio Ilifful liotel (tlio starting-poiut for the ascent of Monte Rosa), a deservedly IKjpuhir inn, leased to Monsieur Seiler, the hotel proprietor of Zermatt, is placed at a height of 3100 feet above that village (8400 above the sea), and commands a superb jmufiraniic view. The house lias continually grown, and it can now accommodate a laig.' nuniber of persons. In IfclT'J, it was connected by telegrapli with llie rest of Sw il/.iilaud. THE CHURCH IN DIFFICULTIES. of Zermatt, shining through the trees, seemed to say, " Never mind a gnide, but come along down, I'll show you the way;" so off I went through the forest, going straight towards them. The path was lost in a moment, and was never recovered. I was tripped up by pine- roots, tumbled over rhododendron bushes, fell over rocks. The night was pitch dark, and after a time the lights of Zermatt became obscure, or went out altogether. By a series of slides, or falls, or evolutions more or less disagreeable, the descent through the forest was at length accomplished ; but torrents of formidable character had still to be passed before one could arrive at Zermatt. I felt my way about for hours, almost hopelessly ; by an exhaustive process at last discovering a bridge, and about mid- night, covered with dirt and scratches, re-entered the inn which I had quitted in the morning. Others besides tourists get into difficulties. A day or two after- wards, when on the way to my old station, near the Hornli, I met a stout cure who had essayed to cross the Theodule pass. His strength or his wind had failed, and he was being carried down, a helpless bundle and a ridiculous spectacle, on the back of a lanky guide ; while the peasants stood by, with folded hands, their rever- ence for the church almost overcome by their sense of the ludicrous. I descended the valley, diverging from the path at Eanda to mount the slopes of the Dom,* in order to see the Weisshorn face to face. The latter mountain is the noblest in Switzerland, and from this direction it looks especially magnificent. On its north there is a large snowy plateau that feeds the glacier of which a portion is seen from Eanda, and which on more than one occasion has destroyed that village. From the direction of the Dom (that * The hi'diest of the IVIischabellulruer. THE ASCENT OF THE MATTER HORN. is, immediately opposite) this Bies glacier seems to descend nearly vertically. It does not do so, altliougli it is very steep. Its size is much less than formerly, and the lower portion, now divided into three tails, clings in a strange, weird-like manner to the cliffs, to which it seems scarcely possible that it can remain attached. Arriving once more in the Rhone valley, I j)i'oceeded to Viesch, and from thence ascended the Eggischorn ; on which unpleasant eminence I lost my way in a fog, and my temper shortly afterwards. Then, after crossing the Grimscl in a severe thunderstorm, passed on to Brienz, luterlachen, and Bern ; and thence to Fribourg and Morat, Neuchatel, Martigny, and the St. Bernard. The massive walls of the convent were a welcome sight as I waded through the snow-beds near the summit of the pass, and pleasant also was the courteous saluta- tion of the brother who bade me enter. He wondered at the weight of my knapsack, and I at the hardness of his bread. The saying that the monks make the toast in the winter that they give to tourists in the following season is not founded on truth ; the winter is their most busy time of the year. But it is true they have exercised so much hospi- tality, that at times they have not possessed the means to furnish the fuel for heating their chapel in the winter.* Instead of descending to Aosta, I turned aside into the Val Pelline, in order to obtain views of the Dent d'Erin. The night had come on before Biona was gained, and I had to knock long and loud upon the door of the cure's house before it was opened. An old woiiuin, witli querulous voice, and with a large goitre, * TImj toiniKTiitiire at tljc St. Brriiard iu ilic winter is frequently 4 0"" Fahr. below freezing-point. January is their colilust monili. Sec Dollfus-Aussct's Materiaux pour Vetude dcs Glacier)', vols. vi. and vii. BIONA. answered the summons, and demanded ratlier sharply what was wanted ; but became pacific — almost good-natured — when a five- franc piece was held in her face, and she heard that lodging and supper were requested in exchange. %m% THE VILLAGE OF BIONA. My directions asserted that a passage existed from Prerayen, at the head of this valley, to Breil,* in the Val Tournanche, and the old woman, now convinced of my respectability, busied herself to find a guide. Presently she introduced a native, picturesquely attired in high-peaked hat, braided jacket, scarlet waistcoat, and * Tliere was not a pass between Prerayen and Breil. See note to p. 105. 8 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERTIORN. chap. i. indigo pantaloons, who agreed to take me to the viHage of Yal Tournanche. Wc set off early on the next morning, and got to the summit of the pass without difficulty. It gave me my first experi- ence of considerable slopes of hard steep snow, and, like all begin- ners, I endeavoured to prop myself up with my stick, and kept it outside, instead of holding it between myself and the slope, and leaning upon it, as should have been done. The man enlightened me ; but he had, properly, a very small opinion of his employer, and it is probably on that account that, a few minutes after we had passed the summit, he said he would not go any further and would return to Biona. All argument was useless ; he stood still, and to everything that was said answered nothing but that he would go back. Being rather nervous about descending some long snow- slopes, which still intervened between us and the head of the valley, I offered more pay, and he went on a little way. Presently there were some cliffs down which we had to scramble. He called to me to stop, then shouted that he would go back, and beckoned to me to come up. On the contrary, I waited for him to come down ; but instead of doing so, in a second or two he turned round, clambered deliberately uj^ the cliff, and vanished. I supposed it was only a ruse to extort offers of more money, and waited for half- an-hour, but he did not appear again. Tliis was rather embar- rassing, for he carried off my knapsack. The choice of action lay between chasing him and going on to Breil, risking the loss of my knapsack. I chose the latter course, and got to Breil the same evening. The landlord of the inn, suspicious of a person entirely innocent of luggage, was doubtful if he could admit me, and eventually thrust me into a kind of loft, which was already occupied by guides and by hay. In later years we became good friends, and he did not hesitate to give credit and even to advance consideraldc sums. My sketches from Breil were made under difficulties, for my materials had been carried off. Nothing better than fine sugar- paper could be obtained, and tlie pencils seemed to contain more CHAP. I. A REFRACTORY GUIDE. 9 silica than plumbago. However, they ivere made, and the pass * was again crossed, this time alone. By the following evening the old woman of Biona again produced the faithless guide. The knapsack was recovered after the lapse of several hours, and then I poured forth all the terms of abuse and reproach of which I was master. The man smiled when called a liar, and shrugged his shoulders when referred to as a thief, but drew his knife when sjioken of as a pig. CROSSING MONT CENIS. The following night was spent at Courmayeur, and the day after I crossed the Col Ferret to Orsieres, and on the next the Tete Noire to Chamounix. The Emperor Napoleon arrived on the same day, and access to the Mer de Glace was refused to tourists ; but, by scrambling along the Plan des Aiguilles, I managed to outwit the guards, and to arrive at the Montanvert as the Imperial party * This pass is called usually the Va Cornere. It is also known as the Gra Coruere; which is, I believe, patois for Grand Cornier. It is mentioned in tlie first volume of the second series of Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers, and in Chapters V. and XVIII. of tlus volume. 10 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBnOBN. was leaving : tlie same afternoon failing to get to the Jardin, hnt very nearly succeeding in breaking a leg by dislodging great rocks on the moraine of the glacier. From Chamonnix I went to Geneva, and thence by the J\Iont Cenis to Turin and to the Yaudois valleys. A long and weary day had ended when Paesana was reached. The inn was full, and I was tired, and about to go to bed, when some village stragglers entered and began to sing. They sang to Garibaldi ! The tenor, a ragged fellow, whose clothes were not worth a shilling, took the " GARIBALDI !" load with wonderful expression and feeling. The others kept their places, and sang in admirable time. For hours I sat enchanted ; and, long after I retired, the sound of their melody could be heard, relieved at times by the trel)le of tlie girl who belonged to the inn. The next morning I passed the little lakes, which are the sources of the Po, on my way into France. The weather was stormy, and misinterpreting the patois of some natives — who in reality pointed out the right way — I missed the track, and found myself under the cliffs of Monte Viso. A gap that was occa- sionally seen, in the ridge connecting it with the mountains to the east, tempted me up ; and, after a battle with a snow-slope of excessive steepness, I reached the snniniii. The scene was extra- ordinary, and, in my experience, uni(jue. To tlic nortli there was CHAP. I. STORM ON THE COL DE LAUTABET. 11 not a particle of mist, and the violent wind coming from that direction blew one back staggering. But on the side of Italy, the valleys were completely filled with dense masses of cloud to a certain level; and there — -where they felt the influence of the wind — they were cut off as level as the top of a table, the ridges appearing above them. I raced down to Abries, and went on through the gorge of the Guil to Mont Dauphin. The next day found me at La Bessee, at the junction of the Val Louise with the valley of the Durance, in full view of Mont Pelvoux ; and by chance I walked into a cabaret where a Frenchman was breakfasting, who, a few days before, had made an unsuccessful attempt to ascend that mountain with three Englishmen and the guide Michel Croz of Chamounix ;* a right good fellow, by name Jean Eeynaud. The same night I slept at Brianfon, intending to take the courier on the following day to Grenoble ; but all places had been secured several days beforehand, so I set out at two p.m. on the next day for a seventy-mile walk. The weather was again bad ; and on the summit of the Col de Lautaret I was forced to seek shelter in the wretched little hospice. It was filled with work- men who were employed on the road, and with noxious vapours which proceeded from them. The inclemency of the weather was preferable to the inhospitality of the interior. Outside, it was disagreeable, but grand ; inside, it was disagreeable and mean.j The walk was continued under a deluge of rain, and I felt the way down — so intense was the darkness — to the village of La Grave, where the people of the inn detained me forcibly. It was perhaps fortunate that they did so ; for, during that night, blocks of rock fell at several places from the clifis on to the road with such force that they made large pits in the macadam. I resumed * I had been sent to the Val Louise to illustrate this ascent. f Since that time a decent house has been built on the summit of this pass. The old vaulted hospice was erected for the benefit of the pilgrims who formerly crossed the pass eji route for Konie. — Joanne's liine'niire du Dauphiue. 12 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEREORN. the walk at half-past five the uext morning, and proceeded, under steady rain, through Bourg d'Oysans to Grenoble, arriving at the latter place soon after seven p.m., having accomplished the entire distance from Briancon in about eighteen hours of actual walking. This was the end of the Alpine portion of my tour of 18G0, on which I was introduced to the great peaks, and acquired the passion for mountain-scrambling, the development of which is described in the following chapters. ---^- A BIT OF THF. VII.I.ACK OF ZERMATT. BRIANCON J0^ CHAPTER II. THE ASCENT OF MONT PELVOUX. " Tlius fortune ou our first endeavoiu" smiles." VlBGlL. The district of which Mont Pelvoux and the neighbouring summits are the culminating points,* is, both liistorically and topographic- ally, one of the most interesting in the Alps. As the nursery and the home of the Vaudois, it has claims to permanent attention. The names of Waldo and of Neff will be remembered when men * Sue the Map iu Chap. A'lII. 14 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chai>. ii. more famous in their time will be forgotten ; and the memory of the heroic courage and the simple piety of their disciples will endure as long as history lasts. This district contains the highest summits in France, and some of its finest scenery. It has not perhaps the beauties of Switzer- land, but has charms of its own ; its cliffs, its torrents, and its gorges are unsurpassed ; its deep and savage valleys present pictures of grandeur, and even sublimity, and it is second to none in the boldness of its mountain forms. The district includes a mass of valleys which vie with each other in singularity of character and dissimilarity of climate. Some the rays of the sun can never reach, they are so deep and narrow.* In others the very antipodes may be found ; the temperature more like that of the plains of Italy than of Alpine France. This great range of climate has a marked effect on the flora of these valleys. Sterility reigns in some ; stones take the place of trees ; debris and mud replace plants and flowers : in others, in the space of a few miles, one passes vines, apple^ pear, and cherry trees, the birch, alder, walnut, ash, larch, and'pine, alternating with fields of rye, barley, oats, beans, and potatoes. The valleys are for the most part short and erratic. They are not, apparently, arranged on any definite plan. They are not dis- posed, as is frequently the case elsewhere, either at right angles to, or parallel with, the highest summits ; but they wander hither and thitjier, take one direction for a few miles, then double back, and tlicn perhaps resume their original course. Thus, long per- spectives are rarely to be seen, and it is difficult to form a general idea of the disposition of the peaks. The highest summits are arranged almost in a horse-shoe form. The highest of all, which occupies a central position, is the Pointe * Tlie dcptli of tlio valleys id so great that the sun not only is not seen for more than a few hour.s \>cv day during the greatest portion of the year, but in some places — at Villard d' Arc-no and at Andrieux for example — it is not seen at all for one iiuiidred days. — Ladinici tli's Jlduks-Alju's, p. 509. CHAP. ir. THE VALLEYS OF DAUPHINE. 15 ties Ecrins ; the second in lieight, the Meije,* is on the north ; and the Mont Pelvonx, which gives its name to the entire hlock, stands almost detaclied by itself on the outside. The district is still very imperfectly known ; there are probably many valleys, and there are certainly many summits which have never been trodden by the feet of tourists or travellers ; but in 1861 it was even less known. Until quite recently there was, practically, no map of it ; t General Bourcet's, which was the best that was pub- lished, was completely wrong in its delineation of the mountains, and was frequently incorrect in regard to paths or roads. The mountainous regions of Dauphine, moreover, are not supplied, like Switzerland, Tyrol, or even the Italian valleys, with accommodation for travellers. The inns, when they exist, are often filthy beyond description ; rest is seldom obtained in their beds, or decent food found in their kitchens, and there are no local guides worth having. The tourist is thrown very much on his own resources, and it is not therefore surprising that these districts are less visited and less known than the rest of the Alps. Most of the statements current in 1861 respecting these moun- tains had been derived from two authors t — M. Elie de Beaumont * Sometimes called the Aiguille du Midi de la Grave, or the Aiguille de la Meilje. t The maps of the Dauphine Alps to Ball's Guide to the Western Alps, and to Joanne's Itineraire du Dauphine, must be exeef)teil. These maps are, however, on too small a scale for travelling purposes. X " Fails pour servir a I'Histoire des Montagues de I'Oisans," by Elie de Beaumout, iu the Annales des Mines. Norway and its Glaciers ; followed hij Excursions in the Iligli Alps of Dauphine. By J. D. Forbes. The following works also treat more or less of tiie districts referred to in this chapter : — Outline Sketches in the Uii"—Dollfus-AugHt. THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEIillOnN. BUTTRESSES OF MONT TELVOUX. tliut beliiiul the rringo of piiuuiclcs we did see tliere was a top, and that it was the edge of tlie plateau we so much desired to attain. Up we mounted, and reached the pinnacles ; hut, lo ! another set was seen, — and another, — and yet more — till at last we reached the top, and found it was only a buttress, and that we must descend 40 or 50 feet before we could commence to mount again. When this operation had been performed a few dozen times, it began to be weari- some, especially as we were in the dark as to our where- abouts. Scmiond, how- ever, encouraged us, and said he knew we were on the right route, — so away we went once more. It was now nearly mid-day, and we seemed no nearer the sum- mit of the Pelvoux than when we started. At last we all joined together and held a council, " Semiond, old friend, do you know where we are- now ? " " Oh yes, perfectly, to a yard and a half." " Well, then, how much are we below this plateau ?" He affirmed we were not half-an-hour from the edge of the snow. " Very good ; let us proceed." Half-an-liour passed, and then another, but we were still in the same state, — pinnacles, buttresses, and gullies were in profusion, but the plateau was not in sight. So we called him again — for he had been staring about latterly, as if in doubt— and repeated the question. " How far below are we now ? " Well, he thought it might be half-an-hour more. "But you said that just now; are you sure we are going right?" Yes, he believed we were. Believed ! that would not do. " Are you sure we are going right for tlie Pic des Arcines ? " "Pic des Arcines ! " he ejacu- lated in astonishment, as if he had heard the words for the first time. " Pic des Arcines ; no ! but for the pyramid, the celebrated pyramid he had helped the great Capitaine Durand," &c. Here was a lix ; — we ]iad been talking about it to liim for a CHAP. 11. A CHASE. 27 whole day, and now he confessed he knew nothing abont it. I turned to Eeynaiid, Avho seemed thnnderstruck. " What did he suggest ? " He shrugged his shoulders. " Well," we said, after explaining our minds pretty freely to Semiond, " the sooner we turn back the better, for we have no wish to see your pyramid." We halted for an hour, and then commenced the descent. It took us nearly seven hours to come down to our rock ; but I paid no heed to the distance, and do not remember anything about it. When we got down we made a discovery which affected us as much as the footprint in the sand did Eobinsou Crusoe : a blue silk veil lay by our fireside. There was but one explanation, — Macdonald had arrived ; but where was he ? We soon packed our baggage, and tramped in the dusk, through the stony desert, to Alefred, where we arrived about half-past nine. " Where is the English- man ? " was the first question. He was gone to sleej) at La Ville. We passed that night in a hay-loft, and in the morning, after settling with Semiond, posted down to catch Macdonald. We had already determined on the plan of operation, which was to get him to join us, return, and be independent of all guides, simply taking the best man we could get as a porter. I set my heart on Griraud, — a good fellow, with no pretence, although in every respect up to the work. We were disappointed ; he was obliged to go to Brianfon. The walk soon became exciting. The natives inquired the result of our expedition, and common civility obliged us to stop. But I was afraid of losing my man, for it was said he would wait only till ten o'clock, and that time was near at hand. At last I dashed over the bridge, — time from Alefred an hour and a quarter. A cantonnier stopped me, saying that the Englishman had just started for La Bessee. I rushed after him, turned angle after angle of the road, but could not see him ; at last, as I came round a corner, he was also just turning another, going very fast. I 28 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOBN. chap. ii. shouted, and luckily lie heard me. We returned, reprovisioned ourselves at La Ville, and the same evening saw us passing our first rock, en route for another. I have said we determined to take no guide ; but, on passing La Pisse, old Semiond turned out and offered his services. He went well, in spite of his years and dis- regard of truth. " Why not take him ? " said my friend. So we offered him a fifth of his previous pay, and in a few seconds he closed with the offer. This time he came in an inferior position, — we were to lead, he to follow. Our second follower was a youth of twenty-seven years, who was not all that could be desired. He drank Eeynaud's wine, smoked our cigars, and quietly secreted the provisions when we were nearly starving. Discovery of his proceedings did not at all disconcert him, and he finished up by getting several items added to our bill at La Ville, which, not a little to his disgust, we disallowed. This night we fixed our camp high above the tree-line, and indulged ourselves in the healthy employment of carrying our fuel up to it. The j^resent rock was not so comfortable as the first, and, before we could settle down, we were obliged to turn out a large mass which was in the way. It was very obstinate, but moved at length ; slowly and gently at first, then faster and faster, at last taking great jumps in the air, striking a stream of fire at every touch, which shone out brightly as it entered the gloomy valley below, and long after it was out of sight, we heard it bounding downwards, and then settle with a subdued crash on the glacier beneath. As we turned back from this curious sight, Keynaud asked if we had ever seen a torrent on fire, and told us that in the spring the Durance, swollen by the melting of the snow, some- times brings down so many rocks that, where it passes through a narrow gorge at La Bessee, no water whatever is seen, but only boulders rolling over and over, grinding each other into powder, and striking 'so many sparks that the stream looks as if it were on fire. W(; liiid ;uu)tljor merry evening witli nothing to mar it ; the A STONE AVALANCHE. 29 weather was perfect, and we lay backward in luxurious repose, looking at the sky spangled with its ten thousand brilliant lights. ' ' The ranges stood Transfigured in the silver flood, Tlieir snows were flashing cold and keen. Dead white, save where some sharp ravine Took shadow, or the sombre green Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black. Against the whiteness at their back." * ^ !'i\ \ Macdonald related his experiences over the cafe noir. He had travelled day and night for several days in order to join us, but had failed to find our first bivouac, and had camped a few hundred yards from us under another rock, higher up the mountain. The next morning he discerned us going along a ridge at a great height above him, and as it was useless to endeavour to over- take us, he lay down and watched with a heavy heart until we had turned the corner of a buttress, and vanished out of sight Nothing but the heavy breathing of our already sound asleep comrades broke the solemn stillness of the night. It was a silence to be felt. Nothing ? Hark ! what is that dull booming sound above us ? Is that nothing ? There it is again, plainer— on it comes, nearer, clearer ; 'tis a crag escaped from the heights above ! What a fearful crash ! We jump to our feet. Down it comes with awful fury; what power can withstand its violence? Dancing, leaping, flying ; dashing against others ; roaring as it descends. Ah, it has passed ! No ; there it is again, and we hold our breath, as, with resistless force and explosions like artillery, it darts past, with an avalanche of shattered fragments trailing in its rear ! 'Tis * J. G. Whittier, " iSnow-Bound." 30 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBIIOnN. ciiap. ti. gone, and we breathe more freely as we Lear tlie finale on the glacier below.* We retired at last, but I was too excited to sleep. At a quarter- past four every man once more shouldered his pack and started. This time we agreed to keep more to the right, to see if it were not possible to get to the plateau without losing any time by crossing the glacier. To describe our route would be to repeat what has been said before. We mounted steadily for an hour and a half, sometimes walking, though more frequently climbing, and then found, after all, that it was necessary to cross the glacier. The part on which we struck came down a very steep slope, and was much crevassed. The word crevassed hardly expresses its appearance — it was a mass of formidable seracs. We found, however, more difficulty in getting on than across it ; and, thanks to the rope, it was passed in safety. Then the interminable buttresses began again. Hour after hour we proceeded upwards, frequently at fault, and obliged to descend. The ridge behind us had sunk long ago, and we looked over it, and all others, till our eyes rested on the majestic Yiso. Hour after hour passed, and monotony was the order of the day. When twelve o'clock came we lunched, and contemplated the scene with satis- faction ; all the summits in sight, with the single exception of the Yiso, liad given in, and we looked over an immense expanse — a perfect sea of peaks and snow-fields. Still the pinnacles rose above us, and opinions were freely uttered that we should see no summit of Pelvoux that day. Old Semiond had become a perfect bore to all ; whenever one rested for a moment to look about, he would say, with a complacent chuckle, " Don't be afraid, follow me." We came at last to a very bad piece, rotten and steep, and no hold. Here Eeynaud and Macdonald confessed to being tired, and talked of going to sleep. A way was discovered out of the difficulty ; then some one called out, " Look at the Yiso ! " and we saw that we * M. Puiscux, on his expedition of 1848, was siirpiiscd, when at hieakfast on tlie siile of tlic mountain, by a mass of rock of more tlian a ciihic yard falling like a homl) at his hidf, which threw iiji .splinters in all directions. THE no DBS ABCINES. 31 almost looked over it. We worked away with redoubled energy, and at length caught sight of the head of the glacier as it streamed out of the plateau. This gave us fresh hopes ; we were not de- ceived ; and with a simultaneous shout we greeted the appearance of our long-wished-for snows. A large crevasse separated us from them ; but a bridge was found ; we tied ourselves in line, and moved safely over it. Directly we got across, there rose before us MONT PELVOUX PIC DE LA PYBAMIOE HIGHEST POINT 12,920 GRAND PELVOUX DE VAL LOUISE 12,3*3 a fine snow-capped peak. Old Semiond cried, " The pyramid ! I see the pyramid!" " Where, Semiond, where ? " "There; on the top of that peak." There, sure enough, was the cairn he had helped to erect more than thirty years before. Where was the Pic des Arcines which we were to see ? It was nowhere visible — there was only a great expanse of snow, bordered by three lower peaks. Somewhat sadly we moved towards the pyramid, sighing that there was no other to conquer ; but hardly had we gone two hundred paces, before there rose a superb white cone on the left, which had been hidden before by a slope of snow. We shouted, " The Pic des Arcines ! " and 32 THE ASCENT OF THE MA TTERHORN. cii.vr. ii. inquired of Semiond if lie knew ^Y]lotlle^ tliat peak had been ascended. As for liim, lie knew nothing;, except that the peak before us was called the pyramid, from the cairn he had, etc. etc., and that it had not been ascended since. "All right then — face about," and we immediately turned at right angles for the cone, the porter making faint struggles for his beloved pyramid. Our progress was stopped, in the sixth of a mile, by the edge of the ridge connecting the two peaks, and we perceived that it curled over in a lovely volute. We involuntarily retreated. Semiond, who was last in the line, took the opportunity to untie himself, and refused to come on ; said we were running dangerous risks,, and talked vaguely of crevasses. We tied him up again, and proceeded. The snow was very soft ; we were always knee-deep, and sometimes floundered in up to the waist ; but a simultaneous jerk before and behind always released one. By this time we had arrived at the foot of the final peak. The left-hand ridge seemed easier than that upon which we stood, so we curved round to get to it. Some rocks peeped out 150 feet below the summit, and up these we crawled, leaving our porter behind, as he said he was afraid. I could not resist the temptation, as we went off, to turn round and beckon him onwards, saying, " Don't be afraid — follow me," but he did not answer to the appeal, and never went to the top. The rocks led to a short ridge of ice — our plateau on one side, and a nearly vertical precipice on the other. IMacdonald cut up it, and at a quarter to two we stood shaking hands on the loftiest summit of the conquered Pelvoux. The day still continued everything that could be desired, and, far and near, countless peaks burst into sight, without a cloud to hide them. The mighty Mont Blanc, full seventy miles away, first caught our eyes, and then, still farther off, the Monte Piosa group ; while, rolling away to the east, one unknown range after another succeeded in unveiled splendour; fainter and fainter in tone, but still perfectly defined, till at last the eye was unable to distinguish sky from mountain, and they died away in the far-off horizon. CHAP. ir. VIEW FPiOM MONT PELVOUX. 33 Monte Viso rose up grandly, but it was less than forty miles away, and we looked over it to a hazy mass we knew must be the plains of Piedmont. Southwards a blue mist seemed to indicate the existence of the distant Mediterranean ; to the west we looked over to the mountains of Auvergne. Such was the panorama ; a view extending in nearly every direction for more than one hundred miles. It was with some difficulty we wrenched our eyes from the more distant objects to contemplate the nearer ones. Mont Dauphin was very conspicuous, but La Bessee was not readily perceived. Besides these places not a habitation could be seen ; all was rock, snow, or ice ; and, large as we knew were the snow- fields of Dauphine, we were surprised to find that they very far surpassed our most ardent imagination. Nearly in a line between us and the Viso, immediately to the soutli of Chateau Queyras, was a splendid group of mountains of great height. More to the south an unknown peak seemed still higher; while close to us we were astonished to discover that there was a mountain which appeared even higher than that on which we stood. At least this was my opinion ; Macdonald thought that it was not so high, and Eeynaud that it was much about the same elevation as our own peak. This mountain was distant a couple of miles or so, and was separated from us by a tremendous abyss, the bottom of which we could not see. On the other side rose this mighty wall-sided peak, too steep for snow, black as night, with sharp ridges and pointed summit. AVe were in complete ignorance of its whereabouts, for none of us had been on the other side. We imagined that La Berarde was in the abyss at our feet, although it was in reality beyond the other mountain.* * This mouutain is the cuhniuating jioint of the group, and is named on the French map, Pointe des Ecrins. It is seen from the Val Christophe, and from that direction its ridges completely conceal Mont Pelvoux. On the other side — that is, from the direction of La Bessee or tlie Val Lonise — the reverse is t)ie case : the Pelvoux completely conceals it. Unaware that this name was going to be applied to it, we gave the name Pic des Arcines or des Ecrins to our summit, in accordance witli the traditions of tlie natives. D 34 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBTIORN. chap. ir. We left the summit at last, and descended to the rocks and to our porter, where I boiled some water, obtained by melting snow. After we had fed, and smoked our cigars (liglited without difficulty from a common match), we found it was ten minutes past three, and high time to be off. We dashed, waded, and tumbled for twenty-five minutes through the snow, and then began the long descent of the rocks. It was nearly four o'clock, and, as it would be dark at eight, it was evident that there was no time to be lost, and we pushed on to the utmost. Notliing remarkable occurred going down. We kept rather closer to the glacier, and crossed at the same point as in the morning. Getting off it was like getting on it — rather awkward. Old Semiond had got over— so had Eeynaud ; Macdonald came next, but, as he made a long stretch to get on to a higher mass, he slipped, and would have been in the bowels of a crevasse in a moment liad he not been tied. It was nearly dark by the time we had crossed, yet I still hoped that we should be able to pass the night at our rock. Macdonald was not so sanguine, and he was right ; for at last we found our- selves quite at fault, and wandered helplessly up and down for an hour, while Eeynaud and the porter indulged in a little mutual abuse. The dreary fact, that, as we could not get down, we must stay where we were, was now quite apparent. We were at least 10,500 feet high, and if it commenced to rain or snow, as the gathering clouds and rising wind seemed to threaten, we might be in a sore pliglit. We were hungry, having eaten little since 3 a.m., and a torrent we heard close at hand, but could not discover, aggravated our thirst. Semiond endeavoured to get some water from it. AlthouG;h ho succeeded in doino; so, lie was wliolly unable to return, and avo had to solace him by shouting at intervals through the niglit. A more detestable locality for a night out of doors it is difficult to imagine. There was not shelter of any kind ; it was perfectly exposed to the chilly wind wliieli began to rise, and it was too steep to promenade. Loose rul)bly stones covered the ground, and CHAP. 11. SURPRISED BY NIGHT. 35 had to be removed before we could sit with any comfort. This was au advantage, although we hardly thought so at the time, as it gave us some employment, and, after an hour's active exercise of that interesting kind, I obtained a small strip about nine feet long, on which it was possible to walk. Keynaud was furious at first, and soundly abused the porter, whose opinion as to the route down had been followed rather than that of our friend, and at last settled down to a deep dramatic despair, and wrung his hands with frantic gesture, as he exclaimed, " Oh, malheur, malheur ! Oh miserables ! " Thunder commenced to growl, and lightning to play among the peaks above, and the wind, which had brought the temperature down to nearly freezing-point, began to chill us to the bones. We examined our resources. They were six and a half cigars, two boxes of vesuvians, one-third of a pint of brandy-and-water, and half-a-pint of spirits of wine : rather scant fare for three fellows who had to get through seven hours before daylight. The spirit- lamp was lighted, and the remaining spirits of wine, the brandy and some snow, were her.ted by it. It was a strong liquor, and we wished for more of it. When it was consumed, Macdonald endeavoured to dry his socks by the lamp, and then the three lay down 'under my plaid to pretend to sleep. Eeynaud's woes were aggravated by toothache ; Macdonald somehow managed to close his eyes. The longest night must end, and ours did at last. We got down to our rock in an hour and a quarter, and found the lad not a little surprised at our absence. He said he had made a gigantic fire to light us down, and shouted with all his might ; we neither saw the fire nor heard his shouts. He said we looked a ghastly crew, and no wonder ; it was our fourth night out. We feasted at our cave, and performed some very necessary ablutions. The persons of the natives are infested by certain agile creatures— rapid of motion, numerous, and voracious. It is dangerous to approach too near, and one has to study the wind, D 2 36 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOIiN. cnw. ir. SO as to get on their weatlier-side. In spite of all such pre- cautions my unfortunate companion and myself were being rapidly devoured alive. "We only expected a temporary lull of our tortures, for the interiors of the inns are like the exteriors of the natives, swarming with this species of animated creation. It is said that once, when these tormentors were filled with an unanimous desire, an unsuspecting traveller was dragged bodily from his bed ! This needs confirmation. One word more, and I have done with this vile subject. We returned from our ablutions, and found the Frenchmen engaged in conversation. " Kh. ! " said old Seruiond, " as to fleas, I don't pretend to be different to anyone else, — I hare fhem.'" This time he certainly spoke the truth. We got down to La Ville in good time, and luxuriated there for several days ; played many games of bowls with the natives, and were invariably beaten by them. At last it was necessary to part, and I walked to Abries, by way of Mont Dauphin and the gorge of the Guil towards Monte Yiso, while Macdonald went to Brianfon. I have not attempted to conceal that the ascent of Mont Pelvoux is of a rather monotonous character ; the view from its summit can, however, be confidently recommended. A glance at a map will show that, with the single exception of the Viso, whose position is unrivalled, it is better situated than any other mountain of considerable height for viewing the whole of the Western Alps. Our discovery that the peak which is to be called the Pointe des Ecrins was a separate and distinct mountain from Mont Pel- voux — and not its highest point — gave us satisfaction, although it was also rather of the nature of a disappointment. On our return to La Bessee we wrongly identified it with the peak which is seen from thence to the left of the Pelvoux. The two mountains bear a considerable resemblance to each other, so the mistake is not, ])orliaps, uii])ai-doiiiib]e. Although the latter ciiAi>. II. "YOU ABE A DESERTER!" ;}7 moniitain is one that is considerably higher than the Wetter- horn or Monte Viso, it has no name ; we called it the Pic Sans Nom. It has been observed by others that it is improbable the French surveyors should have remained for several days upon the Pic de la Pyramide without visiting the other and loftier summit. If they did, it is strange that they did not leave some memorial of their visit. The natives who accompanied them asserted that they did not pass from one to the other ; we therefore claimed to have made the ascent of the loftiest point for the first time. The claim, however, cannot be sustained, on account of the ascent of M. Puiseux. It is a matter of little moment ; the excursion had for us all the interest of a first ascent ; and I look back upon this, my first serious mountain scramble, with more satisfaction, and with as much pleasure as upon any that is recorded in this volume. A few days later, I left Abries to seek a quiet bundle of hay at Le Chalp — a village some miles nearer to the Yiso. On approach- ing the place, the odour of sanctity became distinctly perceptible ; and on turning a corner the cause was manifested — there was the priest of the place, surrounded by some of his flock. I advanced humbly, hat in hand, but almost before a word could be said, he broke out with, " Who are you ? " " What are you ? " " What do you want ? '' I endeavoured to explain. " You are a deserter ; I know you are a deserter ; go away, you can't stay here ; go to Le Monta, down there ; I won't have you here," and he literally drove me away. The explanation of his strange behaviour was, that Piedmontese soldiers who were tired of the service had not unfrequently crossed the Col de la Traversette into the valley, and trouble had arisen from harbouring them. However, I did not know this at the time, and was not a little indignant that I, who was marching to the attack, should be taken for a deserter. So I walked away, and shortly afterwards, as it was getting 38 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEUIlUltN. CHAT. II. dark, encamped iu a lovely hole — a cavity or kind of basin in tlie earth, with a stream on one side, a rock to windward, and some broken fir branches close at hand. Nothing could be more per- fect : rock, hole, wood, and water. After making a roaring fire, I nestled in my blanket bag (an ordinary blanket sewn up double lound the legs, with a piece of elastic riband round the open end), and sle})t, l)ut not for long. I was troubled with dreams of the k \\^& THE BLANKET BAG. rncjuisition ; the tortures were being applied — priests were forcing llras down my nostrils and into my eyes— and with red-hot })incers were taking out bits of flesh, and then cutting off my ears and tickling the soles of my feet. This was too much ; I yelled a great yell and awoke, to find myself covered with innumerable crawling bodies. They were ants; I had camped by an ant-hill, and, after making its inhabitants mad with the fire, had coolly lain down in their midst. The night was fine, and as I settled down in more comfortable (|n;ulers, a lirilliaiil jucteor sailed across full 00' of the cloudless CHAP. II. DEFEATED. .'M) sky, leaving a trail of light behind which lasted for several seconds. It was the herald of a splendid spectacle. Stars fell by hundreds ; and not dimmed by intervening vapours, they sparkled with greater brightness than Sirius in our damp climate. The next morning, after walking up the valley to examine the Viso, I returned to Abries, and engaged a man from a neighbouring hamlet, an inveterate smoker, and thirsty in proportion, whose pipe never left his mouth except to allow him to drink. We returned up the valley together, and slept in a hut of a shepherd, whose yearly wage was almost as small as that of the herdsman spoken of in Hyperion by Longfellow ; and the next morning, in his company, proceeded to the summit of the pass which I had crossed in 1860. We were baffled in our attempt to get closer to the mountain. A deep notch * with precipitous cliffs cut us off from it. The snow-slope, too, which existed in the preceding year on the Piedmontese side of the pass, was now wanting, and we were unable to descend the rocks which lay beneath. A fort- night afterwards the mountain was ascended for the first time by Messrs. Mathews and Jacomb, with the two Croz's of Chamounix. Their attempt was made from the southern side, and the ascent, which was formerly considered a thing totally impossible, has become one of the most common and favourite excursions of the district. The night of the 14th of August found me at St. Yeran, a village made famous by Ne£f, but in no other respect remarkable, saving that it is one of the highest in Europe. The poor inn gave the impression of great poverty. There was no meat, no bread, * There arc three cols or passes close to Moute Viso on its uorthern side, which lead from the valley of the Po into that of the Guil. The deep notch spoken of above is the nearest to the monutain, and although it is by far the lowest gap in that part of the chain, and wonld seem to be the true Col Yiso, it does not appear to be used as a pass. The second, which I crossed in 1860, has the name Col del Color del Porco given to it upon the Sardinian map ! The third is the Col de la Traversctte ; and this, although higher than at least one of those mentioned above, is that which is used by the natives who pass from one valley to the other. 40 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEREOBN. no butter or cheese ; almost the only tilings that could be obtained were eggs. The manners of the natives were primitive. The woman of the inn, without the least sense of impropriety, stayed in the room until I was fairly in bed, and her bill for supper, bed, and breakfast, amounted to one and sevenpence. In this neighbourhood, and indeed all round about the Viso, the chamois still remain in considerable numbers. They said at St. Veran that six had been seen from the village on the day I was there, and the innkeeper declared that he had seen fifty together in the previous week ! I myself saw in this and in the previous NAI'UKAL riLI.AU NEAK MOI.INES. soasoJi severul sjuali cduipanics I'ound about the Viso. It is pciliajis as favourable a district as any in tlic Alps for a sjxuisnian wlio ciiAP. II. lIAliD FAllE. 41 wishes to hunt the chamois, as the ground over whicli they wander is hy uo means of excessive difficulty. The next day I descended the valley to Ville Vieille, and passed near the village of Molines, hut on the opposite side of the valley, a remarkable natural pillar, in form not unlike a champagne bottle, about sixty feet high, which had been produced by the action of the weather, and, in all probability, chiefly by rain. These natural pillars are among the most remarkable examples of the potent effects produced by the long-continued action of quiet- working forces. They are found in several other places in the Alps, as well as elsewhere. The village of Ville Vieille boasts of an inn with the sign of the Elephant ; which, in the opinion of local amateurs, is a proof that Hannibal passed through the gorge of the Guil. I remember the place, because its bread, being only a month old, was unusually soft, and, for the first time during ten days, it was possible to eat some, without first of all chopping it into small pieces and soaking it in hot water, which produced a slimy paste on the outside, but left a hard untouched kernel. The same day I crossed the Col Isoard to Briangon. It was the 15th of August, and all the world was en fete; sounds of revelry proceeded from the houses of Servieres as I passed over the bridge upon which the pyrrhic dance is annually performed,* and natives in all degrees of inebriation staggered about the paths. It was late before the lights of the great fortress came into sight; but unchal- lenged I passed through the gates, and once more sought shelter under the roof of the Hotel de I'Ours. * tSec Ladoucctto's Uautes-AliKS, \). 5i)(j. CHAPTER III. MV FIIIST SCRAMBLE OX THE .MATTElillOPvX. " Wliat power must have been required to shatter and to sweep away the luiswiiig parts of this pyramid ; for we do not see it surrounded by heaps of frag- ments ; one only sees other peaks — themselves rooteti to the ground — whose sides, equally rent, indicate an immense mass of debris, of which we do not see any trace in tlu; neighbourhood. Doubtless this is that deljris which, in the form of pebbles, boulders, and sand, covers our valleys and our plains." Dk Saissure. Two summits amongst tliose in the Alps wliieli yet remained virgin had especially excited my admiration. One of tLese had been attacked numberless times by the best mountaineers without success ; the other, surrounded by traditional inaccessibility, was almost untouched. These mountains were the Weisshorn and the Matterhorn. After visiting the great tunnel of the Alps in 1861, 1 wandered for ten days in the neighbouring valleys, intending, presently, to attempt the ascent of these two peaks, liumours were floating about that the former had been conquered, and that the latter was shortly to be attacked, and they were confirmed on arrival at Chatillon, at the entrance of the Val Tournanche. My interest in the Weisshorn consequently abated, but it was raised to the highest pitch on hearing that Professor Tyndall was at Breil, and intending to try to crown his first victory by another and still greater one. Up to this time my experience with guides had not been fortunate, and I was inclined, improperly, to rate them at a low value. They represented to me pointers out of paths, and large consumers of meat and drink, but little more ; and, with the re- collection of Mont Pclvoux, I should have greatly preferred the CHAP. III. THE MATTElillUliN. 43 company of a couple of my countrymen to any number of guides. In answer to inquiries at Chatillon, a series of men came forward, whose faces expressed malice, pride, envy, hatred, and roguery of every description, but who seemed to be destitute of all good qualities. The arrival of two gentlemen wdth a guide, who they represented Avas the embodiment of every virtue, and exactly the man for the Matterhorn, rendered it unnecessary to engage any of the others. My new guide in jiJnjsiqut was u combination of Chang and Anak ; and although in acquiring him I did not obtain exactly what was wanted, his late employers did exactly what tliei/ wanted, for I obtained the responsibility, without knowledge, of paying his back fare, which must have been a relief at once to their minds and to their purses. When walking up towards Breil,* w^e inquired for another man of all the know'ing ones, and they, with one voice, proclaimed that Jean-Antoine Carrel, of the village of Val Tournanche, w'as the cock of his valley. We sought, of course, for Carrel ; and found him a well-niade, resolute-looking fellow, with a certain defiant air which was rather taking. Yes, he would go. Twenty francs a day, what- ever was the result, was his price. I assented. But I must take ' his comrade. " Why so ? " Oh, it was absolutely impossible to I-|IIIC1I lilllsl lie CXfcptcil. JEAN-ANTOIXE CARREL. .jl the comrade. " Oh ho ! " I said, " yon have repented ?" " Not at all; you deceive yourself." "Why then have you come here?" " Because we ourselves are going on the mountain to-morrow." " Oh, then it is not necessary to have more than three." " Not for us." I admired their pluck, and had a strong inclination to engao-e the pair ; but, finally, decided against it. The comrade turned out to be the J. J. Carrel who had been with Mr. Hawkins, and was nearly related to the other man. JEAN-ANTOINE CARREL (1869). Both were bold mountaineers ; but Jean-Antoine was incom- parably the better man of the two, and he is the finest rock-climber I have ever seen. He was the only man who persistently refused to accept defeat, and who continued to believe, in spite of all dis- couragements, that the great mountain was not inaccessible, and that it could be ascended from the side of his native valley. The night wore away without any excitement, except from the fleas, a party of whom executed a spirited fandango on my cheek, to the sound of music produced on the drum of my ear, by one of their fellows beating with a wisp of hay. The two Carrels crept 52 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEREORN. chap. hi. noiselessly out before daybreak, and went off. We did not start nntil nearly seven o'clock, and followed tliem leisurely, leaving all our properties in tlie cow-slied ; sauntered over the gentian-studded slopes which intervene between the shed and the Glacier du Lion, left cows and their pastures behind, traversed the stony wastes, and arrived at the ice. Old, hard beds of snow lay on its right bank (our left hand), and we mounted over them on to the lower portion of the glacier with ease. But, as we ascended, crevasses became numerous, and we were at last brought to a halt by some which were of very large dimensions ; and, as our cutting powers were limited, we sought an easier route, and turned, naturally, to the lower rocks of the Tete du Lion, which overlook the glacier on its west. Some good scrambling took us in a short time on to the crest of the ridge which descends towards the south ; and thence, up to the level of the Col du Lion, there was a long natural stair- case, on which it was seldom necessary to use the hands. We dubbed the place " The Great Staircase." Then the cliffs of the Tcte du Lion, which rise above the Couloir, had to be skirted. This part varies considerably in different seasons, and in 18G1 we found it difficult ; for the fine steady weather of that year had reduced the snow-beds abutting against it to a lower level than usual, and the rocks which were left exposed at the junction of the snow with the clifi's, had few ledges or cracks to which we could hold. But by half-past ten o'clock we stood on the Col, and looked down upon the magnificent basin out of which the Z'Mutt glacier flows. We decided to pass the night upon the Col, for we were charmed with the capabilities of the place, although it was one where liberties could not be taken. On one side a sheer wall overhung the Tiefenmatten glacier. On the other, steep, glassy slopes of hard snow descended to the Glacier du Lion, furrowed by water and by falling stones. On the north there was the great peak of the Mat- terhorn,* and on the south the cliffs of the Tcte du Lion. Throw * Tiic eiigriiving i.s iiiiulc after a skctcli taken from the n)ckts <>f the Matterhoni just ulx)ve Uio ( Vil, CHAP. III. MY FIUST CAMP ON THE MOUNTAIN. 53 a bottle down to the Tiefenmatten — no sound returns for more than a dozen seconds, * * * " how fearful And dizz}' 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low ! " Ik i im / lb] . A THE COL DU lion: LOOKING TOWARDS THE TETE LU LION. But no harm could come from that side. Neither could it from the other. Nor was it likely that it would from the Tete du Lion, for some jutting ledges conveniently overhung our proposed resting- place. We waited for a while, basked in the sunshine, and watched 54 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. iti. or listened to the Carrels, who were sometimes seen or heard, high ahove us, upon the ridge leading towards the summit ; and, leaving at mid-da}', we descended to the cow-shed, packed up the tent and other proj)erties, and returned to the Col, although heavily laden, before six o'clock. This tent w^as constructed on a pattern suggested by Mr. Francis Galton, and it was not a success. It looked very pretty when set up in London, but it proved thoroughly useless in the Alps. It was made of light canvas, and opened like a book ; had one end closed permanently and the other with flaps ; it was supported by two alpenstocks, and had the canvas sides prolonged so as to turn in underneath. Numerous cords were sewn to the lower edges, to which stones were to be attached ; but the main fastenings were by a cord which passed underneath the ridge and through iron rings screwed into the tops of the alpenstocks, and were secured by pegs. The wind, which playfully careered about the surrounding cliffs, was driven through our gap with the force of a blow-pipe ; the flaps of the tent would not keep down, the pegs would not stay in, and it exhibited so marked a desire to go to the top of the Dent Blanche, that we thought it prudent to take it dowm and to sit upon it. When night came on we wrapped our- selves in it, and made our camp as comfortable as the circumstances would allow. The silence was impressive. No living thing was near our solitary bivouac ; the Carrels had turned back and were out of hearing ; the stones had ceased to fall, and the trickling water to murmur — " The music of whose liquid lij) Had been to us comixinionsliip, And, in our lonely life, had grown To liave an almost hmuan tone." * It was bitterly cold. Water froze hard in a bottle under my head. Not surprising, as wo were actually on snow, and in a position where the slightest wind was at once felt. For a time we dozed, but about midnight there came from high aloft a tremendous * J. a. Whitticr. ciiAi'. III. LIGHT AND SHADE. ob explosion, followed by a second of dead quiet. A great mass of rock had split off, and was descending towards us. My guide started up, wrung his hands, and exclaimed, " my God, we are lost ! " We heard it coming, mass after mass pouring over the precipices, bounding and rebounding from cliff to cliff, and the great rocks in advance smiting one another. They seemed to be close, although they were probably distant, but some small frag- ments, which dropped upon us at the same time from the ledges just above, added to the alarm, and my demoralised companion passed the remainder of the night in a state of shudder, ejaculating " terrible," and other adjectives. We put ourselves in motion at daybreak, and commenced the ascent of the south-west ridge. There was no more sauntering with hands in the pockets ; each step had to be earned by downright climbing. But it was the most pleasant kind of climbing. The rocks were fast and unencumbered with debris ; the cracks were good, although not numerous, and there was nothing to fear except from one's-self. So we thought, at least, and shouted to awake echoes from the clifls. Ah ! there is no response. Not yet ; wait a while, everything here is upon a superlative scale ; count a dozen, and then the echoes will return from the walls of the Dent d'Herens, miles away, in waves of pure and undefiled sound ; soft, musical, and sweet. Halt a moment to regard the view ! We overlook the Tete du Lion, and nothing except the Dent d'Herens, whose summit is still a thousand feet above us, stands in the way. The ranges of the Graian Alps— an ocean of mountains— are seen at a glance, governed by their three great peaks, the Grivola, Grand Paradis, and Tour de St. Pierre. How soft, and yet how sharp, they look in the early morning ! The mid-day mists have not begun to rise ; nothing is obscured ; even the pointed Viso, all but a hundred miles away, is perfectly defined. Turn to the east, and watch the sun's slanting rays coming across the Monte Piosa snow-fields. Look at the shadowed parts, and see how even they— radiant with reflected light— are more 56 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOEN. chap. hi. brilliant than man knoAvs liow to depict. See, how — even there — the gentle undulations give shadows within shadows ; and how — yet again — where falling stones or ice have left a track, there are shadows upon shadows, each with a light and a dark side, with infinite gradations of matchless tenderness. Then, note the sun- light as it steals noiselessly along, and reveals countless unsuspected forms; — the delicate ripple-lines which mark the concealed crevasse, and the waves of drifted snow ; producing each minute more lights and fresh shadows ; sparkling on the edges and glittering on the ends of the icicles ; shining on the heights and illuminating the depths, until all is aglow, and the dazzled eye returns for relief to the sombre crags. Hardly an hour had passed since we left the Col before we arrived at the " Chimney." It proved to be the counterpart of the place to which reference has been made at p. 3 ; a smooth, straight slab of rock was fixed, at a considerable angle, between two others equally smooth.* My companion essayed to go up, and, after crumpling his long body into many ridiculous positions, he said that he would not, for he could not, do it. With some little trouble I got up it unassisted, and then my guide tied himself on to the end of our rope, and I endeavoured to pull him up. But he was so awkward that he did little for himself, and so heavy that he proved too much for me, and after several attempts he untied him- self, and quietly observed that he should go down. I told him he was a coward, and he mentioned his opinion of me. I requested him to go to Breil, and to say that he had left his " monsieur " on the mountain, and he turned to go ; whereupon I had to eat humble pie and ask him to come back ; for, althougli it was not very diflicult to go up, and not at all dangerous witli a man standing below, it was quite another thing to come down, as the lower edge overhung in a provoking manner. The day was perfect ; the sun was pouring down grateful * yir. ]lii\vkiii> I'Ll'erri'il In tliis jdacc as duo of excessive (liilieiiKy. ]le, however, found it eoiiteel witli ice; we found it free from ice. CHAP. III. A COOL PROCEEDING. 57 warmth ; the wind had fallen ; the way seemed clear, no insuper- able obstacle was in sight ; yet what could one do alone ? I stood on the top, chafing under this unexpected contretemps, and re- mained for some time irresolute ; but as it became apparent that the Chimney was swept more frequently than was necessary (it was a natural channel for falling stones), I turned at last, de- scended with the assistance of my companion, and returned with him to Breil, where we arrived about mid-day. The Carrels did not show themselves, but we were told that they had not got to any great height,* and that the " comrade," who for convenience had taken off his shoes and tied them round his waist, had managed to let one of them slip, and had come down with a piece of cord fastened round his naked foot. Notwith- standing this, they had boldly glissaded down the Couloir du Lion, J. J. Carrel having his shoeless foot tied up in a pocket handkerchief. The Matterhorn was not assailed again in 18G1. I left Breil with the conviction that it was little use for a single tourist to organise an attack upon it, so great was its influence on the morals of the guides, and persuaded that it was desirable at least two should go, to back each other when required : and departed with my guide t over the Col Theodule, longing, more than before, to make the ascent, and determined to return, if possible with a companion, to lay siege to the mountain until one or the other was vanquished. * I leiirncd afterwards from Jean-Aiitoine Carrel that they got cousidcral>ly higher than upon their previous attempts, and about 250 or 300 feet higher than Professor Tyndall in 1860. In 18(32 I saw the initials of J. A. Carrel cut on tlic rocks at tlie place where he and liis comrade had turned back. t This man proved to be Iwtli willing and useful on lower ground, and volmitarily accompanied me a considerable distance out of his way, without fee or reward. CHAPTEE IV. KENEWED ATTEMPTS TO ASCEND THE MATTERllOKN. " 'Tis a lessou ynu slitmld heeJ, Try, try, try again. If at first you don't succeed, Try, try, try again. Then yoiu' courage should appear, For if you will persevere You will conquer, never fear. Try, try, try again." HiCKSON. The year 1862 was still young, and the Matterbovn, clad in its wintry garb, bore but little resemblance to the Matterborn of the summer, when a new force came to do battle with the mountain, from another direction. Mr. T, S. Kennedy of Leeds conceived the extraordinary idea that the peak might prove less impracticable in January than in June, and arrived at Zermatt in the former month to put his conception to the test. AVitli stout Peter Perm and sturdy Peter Taugwalder he slept in the little chapel at the Schwarzensee, and on the next morning, like the Messrs. Parker, followed the ridge between the peak called Hornli and the great mountain. But they found that snow in winter obeyed the ordi- nary laws, and that the wind and frost were not less unkind than in summer. " The wind whirled up the snow and spicula3 of ice into our faces like needles, and flat pieces of ice a foot in diameter, carried up from the glacier below, went flying past. Still no one seemed to like to be the first to give in, till a gust fiercer than usual forced us to shelter for a time behind a rock. Immediately it was tacitly understood that our expedition must now end ; but we CHAP. IV. BENNEN EE FUSES TO START AGAIN. 59 determined to leave some memento of our visit, and, after descend- ing a considerable distance, we found a suitable place with loose stones of which to build a cairn. In half-an-hour a tower six feet high was erected ; a bottle, with the date, was placed inside, and we retreated as rapidly as possible." * This cairn was placed at the spot marked upon Dufour's Map of Switzerland 10,820 feet (3298 metres), and the highest point attained by Mr. Kennedy was not, I imagine, more than two or three hundred feet above it. Shortly after this Professor Tyndall gave, in his little tract Mountaineering in 1861, an account of the reason why he had left Breil, in August 1861, without doing anything.f It seems that he sent his guide Bennen to reconnoitre, and that the latter made the following report to his employer : — " Herr, I have examined the mountain carefully, and find it more difficult and dangerous than I had imagined. There is no place upon it where we could well pass the night. We might do so on yonder Col upon the snow, but there we should be almost frozen to death, and totally unfit for the work of the next day. On the rocks there is no ledge or cranny which could give us proper harbourage ; and starting from Breuil it is certainly impossible to reach the summit in a single day." " I was entirely taken aback," says Tyndall, " by this report. 1 felt like a man whose grip had given way, and who was dropping through the air. . . . Bennen was evidently dead against any attempt upon the mountain. ' We can, at all events, reach the lower of the two summits,' I remarked. ' Even that is difiicult,' he replied ; ' but when you have reached it, what then ? The peak has neither name nor fame.' " % * Alpine Journal, 1863, p. 82. t See p. iO. X Mountaineering in 1861, pp. 86-7. Tyndall and Beunen were mistaken in supposing that the mountain has two summits ; it has only one. They seem to have been deceived by the appearance of that part of the south-west ridge which is called " the shoulder " (I'e'paule), as seen from Breil. Viewed from that place, its southern end has certainly, thi-ough foreshortening, the semblance of a peak ; but when one regards it from the Col The'odule, or from any place in the same direction, the delusion is at once apparent. 60 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIOBN. cnxv. iv. I was more surprised than discouraged by this report by Bennen. One half of his assertions I knew to be wrong. The Col to which he referred was the Col du Lion, upon which we had passed a night less than a week after he had spoken so authorita- tively ; and I had seen a place not far below the " Chimney," — a place about 500 feet above the Col — where it seemed possible to construct a sleeping-place. Bennen's opinions seem to have undergone a complete change. In 18G0 he is described as having been enthusiastic to make an attempt, and in 1861 he was dead against one. Nothing dismayed by this, my friend Mr. Beginald Macdonald, our companion on the Pelvoux — to whom so much of our success had been due, agreed to join me in a renewed assault from the south ; and, although we failed to secure Melchior Anderegg and some other notable guides, we obtained two men of repute, namely, Johann zum Taugwald and Joliann Kronig, of Zermatt. We met at that jilace early in July, but stormy weather prevented us even from passing to the other side of the chain for some time. We crossed the Col Theodule on the 5th, in thoroughly unsettled weather — rain was falling in the valleys, and snow upon the mountains. Shortly before we gained the summit we were made extremely uncomfortable by hearing mysterious, rushing sounds, wliicli sometimes seemed as if a sudden gust of wind was sweeping along the snow, and, at others, almost like the swishing of a long whip : yet the snow exhibited no signs of motion, and the air was perfectly calm. The dense, black storm-clouds made us momentarily expect that our bodies might be used as lightning-conductors, and we were well satisfied to get under shelter of the inn at Breil, without having submitted to any such experience.* * The late Priucipal Forbes was similarly situated vvliile crossing the same pass in 1842. He described the sounds as rustling, fizzing, and liissing. See his Traveh in the Alps of Savoy, second ed., p. 323. Mr. R. SyKjncc Watson experienced the same upon the upper part of tlie Aletsch glacier in July 18()3, and lie spoke of the sounds as singing or lussing. See tlie Athen;vnm, Sept. 12, 18G3. The respective parties seem to liave been hi^'^hly clcctrificil nw carli u('c;i>i(in. Forbes says that liis CHAP. IV. THE nUNCnSAGK OF BliEIL. 61 We had need of a iDorter, and, by the advice of our hindlord, descended to the chalets of Breil in search of one Luc Meynet. We found his house a mean abode, encumbered with cheese-makino- api^aratus, and tenanted only by some bright-eyed children ; but as they said that uncle Luc would soon be home, we waited at the door of the little chalet and watched for him. At last a speck was seen coming round the corner of the patch of firs below Breil, and then the children clapped their hands, dropped their toys, and ran eagerly forward to meet him. We saw an ungainly, wobbling figure stoop down and catch up the little ones, kiss them on each cheek, and put them into the empty panniers on each side of the mule, and then heard it come on carolling, as if this was not a world of woe : and yet the face of little Luc Meynet, the hunchback of Breil, bore traces of trouble and sorrow, and there was more than a touch of sadness in his voice when he said that he must look after his brother's children. All his difiiculties were, however, at length overcome, and he agreed to join us to carry the tent. In the past winter I had turned my attention to tents, and that which we had brought with us was the result of experiments to devise one which should be sufficiently portable to be taken over the most difficult ground, and which should combine lightness with stability. Its base was just under six feet square, and a cross- section perpendicular to its length was an equilateral triangle, the sides of which were six feet long. It was intended to accommodate four persons. It was supported by four ash-poles, six feet and a half long, and one inch and a quarter thick, tapering to the top to an inch and an eighth ; these were shod with iron points. The order of proceeding in the construction of the tent was as follows : — Holes were drilled through the poles about five inches from their tops, for the insertion of two wrought iron bolts, three inches long lingers "yielded a fizzing sound;" and Watson says that his " liair stood on end in an uncomfortable but very amusing manner," and that " the veil on tlic wide-a waive of one of tlie party stood upright in the air ! " 62 THE ASCENT OF THE 3IATTEnTI0nN. aud one quarter of an inch thick. The bolts were then inserted, and tlie two pairs of poles were set out (and fixed up by cords), to the proper dimensions. The roof was then put on. This was made of the rough, unbleached calico called forfar, which can be obtained in six-feet widths, and it was continued round for about two feet, on each side, on to the floor. The width of the material was the length of the tent, and seams were thus avoided in the roof. The forfar was sewn round each pole ; THE author's mountain TENT. particular care being taken to avoid wrinkles, and to get the whole perfectly taut. The flooring was next put in and sewn down to the forfar. This was of the ordinary plaid mackintosh, about nine feet square ; the surjilus three feet being continued up the sides to cn.vp. IV. ON THE BEST FOBM OF ALPINE TENT. 63 prevent draughts. It is as well to have two feet of this surplus on one side, and only one foot on the other ; the latter amount heing sufficient for the side occuj)ied by the feet. One end was then permanently closed by a triangular piece of forfar, which was sewn down to that which was already fixed. The other end was left open, and had two triangular flaps that overlapped each other, and which were fastened up when w^e were inside by pieces of tape. Lastly, the forfar was nailed down to the poles to prevent the tent getting out of shape. The cord which was used for climbing served for the tent ; it was passed over the crossed poles and underneath the ridge of the roof, and the two ends— one fore and the other aft — were easily secured to pieces of rock. Such a tent costs about four guineas, and its weight is about twenty-three pounds ; or, if the lightest kind of forfar is used, it need not exceed twenty pounds. When it was fastened up for transport it presented the appearance shown in the portrait of Meynet at p. 234, and it could be unrolled and set up by two persons in three minutes ; a point of no small importance during extreme weather. This tent is intended, and adapted, for camping out at high alti- tudes, or in cold climates. It is not pretended that it is perfectly waterproof, but it can be made so by the addition of mackintosh to the roof; and this increases the weightby only two and a half pounds. It is then fit for general use.* It may be observed that the pattern of this tent is identical in all essential points with that arrived at (after great experience) by Sir Leopold M'Clintock for Arctic work, and frequent use by many persons, under varied conditions, has shown that the pattern is both practical and substantial. * I have described this tent at length, as frequent application has been made to nie for information on the subject. I would strongly recommend any person who wisln s to have one for long-continued use, to have one made under his ovra eye, and to be particularly careful to test the poles. My experience goes to show that poles whicli (when supported upon their extremities) will bear a dead weight of 100 lbs. suspended from their centres, will stand any wind to which they are likely to be submitted. Ash is, perhaps, the best wood that can be selected. Tents of this pattern have been used, amongst others, by Messrs. Freshfield, Moore, and Tucker, in the Caucasus ; bv the Rev. W. H. Hawker in Corsica ; and by myself in Greenland. 64 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. iv. Sunday, tlic 6tli of July, was showery, and snow fell on the Matterhorn, hnt wo started on the following morning with our three men, and pursued my route of the previous year. I was requested to direct the way, as none save myself had been on the mountain before. I did not distinguish myself upon this occasion, and led my companions nearly to the top of the small j^eak before the mis- take was discovered. The party becoming rebellious, a little explo- ration was made towards our right, and we found that we were upon the top of the cliff overlooking the Col du Lion. The upper part of the small peak is of a very different character to the lower part ; the rocks are not so firm, and they are usually covered, or intermixed, with snow, and glazed with ice : the angle too is more severe. While descending a small snow-slope, to get on to the right track, Kronig slipped on a streak of ice, and went down at a fearful pace. Fortunately he kept on his legs, and, by a great effort, succeeded in stopping just before he arrived at some rocks that jutted through the snow, which would infallibly have knocked him over. When we rejoined him a few minutes later, we found that he was incapable of standing, much less of moving, with a face corpse-like in hue, and trembling violently. He remained in this condition for more than an hour, and the day was consequently far advanced before we arrived at our camping-place on the Col. Profiting by the experience of last year, we did not pitch the tent actually on the snow, but collected a quantity of debris from the neighbouring ledges, and iifter constructing a rough platform of the larger pieces, levelled the whole with the dirt and mud. Meynet had proved invaluable as a tent-bearer ; for — although his legs were more picturesque than symmetrical, and although he seemed to be built on principle with no two parts alike — his very deformities proved of service ; and we quickly found he had spirit of no common order, and that few peasants are more agreeable companions, or better climbers, than little Luc Meynet, the hunchback of Breil. He now showed himself not less serviceable as a scavenger, and hiniil)]y asked for gristly pieces of meat, CHAP. IV. DENUDATION. 65 rejected by the others, or for suspicions eggs ; and seemed to con- sider it a peculiar favour, if not a treat, to he permitted to drink the coffee-grounds. With the greatest contentment he took the worst place at the door of the tent, and did all the dirty work which was put upon him by the guides, as gratefully as a dog — who has been well beaten — will receive a stroke. A strong wind sprang up from the east during the night, and in the morning it was blowing almost a hurricane. The tent behaved nobly, and we remained under its shelter for several hours after the sun had risen, uncertain what it was best to do. A lull tempted us to move, but we had scarcely ascended a hundred feet before the storm burst upon us with increased fury. Advance or return was alike im230ssible ; the ridge was denuded of its debris ; and we clutched our hardest when we saw stones as big as a man's fist blown away horizontally into space. AVe dared not attempt to stand upright, and remained stationary, on all fours, glued, as it were, to the rocks. It was intensely cold, for the blast had swept along the main chain of the Pennine Alps, and across the great snow-fields around Monte Eosa. Our warmth and courage rapidly evaporated, and at the next lull we retreated to the tent ; having to halt several times even in that short distance, Taugwald and Kronig then declared that they had had enough, and refused to have anything more to do with the mountain. Meynet also informed us that he would be required down below for important cheese-making operations on the following day. It was therefore needful to return to Breil, and we arrived there at 2.30 p.m., extremely chagrined at our complete defeat. Jean-Antoine Carrel, attracted by rumours, had come up to the inn during our absence, and after some negotiations agreed to accompany us, with one of his friends named Pession, on the first fine day. We thought ourselves fortunate; for Carrel clearly considered the mountain a kind of preserve, and regarded our late attempt as an act of foaching. The wind blew itself out during the night, and we started again, with these two men and a porter, 1' (50 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEIUIOnN. vww. iv. at 8 A.M. on the 9tli, \s\i\\ unexceptionable weather. Carrel pleased lis by suggesting that we sliould camp even higher than before ; and we accordingly proceeded, without resting at the Col, until we overtopped the Tcte du Lion. Near the foot of the " Chimney," a little below the crest of the ridge, and on its eastern side, we found a protected place ; and by building up from ledge to ledge (under the direction of our leader, who was a mason by profession), we at length constructed a platform of sufficient size and of considerable solidity. Its height was about 12,550 feet above the sea; and it exists, I believe, at the present time.* We then pushed on, as the daj^ was very fine, and, after a short hour's scramble, got to the foot of the Great Tower upon the ridge (that is to say, to Mr. Hawkins' farthest point), and afterwards returned to our bivouac. Wo turned out again at 4 a.m., and at 5.15 started upwards once more, with fine weather and the thermometer at 28^. Carrel scrambled up the Chimney, and Macdonald and I after him. Pession's turn came, but when he arrived at the top he looked very ill, declared himself to be thoroughly incapable, and said that he must go back. We waited some time, but he did not get better, neither could we learn the nature of his illness. Carrel flatly refused to go on with us alone. We were helpless. Macdonald, ever the coolest of the cool, suggested that we should try what we could do without them ; but our better judgment prevailed, and, finally, we returned to- gether to Breil. On the next day my friend started for London. Three times I had essayed the ascent of this mountain, and on each occasion had failed ignominiously. I had not advanced a yard beyond my predecessors. Up to the height of nearly 13,000 feet there were no extraordinary difficulties ; the way so far might even become " a matter of amusement." Only 1800 feet remained ; but they were as yet untrodden, and might present the most for- * The lieights given on the outlines of the Matterliorn accompanying Chap. III., on tlie geological section in the Appendix, and quoted throughout the book, arc after tlie barometric (mercurial) measurements of yignor F. Giordano in 18G6 and 18G8. I have ventured to differ from him only in regard to the height of the second tent- platform, and have assigned to it a somewhat lower elevation tlian his estimate. CHAP. IV. A SCRAMBLE ALONE ON THE NATTEUHOllN. 07 midable obstacles. No man could expect to climb them by himself. A morsel of rock only seven feet high might at any time defeat him, if it were perpendicular. Such a place might be possible to two, or a bagatelle to three men. It was evident that a party should consist of three men at least. Bnt where could the other two men be obtained ? Carrel was the only man who exhibited any enthusiasm in the matter; and he, in 1861, had absolutely refused to go unless the party consisted of at least four persons. Want of men made the difficulty, not the mountain. The weather became bad again, so I went to Zermatt on the chance of picking up a man, and remained there during a week of storms.* Not one of the better men, however, could be induced to come, and I returned to Breil on the 17th, hoping to combine the skill of Carrel with the willingness of Meynet on a new attempt, by the same route as before ; for the Hornli ridge, which I had examined in the meantime, seemed to be entirely impracticable. Both men were inclined to go, but their ordinary occupations prevented them from starting at once.j" My tent had been left rolled up at the second platform, and whilst waiting for the men it occurred to me that it might have been blown away during the late stormy weather ; so I started off on the 18th to see if this were so or not. The way was by this time familiar, and I mounted rapidly, astonishing the friendly herdsmen — who nodded recognition as I flitted past them and the cows — for I was alone, because no man was available. But more deliberation was necessary when the pastures were passed, and climbing began, for it was needful to mark each step, in case of mist, or surprise by night. It is one of the few things which can be said in favour of mountaineering alone (a practice which has little be- sides to commend it), that it awakens a man's faculties, and makes him observe. When one has no arms to help, and no head to guide him except his own, he must needs take note even of small things, * Dm-ing this tiuie makiug the asccut of Moute Rosa. t They were not guides by iirofessiou. F 2 68 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. iv. for he cannot afford to throw away a chance ; and so it came to pass, upon my solitary scramble, when above the snow-line, and beyond the ordinary limits of flowering plants, when peering about, noting angles and landmarks, that my eyes fell upon the tiny straggling plants — oftentimes a single flower on a single stalk — pioneers of vegetation, atoms of life in a world of desolation, which had found their way up — who can tell how ? — from far below, and were obtaining bare sustenance from the scanty soil in protected nooks ; and it gave a new interest to the well-known rocks to see what a gallant fight the survivors made (for many must have perished in the attempt) to ascend the great mountain. The Gentian, as one might have expected, was there ; but it was run close by Saxifrages, and by Linaria alpina, and was beaten by Thlaspi rotundifolium, which latter plant was the highest I was able to secure, although it too was overtopped by a little white flower which I knew not, and was unable to reach.* The tent was safe, although snowed up ; and I turned to con- * Those which I collected were as follow : — Myosotu al])estris, Gm. ; Veronica alpina, L. ; Linaria alpina, M. ; Gentiana Bavarica, L. ; Thlaspi rotundifolium, Gaud. ; SiUne acaulis, L. (?) ; Potentilla sp. ; Saxifraga sp. ; Saxifraya muscoides, Wulf. I am indebted for these names to Mr. William Carruthers of the British Museum. These plants ranged from about 10,500 to a little below 13,000 feet, and are the highest which I have seen anywhere in the Alps. Several times this number of species might be collected, I have no doubt, within these limits. I was not endeavouring to make a flora of the Matterhorn, but to obtain those plants which attained the greatest height. Very few lichens are seen on the higher parts of this mountain ; their rarity is due, doubtless, to the constant disintegration of the rocks, and the consequent exposure of fresh surfaces. Sileiie acaulis was the highest plant found by De Saussure on his travels in the Alps. He mentions (§ 2018) that he found a tuft " near the place where I slept on my return (from the ascent of Mont Blanc), about 1780 toises (11,388 feet) above the level of the sea." Mr. William Mathews and Mr. Charles Packe, who have botanised respectively for many years in the Aljis and Pyrenees, have favoured me with the names of the highest plants that they have obtained upon their excursions. Their lists, although not extensive, are interesting as showing the extreme limits attained by some of the hardiest of Alpine plants. Tliose mentioned by Mr. Mathews are — Campanula cenisia (on the Grivola, 12,04:7 feet) ; Saxifraga hryoides and Androsace glacialis (on the summits of Mont Emilius, 11,677, and the Ruitor, 11,480); Ranunculus CHAP. IV. THE PLANTS FOUND HIGHEST IN THE ALPS. G9 template the view, which, when seen alone and undisturbed, had all the strength and charm of complete novelty. The highest peaks of the Pennine chain were in front — the Breithorn (13,685 feet), the Lyskamm (14,889), and Monte Eosa (15,217); then, turn- ing to the right, the entire block of mountains which separated the Val Tournanche from the Val d'Ayas was seen at a glance, with its dominating summit the Grand Tournalin (11,155). Behind were the ranges dividing the Val d'Ayas from the Valley of Gres- soney, backed by higher summits. More still to tlie right, the eye wandered down the entire length of the Val Tournanche, and then rested upon the Graian Alps with their innumerable peaks, and upon the isolated pyramid of Monte Viso (12.643) in the extreme distance. Next, still turning to the right, came the mountains glacialis, Armeria alpina, and Fyrethrum alpinum (on Monte Viso, from 10,000 to 10,500 feet) ; ThJaspi rotund i folium and Saxifraga biflora (Monte Viso, about 9500 feet); and Campanula rotundifolia ('?), Artemisia spicata (Wulf.), Aronicum Doronicum, and Petrocallis Pyrenaica (Col de Beylieres, 9247). Mr. Packe obtained, on or close to the summit of the Pic de Mulhahacen, Sierra Nevada, of Granada (11,G00 to 11,700 feet), Papaver alpinum (var. Pyrenaicum), Artemisia Nevadensis (used for giving the flavour to the Manzanilla sherry), Viola Nevadeiisis, Galium Pyrenaicuin, Trisetum ijlaciale, Festuca Clementei, Saxifraga Gratnlandica (var. Mistu), Erigeron alpinum (var. glaciale), and Arenaria tetraquetra. On the Picacho de Veleta (11,440 feet), and on the Alcazaba (11,350), the same plants were obtained, with the exception of the first named. At a height of 11,150 feet on tliese mountains he also collected Ptilotrichum purpureum, Lepidium stylatum, and Biscutella saxutilis ; and, at 10,000 fuet, Alyssum spicatum and Sideritis scordiodes. Mr. Packe mentions the following plants as occurring at 9000 to 10,000 feet in the Pyrenees :—Cerastlum latifolium, Draha Wahlenhergii, Hutchinsia alpina, Linaria alpina, Oxyria reniformis, Paiiunculus glacialis, Saxifraga nervosa, S. oppositifolia, S. Graenlandica, Stat ice Armeria, Veronica alpina. Information on the botany of the Val Tournanche is contained in the little pam- phlet by the late Canon G. Carrel, entitled La Vallee de Valtornenche en 18G7 ; and a list of the plants which have hitherto been collected on the glacier-surrounded ridge (Furgen Grat) connecting the Matterhorn with the Col Theodule, will be found in Dollfus-Ausset's Materiaux pour I'etude des Glaciers, vol. viii. part first, 1868. In the Jahrhuch for 1873 of the Swiss Alpine Club it is stated that on an ascent of the Finsteraarliorn (14,106 feet) the following were collected within the last 1000 feet:— Saxifraga bryoides, S. Muscoides, Achillea atrafa, and Eanunculus glacialis. 70 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chai-. iv. intervening bet^Yeen the Val Tournanche and the Yal Barthelemy : Mont Kouss(a round-topped snowy summit, which seems so import- ant from Brail, but which is in reality only a buttress of the higher mountain, the Chateau des Dames), had long ago sunk, and the eye passed over it, scarcely heeding its existence, to the Becca Salle (or, as it is sometimes called. Bee de Sale), — a miniature Matterhorn — and to other, and more important heights. Then the grand mass of the Dent d'Herens (13,714) stopped the way ; a noble mountain, encrusted on its northern slopes with enormous hanging glaciers, which broke away at mid-day in immense slices, and thundered down on to the Tiefenmatten glacier ; and lastly, most splendid of all, came the Dent Blanche (14,318), soaring above the basin of the great Z'Muttgletscher. Such a view is hardly to be excelled in the Alps, and this view is very rarely seen, as I saw it, perfectly unclouded,* * I have already had occasion to mention the rapid changes which occur in the weather at considerable elevations in the Alps, and shall have to do so again in sub- sequent chapters. No one can regret more than myself the variable weather which afflicts that otherwise delightful chain of mountains, or the necessity of speaking about it : its summits appear to enjoy more than their fair share of wind and tempests. Meteorological disturbances, some would say, are by no means necessary accompaniments of high regions. There are some happy places which are said to be favoured with almost perpetual calm. Take the case of the Sierra Nevada of Cali- fornia, for example, which includes numerous svuuniits from 13,000 to 15,000 feet. Mr. Whitney, of San Francisco, says (in his Guide-booh to the Yosemite Valleij, and the adjacent region), " At high altitudes, all through the mountains, the weather dm'ing the summer is almost always the finest possible for travelling.' There are occasional storms in the liigh mountains ; but, in ordinary seasons, these are quite rare, and one of the greatest drawbacks to the pleasure of travelling in tlie Alps, the uncertainty of the weather, is here almost entirely wanting." It is probable that a more thorougli acquaintance with that region will modify this opinion ; for it mvist be admitted that it is very difficult to judge of the state of the atmosphere at great heights from the valleys, and it often occurs that a terrific storm is raging above when there is a dead calm below, at a distance perhaps of not more than three or four miles. A case of this kind is described in Chapter VI., and another may be mentioned here. At the very time that I was regarding the Dent Blanche from a height of 12,550 feet on the Matterhorn, Mr. T. S. Kennedy was engaged in making the first ascent of the former mountain. He described liis ascent in a very picturesque paper in the^lZ^;/yte Jbi(rwcii(18GI>), and I learn from it that lie (^xiu^vienced severe \v(^at)i<'r. " The wind roared over our ridge, CHAP. IV. A SOLITARY BIVOUAV. 71 Time sped away unregarded, and the little birds wliicli Lad built their nests on the neighbouring clifls had begun to chirp their evening hymn before I thought of returning. Half mechanically I turned to the tent, unrolled it, and set it up ; it contained food enough for several days, and I resolved to stay over the night. I had started from Breil without provisions, or telling Favre — the innkeeper, who was accustomed to my erratic ways — where I was going. I returned to the view. The sun was setting, and its rosy rays, blending with the snowy blue, had thrown a pale, pure violet far as the eye could see ; the valleys were drowned in purple gloom, whilst the summits shone with unnatural brightness : and as I sat in the door of the tent, and watched the twilight change to darkness, the earth seemed to become less earthy and almost sublime ; the world seemed dead, and I, its sole inhabitant. By and by, the moon as it rose brought the hills again into sight, and by a judicious repression of detail rendered the view yet more magni- ficent. Something in the south hung like a great glow-worm in the air ; it was too large for a star, and too steady for a meteor ; and it was long before I could realise the incredible fact that it was the moonlight glittering on the great snow-slope on the north side of Monte Yiso, at a distance, as the crow flies, of 98 miles. Shiver- ing, at last I entered the tent and made my cofi'ee. The night was passed comfortably, and the next morning, tempted by the bril- liancy of the weather, I proceeded yet higher in search of another place for a platform. makiug fearfully wild music aiuong the desolate crags. ... It reudered au ordinary voice inaudible," and " nothing at a distance greater than fifty yards could be seen at all. . . . Thick mists and driving clouds of snow swept over and i)ast us; " the thermometer fell to 20'^ Fahr., and his companion's hair became a mass of white icicles. Now, at this time, Mr. Kennedy was distant from me only four and a half miles. With me, and in my immediate neighbourhood, the air was perfectly calm, and the temperature was agreeably warm ; even during the night it fell only two or three degrees below freezing-point. During most of the day the Dent Blanche was perfectly unclouded, though, for a time, light fleecy clouds were hovering alxnit its uiiper 2000 feet. Still no one would have supposed from appearances that my friend was experiencing a storm such as lie has descrilH'd. 72 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. iv. Solitary scrambling over a pretty wide area had sliown me that a single individual is subjected to many difficulties which do not , trouble a party of two or three men, and that the disadvantages of being alone are more felt while descending than during the ascent. In order to neutralise these inconveniences, I devised two little appliances, which were now brought into use for the first time. One was a claw — a kind of grapnel — about five inches long, made of shear steel, one-fifth of an inch thick. This was of use in difficult places, where there was no hold within arm's length, but where there were cracks or ledges some distance higher. The claw could be stuck on the end of the alpenstock and dropped into such places, or, on extreme occasions, flung up until it attached itself to something. The edges that laid hold of the rocks were serrated, which tended to make them catch more readily : the other end had a ring to which a rope was fastened. It must not be understood that this was employed for hauling one's-self up for any great dis- tance, but that it was used in ascending, at the most, for only a few yards at a time. In descending, however, it could be prudently used for a greater distance at a time, as the claws could be planted firmly ; but it was necessary to keep the rope taut, and the pull constantly in the direction of the length of the implement, other- wise it had a tendency to slip away. The second device was merely a modification of a dodge practised by all climbers. It is frequently necessary for a single man (or for the last man of a party) during a descent, to make a loop in the end of his rope, to pass it over some rocks, and to come down holding the free end. The loop is then jerked off", and the process may be repeated. But as it sometimes happens that there are no rocks at hand which will allow a loose loop to be used, a slip-knot has to be resorted to, and the rope is drawn in tightly. Consequently it will occur that it is ON AIDS TO CLIMBERS. 73 not possible to jerk the loop off, and the rope has to be cut and left behind. To prevent this, I had a wrought- iron ring (two and a quarter inches in dia- meter and three-eighths of an inch thick) attached to one end of my rope, A loop could be made in a moment by passing the other end of the rope through this ring, which of course slipped up and held tightly as I descended holding the free end. A strong piece of cord was also attached to the ring, and, on arriving at the bottom, this was pulled ; the ring slid back again, and the loop was whipped off readily. By means of these two simple appliances I was able to ascend and descend rocks, which otherwise would have been completely im- passable for a single person. The combined weight of these two things amounted to less than half-a-pound. It has been mentioned (p. 55) that the rocks of the south-west ridge are by no means difficult for some distance above the Col du Lion. This is true of the rocks up to the level of the Chimney, but they steepen when that is passed, and remaining smooth and with but few fractures, and still continuing to dip outwards, present some steps of a very uncertain kind, particularly when they are glazed with ice. At this point (just above the Chimney) the climber is obliged to follow the southern (or Breil) side of the ridge, but, in a few feet more, one must turn over to the northern (or Z'Mutt) side, where, in most years, nature kindly provides a snow-slope. When this is surmounted, one can again return to the crest of the ridge, and follow it, by easy rocks, to the foot of the Great Tower. This was the highest point attained by Mr. Hawkins in 1860, and it was also our highest on the 9th of July. This Great Tower is one of the most striking features of the ridge. It stands out like a turret at the angle of a castle. Behind 74 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEIlIlOIiN. ciiai-. iv. it a Lattlcmented wall leads upwards to the citadel.* Seen from the Theodiile pass, it looks only an insignificant pinnacle, but as one approaches it (on the ridge) so it seems to rise, and, when one is at its base, it completely conceals the upper parts of the moun- tain. I found here a suitable place for the tent ; which, although not so well protected as the second platform, possessed the advan- tage of being 300 feet higher up ; and fascinated by the wildness of the cliffs, and enticed by the perfection of the weather, I went on to see what was behind. The first step was a difiicult one. The ridge became diminished to the least possible width — it was hard to keep one's balance — and just where it was narrowest, a more than perpendicular mass barred the way. Nothing fairly within arm's reach could be laid hold of ; it was necessary to spring up, and then to haul one's-self over the sharp edge by sheer strength. Progression directly upwards was then impossible. Enormous and appalling precipices plunged down to the Tiefenmatten glacier on the left, but round the right- hand side it was just possible to go. One hindrance then succeeded another, and much time was consumed in seeking the way. I have a vivid recollection of a gully of more than usual perplexity at the side of the Great Tower, with minute ledges and steep walls ; of the ledges dwindling down and at last ceasing ; and of finding myself, with arms and legs divergent, fixed as if crucified, pressing against the rock, and feeling each rise and fall of my chest as I breathed ; of screwing my head round to look for hold, and not seeing any, and of jumping sideways on to the other side. 'Tis vain to attempt to describe such places. Whether they are sketched with a light hand, or wrought out in laborious detail, one stands an equal chance of being misunderstood. Their enchantment to the climber arises from their calls on his faculties, in their demands on his strength, and on overcoming the imj)ediments which they oppose to his skill. The non-mountaineering reader cannot feel this, and his interest in descriptions of such places is usually small, * fcjcc the cugruviiif^ "Crux's of the Malturliorii," laciuK p. I'iO. ('II AP. IV. A SITATTEBED RIDOE. 75 unless lie supposes that the situations are perilous. They are not necessarily perilous, but I think that it is impossible to avoid giving such an impression if the difficulties are particularly insisted upon. About this part there was a change in the quality of the rock, and there was a change in the general appearance of the ridge. The rocks (talcose gneiss) below this spot were singularly firm ; it was rarely necessary to test one's hold ; the way led over the living rock, and not up rent-off fragments. But here, all was decay and ruin. The crest of the ridge was shattered and cleft, and the feet sank in the chips which had drifted down ; while above, huge blocks, hacked and carved by the hand of time, nodded to the sky, looking like the grave-stones of giants. Out of curiosity I wan- dered to a notch in the ridge, between two tottering piles of im- mense masses, which seemed to need but a few pounds on one or the other side to make them fall ; so nicely poised that they would literally have rocked in the wind, for they were put in motion by a touch ; and based on support so frail that I wondered they did not collapse before my eyes. In the whole range of my Alpine experience I have seen nothing more striking than this desolate, ruined, and shattered ridge at the back of the Great Tower. I have seen stranger shapes, — rocks which mimic the human form, with monstrous leering faces — and isolated pinnacles, sharper and greater than any here ; but I have never seen exhibited so im- pressively the tremendous effects which may be produced by frost, and by the long-continued action of forces whose individual effects are barely perceptible. It is needless to say that it is impossible to climb by the crest of the ridge at this part ; still one is compelled to keep near to it, for there is no other way. Generally speaking, the angles on the Matterhorn are too steep to allow the formation of considerable beds of snow, but here there is a corner which permits it to accu- mulate, and it is turned to gratefully, for, by its assistance, one can ascend four times as rapidly as upon the rocks. The Tower wtxs now almost out of sight, und I looked over 76 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEEHOBN. chap. iv. the central Pennine Alj^s to the Grand Combin, and to the chain of Mont Blanc. My neighbour, the Dent d'Herens, still rose above me, although but slightly, and the height which had been attained could be measured by its help. So far, I had no doubts about my capacity to descend that which had been ascended ; but, in a short time, on looking ahead, I saw that the cliffs steepened, and I turned back (without pushing on to them, and getting into inextricable difficulties), exulting in the thought that they would be passed when we returned together, and that I had, without assistance, got nearly to the height of the Dent d'Herens, and considerably higher than any one had been before.* My exultation was a little premature. About 5 P.M. I left the tent again, and thought myself as good as at Breil. The friendly rope and claw had done good service, and had smoothened all the difficulties. I lowered myself through the Chimney, however, by making a fixture of the rope, which I then cut off, and left behind, as there was enough and to spare. My axe had proved a great nuisance in coming down, and I left it in the tent. It was not attached to the baton, but was a separate affair, — an old navy boarding-axe. While cutting uj) the different snow- beds on the ascent, the baton trailed behind fastened to the rope ; and, when climbing, the axe was carried behind, run through the rope tied round my waist, and was sufficiently out of the way. But in descending, when coming down.face outwards (as is always best where it is possible), the head or the handle of the weapon caught frequently against the rocks, and several times nearly upset me. So, out of laziness if you will, it was left in the tent. I paid dearly for the imprudence. The Col du Lion was passed, and fifty yards more w^ould have placed me on the " Grreat Staircase," down which one can run. But * A remarkuljlo streak of snow (markt-d " cravatu " iu the outline of the Matter- horn, as seen from the The'odule) runs across the clitf at this part of the mountain. My highest point was somewhat higher than the lowest part of this snow, and was consequently about 13,400 feet above the sea. fjflpl'f fh •:/ - ^P'- .. >• y -''^: 'VV' "^^^^1 .- '^ "THE CHIMNEY. " (on the south-west ridge of the matterhorn). CHAP. IV. THE CAUSE. 77 on arriving at an angle of the cliffs of the Tete du Lion, while skirting the upper edge of the snow which ahuts against them, I found that the heat of the two past days had nearly obliterated the steps which had been cut when coming up. The rocks happened to be impracticable just at this corner, so nothing could be done except make the steps afresh. The snow was too hard to beat or tread down, and at the angle it was all but ice. Half-a-dozen steps only were required, and then the ledges could be followed again. So I held to the rock with my right hand, and prodded at the snow with the point of my stick until a good step was made, and then, leaning round the angle, did the same for the other side. So far well, but in attempting to pass the corner (to the present moment I cannot tell how it happened) I slipped and fell. The slope was steep on which this took place, and was at the top of a gully that led down through two subordinate buttresses towards the Glacier du Lion — which was just seen, a thousand feet below. The gully narrowed and narrowed, until there was a mere thread of snow lying between two walls of rock, which came to an abrupt termination at the toj) of a precipice that intervened between it and the glacier. Imagine a funnel cut in half through its length, placed at an angle of 45 degrees, w4th its point below and its concave side iippermost, and you will have a fair idea of the place. The knapsack brought my head down first, and I pitched into some rocks about a dozen feet below ; they caught something and tumbled me off the edge, head over heels, into the gully ; the baton was dashed from my hands, and I whirled downwards in a series of bounds, each longer than the last ; now over ice, now into rocks ; striking my head four or five times, each time with in- creased force. The last bound sent me spinning through the air, in a leap of fifty or sixty feet, from one side of the gully to the other, and I struck the rocks, luckily, with the whole of my left side. They caught my clothes for a moment, and I fell back on to 78 TTIE ASCENT OF TIIK MATTEIllKHlN. chap. iv. the snow with motion arrested. My head fortunately came the riglit side up, and a few frantic catches brought me to a halt, in the neck of the gully, and on the verge of the precipice. Baton, hat, and veil skimmed by and disappeared, and the crash of the rocks — which I had started — as they fell on to the glacier, told how narrow had been the escape from utter destruction. As it was, I fell nearly 200 feet in seven or eight bounds. Ten feet more would have taken me in one gigantic leap of 800 feet on to the glacier below. The situation was sufficiently serious. The rocks could not be left go for a moment, and the blood was spirting out of more than twenty cuts. The most serious ones were in the head, and I vainly tried to close them with one hand, whilst holding on with the other. It was useless ; the blood jerked out in blinding jets at each pulsation. At last, in a moment of inspiration, I kicked out a big lump of snow, and stuck it as a plaster on my head. The idea was a happy one, and the flow of blood dimi- nished. Then, scrambling up, I got, not a moment too soon, to a place of safety, and fainted away. The sun was setting when consciousness returned, and it was pitch dark before the Great Staircase was descended ; but, by a combination of luck and care, the whole 4800 feet of descent to Breil was accomplished without a slip, or once missing the way. I slunk past the cabin of the cowherds, who were talking and laughing inside, utterly ashamed of the state to which I had been brought by my imbecility, and entered the inn stealthily, wishing to escape to my room un- noticed. But Favre met me in the jmssage, demanded " Who is it ? " screamed with fright when he got a light, and aroused the household. Two dozen heads then held solemn council over mine, with more talk than action. The natives were unanimous in re- commending that hot wine (syn. vinegar), mixed with salt, should be rubbed into the cuts. I protested, but they insisted. It was all the doctoring they received. Whether their rapid healing was to be attributed to that simple remedy, or to a good state of health. "IN ATTEMPTING TO PASS THE CORNER I SLIPPED AND FELL." CHAP. IV. THE EFFECT. 79 is a question ; they closed up remarkably quickly, and in a few days I was able to move again.* It was sufficiently dull during this time. I was chiefly occu- pied in meditating on the vanity of human wishes, and in watching AT BREIL (gIOMEIn). my clothes being washed in the tub which was turned by the stream in the front of the house ; and I vowed that if an English- man should at any time fall sick in the Yal Tournanche, he should not feel so solitary as I did at this dreary time.f * I received much attention from a kind English lady who was staying in tlie t As it seldom happens that one survives such a fall, it may be interesting to record what my sensations were din-ing its occurrence. I was perfectly conscious of what was happening, and felt each blow ; but, like a patient under cliloroforin, experienced no pain. Each blow was, naturally, more severe than that which preceded it, and I distinctly remember thinking, " Well, if the next is harder still, tliat will be the end!" Like persons who have been rescued from drowning, I remember that the recollection of a multitude of things rnslied through my head, many of them trivialities or absurdities, which had been forgotten long l)efore ; and, more remarkable, this bounding through space did not feel disagi-eeable. But I think that in no very great distance more, consciousness as well as sensation would have been lost, and upon that I base my belief, improbable as it seems, that deatli by a fall from a great height is as i>ainless an end as can be experienced. The battering was very rough, yet no bones were broken. The most severe cuts were one of four inches long on the toji of llic licad, and another of llircc in<-lics on 80 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEEHORX. chap. vi. The news of the accident brought Jean-Antoine Carrel up to Breil, and, along with the haughty chasseur, came one of his relatives, a strong and able young fellow named Caesar. With these two men and Meynet I made another start on the 23rd of July. We got to the tent without any trouble, and on the following day had ascended beyond the Tower, and were picking our way cautiously over the loose rocks behind (where my traces of the week before were well apparent) in lovely weather, when one of those abominable and almost instantaneous changes occurred, to which the Matterhorn is so liable on its southern side. Mists were created out of invisible vapours, and in a few minutes snow fell heavily. We stopped, as this part was of excessive difficulty, and, unwilling to retreat, remained on the spot several hours, in hopes that another change would occur ; but, as it did not, we at length went down to the base of the Tower, and commenced to make a third platform, at the height of 12,992 feet above the sea. It still continued to snow, and we took refuge in the tent. Carrel argued that the weather had broken up, and that the mountain would become so glazed with ice as to render any attempt futile ; and I, that the change was only temporary, and that the rocks were too hot to allow ice to form upon them. I wished to stay until the weather improved, but my leader would not endure con- tradiction, grew more positive, and insisted tliat we must go down. We went down, and when we got below the Col his opinion was found to be wrong ; the cloud was confined to the upper 3000 feet, and outside it there was brilliant weather. the right tomjilc: this hxtter hied frightfully. There was a formi, 18G:). CHAP. VI. TEE VALUE OF A BOPE TO CLIMBERS. 11.-, highest, the crust of the slope upon which ho stood hroko awav, and poured down in serpentine streams, leaving long, bare strips, which glittered in the sun, for they were glassy ice. Carrel, with admirable readiness, flung himself back on to the rock off which he had stepped, and was at once secured. He simply remarked, " It is time we were tied up," and, after we had been tied up, he went to work again as if nothing had happened.* We had abundant illustrations during the next two hours of the value of a rope to climbers. We were tied up rather widely apart, and advanced, generally, in pairs. Carrel, who led, was followed closely by another man, who lent him a shoulder or placed an axe- head under his feet, when there was need ; and when this couple were well placed the second pair advanced, in similar fashion, — the rope being drawn in by those above, and paid out gradually by those below. The leading men again advanced, or the third pair, and so on. This manner of progression was slow, but sure. One man only moved at a time, and if he slipped (and we frerjuently did slip) he could slide scarcely a foot without being checked by the others. The certainty and safety of the method gave confidence to the one who was moving, and not only nerved him to put out his powers to the utmost, but sustained nerve in really difficult situa- tions. For these rocks (which, it has been already said, were easy* enough under ordinary circumstances) Avere now difficult in a high degree. The snow-water which had trickled down for many days past in little streams, had taken, naturally, the very route by which we wished to ascend ; and, refrozen in the night, had glazed the slabs over which we had to pass, — sometimes with a fine film of ice as thin as a sheet of paper, and sometimes so thickly that wc * This incident occurred close to the place represented in the cugniving facing p. 78. The new, di-y suow was very troublesome, and poiu'ed down like flour into the steps which were cut across the slopes. The front man accordingly moved ahead as far as possible, and anchored himself to rocks. A rope was sent across to him, was fixed at each end, and was held as a rail by the others as they crossed. We did not trust to this rope alone, but were also tied in the usual manner. The second rope was employed as an additional security against slips. I 2 116 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIOllN. chap. vi. could almost cut footsteps in it. The weather was superb, the men made light of the toil, and shouted to rouse the echoes from the Dent d'Herens. We went on gaily, passed the second tent platform, the Chimney, and the other well-remembered points, and reckoned, con- fidently, on sleeping that night upon the top of " the shoulder ; " but, before we had well arrived at the foot of the Great Tower, a sudden rush of cold air warned us to look out. It was difficult to say where this air came from ; it did not blow as a wind, but descended rather as the water in a shower-bath ! All was tranquil again ; the atmosphere showed no signs of disturb- ance ; there was a dead calm, and not a speck of cloud to be seen anywhere. But we did not remain very long in this state. The cold air came again, and this time it was difficult to say where it did not come from. We jammed down our hats as it beat against the ridge, and screamed amongst the crags. Before we had got to the foot of the Tower, mists had been formed above and below. They appeared at first in small, isolated patches (in several places at the same time), which danced and jerked and were torn into shreds by the wind, but grew larger under the process. They were united together, and rent again,— showing us the blue sky for a moment, and blotting it out the next ; and augmented incessantly, until the whole heavens were filled with whirling, boiling clouds. Before we could take off our packs, and get under any kind of shelter, a hurricane of snow burst upon us from the east. It fell very heavily, and in a few minutes the ridge was covered by it. " What shall we do ? " I shouted to Carrel. " Monsieur," said he, " the wind is bad ; the weather has changed ; we are heavily laden. Here is a fine pite ; let us stop ! If we go on we shall be half-frozen. That is my opinion.." No one diff'ered from him ; so we fell to work to make a place for the tent, and in a couple of hours completed the plat- form which we had commenced in 1862, The clouds had black- ened during that time, and we had hardly finished our task before a thunderstorm broke upon us with appalling fury. Forked CHAP. VI. IN THE FOCUS OF A STOBM. 117 lightning shot out at the turrets above, and at the crags below. It was so close that we quailed at its darts. It seemed to scorch us, — we were in the very focus of the storm. The thunder was simultaneous with the flashes ; short and sharp, and more like the noise of a door that is violently slammed, multiplied a thousand- fold, than any noise to which I can compare it. When I say that the thunder was simultaneous with the light- ning, I speak as an inexact person. My meaning is that the time which elapsed between seeing the flash and hearing the report was inappreciable to me, I wish to speak with all possible precision, and there are two points with regard to this storm upon which I can speak with some accuracy. The first is in regard to the distance of the lightning from our party. We might have been 1100 feet from it if a second of time had elapsed between seeing the flashes and hearing the reports ; and a second of time is not api)reciated by inexact persons. It was certain that we Avere sometimes less than that distance from the lightning, because I saw it pass in front of well-known points on the ridge, both above and below us, which were less (sometimes considerably less) than a thousand feet distant. Secondly, in regard to the difficulty of distinguishing sounds which are merely echoes from true thunder, or the noise which occurs simultaneously with lightning. Arago entered into this subject at some length in his Meteorological Essays, and seemed to doubt if it would ever be possible to determine whether echoes are always the cause of the rolling sounds commonly called thunder.* 1 shall not attempt to show whether the rolling sounds should ever, or never, be regarded as true thunder, but only that during this storm upon the Matterhorn it was possible to distinguish the sound of the thunder itself from the sounds (rolling and otherwise) which were merely the echoes of the first, original sound. * " There is, therefore, little hope of thus arriving at anything decisive as to the exact part which eclioes take in the pro(Uiction of the rolling sound of thunder." P. 1G.5, English ed., translated by Col. 8alnue : Longmans, ISnf). 118 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTKiniOliN. < ii.\p. vj. At tliu place wlicio wc were cuuiped u reniarkuble echo could be heard (oue so remarkable that if it could be heard in this country it would draw crowds for its own sake) ; I believe it came from the cliffs of the Dent d'Herens. It was a favourite amuse- ment with us to shout to rouse this echo, which repeated any- sharp cry, in a very distinct manner, several times, after the lapse of something like a dozen seconds. The thunderstorm lasted nearly two hours, and raged at times with great fury ; and the prolonged rollings from the surrounding mountains, after one flash, had not usually ceased before another set of echoes took up the discourse, and maintained the reverberations without a break. Occasionally there was a pause, interrupted presently by a single clap, the accompaniment of a single discharge, and after such times I could recognise the echoes from the Dent d'Herens by their peculiar repetitions, and by the length of time which had passed since the reports had occurred of which they were the echoes. If I had been unaware of the existence of this echo, I should have supposed that the resounds w^ere original reports of explosions which had been unnoticed, since in intensity they were scarcely distinguishable from the true thunder ; which, during this storm, seemed to me, upon every occasion, to consist of a single, harsh, instantaneous sound.* Or if, instead of being placed at a distance of less than a thousand feet from the points of explosion (and consequently hearing the report almost in the same moment as we saw the flash, * Tliu Siiiiu' liaw scfincd te the case at all times when I have been close to the points of explosion. There has been always a distinct interval between the first explosion and the rolling sonnds and secondary explosions which I have believed to be merely echoes ; but it has never been possible (except in the aliove-mentioned case) to identify them as >\u-\i. Others have observed the same. "The geohigist, rrote.s.sor Tlu-oliald, of Clmr, who was in the Solferino stonn, between the Tschiertscher and I'rden Alp, in tlu; electric clouds, says tliat ila- ]icals were >lii>r(. like- caiiiion shuls, luil (jf a ch'arcr. more craduiig tone, ami lluil x, Kii;jli.-li id. |' i;!"-. CHAP. VI. ECHOES OF THUNDER. 119 and the rollings after a considerable interval of time), we luul been placed so that the original report had fallen on our ears nearly at the same moment as the echoes, we should probably have con- sidered that the successive reports and rollings of the echoes were reports of successive explosions occurring nearly at the same moment, and that they were not echoes at all. This is the only time (out of many storms witnessed in the Alps) I have obtained evidence that the rollings of thunder are actually echoes ; and that they are not, necessarily, the reports of a number of discharges over a long line, occurring at varying distances from the spectator, and consequently unable to arrive at his ear at the same moment, although they follow each other so swiftly as to produce a sound more or less continuous.* The wind during all this time seemed to blow tolerably con- sistently from the east. It smote the tent so vehemently (notwith- standing it was partly protected by rocks) that we had grave fears our refuge might be blown away bodily, with ourselves inside ; so, during some of the lulls, we issued out and built a wall to wind- ward. At half-past three the wind changed to the north-west, and the clouds vanished. We immediately took the opportunity to send down one of the porters (under protection of some of the others, a little beyond the Col du Lion), as the tent would accom- modate only five persons. From this time to sunset the weather was variable. It was sometimes blowing and snowing hard, and sometimes a dead calm. The bad weather was evidently confined to the Mont Cervin, for when the clouds lifted we could see every- * Mr. J. Glaisher has frcqueutly poiuted out that all sounds in balloons at some distance from the earth are notable for their brevity. " It is one sound only ; there is no reverberation, no reflection ; and this is characteristic of all sounds in the balloon, one clear sound, continuing during its own vibrations, then gone in a moment."— Good Words, 1SG3, p. 224. I learn from Mr. Glaisher that the thunder-claps which have Ijccn lieard by him dming his " travels in the air " have been no exception to the general rule, and tlic absence of rolling has fortified his belief that the r..lling sounds wliich accompany thunder are echoes, and echoes onhj. 120 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBEORN. chap. vi. thing that coiihl be seen from our gite. Monte Yiso, a hundred miles off, was clear, and the sun set gorgeously behind the range of Mont Blanc. We passed the night comfortably— even luxuriously — in our blanket-bags, but there was little chance of sleeping, between the noise of the wind, of the thunder, and of the falling rocks. I forgave the thunder for the sake of the lightning. A more splendid spectacle than its illumination of the Matterhorn crags I do not expect to see.* The greatest rock-falls always seemed to occur in the night, between midnight and daybreak. This was noticeable on each of the seven nights which I passed upon the south-west ridge, at heights varying from 11,800 to 13,000 feet. I may be wrong in supposing that the falls in the night are greater than those in the daytime, since sound is much more startling during darkness than when the cause of its production is seen. Even a sigh may be terrible in the stillness of the night. In the daytime one's attention is probably divided between the sound and the motion of rocks which fall ; or it may be concentrated on other matters. But it is certain that the greatest of the falls which happened during the night took place after midnight, and this I connect with the fact that the maximum of cold during any twenty-four hours very commonly occurs between midnight and dawn. We turned out at 3.30 a.m. on the 11th, and were dismayed to find that it still continued to snow. At 9 a.m. it ceased to fall, and the sun showed itself feebly, so we packed up our baggage, and set out to try to get upon " the shoulder." We struggled upwards until eleven o'clock, and then it commenced to snow again. We held a council ; the opinions expressed at it were unanimous against advancing, and I decided to retreat. For we had risen less than 300 feet in the past two hours, and had not even arrived at the rope which Tyndall's party left behind, attached to the rocks, * See Appendix B for the experiences of Mr. R. B. Heathcote diu-ing a tlumder- .-tonu on the Matterhorn in 1860. THE ■•UKEAI TUWBB.' "ckEte du wq: "HE CRAGS OF THE MAFrERHOKN, DURING [HE SFORM, MICNICHr, AUG, !0, 1863, ONLY TEAT SMALL CLOUD r 121 in 1862. At the same rate of progression it would have taken lis from four to five hours to get upon " the shoukler." Not one of us cared to attempt to do so under the existing circumstances ; for besides having to move our own weight, which was sufficiently troublesome at this part of the ridge, we had to transport much heavy baggage, tent, blankets, and provisions, ladder, and 450 feet of rope, besides many other smaller matters. These, however, were not the most serious considerations. Supposing that we got upon " the shoulder," we might find ourselves detained there several days, unable either to go up or down.* I could not risk any such detention, being under obligations to appear in London at the end of the week. We returned to Breil in the course of the afternoon. It was quite fine there, and the tenants of the inn received our statements with evident scepticism. They were astonished to learn that we had been exposed to a snow-storm of twenty- six hours' duration. " Why," said Favre, the innkeeper, " ice have had no snow ; it has been fine all the time you have been absent, and there has been only that small cloud upon the mountain." Ah ! that small cloud ! None except those who have had experience of it can tell what a formidable obstacle it is. Why is it that the Matterhorn is subject to these abominable variations of weather ? The ready answer is, " Oh, the mountain is so isolated ; it attracts the clouds." This is not a sufficient answer. Although the mountain is isolated, it is not so much more isolated than the neighbouring peaks that it should gather clouds when none of the others do so. It will not at all account for the * Since then (on at least one occasion), several persons have found themselves in this predicament for live or six consecutive days ! MONSIEUR FAVRE. 122 TEE ASCENT OF TEE MATTEREORN. chap. vt. cloud to which I refer, which is not formed hy an aggregation of smaller, stray clouds drawn together from a distance (as scum collects round a log in the water), but is created against the mountain itself, and springs into existence where no clouds were seen before. It is formed and hangs chiefly against the southern sides, and particularly against the south-eastern side. It frequently does not envelop the summit, and rarely extends down to the Glacier du Lion, and to the Glacier du Mont Cervin below. It forms in the finest weather ; on cloudless and windless days. I conceive that we should look to differences of temperature rather than to the height or isolation of the mountain for an ex- planation. I am inclined to attribute the disturbances which occur in the atmosphere of the southern sides of the Matterhorn on fine days,* principally to the fact that the mountain is a rock mountain ; that it receives a great amount of heat,t and is not only warmer itself, but is surrounded by an atmosphere of a higher temperature than such peaks as the Weisshorn and the Lyskamm, which are eminently snow mountains. In certain states of the atmosphere its temperature may be tolerably uniform over wide areas and to great elevations. I have known the thermometer to show 70^ in the shade at the top of an Alpine peak more than 13,000 feet high, and but a very few degrees higher GOOO or 7000 feet lower. At other times, there will be a difference of forty or fifty degrees (Faht.) between two stations, the higher not more than 6000 or 7000 feet above the lower. Provided that the temperature was uniform, or nearly so, on all sides of the Matterhorn, and to a considerable distance above its summit, no clouds would be likely to form upon it. But if the atmosphere immediately surrounding it is warmer than the con- tiguous strata, a local ' courant ascendant ' must necessarily be generated ; and portions of the cooler superincumbent (or circum- * I am spt'iiking cxcliiisivfly of ilic (listuiljanfes wliirh (ict-rir in tlR- day-time (luring Hue wcallier. t Tlie rocks are someliiues so liot tiiat they are almost paiul'iil to toueli. cuAv. VI. MYSTERIOUS MISTS. 123 jacent) air will naturally be attracted towards the mountain, where they will speedily condense the moisture of the warm air in contact with it. I cannot explain the downrushes of cold air which occur on it, when all the rest of the neighbourhood appears to be tran- quil, in any other way. The clouds are produced by the contact of two strata of air (of widely different temperatures) charged with invisible moisture, as surely as certain colourless fluids produce a white, turbid liquid, when mixed together. The order has been — wind of a low temperature — mist — rain — snow or hail.* This opinion is borne out to some extent by the behaviour of the neighbouring mountains. The Dom (14,935 feet) and the Dent Blanche (14,318) have both of them large cliffs of bare rock upon their southern sides, and against those cliffs clouds commonly form (during fine, still weather) at the same time as the cloud on the Matterhorn ; whilst the Weisshorn (14,804) and the Lyskamm (14,889), (mountains of about the same altitude, and which are in corresponding situations to the former pair) usually remain per- fectly clear. I arrived at Chatillon at midnight on the 11th, defeated and disconsolate ; but, like a gambler who loses each throw, only the more eager to have another try, to see if the luck would change : and returned to London ready to devise fresh combinations, and to form new plans. * The mists are extremely deceptive to those who are on the mountain itself. Sometimes they seem to be created at a considerable distance, as if the whole of the atmosphere of the neighhonrhooil was undergoing a change, when in reality they are being formed in immediate proximity to the mountain. tKOSSING THE CHANNEL. CHAPTEE VII. FROM ST. MICHEL ON THE MONT CENIS ROAD BY THE COL DES AIGUILLES d'ARVE, COL DE MARTIGNARE, AND THE BRECHE DE LA MEIJE TO LA BERARDE. " The more to help the greater deed is done." HOMEK. When we arrived upon the highest summit of Mont Pelvoux, in Dauphine, in 1861, we saw, to our surprise and disappointment, that it was not the cuhninating point of the district ; and that another mountain — distant ahout a couple of miles, and separated from us by an impassable gulf — claimed that distinction. I was troubled in spirit about this mountain, and my thoughts often reverted to the great wall-sided peak, second in apparent in- accessibility only to the Matterhorn. It had, moreover, another claim to attention — it w^as the highest mountain hi France. The year 1862 passed away without a chance of getting to it, and my holiday was too brief in 1863 even to think about it ; but in the following year it was possible, and I resolved to set my mind at rest by completing the task which had been left unfinished in 1861. In the meantime others had turned their attention to Dauphine. First of all (in 1862) came Mr. F. Tuckett— that mighty moun- taineer, whose name is known throughout the length and breadth of the Alps — with the guides Michel Croz, Peter Perm, and Bartolom- meo Peyrotte, and great success attended his arms. But Mr. Tuckett halted before the Pointe desEcrins, and, dismayed by its appearance, withdrew his forces to gather less dangerous laurels elsewhere. His expedition, however, threw some light upon the Ecrins. He pointed out the direction from which an attack was most likely to be successful, and Mr. William Mathews and the Eev. T. G. CHAP. VII. MIC EEL CROZ. 125 Bonney (to whom he commimicated the result of his habours) attempted to execute the ascent, with the brothers Michel and J. B. Croz, by following his indications. But they too were defeated, as I shall relate more particularly presently. The guide Michel Croz had thus been engaged in both of these expeditions in Dauphine, and I naturally looked to him for MICHEL-AL'GUSTE CROZ (1865). assistance. Mr. Mathews (to whom I applied for information) gave him a high character, and concluded his reply to me by saying, " he was only happy when upwards of 10,000 feet high." I know what my friend meant. Croz was happiest when he was employing his powers to the utmost. Places where you and I would " toil and sweat, and yet be freezing cold," were bagatelles to him, and it was only when he got above the range of ordinary mortals, and was required to employ his magnificent strength, 126 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIORN. criAP. vu. and to draw npou his unsurpassed knowledge of ice and snow, that he could be said to be really and truly happy. Of all the guides with whom I travelled, Michel Croz was the man who was most after my own heart. He did not work like a blunt razor, and take to his toil unkindly. He did not need urging, or to be told a second time to do anything. You had but to say icliat was to be done, and how it was to be done, and the work vms done, if it was possible. Such men are not common, and when they are known they are valued. Michel was not widely known, but those who did know him employed him again and again. The inscription that is placed upon his tomb truthfully records that he was " beloved by his comrades and esteemed by travellers." At the time that I was planning my journey, my friends Messrs. A. W. Moore and Horace Walker were also drawing up their programme ; and, as we found that our wishes were very similar, we agreed to unite our respective parties. The excursions which are described in this and the two following chapters are mutual ideas which were jointly executed. Our united programme was framed so as to avoid sleeping in inns, and so that we should see from the highest point attained on one day a considerable portion of the route which was intended to be followed on the next. This latter matter was an important one to us, as all of our projected excursions were new ones, and led over ground about which there was very little information in j)rint. My friends had happily secured Christian Aimer of Grindelwald as their guide. The combination of Croz and Aimer was a j)erfect one. Both men Avere in the prime of life ;* both were endued with strength and activity far beyond the average ; and the courage and the knowledge of each was alike undoubted. The temper of Aimer it was impossible to ruffle ; he was ever obliging and enduring, — a bold but a safe man. That which he lacked in fire — in dash — was supplied by Croz, who, in his turn, was kept in place by Aimer. * Croz was born at the Village dn 'I'mir, in tlic valley nl' ( 'liaiiiouuix, un Ajtril 22, 1830 ; Aimer was a year or two older. CHAP. VII. THE AIGUILLES D'ARVE. 127 It is pleasant to remember how tliey worked together, and how each one confided to you that he liked the other so much because he worked so well; but it is sad, very sad, to those who have known the men, to know that they can never work together again. We met at St. Michel on the Mont Cenis road, at midday on June 20, 1864, and proceeded in the afternoon over the Col do Valloires to the village of the same name. The summit of this pretty little pass is about 3500 feet above St. Michel, and from it we had a fair view of the Aiguilles d'Arve, a group of three peaks of singular form, which it was our especial object to investigate.* They had been seen by ourselves and others from numerous distant points, and always looked very high and very inaccessible ; but we had been unable to obtain any information about them, except the few words in Joanne's Itineraire du BauphinS. Having made out from the summit of the Col de Valloires that they could be apjoroached from the Valley of Valloires, we hastened down to find a place where we could pass the night, as near as possible to the entrance of the little valley leading up to them. By nightfall we arrived at the entrance to this little valley (Vallon des Aiguilles d'Arve), and found some buildings placed just where they were wanted. The proprietress received us with civility, and placed a large barn at our disposal, on the conditions that no lights were struck or pipes smoked therein ; and when her terms were agreed to, she took us into her own chalet, made up a huge fire, heated a gallon of milk, and treated us with genuine hospitality. In the morning we found that the Vallon des Aiguilles d'Arve led away nearly due west from the Valley of Valloires, and that the village of Bonnenuit was placed (in the latter valley) almost exactly opposite to the junction of the two. At 3.55 A.M. on the 21st we set out up the Vallon, passed for a time over pasture-land, and then over a stony waste, deeply chan- * The Pointc des Ecrius is also seen from the top of the Col do Viillou-es, rising: above the Col du Galibier. This is the lowest elevation from which I liavc seen tlie actual suuiant of the Ecrins. 128 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEEHORN. CHAP. VII. nelled by watercourses. At 5.30 the two principal Aiguilles were well seen, and as, by this time, it was evident that the authors of FROM VALLOIRES S/^. RIEU BLANC, ^< \l TO ST. JEAN D'ARVE BONNENUIT TO COL DU GALIBIER TO LA GRAVE the Sardinian official map had romanced as extensively in this neighbourhood as else- where, it was necessary to hold a council. Three questions were submitted to it :■ — Firstly, Which is the highest of these Aiguilles ? Secondly, "Which shall we go up ? Thirdly, How is it to be done ? The French engineers, it was said, had determined that the two highest of them were respectively 11,513 and 11,529 feet in height ; but we were without information as to which two they had measured.* Joanne indeed said (but without specifying whether he meant all three) that the Aiguilles had been several times ascended, and particularly mentioned that the one of 11,513 feet was "relatively easy." We therefore said, "We will go up the peak of 11,529 feet." That determination did not settle the second question. Joanne's " relatively easy" peak, according to his description, was evidently the most northern of the three. Our peak then was to be one of the other two ; — but which of them ? We were inclined to favour the central one ; but it was hard to determine, they looked so equal in height. When, however, the council came to study the third * It should be observed that these niountaius were included in tlie territory recently ceded to France. The Sardinian map above referred to was tlie old official map. The French survey alluded to afterwards is the survey in continuation of tlio great Frencli official map. Slieet No. 17!» includes the Aiguilles d'Arvc CHAP. VII. COL DES AIGUILLES D'ARVE. 129 question — " How is it to be done ?" it was unanimously voted tliat upon the eastern and southern sides it was certainly "relatively " diffi- cult, and that a move should be made round to the northern side. The movement was duly executed, and after wading up some snow-slopes of considerable steepness (going occasionally beyond 40°), we found ourselves in a gap or nick, between the central and northernmost Aiguille, at 8.45 a.m. We then studied the northern face of our intended peak, and finally arrived at the conclusion that it was " relatively " impracticable. Croz shrugged his big shoulders, and said, " My faith ! I think you will do well to leave it to others." Aimer was more explicit, and volunteered the information that a thousand francs would not tempt him to tnj it. We then turned to the northernmost peak, but found its southern faces even more hopeless than the northern faces of the central one. We enjoyed accordingly the unwonted luxury of a three-hours' rest on the top of our pass ; for pass we were determined it should be. We might have done worse. We were 10,300 or 10,400 feet above the level of the sea, and commanded a most picturesque view of the mountains of the Tarentaise ; while, somewhat east of south, we saw the monarch of the Dauphine massif, whose closer acquaint- ance it was our intention to make. Three sunny hours passed away, and then we turned to the descent. We saw the distant pastures of a valley (which we supposed was the Vallon or Kaviue de la Sausse), and a long snow-slope leading down to them. But from that slope we were cut ofi' by precipitous rocks, and our first impression was that we should have to return in our track. Some running up and down, however, discovered two little gullies, filled with threads of snow, and down the most northern of these we decided to go. It was a steep way but a safe one, for the cleft was so narrow that we could press the shoulder against one side whilst the feet were against the other, and the last remnant of the winter's snow, well hardened, clung to the rift with great tenacity, and gave us a path when the rocks refused one. In half-an-hour we got to the top of the great snow-slope. Walker said—" Let us K 130 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTElilWllN. II < m'--' ^yM/ THE AIGUILLES d'aKVE, KROM ADOVE THE CHALETS OK KIEU BLANC, SHOWING ROUTE. glissade ;" the guides — " No, it is too steep." Our friend, how- ever, started off at a standing glissade, and advanced for a time very skilfully ; but after a while he lost his balance, and progressed downwards and backwards with great rapidity, in a way that seemed to us very much like tumbling head over heels. He let go his axe, and left it behind, but it overtook him and batted him heartily. He and it travelled in this fashion for some hundreds of feet, and at last subsided into the rocks at the bottom. In a few moments we were reassured as to his safety, by hearing him ironically request us not to keep him waiting down there. We others followed the track shown by the dotted line upon the engraving (making zigzags to avoid the little groups of rocks which jutted through the snow, by which Walker had been upset), de- scended by a sitting glissade, and rejoined our friend at the bottom. We then turned sharply to the left, and tramped down the summit ridge of an old moraine of groat size. Its mud was excessively CHAP. VII. INACCESSIBILITY OF THE AIGUILLES. 131 hard, and where some large erratic blocks lay perched upon its crest, we were obliged to cut steps (in the mud) with our ice-axes. Guided by the sound of a distant ' moo,' we speedily found the highest chalets in the valley, named Kieu Blanc. They were tenanted by three old women (who seemed to belong to one of the missing links sought by naturalists), destitute of all ideas except in regard to cows, and who spoke a barbarous patois, well-nigh unin- telligible to the Savoyard Croz. They would not believe that we had passed between the Aiguilles, — " It is impossible, the cons never go there." " Could we get to La Grave over yonder ridge ?" " Oh yes ! the cows often crossed !" Could they show us the way ? No ; but we could follow the coir-tracks. We stayed a while near these chalets, to examine the western sides of the Aiguilles d'Arve, and, according to our united opinion, the central one was as inaccessible from this direction as from the east, north, or south. On the following day we saw them again, from a height of about 11,000 feet, in a south-easterly direction, and our opinion remained unchanged. We saw (on June 20-22) the central Aiguille from all sides, and very nearly completely round the southernmost one. The northern one we also saw on all sides excepting from the nortli. (It is, however, precisely from this direction M. Joanne says that its ascent is relatively easy.) We do not, therefore, venture to express any opinion respecting its ascent, except as regards its actual summit. This is formed of two curious prongs, or pinnacles of rock, and we do not understand in what way they (or either of them) can be ascended ; nor shall we be surprised if this ascent is discovered to have been made in spirit rather than body ; in fact, in the same manner as the celebrated ascent of Mont Blanc, " not entirely to the summit, but as far as the Montanvert ! " All three of the Aiguilles may be accessible, but they hole as inaccessible as anything I have seen. They are the highest summits between the valleys of the Eomanche and tlic Arc ; tlicy are placed slightly to the north of the watershed between those K 2 132 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. vii. two valleys, and a line drawn through them runs, pretty nearly, north and south. We descended by a rough path from Eieu Blanc to the chalets of La Sausse, which give the name to the Yallon or Eavine de la Sausse, in which they are situated. This is one of the numerous branches of the valley that descends to St. Jean d'Arve, and subse- quently to St. Jean de Maurienne. Two passes, more or less known, lead from this valley to the village of La Grave (on the Lautaret road) in the valley of the Eomanche, viz. : — the Col de I'lnfernet and the Col de Martignare. The former pass was crossed, many years ago, by J. D. Forbes, and was mentioned by him in his Norway and its Glaciers. The latter one lies to the north of the former, and is seldom traversed by tourists, but it was convenient for us, and we set out to cross it on the morning of the 22d, after having passed a comfortable, but not luxurious, night in the hay, at La Sausse, where, however, the simplicity of the accommodation was more than counterbalanced by the civility and hospitality of the people in charge.* [Our object now was to cross to La Grave (on the high road from Grenoble to Briangon), and to ascend, en route, some point sufficiently high to give us a good view of the Dauphine Alps in general, and of the grand chain of the Meije in particular. Before * Whilst stopping in the hospice on the Col do Lautaret, in 1S69, I was accosted by a middle-aged peasant, who asked if I would ride (for a consideration) in his cart towards Briancjon. He was inquisitive as to my knowledge of his district, and at last asked, " Have you been at La Sausse ? " " Yes." " Well, then, I tell you, you saw there some of the first jpeople in the world." " Yes," I said, " they were primitive, certainly." But ho was serious, and went on — " Y^es, real brave peojile ; " and, slap- ping his knee to give emphasis, " hut that they are first-rate for minding the cows 1 " After this he became commimicative. " You thought, probably," said he, " when I ofiered to take you down, that I was some poor , not worth a sou ; but I will tell you, that was my mountain ! my mountain ! that you saw at La Sausse ; they were my cows ! a hundred of them altogether." " Why, you are rich." " Pass- ably rich. I have another mountain on the Col du Galibier, and another at Yille- neuve." He (iilthough a common peasant in outward appearance) confessed to being worth four thousand pouuds. CHAP. vir. ASCENT OF THE AIGUILLE DE LA SAUSSE. 133 leaving England a careful study of ' Joanne ' had elicited the fact that the shortest route from La Sausse to La Grave was by the Col de Martignare ; and also that from the aforesaid Col it was possible to ascend a lofty summit, called by him the Bec-du-Grenier, also called Aiguille de Goleon. On referring, however, to the Sardinian survey, we found there depicted, to the east of the Col de Martignare, not o?ie peak bearing the above two names, but two distinct summits; one — just above the Col— the Bec-du-Grenier (the height of which was not stated) ; the other, still farther to the east, and somewhat to the south of the watershed — the Aiguille du Goleon (11,250 English feet in height), with a very considerable glacier — the Glacier Lombard — between the two. On the French map,* on the other hand, neither of the above names was to be found, but a peak called Aiguille de la Sausse (10,897 feet), was placed in the position assigned to the Bec-du-Grenier in the Sar- dinian map ; while farther to the east was a second and nameless peak (10,841), not at all in the position given to the Aiguille du Goleon, of which and of the Glacier Lombard there was not a sign. All this was very puzzling and unsatisfactory ; but as we had no doubt of being able to climb one of the points to the east of the Col de Martignare (which overhung the Kavine de la Sausse), we determined to make that col the basis of our operations.] f We left the chalets at 4.15 a.m. [under a shower of good wishes from our hostesses], proceeded at first towards the upper end of the ravine, then doubled back up a long buttress which projects in an unusual way, and went towards the Col de Martignare ; but before arriving at its summit we again doubled, and resumed the * We had seen a tracing from the nnpublished sheets of the French Government Survey. t The bracketed paragraphs in Chaps. VII. YIII. and IX. are extracted from the Journal of Mr. A. W. Moore. It would 1)6 uninteresting and unprofitable to enter into a discussion of the con- fusion of these names at greater length. It is sufficient to say that they were confounded in a most perplexing manner liy all the authorities wc were able to consult, and also by the natives on the sjiot. 134 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBEOBN. oiiap. vii. original course.* At C a.m. we stood on the watershed, and fol- lowed it towards the east ; keeping for some distance strictly to the ridge, and afterwards diverging a little to the south to avoid a con- siderable secondary aiguille, which prevented a straight track being made to the summit at which we were aiming. At 9.15 we stood on its top, and saw at once the lay of the land. We found that our peak was one of four which enclosed a plateau that was filled by a glacier. Let us call these summits A, B, c, D (see plan on p. 128). We stood upon c, which was almost exactly the same elevation as B, but was higher than D, and lower than A. Peak a was the highest of the four, and was about 200 feet higher than B and c ; we identified it as the Aiguille de Goleon (French survey, 11,250 feet). Peak d we considered was the Bec- du-Grenier ; and, in default of other names, we called b and C the Aiguilles de la Sausse. The glacier flowed in a south-easterly direction, and was the Glacier Lombard. Peaks B and c overhung the Piavine de la Sausse, and were connected with another aiguille — E — which did the same. A con- tinuation of the ridge out of which these three aiguilles rose joined the Aiguilles d'Arve. The head of the Eavine de la Sausse was therefore encircled by six peaks ; three of which it was convenient to term the Aiguilles de la Sausse, and the others were the Aiguilles d'Arve. We were very fortunate in the selection of our summit. Not to speak of other things, it gave a grand view of the ridge which cul- minates in the peak called LaMeije (13,080 feet), which used to be mentioned by travellers under the name Aiguille du Midi de la Grave. The view of this mountain from the village of La Grave itself can hardly be praised too highly, — it is one of the very finest road-views in the Alps. The Ortler Spitz from the Stelvio is, in fact, its only worthy competitor; and the opinions generally of * A groat part of this morning's route led over shales, ■which were loose and troulilesorae, and were probaldy a continuation of the well-known beds of the Col du Galihier and the Col de Lautarct. CHAP. VII. THE PIC BE LA MEIJE. 135 those who have seen the two views are in favour of the former. But from La Grave one can no more appreciate the noble propor- tions and the towering height of the Meije, than understand the symmetry of the dome of St. Paul's by gazing upon it from the churchyard. To see it fairly, one must be placed at a greater distance and at a greater height. I shall not try to describe the Meije. The same words, and the same phrases, have to do duty for one and another mountain ; their repetition becomes wearisome ; and 'tis a discouraging fact that any description, however true or however elaborated, seldom or never gives an idea of the reality. Yet the Meije deserves more than a passing notice. It was the last great Alpine peak which knew the foot of man, and one can scarcely speak in exaggerated terms of its jagged ridges, torrential glaciers, and tremendous precipices.* But were I to discourse upon these things without the aid of pictures, or to endeavour to convey in tvords a sense of the loveliness of curves, of the beauty of eoJonr, or of the harmonies of sound, I should try to accomplish that which is impossible ; and, at the best, should succeed in but giving an impression that the things spoken of may have been pleasant to hear or to behold, although they are perfectly incomprehensible to read about. Let me therefore avoid these * The ridge called La Meije runs from E.S.E. to W.N.W., and is crowned by numerous aiguilles of tolerably equal elevation. The two highest are towards the eastern and western ends of the ridge, and are rather more than a mile apart. To the former the French surveyors assign a height of 12,730, and to the latter 13,080 feet. In our opinion the western aiguille can hardly be more than 200 feet higher than the eastern one. It is possible that its height may have diminished since it was measured. In 18G9 I carefully examined the eastern end of the ridge from the top of the Col de Lautaret, and saw that the summit at that end can be ascended by following a long glacier which descends from it towards the N.E. into the Valley of Arsinc. The highest summit presents considerable difficulties. Sheet 189 of the French map is extremely inaccurate in the neighbourhood of tlic Meije, and particularly so on its northern side. The ridges and glaci.Ts wliidi arc laid down upon it can scarcely be identified on the spot. 136 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEREORN. chap. vii. things, not because I liave no love for or thought of them, but because they cannot be translated into language ; and presently, -when topographical details must, of necessity, be returned to again, I will endeavour to relieve the poverty of the pen by a free use of the pencil. Whilst we sat upon the Aiguille de la Sausse, our attention was concentrated on a point that was immediately opposite — on a gap or cleft between the Meije and the mountain called the Bateau. It was, indeed, in order to have a good view of this place that we made the ascent of the Aiguille. It (that is the gap itself) looked, as my companions remarked, obtrusively and offensively a pass. It had not been crossed, but it ought to have been; and this seemed to have been recognised by the natives, who called it, very appropriately, the Breclie de la Meije. I had seen the place in 1860, and again in 1861, but had not then thought about getting through it ; and our information in re- spect to it was chiefly derived from a photographic reproduction of the then unpublished sheet 189, of the great map of France, which Mr. Tuckett, with his usual liberality, had placed at our disposal. It was evident from this map that if we could succeed in passing the Breche, we should make the most direct route between the village of La Grave and that of Berarde in the Department of the Isere, and that the distance between these two places by this route, would be less than one-third that of the ordinary way via the villages of Freney and Venos. It may occur to some of my readers, why had it not been done before ? For the very sound reason that the valley on its southern side (Vallon des Etancons) is uninhabited, and La Berarde itself is a miserable village, without interest, without commerce, and almost without population. Why then did we wish to cross it ? * Because we were bound to the Pointe des Ecrins, to which La Berarde was the nearest inhabited place. When we sat upon the Aiguille de la Sausse, we were rather despondent about our prospects of crossing the Breche, which seemed to present a combination of all that was formidable. There CHAP. VII. MELCHIOR. 137 was, evidently, but one way by wliich it could be approached. We saw that at the top of the pass there was a steep wall of snow or ice (so steep that it was most likely ice) protected at its base by a big schrund or moat, which severed it from the snow-fields below. Then (tracking our course downwards) we saw undulating snow- fields leading down to a great glacier. The snow-fields would be easy work, but the glacier was riven and broken in every direction ; huge crevasses seemed to extend entirely across it in some places, and everywhere it had that strange twisted look, which tells of the unequal motion of the ice. Where could we get on to it ? At its base it came to a violent end, being cut short by a cliff", over which it poured periodical avalanches, as we saw by a great triangular bed of debris below. We could not venture there, — the glacier must be taken in flank. But on which side ? Not on the west, — no one could climb those cliff's. It must, if any where, be by the rocks on the east ; and they looked as if they were roclies moutonnees. So we hurried down to La Grave, to hear what Melchior Anderegg (who had just passed through the village with the family of our friend Walker) had to say on the matter. Who is Melchior Anderegg ? Those who ask the question cannot have been in Alpine Switzerland, where the name of Melchior is as well known as the name of Napoleon. Melchior, too, is an Emperor in his way — a very Prince among guides. His empire is amongst the ' eternal snows,' — his sceptre is an ice-axe. Melchior Anderegg, more familiarly, and perhaps more gene- rally known simply as Melchior, was born at Zaun, near Meiringen, on April 6, 1828. He was first brought into public notice in Hinchcliff''s Summer Months in the Alps, and was known to very few persons at the time that little work was published. In 1855 he was "Boots" at the Grimsel Hotel, and in those days, when he went out on expeditions, it was for the benefit of his master, the proprietor ; Melchior himself only got the trinhjeU. In 1856 he migrated to the Schwarenbach Inn on 138 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIOBK CHAP. VII. the Gemmi, where he employed his time in carving objects for sale. In 1858 he made numerous expeditions with Messrs. Hinchcliff and Stejihen, and proved to his employers that he possessed first-rate skill, indomitable courage, and an admirable character. His position has never been doubtful since that year, and for a long time there has been no guide whose services have been more in request : he is usually engaged a year in advance. It would be almost an easier task to say what he has not done than to catalogue his achieve- ments. Invariable success at- tends his arms ; he leads his followers to victory, but not to death. I believe that no serious accident has ever befallen tra- vellers in his charge. Like his friend Aimer, he can be called a safe man. It is the highest praise that can be given to a first-rate guide. Early in the afternoon we found ourselves in the little inn at La Grave, on the great Lautaret road, a rickety, tumble- down sort of place, with nothing stable about it, as Moore wittily remarked, except the smell.* Melchior had gone, and had left * The justness of the observation will be felt by those who knew La Grave in or before 18G4. At tliat time the horses of the couriers who were passing from Grenoble to BrianQon, and vice versa, were lodged immediately underneath the sallc-k-manger and bedrooms, and a pungent, steamy odour rose from them tlirough tlic cracks in the floor, and constantly pervaded tlic wliole house. I am told t]i;i,t tlie inn has been considerably improved since 18G4. 1, '"*U-.-*' ^ MELCHIOR ANDEREGG IN It CHAP. VII. THE BBECEE IS WON. 139 behind a note wliicli said, "I think the passage of the Breche is possible, but that it will be very difficult." His opinion coin- cided with ours, and we went to sleep, expecting to be afoot about eighteen or twenty hours on the morrow. At 2.40 the nest morning we left La Grave, in a few minutes crossed the Komanche, and at 4 a.m. got to the moraine of the eastern branch of the glacier that descends from the Breche.* The rocks by which we intended to ascend were placed between the two branches of this glacier, and still looked smooth and un- broken. By 5 o'clock we were upon them, and saw that we had been deluded by them. No carpenter could have planned a more convenient staircase. They were not moutonnee, their smooth look from a distance was only owing to their singular firmness. [It was really quite a pleasure to scale such delightful rocks. We felt the stone held the boot so well, that, without making a positive effort to do so, it would be almost impossible to slip.] In an hour we had risen above the most crevassed portion of the glacier, and began to look for a way on to it. Just at the right place there was a patch of old snow at the side, and, instead of gaining the ice by desperate acrobatic feats, we passed from the rocks on to it as easily as one walks across a gangway. At half-past 6 we were on the centre of the glacier, and the inhabitants of La Grave turned out en masse into the road, and watched us with amaze- ment as they witnessed the falsification of their confident predic- tions. Well might they stare, for our little caravan, looking to them like a train of flies on a wall, crept up and up, without hesitation and without a halt— lost to their sight one minute as it dived into a crevasse, then seen again clambering up the other side. The higher we rose the easier became the work, the angles lessened, and our pace increased. The snow remained shadowed, and we walked as easily as on a high road ; and when (at 7.45) the summit of the Breche was seen, we rushed at it as furiously * Oiu- route from La Grave to La Be'rarde will be seen on the accompanying map. 140 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEREOEN. CHAT. VIL ^^ as if it had been a breach in the wall of a fortress, carried the moat by a dash, with a push behind and a pull before, stormed the steep slope above, and at 8.50 stood in the little gap, 11,054 feet above the level of the sea. The Breche was won. Well might they stare ; five hours and a quarter had sufiiced for 6500 feet of ascent.* AVe screamed triumphantly as they turned in to breakfast. All mountaineers know how valuable it is to study beforehand an intended route over new ground from a height at some distance. None but blunderers fail to do so, if it is possible ; and one cannot do so too thoroughly. As a rule, the closer one approaches underneath a summit, the more difficult it is to pick out a path with judg- ment. Inferior peaks seem unduly impor- tant, subordinate ridges are exalted, and slopes conceal points beyond; and if one blindly undertakes an ascent, without having acquired a tolerable notion of the relative importance of the parts, and of their positions to one another, it will be miraculous if great difficulties are not encountered. But although the examination of an intended route from a height at a distance will tell one (who knows the meaning of the things he is looking at) a good deal, and will enable him to steer clear of many difficulties against which he might otherwise blindly run, it will seldom allow one to pronounce j^ositively upon the practicability or impracticability of the whole of the route. No living man, for example, can pronounce positively from a distance * Taking one kind of work -with another, a thousand feet of heiglit per hour is about as much as is usually accomplished on great Alpine ascents. ^\>j>if''^im SCALE, THREE MILES TO AN INCH. CHAP. VII. a LACIER PREFERABLE TO ROCK. 141 in regard to rocks. Those just mentioned are an illustration of this. Three of the ablest and most experienced guides concurred in thinking that they would be found very difficult, and yet they presented no difficulty whatever. In truth, the sounder and less broken up are the rocks, the more impracticable do they usually look from a distance ; while soft and easily rent rocks, which are often amongst the most difficult and perilous to climb, very fre- quently look from afar as if they might be traversed by a child. It is possible to decide with greater certainty in regard to the practicability of glaciers. When one is seen to have few open cre- vasses (and this may be told from a great distance), then we know that it is possible to traverse it ; but to what extent it, or a glacier that is much broken up by crevasses, will be troublesome, will depend upon the width and length of the crevasses, and upon the angles of the surface of the glacier itself. A glacier may be greatly crevassed, but the fissures may be so narrow that there is no occa- sion to deviate from a straight line when passing across them ; or a glacier may have few open crevasses, and yet may be practically impassable on account of the steepness of the angles of its surface. Nominally, a man with an axe can go anywhere upon a glacier, but in practice it is found that to move freely upon ice one must have to deal only with small angles. It is thus necessary to know approximately the angles of the surfaces of a glacier before it is possible to determine whether it will afford easy travelling, or will be so difficult as to be (for all practical purposes) impassable. This cannot be told by looking at glaciers in full face from a distance ; they must be seen in profile ; and it is often desirable to examine them both from the front and in profile,— to do the first to study the direction of the crevasses, to note where they are most and least numerous ; and the second to see whether its angles are moderate or great. Should they be very steep, it may be better to avoid them altogether, and to mount even by difficult rocks ; but upon glaciers of geittle inclination, and with few open crevasses, better progress can always be made than upon the easiest rocks. 142 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIOEN. chap. vh. So much to explain why wo were deceived wlieu looking at the Breche de la Meije from the Aiguille de la Sansse. We took note of all the difficulties, but did not pay sufficient attention to the distance that the Breche was south of La Grave. My meaning will be aj)parent from the accompanying diagram, Fig. 1 (constructed upon the data supplied by the French surveyors), which will also serve to illustrate how badly angles of elevation are judged by the unaided eye. ■27500'- - ^ The village of La Grave is just 5000 feet, and the highest summit of the Meije is 13,080 feet above the level of the sea. There is therefore a difference in their levels of 8080 feet. But the summit of the Meije is south of La Grave about 14,750 feet, and, consequently, a line drawn from La Grave to the summit of the Meije is no steeper than the dotted line drawn from A to c. Fig. 1 ; or, in other words, if one could go in a direct line from La Grave to the summit of the Meije the ascent would be at an angle of less than 30°. Nine persons out of ten would probably estimate the angle on the spot at double this amount.* The Breche is 2000 feet below the summit of the Meije, and only 6000 feet above La Grave. A direct ascent from the village to the Breche would consequently be at an angle of not much more than 20^. But it is not possible to make the ascent as the crow flies ; it has to be made by an indirect and much longer route. Our track was probably double the length of a direct line between the two places. Doubling the length halved the angles, and we * Fig. 2 ropresicut.s in a siiuilar luaniier the diritaucc iiud t'levuliou of the Matter- lioni from uud above Zeriaatt. hjee p. 45. CHAP. VII. VALLON DES ETANpONS. 143 therefore arrive at the somewhat amazing couclusion, that iipou this, one of the steepest passes in the Alps, the mean of all the angles npon the ascent could not have heen greater than 11° or 12'. Of course, in some places, the angles were much ^M THE VALLON DES ETAN^ONS (LOOKING TOWARDS LA BERAKDE).* steeper, and in others less, but the mean of the whole could not have passed the angle above indicated. We did not trouble ourselves much with these matters when we sat on the top of the Breche, Our day's work was as good as over (for we knew from Messrs. Mathews and Bonney that there was no difficulty upon the other side), and Ave abandoned ourselves to ease and luxury ; Avondering, alternately, as Ave gazed upon the Piateau and the Ecrins, hoAV the one mountain could * The drawing was iuadverteutly iiiadc tlic riglit way ou tlic wood, aud the view is uow reversed in consequence. 144 THE ASCENT OF TEE MATTERHORN. chap. vii. possibly hold itself together, and whether the other would hold out against us. The former looked [so rotten that it seemed as if a puff of wind or a clap of thunder might dash the whole fabric to pieces] ; while the latter asserted itself the monarch of the group, and towered head and shoulders above all the rest of the peaks which form the great horse-shoe of Dauphine. At length a cruel rush of cold air made us shiver, and shift our quarters to a little grassy plot, 3000 feet below— an oasis in a desert — where we lay nearly four hours admiring the splendid wall of the Meije.* Then we tramped down the Vallon des Etanpons, a howling wil- derness, the abomination of desolation ; destitute alike of animal or vegetable life ; pathless, of course ; suggestive of chaos, but of little else; covered almost throughout its entire length with debris from the size of a walnut up to that of a house ; in a word, it looked as if half-a-dozen moraines of first-rate dimensions had been carted and shot into it. Our tempers were soured by constant pitfalls [it was impossible to take the eyes from the feet, and if an unlucky individual so much as blew his nose, without standing still to perform the operation, the result was either an instantaneous tumble, or a barked shin, or a half-twisted ankle. There was no end to it, and we became more savage at every step, unanimously agreeing that no power on earth would ever induce us to walk up or down this particular valley again,] It was not just to the valley, which was enclosed by noble mountains, — unknown, it is true, but worthy of a great reputation, and which, if placed in other districts, would be sought after, and cited as types of daring form and graceful outline.! * This wall may 1)C described as an exaggerated Gcmmi, as seen from Leukerbad. From the highest summit of La Meije right down to the Glacier des Etan9ons (a depth of about 3200 feet), the cliif is all but perpendicular, and appears to be com- pletely unassailable. It is the most imposing thing of its kind that I have seen. t Since this chapter was first printed, the whole of the Aiguilles d'Arvo have been ascended, and also the highest point of the ]Meije. For information upon these ascents the reader is referred to the pages of the Alpine Journal. CHAPTEK VIII. THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE POINTE DES ECEINS. " Filled with high mountains, rearing their heads as if to reach to heaven, crowned with glaciers, and fissm-ed with immense chasms, where lie the eternal snows guarded by bare and rugged clitfs ; olfering the most varied sights, and enjoying all tempera- tures ; and containing everything that is most curious and interesting, the most simple and the most sublime, the most smiling and the most severe, the most beau- tiful and the most awful ; such is the department of the High Alps." Ladoucette. Before 5 o'clock on the afternoon of June 23, we were trotting down the steep path that leads into La Berarde. We put up, of course, with the chasseur-guide Eodier (who, as usual, was smooth and smiling), and, after congratulations were over, we returned to the exterior to watch for the arrival of one Alexander Pic, who had been sent overnight with our baggage via Freney and Venos. But when the night fell, and no Pic appeared, we saw that our plans must be modified ; for he was necessary to our very existence — he carried our food, our tobacco, our all. So, after some discussion, it was agreed that a portion of our programme should be abandoned, that the night of the 24th should be passed at the head of the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre, and that, on the 25th, a push should be made for the summit of the Ecrins. We then went to straw. Our porter Pic strolled in next morning with a very jaunty air, and we seized upon our tooth-brushes ; but, upon looking for the cigars, we found starvation staring us in the face. " Hullo ! Monsieur Pic, where are our cigars ? " " Gentlemen," he began, " I am desolated ! " and then, quite pat, he told a long rigmarole about a fit on the road, of brigands, thieves, of their ransacking the knap- L 146 THE ASCENT OF TEE MATTEREORN. chap. viii. sacks when lie was insensible, and of finding them gone when he revived ! " Ah ! Monsieur Pic, we see what it is, you have smoked them yourself!" "Gentlemen, I never smoke, never!''' Where- uj)on we inquired secretly if he was known to smoke, and found that he was. However, he said that he had never spoken truer words, and perhaps he had not, for he is reported to be the greatest liar in Dauphine ! We were now able to start, and set out at 1.15 p.m. to bivouac THE CENTRAL DAUPHINE ALPS. upon the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre, accompanied by Eodier, who staggered under a load of blankets. Many slof)es had to be mounted, and many torrents to be crossed, all of which has been described by Mr. Tuckett.* We, however, avoided the difficulties he experi- enced with the latter by crossing them high up, where they were subdivided. But when we got on to the moraine on the right bank of the glacier (or, properly speaking, on to one of the moraines, for there are several), mists descended, to our great hindrance ; and * Alpine Jouinal, UecLiuber 1803. CHAP. VIII. DISSOLVING VIEWS. 147 it was 5.30 before we arrived on the spot at which it was intended to camp. Each one selected his nook, and we then joined round a grand fire made by our men. Fortnum and Mason's portable soup was sliced up and brewed, and was excellent; but it should be said that before it was excellent, three times the quantity named in the directions had to be used. Art is required in drinking as in making this soup, and one point is this— always let your friends drink first ; not only because it is more polite, but because the soup has a tendency to burn the mouth if taken too hot, and one drink of the bottom is worth two of the top, as all the goodness settles. [While engaged in these operations, the mist that enveloped the glacier and surrounding peaks was becoming thinner ; little bits of blue sky appeared here and there, until suddenly, when we were looking towards the head of the glacier, far, far above us, at an almost inconceivable height, in a tiny patch of blue, appeared a wonderful rocky pinnacle, bathed in the beams of the fast-sinking sun. We were so electrified by the glory of the sight that it was some seconds before we realised what we saw, and understood that that astounding point, removed apparently miles from the earth, was one of the highest summits of Les Ecrins ; and that we hoped, before another sun had set, to have stood upon an even loftier pin- nacle. The mists rose and fell, presenting us with a series of dis- solving views of ravishing grandeur, and finally died away, leaving the glacier and its mighty bounding precipices under an exquisite pale blue sky, free from a single speck of cloud.] The night passed over without anything worth mention, but we had had occasion to observe in the morning an instance of the curious evaporation that is frequently noticeable in the High Alps. On the previous night we had hung up on a knob of rock our mackintosh bag containing five bottles of Kodier's bad wine. In the morning, although the stopper appeared to have been in all night, about four-fifths had evaporated. It was strange ; my friends L 2 148 THE ASCENT OE THE MATTER HOB N. chap. viii. had not taken any, ueitlier Lad I, and the guides each declared that they had not seen any one touch it. In fact it was clear that there was no explanation of the phenomenon, but in the dryness of the air. Still it is remarkable that the dryness of the air (or the evaporation of wine) is always greatest when a stranger is in one's party — the dryness caused by the presence of even a single Chamounix porter is sometimes so great, that not four-fifths but the entire quantity disappears. For a time I found difficulty in combating this j^henomenon, but at last discovered that if I used the wine-flask as a pillow during the night, the evaporation was completely stopped. At 4 A.M. we moved ofi" across the glacier in single file towards the foot of a great gully, which led from the upper slopes of the glacier de la Bonne Pierre, to the lowest point in the ridge that runs from the Ecrins to the mountain called Eoche Faurio, — cheered by Eodier, who now returned with his wraps to La Berarde. This gully (or couloir) was discovered and descended by Mr. Tuckett, and we will now return for a minute to the explora- tions of that accomplished mountaineer. In the year 1862 he had the good fortune to obtain from the Depot de la Guerre at Paris, a MS. copy of the then unpublished sheet 189 of the map of France, and with it in hand, he swept backwards and forwards across the central Dauphine Alps, un- troubled by the doubts as to the identity of peaks, which had per- plexed ]\Ir. Macdonald and myself in 18G1 ; and, enlightened by it, he was able to point out (which he did in the fairest manner) that we had confounded the Ecrins with another mountain — the Pic Sans Nom. We made this blunder through imperfect know- ledge of the district and inaccurate reports of the natives ; — but it was not an extraordinary one (the two mountains are not unlike each other), considering the difiiculty that there is in obtaining from any except the very highest summits a complete view of this intricate group. The situations of the }irinci])ul summits can be perceived at a CHAP. VIII. EIDGES IN NEIGHBOURHOOD OF THE ECliJNS. 140 glance on the accompanying map, which is a reproduction of a por- tion of sheet 189. The main ridge of the chain runs, at this part, nearly north and south. Eoche Faurio, at the northern extreme, is 3716 metres, or 12,192 feet, above the level of the sea. The lowest point between that mountain and the Ecrins (the Col des Ecrins) is 11,000 feet. The ridge again rises, and passes 13,000 feet in the neighbourhood of the Ecrins. The highest summit of that moun- tain (13,462 feet) is, however, placed a little to the east of and off the main ridge. It then again falls, and in the vicinity of the Col de la Tempe it is, perhaps, below 11,000 feet; but immediately to the south of the summit of that pass, there is upon the ridge a point which has been determined by the French surveyors to be 12,323 feet. This peak is without a name. The ridge continues to gain height as we come to the south, and culminates in the mountain which the French surveyors have called Sommet de I'Aile Froide. On the spot it is called, very commonly, the Alefroide. There is some uncertainty respecting the elevation of this moun- tain. The Frenchmen give 3925 metres (12,878) as its highest point, but Mr. Tuckett, who took a good theodolite to the top of Mont Pelvoux (which he agreed with his predecessors had an eleva- tion of 12,973 feet), found that the summit of the Alefroide was elevated above his station 4' ; and as the distance between the two points was 12,467 feet, this would represent a difference in altitude of 5 metres in favour of the Alefroide. I saw this mountain from the summit of Mont Pelvoux in 1861, and was in doubt as to which of the two was the higher, and in 1864, from the summit of the Pointe des Ecrins (as will presently be related), it looked actually higher than Mont Pelvoux. I have therefore little doubt but that Mr. Tuckett is right in believing the Alefroide to have an elevation of about 13,000 feet, instead of 12,878, as determined by the French surveyors. Mont Pelvoux is to the east of the Alefroide and off the main ridge, and the Pic Sans Nom (12,845 feet) is placed between these two mountains. The latter is one of the grandest of the Dauphine 150 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. viii. peaks, but it is shut in by the other mountains, and is seldom seen except from a distance, and then is usually confounded with the neighbouring summits. Its name has been accidentally omitted on the map, but its situation is represented by the large patch of rocks, nearly surrounded by glaciers, that is seen between the words Ailefroide and Mt. Pelvoux. The lowest depression on the main ridge to the south of the Alefroide is the Col du Sele, and this, according to Mr. Tuckett, is 10,834 feet. The ridge soon rises again, and, a little farther to the south, joins another ridge running nearly east and west. To a mountain at the junction of these two ridges the Frenchmen have given the singular name Crete des Boeufs Eouges ! The highest point hereabouts is 11,332 feet; and a little to the west there is another peak (Mont Bans) of 11,979 feet. The main ridge runs from this last-named point, in a north-westerly direction, to the Cols de Says, both of which exceed 10,000 feet. It will thus be seen that the general elevation of this main ridge is almost equal to that of the range of Mont Blanc, or of the central Pennine Alps ; and if we were to follow it out more com- pletely, or to follow the other ridges surrounding or radiating from it, we should find that there is a remarkable absence, throughout the entire district, of low gaps and depressions, and that there are an extraordinary number of peaks of medium elevation.* The difficulty which explorers have experienced in Dauphine in identi- fying peaks, has very much arisen from the elevation of the ridges generally being more uniform than is commonly found in the Alps, and the consequent facile concealment of one point by another. The difficulty has been enhanced by the narrowness and erratic courses of the valleys. The possession of the ' advanced copy ' of sheet 189 of the French map, enabled Mr. Tuckett to grasp most of what I have just * Tlierc are more tlian twenty peaks exceeding 12,000 feet, and tliirty others exceeding 11,000 feet, within tlie district bounded hy tlie rivers Romanche, Drac, and Durance. CHAP. VIII. TEE COL DES ECBINS. 151 said, and much more ; and he added, in 1862, three interesting passes across this part of the chain to those already known. The first, from Yille Yallouise to La Berarde, via the village of Clanx, and the glaciers du Sele and de la Pilatte, — this he called the Col du Sele ; the second, between Ville Vallouise and Villar d'Arene (on the Lautaret road) via Clanx and the glaciers Blanc and d'Arsine, — the Col du Glacier Blanc ; and the third, from Vallouise to La Be'rarde, via the Glacier Blanc, the Glacier de I'Encula, and the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre, the Col des Ecrins. This last pass was discovered accidentally. Mr. Tuckett set out intending to endeavour to ascend the Pointe des Ecrins, hut circum- stances were against him, as he relates in the following words : — "Arrived on the plateau" (of the Glacier de I'Encula), "a most striking view of the Ecrins burst upon us, and a hasty inspection encouraged us to hope that its ascent would be practicable. On the sides of La Berarde and the Glacier Noir it j)resents, as has been already stated, the most precipitous and inaccessible faces that can well be conceived ; but in the direction of the Glacier de I'Encula, as the upper plateau of the Glacier Blanc is named on the French map, the slopes are less rapid, and immense masses of 7ieve and seracs cover it nearly to the summit." " The snow was in very bad order, and as we sank at each step above the knee, it soon became evident that our prospects of success were extremely doubtful. A nearer approach, too, dis- closed traces of fresh avalanches, and after much deliberation and a careful examination through the telescope, it was decided that the chances in our favour were too small to render it desirable to waste time in the attempt. ... I examined the map, from which I perceived that the glacier seen through the gap " (in the ridge running from Pioche Faurio to the Ecrins) " to the west, at a great depth below, must be that of La Bonne Pierre ; and if a descent to its head was practicable, a passage might probably be efi'ected to La Berarde. On suggesting to Croz and Perm that, though baffled by the state of the snow on the Ecrins, we might 152 THE ASCENT OF TEE MATTERIIORN. chap. viii. still achieve something of interest and importance by discovering a new col, they both heartily assented, and in a few minutes Perm was over the edge, and cutting his way down the rather formidable couloir''' etc. etc.* This was the couloir at the foot of which we found ourselves at daybreak on the 25th of June 1864; but before commencing the relation of our doings upon that eventful day, I must recount the experiences of Messrs. Mathews and Bonney in 1862. These gentlemen, with the two Croz's, attempted the ascent of the Ecrins a few weeks after Mr. Tuckett had inspected the moun- tain. On August 26, says Mr. Bonney, " we pushed on, and our hopes each moment rose higher and higher ; even the cautious Michel committed himself so far as to cry, ' Ah, malheureux Ecrins, vous serez bientot morts,' as we addressed ourselves to the last slope leading up to the foot of the final cone. The old proverb about ' many a slip ' was, however, to prove true on this occasion. Arrived at the top of this slope, we found that we were cut off from the j)eak. by a formidable bergschrund, crossed by the rottenest of snow-bridges. We looked to the right and to the left, to see whether it would be possible to get on either arete at its extremity ; but instead of rising directly from the snow as they appeared to do from below, they were terminated by a wall of rock some forty feet high. There was but one place where the bergschrund was narrow enough to admit of crossing, and there a cliff of ice had to be climbed, and then a path to be cut up a steep slope of snow, before the arete could be reached. At last, after searching in vain for some time, Michel bade us wait a little, and started off to explore the gap separating the highest peak from the snow-dome on the right, and see if it were possible to ascend the rocky wall. Presently he appeared, evidently climbing with difficulty, and at last stood on the arete itself. Again we thought the victory was won, and started off to follow him. Suddenly he called to us to halt, and turned to descend. In a few minutes he * Alpine Jnurnal, Dec. 1863. >■ CHAP. VIII. FIRST ATTEMPT TO ASCEND THE ECBINS. 153 stopped. After a long pause he shouted to his brother, saying that he was not able to return by the way he had ascended. Jean was evidently uneasy about him, and for some time we watched him with much anxiety. At length he began to hew out steps in the snow along the face of the peak towards us. Jean now left us, and, making for the ice-cliff mentioned above, chopped away until, after about a quarter of an hour's labour, he contrived, somehow or other, to worm himself up it, and began to cut steps to meet his brother. Almost every step appeared to be cut right through the snowy crust into the hard ice below, and an incipient stream of snow came hissing down the sides of the peak as they dug it away with their axes. Michel could not have been much more than 100 yards from us, and yet it was full three quarters of an hour before the brothers met. This done, they descended carefully, burying their axe-heads deep in the snow at every step. " Michel's account was that he had reached the arete with great difficulty, and saw that it was practicable for some distance, in fact, as far as he could see ; but that the snow was in a most dangerous condition, being very incoherent and resting on hard ice ; that when he began to descend in order to tell us this, he found the rocks so smooth and slippery that return was impossible ; and that for some little time he feared that he should not be able to extricate himself, and was in considerable danger. Of course the arete could have been reached by the way our guides had descended, but it was so evident that their judgment was against proceeding, that we did not feel justified in urging them on. We had seen so much of them that we felt sure they would never hang back unless there was real danger, and so we gave the word for retreating." * On both of these expeditions there was fine weather and plenty of time. On each occasion the parties slept out at, and started from, a considerable elevation, and arrived at the base of the final peak of the Ecrins early in the day, and with plenty of * Alpine Journal, June 1863. 154 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOEN. chap. viii. superfluous energy. Guides and travellers alike, on each occasion, were exceptional men, experienced mountaineers, who had proved their skill and courage on numerous antecedent occasions, and who were not accustomed to turn away from a thing merely because it was difficult. On each occasion the attempts were abandoned because the state of the snow on and below the final peak was such that avalanches were anticipated ; and, according to the judg- ment of those who were concerned, there was such an amount of positive danger from this condition of things, that it was unjusti- fiable to persevere. We learnt privately, from Messrs. Mathews, Bonney, and Tuckett, that unless the snow was in a good state upon the final peak (that is to say, coherent and stable), we should probably be of the same opinion as themselves ; and that, although the face of the mountain fronting the Glacier de I'Encula was much less steep than its other faces, and was apparently the onJn side upon which an attempt was at all likely to be successful, it was, nevertheless, so steep, that for several days, at least, after a fall of snow upon it, the chances in favour of avalanches would be considerable. The reader need scarcely be told, after all that has been said about the variableness of weather in the High Alps, the chance was small indeed that we should find upon the 25th of June, or any other set day, the precise condition of afi'airs that was deemed in- dispensable for success. We had such confidence in the judg- ment of our friends, that it was understood amongst us the ascent should be abandoned, unless the conditions were mani- festly favourable. By five minutes to six we were at the top of the gully (a first- rate couloir, about 1000 feet high), and within sight of our work. Hard, thin, and wedge-like as the Ecrins had looked from afar, it had never looked so hard and so thin as it did when we emerged from the top of the couloir through the gap in the ridge. No tender shadows spoke of broad and rounded ridges, but sharp and shadowless its serrated edges stood out against the clear CHAP. VIII. A NEAR VIEW OF THE ECEINS. 155 - sky.* It had been said that the route must be taken by one >i the ridges oi the final peak, but both were alike repellent, hacked and notched in numberless places. They reminded me of my failure on the Dent d'Herens in 1863, and of a place on a similar ridge, from which advance or retreat was alike difficult. But, presuming one or other of these ridges or aretes was practicable, there remained the task of getting to them, for completely round the base of the final peak swept an enormous bergschrund, almost separating it from the slopes which lay beneath. It was evident thus early that the ascent would not be accomplished without exertion, and that it would demand all our faculties and all our time. In more than one respect we were favoured. The mists were gone, the day was bright and perfectly calm; there had been a long stretch of fine weather beforehand, and the snow was in excellent order; and, most important of all, the last new snow which had fallen on the final peak, unable to support itself, had broken away and rolled in a mighty avalanche, over schrund, neve, seracs, over hills and valleys in the glacier * The above view of the Ecrius was taken from the summit of the Col (in Galibier. 156 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEREORN. chap. viii. (levelling one and filling the other), completely down to the summit of the Col des Ecrins, where it lay in huge jammed masses, powerless to harm us ; and had made a broad track, almost a road, over which, for part of the way at least, we might advance with rapidity. We took in all this in a few minutes, and seeing there was no time to he lost, despatched a hasty meal, left knapsacks, provisions, and all incumbrances by the Col, started again at half-past six, and made direct for the left side of the schrund, for it was there alone that a passage was practicable. We crossed it at 8.10. Our route can now be followed upon the annexed outline. The arrow marked D .,_, ^ points out the direction of the Glacier de la Bonne Pierre. The '^iiX ^i, ^, j*, , , , , of nature. But upon representations being made at head-rj_uarters that it would be of great advantage to ex- tend the survey as far as Cormayeur, Captain Mieulet was directed to continue his observations into the south (or Italian) side of the chain. A special sheet on the scale of 40^011 ^^^ promptly engraved from the materials he accumulated, and vras published in 1865, by order of the late Minister of War, Marshal Eandon.* This sheet was admirably executed, but it included the central portion of the chain only, and a complete map was still wanting. Mr. Eeilly presented his MS. map to the English Alpine Club. It was resolved that it should be published ; but before it passed into the engraver's hands its author undertook to revise it carefully. To this end he planned a number of expeditions to high points which up to that time had been regarded inaccessible, and upon some of these ascents he invited me to accompany him. Before I pass on to these expeditions, it will be convenient to devote a few lines to the topography of the chain of Mont Blanc. At the present time the chain is divided betwixt France, Switzerland, and Italy. France has the lion's share, Switzerland * Un. Aigaille dn Geant . 7. „ de Trelat^te, Xo. 8. .. d'Argentiere 9. „ de Triolet 10. „ dn Midi . 11. ,, dn Glacier 12. Mont Dolent 13. Aiguille dn Chardonnet 14. .. duDra . 1-5. .. de Miage . 16. .. dn Plan . 17. .. de Blaitiere 15. .. des Cliarmoz oi Jfetres. 4S10 4206 4127 4061 403«} 4010 3932 3904 3S96 3901 3879 3^3 3834 3830 3823 381-5 3d80 3673 or »"**"» 3442 Ens. fee-t f 1-5.781 13.8«W 13,->40 13.324 13Ji22 13^-57 12.900 12,8<;»9 12.782 12.799 12.726 12.6C8 12,579 12,566 12.-543 12,-517 12,074 12.051 11.-591 11.293 The frontier-line foUows the main ridge. Very little of it can be seen from the YaUey of Chamounix, and from the village itself two small strips only are visible (amounting to scarcely three miles * The heights (in metres) are after Captain Mieulet t Some of these heights have no busiaess to figure in a list of the princif al peaks of the chain, being nothing more than teeth or pinnacles in ridges, or portions of higher mountains. Such, fca- example, are the Aiguilles du Geant, du Dru. an*l de Bionnassar. X 'J. 180 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIOBN. chap. x. in length) — viz. from the summit of Mont BLanc to the Dome dn Gouter, and in the neighbourhood of the Col de Balme, All the rest is concealed by outlying ridges and by mountains of secondary importance. Mont Blanc itself is bounded by the two glaciers of Miage, the glaciers de la Brenva and du Geant, the Yal Veni and the Yalley of Chamounix. A long ridge runs out towards the N.N.E. from the summit, through Mont Maudit, to the Aiguille du Midi. Another ridge proceeds towards the N.W., through the Bosse du Dromadaire to the Dome du Gouter ; this then divides into two, of which one continues N.W. to the Aiguille, du Gouter, and the other (which is a part of the main ridge of the chain) towards ,the W. to the Aiguille de Bionnassay. The two routes which are commonly followed for the ascent of Mont Blanc lie between these two principal ridges — one leading from Chamounix, via the Grands Mulets, the other from the village of Bionnassay, via the Aiguille and Dome du Gouter. The ascent of Mont Blanc has been made from several direc- tions besides these, and perhaps there is no single point of the compass from which the mountain cannot be ascended. But there is not the least probability that any one will discover easier ways to the summit than those already known. I believe it is correct to say that the Aiguille du Midi and the Aiguille de Miage were the only two summits in the chain of Mont Blanc which had been ascended at the beginning of 1864.* The latter of these two is a perfectly insignificant point ; and the former is only a portion of one of the ridges just now mentioned, and can hardly be regarded as a mountain sej)arate and distinct from Mont Blanc. The really great peaks of the chain were considered inaccessible, and, I think, with the exception of the Aiguille Verte, had never been assailed. The finest, as well as the highest peak in the chain (after Mont Blanc itself), is the Grandes Jorasses. The next, without a * Besides Mont Blanc itself. CHAP. X. PEAKS OF THE CHAIN OF MONT BLANC. 181 doubt, is the Aiguille Yerte. The Aiguille de Bionnassay, which in actual height follows the Verte, should he considered as a part of Mont Blanc ; and in the same way the summit called Les Droites is only a part of the ridge which culminates in the Verte. The Aiguille de Trelatete is the next on the list that is entitled to he considered a separate mountain, and is by far the most important peak (as well as the highest) at the south-west end of the chain. Then comes the Aiguille d'Argentiere, which occupies the same rank at the north-east end as the last-mentioned moun- tain does in the south-west. The rest of the aiguilles are com- paratively insignificant ; and although some of them (such as the Mont Dolent) look well from low elevations, and seem to possess a certain importance, they sink into their proper places directly one arrives at a considerable altitude. The summit of the Aiguille Verte would have been one of the best stations out of all these mountains for the purposes of my friend. Its great height, and its isolated and commanding position, make it a most admirable point for viewing the intricacies of the chain ; but he exercised a wise discretion in passing it by, and in selecting as our first excursion the passage of the Col de Triolet.* We slept under some big rocks on the Couvercle on the night of July 7, with the thermometer at 26'5 Faht., and at 4.30 on the 8th made a straight track to the north of the Jardin, and thence went in zigzags, to break the ascent, over the upper slopes of the Glacier de Talefre towards the foot of the Aiguille de Triolet. Croz was still my guide, Pieilly was accompanied by one of the Michel Payots of Chamounix, and Henri Charlet, of the same place, was our porter. The way was over an undulating plain of glacier of moderate inclination until the corner leading to the Col, from whence a steep secondary glacier led down into the basin of the Talefre. We experienced no difficulty in making the ascent of this secondary * Previous to this we made an attempt to ascend the xViguille d'Argentiere, and were defeated by a violent wind when within a hun.h-ed feet of the summit. 182 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. x. glacier with such ice-men as Croz and Payot, and at 7.50 a.m. arrived on the top of the so-called pass, at a height, according to Mieulet, of 12,162 feet, and 4530 above our camp on the Couvercle. The descent was commenced by very steep, but firm, rocks, and then by a branch of the Glacier de Triolet. Schrunds* were abundant ; there were no less than five extending completely across the glacier, all of which had to be jumped. Not one was equal in dimensions to the extraordinary chasm on the Col de Pilatte, although in the aggregate they far surpassed it. " Our lives," so Eeilly expressed it, " were made a burden to us with schrunds." We flattered ourselves that we should arrive at the chalets of Pre du Bar very early in the day ; but, owing to much time being lost on the slopes of Mont Piouge, it was nearly 4 p.m. before we got to them. There were no bridges across the torrent nearer than Gruetta, and rather than descend so far, we preferred to round the base of Mont Eouge, and to cross the snout of the Glacier du Mont Dolent.f We occupied the 9th with a scramble up Mont Dolent. This was a miniature ascent. It contained a little of everything. First we went up to the Col Ferret (No. 1), and had a little grind over shaly banks ; then there was a little walk over grass ; then a little tramp over a moraine (which, strange to say, gave a pleasant path) ; then a little zigzagging over the snow-covered glacier of Mont Dolent. Then there was a little bergschrund ; then a little wall of snow, — which we mounted by the side of a little buttress ; and when we struck the ridge descending S.E. from the summit, we found a little arete of snow leading to the highest point. The summit itself was little, — very small indeed ; it was the loveliest little cone of snow that was ever piled up on mountain-top ; so * Great crevasses. A bergschrund is a schrund, and something more. t The passage of the Col de Triolet from the Couvercle to Pre du Bar occupied 8 J hours of actual walking. If the pass had been taken in the contrary direction it would have consumed a much longer time. It gave a roiite shorter than any known at the time between Chamounix and the St. Bernard. As a pass I cannot conscientiously recommend it to any one (see Chap. XVII.), nor am I desirous to go again over the moraine on the left bank of the Glacier de Triolet, or the rocks of Mont Kouge. CHAP. X. THE VIEW FROM MONT DOLE NT. 183 soft, so pure ; it seemed a crime to defile it ; it was a miniature Jungfrau, a toy summit, you could cover it with the hand.* But there was nothing little about the vieiv from the Mont Dolent. [Situated at the junction of three mountain ridges, it rises in a positive steeple far above anything in its immediate neighbour- hood ; and certain gaps in the surrounding ridges, which seem contrived for that especial purpose, extend the view in almost every direction. The precipices which descend to the Glacier d'Argentiere I can only compare to those of the Jungfrau, and the ridges on both sides of that glacier, especially the steep rocks of Les Droites and Les Courtes, surmounted by the sharp snow-peak of the Aig. Verte, have almost the effect of the Grandes Jorasses. Then, framed, as it were, between the massive tower of the Aig. de Triolet and the more distant Jorasses, lies, without exception, the most delicately beautiful picture I have ever seen — the whole massif oi Mont Blanc, raising its great head of snow far above the tangled series of flying buttresses which uphold the Monts Maudits, supported on the left by Mont Peuteret and by the mass of ragged aiguilles which over- hang the Brenva. This aspect of Mont Blanc is not new, but from this point its 2^ose is unrivalled, and it has all the superiority of a picture grouped by the hand of a master. . . . The view is as extensive, and far more lovely than that from Mont Blanc itself.] t We went down to Courmayeur, and on the afternoon of July 10 started from that place to camp on Mont Sue, for the ascent of the Aiguille de Trelatete ; hopeful that the mists which were hanging about would clear away. They did not, so we deposited ourselves, and a vast load of straw, on the moraine of the Miage Glacier, just above the Lac de Combal, in a charming little hole which some solitary shepherd had excavated beneath a great slab of rock. We spent the night there, and the whole of the next day, unwilling * The asceut of Mont Dolent and return to Pre du Bar (halts included) occupied less than 11 hours. t The bracketed paragraphs in this chapter are extracted from llie notes y nioimtain ridges, or wliich, at least, liave islands of roek protruding througli the ice. The small moraines contributed by one affluent are balanced, pro- Ijably, by great ones brought by another feeder. * Atlas of rhyncal Geocjntplnj, by Augustus retenuanu and I lie Ruv. T. Milner. The italics are not in tiie original. t "The stones that are found ujiou the upper cxlninitirs of ghiciers are of the same nature as tlic mountains which rise above; but, as tlie \w carries tlicni down into the valley.s, they arrive between rocks of a totally different nature frum tlicir own." — De Saussure, § i)'M. CHAP. X. OUR FinST ATTEMPT ON TTIE AIG. B'ABGENTIEBE. 189 We descended in our track to the Lac de Coml)al, and from thence went over the Col de La Seigne to les Motets, where we slept ; on July 13, crossed the Col du Mont Tondu to Contamines (in a sharp thunderstorm), and the Col de Voza to Chamounix. Two days only remained for excursions in this neighbourhood, and we resolved to employ them in another attempt to ascend the Aiguille d'Argentiere, upon which mountain we had been cruelly defeated just eight days before. It happened in this way. — Eeilly had a notion that the ascent of the Aiguille could be accomplished by following the ridge lead- ing to its summit from the Col du Chardonnet. At half-past six, on the morning of the 6th, we found ourselves accordingly on the top of that pass. The party consisted of our friend Moore and his guide Aimer, Eeilly and his guide Francois Couttet, myself and Michel Croz. So far the weather had been calm, and the way easy ; but immediately we arrived on the summit of the pass, we got into a furious wind. Five minutes earlier we were warm, — now we were frozen. Fine snow whirled up into the air pene- trated every crack in our harness, and assailed our skins as pain- fully as if it had been red hot instead of freezing cold. The teeth chattered involuntarily — talking was laborious ; the breath froze instantaneously ; eating was disagreeable ; sitting was impossible ! We looked towards our mountain. Its aspect was not encou- raging. The ridge that led upwards had a spiked arete, palisaded with miniature aiguilles, banked up at their bases by heavy snow- beds, which led down; at considerable angles, on one side towards the Glacier de Saleinoz, on the other towards the Glacier du Char- donnet. Under any circumstances, it would have been a stiff piece of work to clamber up that way. Prudence and comfort counselled, " Give it up." Discretion overruled valour. Moore and Aimer crossed the Col du Chardonnet to go to Orsieres, and we others returned towards Chamounix, But when we got some distance down, the evil spirit which prompts men to ascend mountains tempted us to stop, and to look ino THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBIIOnN. chap. x. back at the Aiguille d'Argentiere. The sky was cloudless ; no ■wind could he felt, nor sign of it perceived ; it was only eight o'clock in the morning ; and there, right before us, we saw an- other branch of the glacier leading high up into the mountain — far above the Col du Chardonnet — and a little couloir rising from its head almost to the top of the peak. This was clearly the right route to take. We turned back, and went at it. The glacier was steep, and the snow gully rising out of it was steeper. Seven hundred steps were cut. Then the couloir became too steep. We took to the rocks on its left, and at last gained the ridge, at a point about 1500 feet above the Col du Chardonnet. We faced about to the right, and went along the ridge ; keeping on some snow a little below its crest, on the Saleinoz side. Then we got the wind again ; yet no one thought of turning, for we were within 250 feet of the summit. The axes of Croz and Couttet went to work once more, for the sloj)e was about as steep as snow-slope could be. Its surface was covered with a loose, granular crust ; dry and utterly incoherent ; which slipped away in streaks directly it was meddled with. The men had to cut through this into the old beds underneath, and to pause incessantly to rake away the powdery stuff, which poured down in hissing streams over the hard substratum. Ugh ! how cold it was ! How the wind blew ! Couttet's hat was torn from its fastenings, and went on a tour in Switzerland. The flour-like snow, swept off the ridge above, was tossed spirally upwards, eddying in tourmentes ; then, dropt in lulls, or caught by other gusts, was flung far and wide to feed the Saleinoz. " My feet are getting suspiciously numbed," cried Eeilly : " how about frost-bites ? " " Kick hard, sir," shouted the men ; " it's the only way." Their fingers were kept alive by their work ; but it was cold for the feet, and they kicked and hewed simul- taneously. I followed their example too violently, and made a hole clean through my footing. A clatter followed as if crockery had been thrown down a well. CHAP. X. CHASM NEAR THE SUMMIT. 191 I went down a step or two, and discovered in a second that all were standing over a cavern (not a crevasse, speaking properly) that was bridged over by a thin vault of ice, from which great icicles hung in groves. Almost in the same minute Eeilly pushed one of his hands right through the roof. The whole party might have tumbled through at any moment. " Go ahead, Croz, we are over a chasm ! " " "VVe know it," he answered, " and we can't find a firm place." In the blandest manner, my comrade inquired if to persevere would not be to do that which is called " tempting Providence." My reply being in the affirmative, he further observed, " Suppose we go down ? " " Very willingly." " Ask the guides." They had not the least objection ; so we went down, and slept that night at the Montanvert. Off the ridge we were out of the wind. In fact, a hundred feet down to ivindwmxl, on the slope fronting the Glacier, du Chardon- net, we were broiling hot ; there was not a suspicion of a breeze. Upon that side there was nothing to tell that a hurricane was raging a hundred feet higher, — the cloudless sky looked tran- quillity itself : whilst to leeward the only sign of a disturbed atmo- sphere was the friskiness of the snow upon the crests of the ridges. We set out on the 14th, with Croz, Payot, and Charlet, to finish ofi' the work which had been cut short so abruptly, and slept, as before, at the Chalets de Lognan. On the 15th, about midday, we arrived upon the summit of the aiguille, and found that we had actually been within one hundred feet of it when we turned back upon the first attempt. It was a triumph to Eeilly. In this neighbourhood he had performed the feat (in 1863) of joining together " two mountains, each about 13,000 feet high, standing on the map about a mile and a half apart." Long before we made the ascent he had pro- cured evidence which could not be impugned, that the Pointe des Plines, a fictitious summit which had figured on other maps as a distinct mountain, could be no other than the Aiguille d'Argentiere, 192 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEnilOltN. chap. x. and he had accordingly obliterated it from the preliminary draft of his map. We saw that it was right to do so. The Pointe des Plines did not exist. We had ocular demonstration of the accuracy of his previous observations. I do not know which to admire most, the fidelity of Mr. Reilly's map, or the indefatigable industry by which the materials were accumulated from which it was constructed. To men who are sound in limb it may be amusing to arrive on a summit (as we did upon the top of Mont Dolont), sitting astride a ridge too narrow to stand upon ; or to do battle with a ferocious wind (as we did on the top of the Aiguille de Trelatete) ; or to feel half-frozen in midsummer (as we did on the Aiguille d'Argentiere). But there is extremely little amusement in making sketches and notes under such conditions. Yet upon all these expeditions, under the most adverse circum- stances, and in the most trying situations, Mr. Eeilly's brain and fingers were always at work. Throughout all he was ever alike ; the same genial, equable-tempered companion, whether victorious or whether defeated ; always ready to sacrifice his own desires to suit our comfort and convenience. By a hapjoy union of audacity and prudence, combined with untiring perseverance, he eventually completed his self-imposed task — a work which would have been intolerable except as a labour of love — and which, for a single individual, may well-nigh be termed Herculean. We separated upon the level part of the Glacier d'Argentiere, Eeilly going with Payot and Charlet via the chalets of Lognan and de la Pendant, v/hilst I, with Croz, followed the right bank of the glacier to the village of Argentiere.* At 7 p.m. we entered the humble inn, and ten minutes afterwards heard the echoes of the cannon which were fired upon the arrival of our comrades at Chamounix.f * One cannot do worse tlian follow that path. t The lower chalet de Lognan is 2J hours' walking from Chamonnix. From thence to the summit of the Aiguille d'Argentiere, and down to the village of the same name, ofcu])i('d 12 J lionrs. CHAPTEE XL THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE HOMING PASS — ZINAL TO ZERMATT. " A daring leader is a dangerous thing." Euripides. On July 10, Croz and I went to Sierre, in the Valais, via the Col de Balme, the Col de la Forclaz, and Martigny. The Swiss side of the Forclaz is not creditable to Switzerland. The path from Mar- tigny to the summit has undergone successive improvements in these latter years ; but mendicants permanently disfigure it. We passed many tired pedestrians toiling up this oven, perse- cuted by trains of parasitic children. These children swarm there like maggots in a rotten cheese. They carry baskets of fruit with which to plague the weary tourist. They flit around him like flies ; they thrust the fruit in his face ; they pester him with their pertinacity. Beware of them ! — taste, touch not their fruit. In the eyes of these children, each peach, each grape, is worth a prince's ransom. It is to no purpose to be angry ; it is like flap- ping wasps — they only buzz the more. Whatever you do, or what- ever you say, the end will be the same. " Grive me something," is the alpha and omega of all their addresses. They learn the phrase, it is said, before they are taught the alphabet. It is in all their mouths. From the tiny toddler up to the maiden of sixteen, there is nothing heard but one universal chorus of — " Give me something; will you have the goodness to give me something ? " From Sierre we went up the Yal d'Anniviers to Zinal, to join our former companions, Moore and Aimer. Moore was ambitious to discover a shorter way from Zinal to Zermatt than the two o 194 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. xi. passes wliicli were known.* He had shown to me, upon Dufour's map, that a direct line, connecting the two places, passed exactly over the depression between the Zinal-Eothhorn and the Schall- horn. He was confident that a passage could be efi'ected over this depression, and was sanguine that it would (in consequence of its directness) prove to be a quicker route than the circuitous ones over the Triftjoch and the Col Duraud. He was awaiting us^ and we immediately proceeded up the valley, and across the foot of the Zinal glacier to the Arpitetta Alp, where a chalet was supposed to exist in which we might pass the night. We found it at lengtli,t but it was not equal to our ex- pectations. It was not one of those fine timbered chalets, with huge overhanging eaves, covered with pious sentences carved in unintelligible characters. It was a hovel, growing, as it were, out of the hill-side ; roofed with rough slabs of slaty stone ; without a door or window ; surrounded by quagmires of ordure, and dirt of every description. A foul native invited us to enter. The interior was dark ; and, when our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we saw that our palace was in plan about 15 by 20 feet; on one side it was scarcely five feet high, and on the other was nearly seven. On this side there was a raised platform, about six feet wide, littered with dirty straw and still dirtier sheepskins. This was the bed- room. The remainder of the width of the apartment was the parlour. The rest was the factory. Cheese was the article which was being fabricated, and the foul native was engaged in its manufacture. He was garnished behind with a regular cowherd's one-legged stool, which gave him a queer, uncanny look when it was elevated in the air as he bent over into his tub ; for the making of his cheese required him to blow into a tub for ten minutes at a * The Col de Zinal or Triftjoch, between the Trifthorn and the Ober Gabelhorn ; and the Col Durand between the last-mentioned mountain and the Dent Blanche. For our route from Zinal to Zermatt, see the Map of the Valley of Zermatt. t Hi<;h above the Glacier de Mominsr at tlio foot nf tlie Crete de Milton. CHAP. XI. NIOHT ON THE ABPITETTA ALP. 195 time. He then squatted on his stool to gain breath, and took a few whifFs at a short pipe; after which he blew away more vigo- rously than before. AYe were told that this procedure was neces- sary. It appeared to us to be nasty. It accounts, perhaps, for the flavour possessed by certain Swiss cheeses. Big, black, and leaden-coloured clouds rolled up from Zinal, and met in combat on the Morning glacier with others which descended from the Eothhorn. Down came the rain in torrents, and crash went the thunder. The herd-boys hurried under shelter, for the frightened cattle needed no driving, and tore spontaneously down the Alp as if running a steeple-chase. Men, cows, pigs, sheep, and goats forgot their mutual animosities, and rushed to the only refuge on the mountain. The spell was broken which had bound the elements for some weeks past, and the cirque from the Weisshorn to Lo Besso was the theatre in which they spent their fury. A sullen morning succeeded an angry night. We were un- decided in our council whether to advance or to return down the valley. Good seemed likely to overpower bad ; so, at 5.40, we left the chalet en route for our pass [amidst the most encouraging assurances from all the people on the Alp that we need not distress ourselves about the weather, as it was not possible to get to the point at which we were aiming].* Our course led us at first over ordinary mountain slopes, and then over a flat expanse of glacier. Before this was quitted, it was needful to determine the exact line which was to be taken. We were divided betwixt two opinions. I advocated that a course should be steered due south, and that the ujjper plateau of the Morning glacier should be attained by making a great detour to our right. This was negatived without a division. Aimer declared in favour of making for some rocks to the south-west of the Schallhorn, and attaining the upper plateau of the glacier by mounting them. Croz advised a middle course, up some very * Moore's Journal. 2 196 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. xi. steep and broken glacier. Croz's route seemed likely to turn out to be impracticable, because much step-cutting would be required upon it. Aimer's rocks did not look good ; they were, possibly, unassailable. I thought both routes were bad, and declined to vote for either of them. Moore hesitated, Aimer gave way, and Croz's route was adopted. He did not go very far, however, before he found that he had undertaken too much, and after [glancing occasionally round at us, to see what we thought about it, suggested that it might, after all, be wiser to take to the rocks of the Schallhorn]. That is to say, he suggested the abandonment of his own and the adoption of Aimer's route. No one opposed the change of j^lan, and, in the absence of instructions to the contrary, he j)roceeded to cut steps across an ice-slope towards the rocks. Let the reader now cast his eye upon the map of the Valley of Zermatt, and he will see that when Ave quitted the slopes of the Arpitetta Alp, we took a south-easterly course over the Moming glacier. We halted to settle the plan of attack shortly after we got uj)on the ice. The rocks of the Schallhorn, whose ascent Aimer recommended, were then to our south-east. Croz's proposed route was to the south-west of the rocks, and led up the southern side of a very steep and broken glacier.* The part he intended to traverse was, in a sense, undoubtedly practicable. He gave it up because it would have involved too much stej)-cutting. But the part of this glacier which intervened between his route and Aimer's rocks was, in the most complete sense of the word, impracticable. It passed over a continuation of the rocks, and was broken in half by them. The upper portion was separated from the lower portion by a long slope of ice that had been built up from the debris of the glacier which had fallen from above. Tlie foot of this slope was surrounded by immense quantities of the larger avalanche blocks. These we cautiously skirted, and when Croz halted they had been left far below, and we were half-way up * 'riiiiiurjh wliai is tcolinioally Ciillcd an "ice-fall." CHAP. XI. A PERILOUS PATH. 197 the side of the great slope which led to the base of the ice-wall above. Across this ice- slope Croz now proceeded to cut. It was executing a flank movement in the face of an enemy by whom we might be attacked at any moment. The peril was obvious. It was a monstrous folly. It was foolhardiness. A retreat should have been sounded.* " I am not ashamed to confess," wrote Moore in his Journal, " that during the whole time we were crossing this slope my heart was in my mouth, and I never felt relieved from such a load of care as when, after, I suppose, a passage of about twenty minutes, we got on to the rocks and were in safety. ... I have never heard a positive oath come from Aimer's mouth, but the language in which he kept up a running commentary, more to himself than to me, as we went along, was stronger than I should have given him credit for using. His prominent feeling seemed to be one of indignation that we should be in such a position, and self-reproach at being a party to the proceeding ; while the emphatic way in which, at intervals, he exclaimed, ' Quick ; be quick,' sufficiently betokened his alarm." It was not necessary to admonish Croz to be quick. He was fully as alive to the risk as any of the others. He told me after- wards, that this place was the most dangerous he had ever crossed, and that no consideration whatever would tempt him to cross it again. Manfully did he exert himself to escape from the impending destruction. His head, bent down to his work, never turned to the right or to the left. One, two, three, went his axe, and then he stej)ped on to the spot where he had been cutting. How painfully insecure should we have considered those steps at any other time ! But now, we thought only of the rocks in front, and of the hideous seracs, lurching over above us, apparently in the act of falling. * The responsibility, however, did not rest witli Croz. His part was to advise, but not to direct. 198 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTER HORN. CHAP. XI. We got to the rocks in safety, and if they had been doubly as difficult as they were, we should still have been well content. We sat down and refreshed the inner man ; keeping our eyes on the towering pinnacles of ice under which we had passed ; but which, now, were almost beneath us! Without a prelimi- nary warning sound, one ■ the largest — as high as the Monument at London r)ridge — fell upon the slope below. The stately mass heeled over as if upon a hinge (holding together until it bent 30 degrees forwards), then it crushed out its base, and, rent into a thousand fragments, plunged verti- cally down upon the slope lat we had crossed ! ILE-AVALANCHE ON THE MOMING PASS. Every atom of our track, tliat was in its course, was obliterated ; all the new snow was swept away, and a broad sheet of smooth, glassy ice, showed the resistless force witli which it had fallen. It was inexcusable to follow sueli a pc^rilous patli, but it is easy CHAP. XI. THE SUMMIT OF THE MOMING PASS. 199 to understanl wliy it was taken. To have retreated from tlio place where Croz. suggested a change of pLm, to have descended below the reach of danger, and to have mounted again by the route which Aimer suggested, would have been equivalent to abandoning the excursion ; for no one would have passed another night in the chalet on the Arpitetta Alp. "Many," says Thucydides, "though seeing well the perils ahead, are forced along by fear of dishonour — as the world calls it — so that, vanquished by a mere word, they fall into irremediable calamities." Such was nearly the case here. No one could say a word in justification of the course which was adopted ; all were alive to the danger that was being encountered ; yet a grave risk was deliberately — although unwillingly — incurred, in preference to admitting, by withdrawal from an untenable posi- tion, that an error of judgment had been committed. After a laborious trudge over many species of snow, and through many varieties of vapour — from the quality of a Scotch mist to that of a London fog — we at length stood on the depression between the Rothhorn and the Schallhorn.* A steerp wall of snow was upon the Zinal side of the summit ; but what the descent was like on the other side we could not tell, for a billow of snow tossed over its crest by the western winds, suspended o'er Zermatt with motion arrested, resembling an ocean-wave frozen in the act of breaking, cut off the view.f Croz — held hard in by the others, who kept down the Zinal side — opened his shoulders, flogged down the foam, and cut away * The siimiiiit of the puss has been marked on Dnfonr's map 3793 metres, or 12,444 feet. t These snow-cornices are common on the crests of high mountain ridges, and it is always prudent (just before arriving upon the summit of a moimtaiu or ridge) to sound with tlie alpenstoclv, that is to say, drive it in, to discover whetlier there is one or not. Men have often narrowly escaped losing their lives from neglecting this precaution. Several instances have been known of cornices having given way with- out a moment's notice, and of life only having been saved through men being tied together. These cornices are frequently rolled round in a volute, and sometimes take most extravagant forms. Bee page 32. 200 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. xi. the cornice to its junction with the summit ; then boklly leaped down, and called on us to follow him. SUMMIT OK THE MOWING PASS IN IC It was well for us now tliat we had such a man as leader. An inferior or less daring- <^niide would have hesitated to enter upon the CHAP. XI. DESCENT FROM THE HOMING PASS. 201 descent in a dense mist ; and Croz himself would have done right to pause had he been less magnificent in physique. He acted, rather than said, " Where snow lies fast, there man can go ; where ice exists, a way may be cut ; it is a question of power ; I have the power, — all you have to do is to follow me," Truly, he did not spare himself, and could he have performed the feats upon the boards of a theatre that he did upon this occasion, he would have brought down the house with thunders of applause. Here is what Moore wrote in his Journal. [The descent bore a strong resemblance to the Col de Pilatte, but was very much steeper and altogether more difficult, which is saying a good deal. Croz was in his element, and selected his way with marvellous sagacity, while Aimer had an equally honourable and, perhaps, more responsible post in the rear, which he kept with his usual steadiness. . . . One particular passage has impressed itself on my mind as one of the most nervous I have ever made. We had to pass along a crest of ice, a mere knife-edge, — on our left a broad crevasse, whose bottom was lost in blue haze, and on our right, at an angle of 70^, or more, a slope falling to a similar gulf below. Croz, as he went along the edge, chipped small notches in the ice, in which we placed our feet, with the toes well turned out, doing all we knew to preserve our balance. While stepping from one of these precarious footholds to another, I staggered for a moment. I had not really lost my footing ; but the agonised tone in which Aimer, who was behind me, on seeing me waver, exclaimed, " Slip not, sir ! " gave us an even livelier impression than we already had of the insecurity of the position. . . . One huge chasm, whose upper edge was far above, the lower one, could neither be leaped nor turned, and threatened to prove an insuperable barrier. But Croz showed himself equal to the emergency. Held up by the rest of the party, he cut a series of holes for the hands and feet, down and along the almost perpen- dicular wall of ice forming the upper side of the sehrund. Down this slippery staircase we crept, with our faces to the wall, until a 202 TBE ASCENT OF THE MATTEEIIOBN. chap. xi. point was reached where the width of the chasm was not too great for us to drop across. Before we had done, we got qnite accus- tomed to taking flying leaps over the schrunds. ... To make a long story short ; after a most desperate and exciting struggle, and as bad a piece of ice-work as it is j)ossible to imagine, we emerged on to the upper plateau of the Hohlicht glacier.] The glimpses which had been caught of the lower part of the Hohlicht glacier were discouraging, so it was now determined to cross over the ridge between it and the Eothhorn glacier. This was not done without great trouble. Again we rose to a height exceeding 12,000 feet. Eventually we took to the track of the despised Triftjoch, and descended by the well-known, but rough, path which leads to that pass ; arriving at the Monte Eosa hotel at Zermatt at 7.20 p.m. We occupied nearly twelve hours of actual walking in coming from the chalet on the Arpitetta Alp (which was 2^ hours above Zinal), and we consequently found that the Homing pass was not the shortest route from Zinal to Zermatt, although it was the most direct. Two dozen guides — good, bad, and indifferent ; French, Swiss, and Italian — can commonly be seen sitting on the wall on the front of the Monte Eosa hotel : waiting on their employers, and looking for employers ; watching new arrivals, and speculating on the number of francs which may be extracted from their pockets. The Messieurs — sometimes strangely and wonderfully dressed — stand about in groups, or lean back in chairs, or lounge on the benches which are placed by the door. They wear extraordinary boots, and still more remarkable head-dresses. Their peeled, blistered, and swollen faces are worth studying. Some, by the exercise of watchfulness and unremitting care, have been fortunate enough to acquire a fine raw sienna complexion. But most of them have not been so happy. They have been scorched on rocks, and roasted on glaciers. Their cheeks — first jiufi'ed, then cracked — have exuded ii turj)entine-like matter, which has coursed down their faces, and CHAP. XI. THE CLUB-EOOM OF ZERMATT. 203 has dried in patches like the resin on the trunks of pines. They have removed it, and at the same time have pulled off large flakes of their skin. They have gone from had to worse — their case has become hopeless — knives and scissors have heen called into play ; tenderly, and daintily, they have endeavoured to reduce their cheeks to one, uniform hue. It is not to be done. But they have gone on, fascinated, and at last have brought their unhappy coun- tenances to a state of helpless and complete ruin. Their lips are cracked; their cheeks are swollen; their eyes are blood-shot; their noses are peeled and indescribable. Such are the pleasures of the mountaineer ! Scornfully and derisively the last comer compares the sight with his own flaccid face and dainty hands ; unconscious that he too, perhaps, will be numbered with those whom he now ridicules. There is a frankness of manner about these strangely-appa- relled and queer-faced men, which does not remind one of draw- ing-room, or city life; and it is good to see — in this club-room of Zermatt — those cold bodies, our too-frigid countrymen, regele together when brought into contact ; and it is pleasant to witness the hearty welcome given to the new-comers by the host and his excellent wife.* I left this agreeable society to seek letters at the post. They yielded disastrous intelligence. My holiday was brought to an abrupt termination, and I awaited the arrival of Eeilly (who was convoying the stores for the attack on the Matterhorn) only to inform him that our arrangements were upset ; then travelled home, day and night, as fast as express trains would carry me. * This opportunity has been taken to introduce to the reader some of the most expert amateur mountaineers of the time ; and a few of the guides wlio have been, or will be, mentioned in the course of the book. The late Peter Pernn is on the extreme right. Then come young Peter Taug- walder (upon the bench) ; and J. J. Maquignaz (leaning against the door-post). Pranz Andermatten occupies the steps, and Ulricli Lauener towers in tlie background. CHAPTEK XII. THE FIEST ASCENT OF THE GRAND COKNIHK. " Ye crags aucl peaks, I'm -with you ouce again ! Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answers nie, Anil bid your tenant welcome to his home Again ! " S. Knowles. OuE career in 1864 had been one of unbroken success, but the great ascent upon which I had set my heart was not attempted, and, until it was accomplished, I was unsatisfied. Other things, too, influenced me to visit the Alps once more. I wished to travel elsewhere, in places where the responsibility of direction would rest with myself alone. It was well to know how far my judgment in the choice of routes could be relied upon. The journey of 1865 was chiefly undertaken, then, to find out to what extent I was capable to select paths over mountainous country. The programme which was drawn up for this journey was rather ambitious, since it included almost all of the great peaks which had not then been ascended ; but it was neither lightly undertaken nor hastily executed. All pains were taken to secure success. Information was sought from those who could give it, and the defeats of others were studied, that their errors might be avoided. The results which followed came not so much, perhaps, from luck, as from forethought and careful calculation. For success docs not, as a rule, come by chance, and when one fails there is a reason for it. But when any notable, or so-called brilliant thing is done, we are too apt to look upon the success CHAP. xii. ON CHOICE OF ROUTES. 20.j alone, without considering how it was accomplished. Whilst, when men fail, we inquire why they have not succeeded. So failures are oftentimes more instructive than successes, and the disappoint- ments of some become ijrofitable to others. Up to a certain point, the programme was completely and happily carried out. Nothing but success attended our efforts so long as the excursions were executed as they had been planned. Most of them were made upon the very days which had been fixed for them months beforehand ; and all were accomplished, comparatively speaking, so easily, that their descriptions must be, in the absence of difficulty and danger, less interesting to the general reader than they would have been if our course had been marked by blunders and want of judgment. Before proceeding to speak of these excursions, it will not be entirely useless to explain the reasons which influenced the selection of the routes which were adopted upon them. In the course of the past five seasons my early practices were revolutionised. My antipathy to snow was overcome, and my predilection for rocks was modified. Like all those who are not mountaineers born, I was, at the first, extremely nervous upon steej) snow. The snow seemed bound to slip, and all those who were upon it to go along with it. Snow of a certain quality is undoubtedly liable to slip when it is at a certain inclination.* The exact states which are dangerous, or safe, it is not possible to describe in writing. That is only learnt by experience, and con- fidence upon snow is not really felt until one has gained experience. Confidence gradually came to me, and as it came so did my par- tiality for rocks diminish. For it was evident, to use a common expression, that it paid better to travel upon snow than upon rocks. This applies to snow-beds pure and simple, or to snow which is lying over glacier ; and in the selection of routes it has, latterly, always been my practice to look for the j^laces where snow slopes, or snow-covered glaciers, reach highest into mountains.f * See pp. 115 and IHO. t *^ee !>• HI- 206 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBIIOBN. chap. xh. It is comjiaratively seldom, however, that an ascent of a great mountain can be executed exclusively upon snow and glacier. Eidges peep through which have to be surmounted. In my earlier scramblings I usually took to, or was taken upon, the summits (or aretes) of the ridges, and a good many mountaineers habitually take to them on principle, as the natural and proper way. Accord- ing to my experience, it is seldom well to do so when any other course is open. As I have already said, and j)resently shall repeat more particularly, the crests of all the main ridges of the great peaks of the Alps are shattered and cleft by frost ; and it not un- frequently happens that a notch in a ridge, which appears perfectly insignificant from a distance, is found to be an insuperable barrier to farther progress ; and a great detour, or a long descent, has to be made to avoid the obstacle. When committed to an arete one is tied, almost always, to a particular course, from which it is diffi- cult to deviate. Much loss of time must result if any serious obstruction occurs ; and defeat often follows a temporary check. But it rarely happens that a great alpine peak is seen that is cut ofi" abruptly, in all directions, from the snows and glaciers which surround it. In its gullies snow will cling, although its faces may be too steep for the formation of permanent snow-beds. The merits of these snow-gullies (or couloirs) have been already j)ointed out,* and it is hardly necessary to observe, after that which was just now said about snow, that ascents of snow-gullies (with proper pre- cautions) are very much to be preferred to ascents of rocky aretes. By following the glaciers, the snow-slopes above, and the couloirs rising from them, it is usually possible to get very close to the summits of the great peaks in the Alps. The final climb will, perhaps, necessarily be by an arete. The less of it the better. It occasionally occurs that considerable mountain slopes, or faces, are destitute of snow-gullies. In that case it will, very likely, be best to adhere to the faces (or to the gullies or minor ridges upon them) rather than to take to the great ridges. Upon a * See pp. 1G9-171- CHAP. XII. CROZ AND ALMEB. 207 face one can move to the right or to the left with more facility than upon the crest of a ridge ; and when a difficulty is arrived at, it is, consequently, less troublesome to circumvent. In selecting the routes which were taken in 1865, I looked, first, for places where glaciers and snow extended highest up into the mountains which were to be ascended, or the ridges which were to be crossed. Next, for gullies filled with snow leading still higher ; and finally, from the heads of the gullies we completed the ascents, whenever it was practicable, by faces instead of by aretes. The ascent of the Grand Cornier (13,022), of the Dent Blanche (14,318), Grandes Jorasses (13,700), Aiguille Yerte (13,540), Euinette (12,727), and the Matterhorn (14,780), were all accomplished in this way ; besides the other excursions which will be referred to by and by. The route selected, before the start was made, was in every case strictly followed out. We inspected all of these mountains from neighbouring heights before entering upon their ascents. I explained to the guides the routes I proposed to be taken, and (when the courses were at all complicated) sketched them out on paper to prevent misunder- standing. In some few cases they suggested variations, and in every case the route was well discussed. The execution of the work was done by the guides, and I seldom interfered with, or attempted to assist in it. The 13th of June 1865 I spent in the valley of Lauterbrunnen with the Rev. W. H. Hawker and the guides Christian and Ulrich Lauener ; and on the l4th crossed the Petersgrat with Christian Aimer and Johann Tannler to Turtman (Tourtemagne) in the Yalais. Tannler was then paid off, as Michel Croz and Franz Biener were awaiting me. It was not possible to find two leading guides who worked together more harmoniously than Croz and Aimer. Biener's part was subordinate to theirs, and he was added as a convenience rather than as a necessity. Croz spoke French alone. Aimer little else than German. Biener spoke both languages, and was useful on 208 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOBN. chap. xii. that account ; but lie seldom went to the front, excepting during the early part of the day, when the work was easy, and he acted throughout more as a porter than as a guide. The imj3ortance of having a reserve of power on mountain expeditions cannot be too strongly insisted upon. We always had some in hand, and were never pressed, or overworked, so long as we were together. Come what might, we were ready for it. But by a series of chances, which I shall never cease to regret, I was first obliged to part with Croz, and then to dismiss the others ;* and so, deviating from the course that I had deliberately adopted, which was successful in practice because it was sound in principle, became fortuitously a member of an expedition that ended with the catastrophe which brings this book, and brought my scrambles amongst the Alps, to a close.t * See pp. 23G and 26(1 t I engaged Croz for 1865 before I parted from liiui in 1861 ; Imt ujiou writing to him in the month of April to tix the dates of his engagement, I found that he liad supposed he was free (in consequence of not having heard from me earlier), and had engaged himself to a Mr. B from the 27th of June. I endeavoured to hfild him to his promise, but he considered himself imable to withdraw from his later obliga- tion. His letters were honourable to him. The following extract from tlie last one he wrote to me is given as an interesting souvenir of a brave and upright man : — €,^,1^,^^ ^.uu>-/ ju/-- £^ iA^'^i^f ^OJ^ /^-^^ ^^^'*^ ^^ ..^.vd/ <^^1;5^~ CHAP. XII. ASCENT OF THE GBAND CORNIER. 209 On June 15 we went from Turtman to Z'meiden, and thence over the Forcletta pass to Zinal. We diverged from the summit of the pass up some neighbouring heights to inspect the Grand Cornier, and I decided to have nothing to do with its northern side. It seemed quite safe to pronounce it inaccessible from that direction, although it was more than seven miles away. On the 16th we left Zinal at 2.5 a.m., having been for a moment greatly surprised by an entry in the hotel-book,* and ascending by the Zinal glacier, and giving the base of our moun- tain a wide berth in order that it might be better examined, passed gradually right round to its south, before a way up it was seen.f At 8.30 we arrived upon the plateau of the glacier that descends towards the east, between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche, and from this j)lace a route was readily traced. We steered to the north (as shown upon the map) over the glacier, towards the ridge that descends to the east ; gained it by mount- ing snow-slopes, and followed it to the summit, which was arrived at before half-past twelve. From first to last the route was almost entirely over snow. The ridges leading to the north and to the south from the summit of the Grand Cornier, exhibited in a most striking manner the extraordinary effects that may be produced by violent alterna- tions of heat and cold. The southern one was hacked and split into the wildest forms ; and the northern one was not less cleft and impracticable, and offered the droll piece of rock-carving which is represented upon page 211. Some small blocks actually * It was an entry describing an ascent of the Grand Cornier (which we supposed had never been ascended) from the very direction which we had just pronounced to be hopeless ! It was especially startling, because Franz Biener was spoken of in the account as having been concerned in the ascent. On examining Biener it was found that he had made the excursion, and had supposed at the time he was upon his sum- mit that it was the Grand Cornier. He saw afterwards that they had only ascended one of the several points upon the ridge running northwards from the Grand Cornier —I believe, the Pigne de 1' Alice (11,168 feet) ! t For route, see the map of the Valley of Zermatt. P 210 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTKRllOllN. tottered and fell before our eyes, and, starting others in their downward course, grew into a perfect avaLanche, which descended with a solemn roar on to the glaciers beneath. It is natural that the great ridges should present the wildest forms — not on account of their dimensions, but by reason of their PAKT OF THE SOUTHERN KIDGE OF THE GKANU CORNIER. positions. They are exposed to the fiercest heat of the sun, and are seldom in shadow as long as it is above the horizon. They are entirely unprotected, and are attacked by the strongest blasts and by the most intense cohl. The most durable rocks are not proof against such assaults. These grand, apparently solid — eternal — mountains, seeming so firm, so immutable, are yet ever changing and crumbling into dust. These shattered ridges are evidence of their sufferings. Let mo repeat that every principal ridge of every great peak in the Alps amongst those I have seen has been CHAP. XII. THE OBEAT lUDGES tiUEFER MOST. 211 shattered in this way ; and that every siiinmit, amongst the rock- siimmits upon which I have stood, has been nothing hut a piled-iip heap of fragments. The minor ridges do not usually present such extraordinary forms as the principal ones. They are less exposed, and they are less broken up; and it is reasonable to assume that their annual degradation is less than that of the summit-ridges. , The wear and tear does not cease even in winter, for these great ridges are never completely covered up by snow,* and the sun has still power. The destruc- tion is incessant, and increases as time goes on ; for the greater the surfaces which are ex- posed to the practically inexhaustible powers of sun and frost, the greater ruin will be effected. The rock-falls which are continually occurring upon all rock mountains (such as are referred to upon pp. 29, 55) are, of course. ^f^lifill PART OF I HE NOKTHEIiN RIDGE OF THE GKA.ND tOKNlER. * I wrote in the Atlieniium, Aiigust 29, 1863, to the same efiect. "This action of the frost does not cease in winter, inasmuch as it is impossible for the Matterhoru to be entirely covered by snow. Less jjrecipitous mountains may be entirely covered up during winter, and if they do not then actually gain height, the wear and tear is, at least, suspended. . . . We arrive, therefore, at the conclusion that, although such snow-peaks as Mont Blanc may in the course of ages grow higher, the Matter- horn must decrease in lieight." Tliese remarks have received confirmation. The men who were left by M. Dollfus-Ausset in his observatory upon the sunnnit of the Col The'odule, during the winter of 1865, remarked that the snow was jiartially melted upon the rocks in their vicinity upon 19th, 20th, 21st, 22d, 2Hd, 2cth, 27th December of that year, and upon tlie 22d of December they entered in their Journal, " Nous avons vu au Maiterhorn que la neige se fondait sur roches et qu'il s'en ecotdait de I'eau." — Muteriaux pour Vetiide des Glacierg, vol. viii. part i. p. 246, 18GS ; and vol. viii. part ii. p. 77, 1869. V -2 21-2 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBHORN. chap. xii. caused by these j)owers. No one doubts it ; but one never believes it so thorougbly as when the quarries are seen from which their materials have been hewn ; and when the germs, so to speak, of these avalanches have been seen actually starting from above. These falls of rock take place from two causes. First, from the heat of the sun detaching small stones or rocks which have been arrested on ledges or slopes and bound together by snow or ice. I have seen such released many times when the sun has risen high ; fall gently at first, gather strength, grow in volume, and at last rush down with a cloud trailing behind, like the dust after an express train. Secondly, from the freezing of the water which trickles, during the day, into the clefts, fissures, and crannies. This agency is naturally most active in the night, and then, or during very cold weather, the greatest falls take place.* When one has continually seen and heard these falls, it is easily understood why the glaciers are laden with moraines. The wonder is, not that they are sometimes so great, but that they are not always greater. Irrespective of lithological considerations, one knows that this debris cannot have been excavated hj the glaciers. The moraines are home by glaciers, but they are l)orn from the ridges. They are generated by the sun, and delivered by the frost. " Fire," it is well said in Plutarch's life of Camillus, " is the most active thing in nature, and all generation is motion, or at least, with motion ; all other parts of matter without warmth lie sluggish and dead, and crave the influence of heat as their life, and when that comes upon them, they immediately acquire some active or passive qualities." f * In each of the seven nights I passed upon the south-west riJgo of the IMatter- liorn in 1861-3 (at heights varying from 11,844 to 12,992 feet above the level of the sea), the rocks fell incessantly in sliowers and avalanches. See p. 120. t Tonson's Ed. of 1758. Bacon may have had tliis passage in mind when ho wrote, "It must not be thouglit tliat lieat generates motion, or motion heat (tliough in some respects this be true), but tliat tlie very essence of heat, or the substantial self of heat, is motion and iiotliing else." — Novum Organum, book ii. Devey's Trauslatioii. CHAP. XII. FBOST AND FIRE DO THE WORK. 213 If the Alps were granted a perfectly invariable temperature, if they were no longer subjected, alternately, to freezing blasts and to scorching heat, they might more correctly be termed ' eternal.' They might still continue to decay, but their abasement would be much less rapid. When rocks are covered up by a sheet of glacier they do enjoy an almost invariable temperature. The extremes of summer and winter are unknown to rocks which are so covered up, — a range of a very few degrees is the most that is possible underneath the ice.* There is, then, little or no disintegration from unequal expansion and contraction. Frost, then, does not penetrate into the heart of the rock, and cleave off vast masses. The rocks, tlien, sustain grinding instead of cleaving. Atoms, then, come away instead of masses. Fissures and overhanging surfaces are bridged, for the ice cannot get at them ; and after many centuries of grinding have been sustained, we still find numberless angular surfaces (in the lee-sides) which were fashioned before the ice began to work. The points of difference which are so evident between the operations of heat, cold, and water, and those of glaciers upon rocks, are as follow. The former take advantage of cracks, fissures, joints, and soft places ; the latter do not. The former can work underneath overhanging masses ; the latter cannot. The efiects produced by the former continually increase, because they continu- ally expose fresh surfaces by forming new cracks, fissures, and holes. The effects which the latter produce constantly diminish, because the area of the surfaces operated upon becomes less and less, as they become smoother and flatter. What can one conclude, then, but that sun, frost, and water, * Doubtless, at the sides of glacier beds, the range of temperature is greater. But there is evidence that the winter cold does not penetrate to the innermost recesses of glacier-beds in the fact that streams continue to flow underncatli the ice all tlie year round, winter as well as summer, in the Alps and (I was informed in Greenland) in Greenland. Experimental proof can be readily obtained that even in nndsiminier the bottom temperature is close to 32° Falit. 214 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIOBN. chap. xii. have had infinitely more to do than ghaciers with the fashioning of mountain-forms and valley-slopes? Who can refuse to helieve that powers which are at work everywhere, which have been at work always, which are so incomparably active, capable, and en- during, must have produced greater effects than a solitary power which is always local in its influence, which has worked, compara- tively, but for a short time, which is always slow and feeble in its operations, and which constantly diminishes in intensity ? Yet there are some who refuse to believe that sun, frost, and water have played an important part in modelling the Alps, and hold it as an article of their faith that the Alpine region " owes its present conformation mainly to the action of its ancient glaciers"!* My reverie was interrupted by Croz observing that it was time to be off. Less than two hours sufficed to take us to the glacier plateau below (where we had left our baggage) ; three quarters of an hour more placed us upon the depression between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche (Col du Grand Cornier!), and at 6 P.M. we arrived at Abricolla. Croz and Biener hankered after milk, and descended to a village lower down the valley ; but Aimer and I stayed where we were, and passed a chilly night on some planks in a half-burnt chalet.J * Professor Tyudall " On the Conformation of the Alps," Plia. Mag., 8cpt. 18G2. f This had been crossed, for the first time, a few months before. + The following details may interest mountain-climbers. Left Zinal (.'JGOS feet) 2S) A.M. Thence to plateau S.E. of summit of Cilraud Cornier, 5 h. 25 min. From the plateau to the sunnnit of the mountain, 2h hours. The last 300 feet of the ridge ff)llowed were exceedingly sharp and narrow, with a great cornice, from which huge icicles depended. We were obliged to go underneath the cornice, and to cut a way through the icicles. Descent from summit to jjlateau, 1 h. 40 miu. Sliarp snow- storm, with thimder. Plateau to summit of Col du Grand Cornier (rocks easy), 4;") min. From the summit of the Col to tlie cud of glacier h'ading to the west, .^).^) miii. Thence to Abricolla (71t.')y), 15 miu. CHAPTER XIII. THE ASCENT OF THE DENT BLANCHE. " God help thee, Trav'ller, on thy joiirucy far ; The wind is bitter keen,— the snow o'erlays The liiddeu pits, and daug'rons hollow-ways, And darkness will involve thee. — No kind star To-night will guide thee." . . . H. KiRKE White. Croz and Biener did not return until past 5 a.m. on June 17, and we then set out at once for Zermatt, intending to cross the Col d'Herens. But ^\e did not proceed far before the attractions of the Dent Blanche were felt to be irresistible, and we turned aside up the steep lateral glacier which descends along its south- western face. The Dent Blanche is a mountain that is little known except to the climbing fraternity. It was, and is, reputed to be one of the most difficult mountains in the Alps. Many attempts were made to scale it before its ascent was accomplished. Even Leslie Stephen himself, fleetest of foot of the whole Alpine brotherhood, once upon a time returned discomfited from it. It was not climbed until 1862 ; but in that year Mr. T. S. Kennedy, with Mr. Wigram, and the guides Jean B. Croz* and Kronig, managed '"''''"' ^^"'""'^ to conquer it. They had a hard fight though before they gained * The brother of mv gnidc Michel Croz. 216 TEE ASCENT OF THE MATTEPJIOEN. chap. xiii. the victory ; a furious wind and driving snow, added to the natural difficulties, nearly turned the scale against them.* Mr. Kennedy started from AbricoUa between 2 and 3 a.m. on July 18, 1862, and ascending the glacier that is mentioned in the opening paragraph, went towards the point marked 3912 metres upon the map ; t then turned to the left (that is, to the north), and completed the ascent by the southern ridge — that which overhangs the western side of the Schonbiihl glacier. Mr. Kennedy described his expedition in a very interesting paper in the Alpine Journal. His account bore the impress of truth ; yet unbelievers said that it was impossible to have told (in weather such as was experienced) whether the summit had actually been attained, and sometimes roundly asserted that the mountain, as the saying is, still remained virgin. I did not share these doubts, although they influenced me to make the ascent. I thought it might be possible to find an easier route than that taken by Mr. Kennedy, and that if we succeeded in discovering one w^e should be able at once to refute his tra- ducers, and to vaunt our superior wisdom. Actuated by these elevated motives, I halted my little army at the foot of the glacier, and inquired, " Which is best for us to do ? — to ascend the Dent Blanche, or to cross to Zermatt ? " They answered, with befitting solemnity, " We think Dent Blanche is best." From the chalets of Abricolla the south-west face of the Dent Blanche is regarded almost exactly in profile. From thence it is seen that the angle of the face scarcely exceeds thirty degrees, and after observing this I concluded that the face would, in all proba- bility, give an easier path to the summit than the crest of the very jagged ridge which was followed by Mr. Kennedy. We zigzagged up the glacier along the foot of the face, and looked for a way on to it. We looked for some time in vain, for a mighty hergsclirund effectually prevented approach, and, like a fortress' moat, protected the wall from assault. We went up and * See noto fo ji. 70. t '^''C ""^P ""'f 'lif" Valley of Zermatt. CHAP. XIII. BERGSCHRUNB OF THE DENT BLANC BE. 217 up, until, I suppose, we were not more than a thousand feet below the point marked 3912 metres; then a bridge was discovered, and we dropped down on hands and knees to cross it. 1 HE l.EKubLHKUND ON THE DENT BLANCHE IN 1 A bergschrund, it was said on p. 182, is a schrund, and some- thing more than a schrund. A schrund is simply a big crevasse. 218 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERUOnX. chap. xiir. A bergschruncl is frequently, althougli not always, a big crevasse. The term is aiDplied to the last of the crevasses that one finds, in ascending, before quitting the glacier, and taking to the rocks which bound it. It is the mountains' schrund. Sometimes it is venj large, but early in the season (that is to say in the month of June or before) bergschrunds are usually snowed up, or well bridged over, and do not give much trouble. Later in the year, say in August, they are frequently very great hindrances, and occasionally are completely impassable. They are lines of rupture consequent upon unequal motion. The glaciers below move quicker than the snow or ice which clings immediately to the mountains ; hence these fissures result. The slower motion of that which is above can only be attributed to its having to sustain greater friction ; for the rule is that the upper portion is set at a steeper angle than the lower. As that is the case, we should expect that the upper portion would move quicker than the lower, and it would do so, doubtless, but for the retarda- tion of the rocks over which, and through which, it passes.* We crossed the bergschrund of the Dent Blanche, I suppose, at a height of about 12,000 feet above the level of the sea. Our work may be said to have commenced at that point. The face, although not steep in its general inclination, was so cut up by little ridges and cliffs, and so seamed with incipient couloirs, that it had all the difficulty of a much more precipitous slope. The difficulties were never great, but they were numerous, and made a very respectable total when put together. We passed the berg- schrund soon after nine in the morning, and during the next eleven hours halted only five-and-forty minutes. The whole of the remainder of the time was occupied in ascending and descend- ing the 2400 feet which compose this south-western face ; and inasmuch as 1000 feet per hour (taking the moan of ascent and * Couloirs arc invariiilily ])rotf'ci('(l at tlicir liasos liy bfrcrschrinids. An cxamplo oC a ciinlciir witli a ilmililc hcrj^sclinind is pjivcii on |i. ltl!». CHAP. XIII. UNWELCOME ATTENTIONS. 210 descent) is an ordinary rate of progression, it is tolerably certain that tlie Dent Blanche is a mountain of exceptional difficulty. The hindrances opposed to us by the mountain itself were, however, as nothing compared with the atmospheric obstructions. It is true there was plenty of, " Are you fast. Aimer ? " " Yes." " Gro ahead, Biener." Biener, made secure, cried, " Come on, sir," and Monsieur endeavoured. " No, no," said Aimer, " not there, — here" — pointing with his baton to the right place to clutch. Then 'twas Croz's turn, and we all drew in the rope as the great man followed. " Forwards " once more — and so on. Five hundred feet of this kind of work had been accomplished when we were saluted (not entirely unexpectedly) by the first gust of a hurricane which was raging above. The day was a lovely one for dwellers in the valleys, but we had, long ago, noted some light, gossamer clouds, that were hovering round our summit, being drawn out in a suspicious manner into long, silky threads. Croz, indeed, prophesied before we had crossed the schrund, that we should be beaten by the wind, and had advised that we should return. But I had retorted, " No, my good Croz, you said just now ' Dent Blanche is best '; we must go up the Dent Blanche." I have a very lively and disagreeable recollection of this wind. Upon the outskirts of the disturbed region it was only felt occa- sionally. It then seemed to make rushes at one particular man, and when it had discomfited him, it whisked itself away to some far- off spot, only to return, presently, in greater force than before. My old enemy — the Matterhorn — seen across the basin of the Z'Muttgletscher, looked totally unassailable. " Do you think," the men asked, " that you, or any one else, will ever get up that mountain ? " And when, undismayed by their ridicule, I stoutly answered, " Yes, but not upon that side," they burst into derisive chuckles. I must confess that my hopes sank ; for nothing can look more completely inaccessible than the Matterhorn on its northern and north-west sides. 220 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIORN. chap. xiir. " Forwards " once again. We overtopped the Dent d"Herens. " Not a thousand feet more ; in three hours we shall be on the summit." " You mean ten," echoed Croz, so slow had been the progress. But I was not far wrong in the estimate. At 3.15 we struck the great ridge followed by Mr. Kennedy, close to the top of the mountain. The wind and cold were terrible there. Progress was oftentimes impossible, and we waited, crouching under the lee of rocks, listening to ' the shrieking of the mindless wind,' while the blasts swept across, tearing off the upper snow and blowing it away in streamers over the Schunbiihl glacier— "nothing seen except an indescribable writhing in the air, like the wind made visible." Our goal was concealed by mist, although it was only a few yards away, and Croz's prophecy, that we should stay all night upon the summit, seemed likely to come true. The men rose with the occasion, although even their fingers had nearly lost sensation. There were no murmurings, nor suggestions of return, and they pressed on for the little white cone which they knew must be near at hand. Stopped again ; a big mass perched loosely on the ridge barred the way ; we could not crawl over, and scarcely dared creep round it. The wine went round for the last time. The liquor was half-frozen, — still we would more of it. It was all gone ; the bottle was left behind, and we pushed on, for there was a lull. The end came almost before it was expected. The clouds opened, and I saw that we were all but upon the highest point, and that, between us and it, about twenty yards off, there was a little artificial pile of stones. Kennedy Avas a true man, — it was a cairn which he had erected. " What is that, Croz ? " " Homme des pierrefi," he bawled. It was needless to proceed farther ; I jerked the rope from Biener, and motioned that we should go back. He did the same to Aimer, and wc turned immediately. Theij did not see the stones (they were cutting footsteps), and misinterpreted CHAP. XIII. A EACE FOR LIFE. 221 the reason of the retreat. Voices were inaudible, and explanations impossible,* We commenced the descent of the face. It was hideous work. The men looked like impersonations of Winter, with their hair all frosted, and their beards matted with ice. My hands were numbed — dead. I begged the others to stop. " We cannot afford to stop ; we must continue to move" was their reply. They were right ; to stop was to be entirely frozen. So we went down ; gripping rocks varnished with ice, which pulled the skin from the fingers. Gloves were useless ; they became iced too, and the batons slid through them as slippery as eels. The iron of the axes stuck to the fingers — it felt red-hot ; but it was useless to shrink, the rocks and the axes had to be firmly grasped — no faltering would do here. We turned back at 4.12 p.m., and at 8.15 crossed the berg- schrund again, not having halted for a minute upon the entire descent. During the last two hours it was windless, but time was of such vital importance that we pressed on incessantly, and did not stop until we were fairly upon the glacier. Then we took stock of what remained of the tips of our fingers. There was not much skin left ; they were perfectly raw, and for weeks afterwards I was reminded of the ascent of the Dent Blanche by the twinges which I felt when I pulled on my boots. The others escaped with some slight frost-bites ; and, altogether, we had reason to congra- tulate ourselves that we got off so lightly. The men complimented me upon the descent, and I could do the same honestly to them. If they had worked less vigorously, or harmoniously, we should have been benighted upon the face, where there was not a single spot upon which it was possible to sit ; and if that had happened, I do not think that one would have survived to tell the tale. We made the descent of the glacier in a mist, and of the * The' summit of the Dent Blanche is a ridge, perhaps one hundi-ed yards iu length. The highest point is usually at its north-eastern end. Several ascents besides those made by Mr. Kennedy and the author have been made iu late years ; but, as yet, no one seems to have discovered an easy route up the mountain. ooo THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEUlIOFiN. chap. xiii. moraine at its base, and of the slopes below, in total darkness, and regained the chalets of Abricolla at 11.45 p.m. We had been absent ei'i'hteen and a half hours, and out of that time had been foiuo- not less than seventeen. That night we slept the sleep of those who are thoroughly tired.* Two days afterwards, when walking into Zermatt, whom should we meet but Mr. Kennedy. " Hullo ! " we said, " we have just seen your cairn on the top of the Dent Blanche." " No, you haven't," he answered, very positively. " What do you mean ? " " Why, that you cannot have seen my cairn, be- cause I didn't make one ! " " Well, but we saw a cairn." " No doubt ; it was made by a man who went up the mountain last year with Lauener and Zurfluh. ' " 0-o-h," we said, rather disgusted at hear- ing news when we expected to communicate some, " 0-o-h ! good morning. Kennedy." Before this happened, we managed to lose our way upon the Col d'Herens ; but an account of that must be reserved for the next chapter. T. S. KENNEDY. * Tho ascent of the Dent Blanche is the hardest that I have made. There was iiothiuy upon it wo difficult as the last 500 feet of the Poiute des Ecrins ; but, on the other hand, tliere was hardly a step upon it which was positively easy. The whole of the face rc(iuired actual climbing. There was, prol>ably, very little difierence in difficulty between the route we took in ISlJ;"), and that followed by Mr. Kennedy in 18ii2. CHAPTEK XIV. LOST OX THE COL D'HEKENS. — MY SEVENTH ATTEMPT TO ASCEND THE MATTERHORN. " Oh ! ye iuiinortal gods, where iu the world are we ? " ClCEliO. We should have started for Zermatt ahoiit 7 a.m. on the 18th, had not Biener asked to he allowed to go to mass at Evolene, a village ahout two aud a half hours from Abricolla. He received per- mission, on the condition that he returned not later than mid-day, but he did not come back until 2.30 p.m., and we thereby got into a pretty little mess. The pass which we were about to traverse to Zermatt — the Col d'Herens — is one of the few glacier passes in this district which have been known almost from time immemorial. It is frequently crossed in the summer season, and is a very easy route, notwith- standing that the summit of the pass is 11,417 feet above the level of the sea.* From Abricolla to the summit the way lies chiefly over the flat Glacier de Ferpecle. The walk is of the most straightforward kind. The glacier rises in gentle undulations ; its crevasses are small and easily avoided ; and all you have to do, after once getting upon the ice, is to proceed due south, in the most direct manner possible. If you do so, in two hours you should be upon the summit of the pass. We tied ourselves in line, of course, when we entered upon the *■ t scarcely more than 40^. 4. Because I observed for myself that the strata of the m ntain dipped to the west-south-west. It is not necessary to say anything more than has been already said upon the first two of these four points, but upon the latter two a few words are indispensable. Let us consider, first, why most persons receive such an exaggerated impression of the steepness of the eastern face. When one looks at the Matterhorn from Zermatt, the mountain is regarded (nearly) from the north-east. The face that fronts the east is consequently neither seen in profile nor in full front, but almost half-way between the two ; it looks, therefore, more steep than it really is. The majority of those who visit Zermatt go up to the Eifi'elberg, or to the Gornergrat, and from these places the mountain naturally looks still more precipitous, because its eastern face (which is almost all that is seen of it) is viewed more directly in front. From the Eiflel hotel the slope seems to be set at an angle of 70''. If the tourist continues to go southwards, and crosses the Theodule pass, he gets, at one point, immediately in front of the eastern face, which then seems to be absolutely per- pendicular. Comparatively few persons correct the erroneous im- pressions they receive in these quarters by studying the face in profile, and most go away with a very incorrect and exaggerated idea of the precipitousness of this side of the mountain, because they have considered the question from one point of view alone. Several years passed away before I shook myself clear of my early and false impressions regarding the steepness of this side of the Matterhorn. First of all, I noticed that there were places on this eastern face where snow remained permanently all the year round. I do not speak of snow in gullies, but of the considerable slopes which are seen upon the accompanying engraving, about half-way up the face. Such beds as these could not continue to remain throughout the summer, unless the snow had been able to accumulate in the winter in large masses ; and snow cannot accu- Q 2 228 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERIIOUN. . ii.u>. xiv. mulate and remain in large masses, in a situation such as this, at angles much exceeding 45^* Hence I was bound to conclude that the eastern face was many degrees removed from perpendicularity ; and, to he sure on this point, I went to the slopes between the Z'Muttgletscher and the Matterhorngletscher, above the chalets of Staftel, whence the face could be seen in profile. Its appearance from this direction would be amazing to one who had seen it only from the east. It looks so totally different from the apparently sheer and perfectly unclimbable cliff one sees from the Eiffelberg, that it is hard to believe the two slopes are one and the same thing. Its angle scarcely exceeds 40^. A great step was made when this was learnt. This know- ledge alone would not, however, have caused me to try an ascent by the eastern face instead of by the south-west ridge. Forty degrees may not seem a formidable inclination to the reader, nor is it for only a small cliff. But it is very unusual to find so steep a gradient maintained continuously as the general angle of a great mountain-slope, and very few instances can be quoted from the High Alps of such an angle being preserved over a rise of 8000 feet. I do not think that the steepness or the height of this cliff would have deterred climbers from attempting to ascend it, if it had not, in addition, looked so repulsively smooth. Men despaired of finding anything to grasp. Now, some of the difficulties of the south-west ridge came from the smoothness of the rocks, although that ridge, even from a distance, seemed to be well broken up. How much greater, then, might not have been the difficulty of climbing a face which looked smooth and unbroken close at hand? A more serious hindrance to mounting the south-west ridge is found in the dip of its rocks to the west-south-west. The great mass of the Matterhurn, it is now well ascertained, is ctmiposed of * I pretV'V to 1)0 ou the s;if't' side ]\Iy iiupirssii)ii is tluil snow (Miiiioi iiccuimilate in lar;ro niassL'S inn 230 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERnOBN. chap. xiv. The fact that the mountain is composed of a series of stratified beds was pointed ont long ago. De Saussiire remarked it, and recorded explicitly, in his Travels (§ 2243), that they " rose to the north-east at an angle of about 45^." Forbes noticed it also ; and gave it as his opinion that the beds were " less inclined, or nearly horizontal." He added, " De Saussure is no doubt correct."* The truth, I think, lies between the two. I was acquainted with both of the above-quoted passages, but did not turn the knowledge to any practical account until I re- observed the same fact for myself. It was not until after my repulse in 1863, that I referred the peculiar difficulties of the south-west ridge to the dip of the strata ; but when once persuaded that structure and not texture was the real impediment, it was reasonable to infer that the opposite side, that is to say the eastern face, might be comparatively easy. In brief, that an arrangement should be found like Fig. 2, instead of like Fig. 1. This trivial deduction was the key to the ascent of the Matterhorn. The point was. Did the strata continue with a similar dip throughout the mountain? If they did, then this great eastern face, instead of being hopelessly impracticable, should be quite the reverse. — In fact, it should be a great natural staircase, with steps inclining inwards ; and, if it were so, its smooth aspect might be of no account, for the smallest steps, inclined in this fashion, would afford good footing. They did so, as far as one could judge from a distance. When snow fell in the summer time, it brought out long, terraced lines upon the mountain ; rudely parallel to each other ; inclined in the direction shown (aj)proximately) upon the figures in the accom- panying plate ; and the eastern face, on those occasions, was often whitened almost completely over ; while the other sides, with the aud the CJreut Tower. Tlie remarks would not iipjily to the rocks higher up (sec p. 75) ; higher still the rocks are firm again ; vet higher (upon the " Shoulder ") they are much disintegrated ; and then, upon the final ])cak, they arc again firm. * Travels thrnurih the Alpx, 2nd ed. p. 'Ml. THE MATTERHORH FROM THE SUMMIT OF THE THEOOULE PASS, THE MATTERHORN FROM THE NORTH-EAST. THE SPACES BETWEEN THE PARALLEL RED LINES REPRESENT ON AN AVERAGE A VERTICAL "^'^"J^^l°^ 60 FEET; BUT, ON ACCOUNT OF FORESHORTENING, THE HEIGHT BETWEEN THE UPPERMOST LINES IS SOMEWHAT MORE THAN THIS AMOUNT. CHAP. XIV. WE TRY ANOTHER ROUTE. 231 exception of the powdered terraces, remained black — for the snow could not rest npon them. The very outline of the mountain, too, confirmed the conjec- ture that its structure would assist an ascent on the eastern face, although it opposed one on all other sides. Look at any photograph of the peak from the north-east (or, failing one, the outline facing page 230, which is carefully traced from one), and you will see that upon the right-hand side (that facing the Z'Muttgletscher) there is an incessant repetition of overhanging cliffs, and of slopes all trending downwards ; in short, that the character of the whole of that side is similar to Fig. 1, p. 229 ; and that upon the left hand (or south-east) ridge, the forms, as far as they go, are sug- gestive of the structure of Fig. 2. There is no doubt that the contours of the mountain, seen from this direction, have been largely influenced by the direction of its beds. It was not, therefore, from a freak, that I invited Mr. Eeilly to join in an attack upon the eastern face, but from a gradually- acquired conviction that it would prove to give the easiest path to the summit ; and, if we had not been obliged to part, the mountain would, doubtless, have been ascended in 1864. My guides readily admitted that they had been greatly deceived as to the steepness of the eastern face, when they were halted to look at it in profile, as we came down the Z'Muttgletscher, on our way to Zermatt ; but they were far from being satisfied that it would turn out to be easy to climb, and Aimer and Biener ex- pressed themselves decidedly averse to making an attempt upon it. I gave way temporarily before their evident reluctance, and we made the ascent of the Theodulhorn to examine an alternative route, which I expected would commend itself to them in prefer- ence to the other, as a great part of it led over snow. There is an immense gully in the Matterhorn, which leads up from the Glacier du Mont Cervin to a point high up on the 2;i2 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERJIOUN. chap. xiv. south-eastern ridge.* I proposed to ascend this to its head, and to cross over the south-east ridge on to the eastern face. This woiild have brought us on a level with the bottom of the great snow-slope shown upon the centre of the eastern face in the engraving facing p. 227. This snow -slope was to be crossed diagonally, with the view of arriving at the snow upon the north-east ridge, which is shown upon the same engraving, about half-an-inch from the summit. The remainder of the ascent was to be made by the broken rocks, mixed with snow, upon the north side of the moun- tain. Croz caught the idea immediately, and thought the plan feasible ; details were settled, and we descended to Breil. Luc Meynet, the hunchback, was summoned, and expressed himself delighted to resume his old vocation of tent-bearer ; and Favre's kitchen was soon in commotion preparing three days' rations, for I intended to take that amount of time over the affair— to sleep on the first night upon the rocks at the top of the gully ; to make a push for the summit, and to return to the tent on the second day ; and upon the third to come back to Breil. We started at 5.45 a.m. on June 21, and followed the route of the Breuiljochf for three hours. We were then in full view of our gully, and turned off at right angles for it. The closer we approached, the more favourable did it look. There was a good deal of snow in it, which was evidently at a small angle, and it seemed as if one-third of the ascent, at least, would be a very simple matter. Some suspicious marks in the snow at its base suggested that it was not free from falling stones, and, as a measure of precaution, we turned off on one side, worked up under cover of the cliffs, and waited to see if anything should descend. Nothing fell, so we proceeded up its right or northern side, sometimes cutting steps up the snow and sometimes mounting by the rocks. Shortly before 10 a.m. we arrived at a convenient place for a halt, * Its position is shown l)y the letter F, on tlie riglit of the outline, on p. 8.'). See aim Map of the Mattcrhorn and its Glaciers. t See p. 94. CHAP. XIV. " 8AUVE QUI PETJTI" 233 and stopped to rest upon some rocks, immediately close to tlie snow, wliicli commanded an excellent view of the gully. While the men were unpacking the food I went to a little promontory to examine our proposed route more narrowly, and to admire our noble couloir, which led straight up into the heart of the mountain for fully one thousand feet. It then bent towards the north, and ran up to the crest of the south-eastern ridge. My curiosity was piqued to know what was round this corner, and whilst I was gazing up at it, and following with the eye the exquisitely drawn curves which wandered down the snow in the gully, all converging to a large rut in its centre, I saw a few little stones skidding down. I consoled myself with thinking that they would not interfere with us if we adhered to the side. But then a larger one came down, a solitary fellow, rushing at the rate of sixty miles an hour — and another — and another. I was unwilling to raise the fears of the men unnecessarily, and said nothing to them. They did not hear the stones. Aimer was seated on a rock, carving large slices from a leg of mutton, the others were chatting, and the first intimation they had of danger was from a crash — a sudden roar — ^which reverberated awfully amongst the cliffs, and, looking up, they saw masses of rocks, boulders and stones, big and little, dart round the corner eight hundred feet or so above us, fly with fearful fury against the opposite cliffs, rebound from them against the walls on our side, and descend ; some ricochetting from side to side in a frantic manner ; some bounding down in leaps of a hundred feet or more over the snow ; and others trailing down in a jumbled, confused mass, mixed with snow and ice, deepening the grooves which, a moment before, had excited my admiration. The men looked wildly around for protection, and, dropping the food, dashed under cover in all directions. The precious mutton was pitched on one side, the wine-bag was let fall, and its contents gushed out from the unclosed neck, whilst all four cowered under defending rocks, endeavouring to make themselves as small as possible. Let it not be supposed that their fright was unreason- 234 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOIiN. chap. xiv. able, or that I was free from it. I took good care to make myself safe, and went and cringed in a cleft until the storm had passed. But their scramble to get under shelter was indescribably ludi- crous. Such a panic I have never witnessed, before or since, upon a mountain- side.* This ricochet practice was a novelty to me. It arose, of course, from the couloir being bent, and from the falling rocks having acquired great pace before they passed the angle. In straight gullies it will, probably, never be experienced. The rule is, as I have already remarked, that falling stones keep down the centres of gullies, and they are out of harm's way if one follows the sides. MV TENT-BEAKER — THE HUNCHBACK. There would have been singularly little amusement, and very great risk, in mounting this gully, and we turned our backs upon it with perfect unanimity. The question then arose, " What is to be done?" I suggested climbing the rocks above us, but this was voted impossible. I thought the men were right, yet would not give in without being assured of the fact, and clambered up to * Sf'O Frnntisiiicff. CHAP. XIV. REPULSED. 235 settle the question. In a few minutes I was brongbt to a halt. My forces were scattered ; the little hunchback alone was closely fol- lowing me — ^with a broad grin uj^on his face, and the tent upon his shoulder; Croz, more behind, was still keeping an eye upon his Monsieur; Aimer, a hundred feet below, sat on a rock with his face buried in his hands ; Biener was nowhere, out of sight. " Come down, come down," shouted Croz ; " it is useless," and I turned at length, convinced that it was even as he said. Thus my little plan was knocked on the head, and we were thrown back upon the original scheme. We at once made a straight track for Mr. Morshead's Breuiljoch* (which was the most direct route to take in order to get to the Hornli, where we intended to sleep, preparatory to attacking the eastern face), and arrived upon its summit at 12.30 p.m. We were then unexpectedly checked. The pass, as one, had vanished ! and we found ourselves cut off from the Furggengletscher by a small but precipitous wall of rock ; — the glacier had shrunk so much that descent was impracticable. During the last hour clouds had been coming up from the south ; they now surrounded us, and it began to blow hard. The men clustered together, and advocated leaving the mountain alone. Aimer asked, with more point than politeness, " Why don't you try to go up a mountain which can be ascended ? " " It is impossible," chimed in Biener. " Sir," said Croz, " if we cross to the other side we shall lose three days, and very likely shall not succeed. You want to make ascents in the chain of Mont Blanc, and I believe they can be made. But I shall not be able to make them with you if I sj)end these days here, for I must be at Chamounix on the 27th." There was force in what he said, and his words made me hesitate. I relied ui)on his strong arms for some work which it was expected would be unusually difficult. Snow began to fall ; that settled the matter, and I gave the word to retreat. We went back to Breil, and on to the village of Yal Tournanche, where we slept ; and the next * See note to p. 95. 236 THE ASCENT OE THE MATTEExTIOnN. vnw. xiv. day proceeded to Chatillon, and thence up the Valley of Aosta to Conrmayeiir. I cannot but regret that the counsels of the guides prevailed. If Croz had not uttered his well-intentioned words, he might still have been living. He parted from us at Chamounix at the appointed time, but by a strange chance we met again at Zermatt three weeks later, and two days afterwards he perished before my eyes on the very mountain from which we turned away, at his advice, on the 21st of June. On June 23 we mounted to the top of Mont Saxe, to scan the Grandes Jorasses, with the view of ascending it. Five thousand feet of glacier- covered precipices rose above us, and up all that height we tracked a way to our satisfaction. Three thousand feet more of glacier and forest-covered slopes lay beneath, and there, there was only one point at which it was doubtful if we should find a path. The glaciers were shrinking, and were surrounded by bastions of rounded rock, far too polished to please the rough mountaineer. We could not track a way across them. However, at 4 A.M. the next day, under the dexterous leading of Michel Croz, we passed the doubtful spot. Thence it was all plain sailing, and at 1 P.M. we gained the summit. The weather was boisterous in the upper regions, and storm-clouds driven before the wind, and wrecked against our heights, enveloped us in misty spray, which danced around and fled away, which cut us off from the material universe, and caused us to be, as it were, suspended betwixt heaven and earth, seeing both occasionally, but seeming to belong to neither. The mists lasted longer than my patience, and we descended without having attained the object for which the ascent was made. At first we followed the little ridge shown upon the accompanying engraving, leading from our summit towards the spectator, and then took to the head of the corridor of glacier on its left, which in the view is left perfectly white. The slopes were steep and covered with new-fallen snow, flour-like and evil to tread upon. On tlie CHAP. XIV. DESCENT OF THE GRANDE 8 JO BASSES. 2;37 ascent we had reviled it, and had made our staircase with much caution, knowing full well that the disturbance of its base would lii: ijKanues jorasses and the doik brine? down all that was above. In descending, the bolder spirits counselled trusting to luck and a glissade ; the cautious ones advo- 238 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEIillOBN. chap. xiv. cated avoiding the slopes and crossing to the rocks on their farther side. The advice of the latter prevailed, and we had half-traversed the snow, to gain the ridge, when the crust slipped and we went along with it. " Halt ! " broke from all four, unanimously. The axe-heads flew round as we started on this involuntary glissade. It was useless, they slid over the underlying ice fruitlessly. " Halt !" thundered Croz, as he dashed his weapon in again with superhuman energy. No halt could be made, and we slid down slowly, but with accelerating motion, driving up waves of snow in front, with streams of the nasty stuff hissing all around. Luckily, the slope eased off at one jjlace, the leading men cleverly jumped aside out of the moving snow, we others followed, and the young avalanche which we had started, continuing to pour down, fell into a yawning crevasse, and showed us where our grave would have been if we had remained in its company five seconds longer. The whole affair did not occupy half-a-minute. It was the solitary incident of a long day, and at nightfall we re-entered the excellent house kept by the courteous Bertolini, well satisfied that we had not met with more incidents of a similar description.* * Tlie ascent of the Grandes Jorasses was made to obtain a view of the upper jiart of the Aig. Verte, and upon that account the westernmost summit was selected in preference to the highest one. Both summits are shown upon the accompanying engraving. That on the right is (as it appears to be) the highest. That upon its loft is the one which we ascended, and is about 100 feet lower than the other. A couple of days after oui* ascent, Henri Grati, Julien Grange, Jos. Mar. Perrod, Alexis Clnsaz, and Daniel Gex (all of Courmayeur), followed oiir traces to the summit in order to learn tlie way. As far as my observation extends, such things are seldom done by money-grasping or sjiiritless guides, and I have nuich pleasure in being able to mention their names. The highest point (18,7U!)) was ascended on June 29-30, 18G8, by Mr. Horace "Walker, with the guides Melchior Anderegg, J. Jauu, and Julien Grange. CHAPTEE XV. THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE COL DOLENT. "Men -willingly believe -what they -wish." — C^esak. Fkeethinking mountaineers have been latterly in the habit of going up one side of an Alp and coming down the other, and calling the route a pass. In this confusion of ideas may be recognised the re- sult of the looseness of thought which arises from the absence of technical education. The true believer abhors such heresies, and observes with satisfaction that Providence oftentimes punishes the offenders for their greediness by causing them to be benighted. The faithful know that passes must be made between mountains, and not over their tops. Their creed declares that between any two mountains there must be a pass, and they believe that the end for which big peaks were created — the office they are especially designed to fulfil — is to point out the way one should go. This is the true faith, and there is no other. We set out upon the 26th of June to endeavour to add one more to the passes which are strictly orthodox. We hoped, rather than expected, to discover a quicker route from Courmayeur to Cha- mounix than the Col du Geant, which was the easiest, quickest, and most direct pass known at the time across the main chain of Mont Blanc* The misgivings which I had as to the result caused us to start at the unusual hour of 12.40 a.m. At 4.30 we passed the chalets of Pre du Bar, and thence, for some distance, followed the track which we had made upon the ascent of Mont Dolent, over the * The view of Mont Blanc from a gorge on the south of the Italian Val Ferret, mid-way between the villages of La Vachey and Praz Sec, and about 3000 feet above them, is, in my opinion, the finest which can be obtained of that mountain range anywhere upon the Italian side. 240 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOEN. chap. xv. glacier of the same name (p. 182), At a quarter past 8 we arrived at the head of the glacier, and at the foot of the only- steep gradient ujDon the whole of the ascent. It was the beau-ideal of a pass. There was a gap in the moun- tains, with a big peak on each side (Mount Dolent and the Aig. de Triolet). A narrow thread of snow led up to the lowest point between those mountains, and the blue sky beyond said. Directly you arrive here you will begin to go down. We addressed ourselves to our task, and at 10.15 a.m. arrived at the top of the pass. Had things gone as they ought, within six hours more we should have been at Chamounix. Upon the other side we knew that there was a couloir in correspondence with that up which we had just come. If it had been filled with snow all would have been well. It turned out to be filled with ice. Croz, who led, j)assed over to the other side, and reported that we should get down somehow, but I knew from the sound of his axe how the somehow would be, and settled myself to sketch, well assured that I should not be wanted for an hour to come. What I saw is shown in the engraving. A sharp aiguille (nameless), perhaps the sharpest in the whole range, backed on the left by the Aig. de Triolet ; queer blocks of (probably) protogine sticking out awkwardly through the snow ; and a huge cornice from which big icicles depended, that broke away occa- sionally and went skiddliug down the sloj)e up which we had come. Of the Argentiere side I could not see anything. Croz was tied up with our good Manilla rope, and the whole 200 feet were payed out gradually by Aimer and Biener before he ceased working. After two hours' incessant toil, he was able to anchor liimself to the rock on his right. He then untied himself, the rope was drawn in, Biener was attached to the end and went down to join his comrade. There was then room enougli for me to stand by the side of Aimer, and I got my first view of the other side. For the first and only time in my life I looked down a slope more than a thousand feet long, set at an angle of about 50^, which was a sheet of ice Irom to]) to bottom. It was unbroken by rock or crag, and CHAP. XV. THE COL DOLENT. 241 anything thrown down it sped away unarrested until the level of /// { 'imn l\\> . ^\ THE SUMMIT OF THE COL DOLENT. the Glacier d'Argentiere was reached. The entire basin of that noble 242 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTEBIIORN. chap. xv. glacier* was spread out at our feet, and the ridge beyond, cnlmi- nating in the Aig. d'Argentiere, was seen to the greatest advantage. I confess, however, that I paid very little attention to the view, for tliere was no time to indulge in such luxuries. I descended the icy staircase and joined the others, and then we three drew in the rope tenderly as Aimer came down. His was not an enviable posi- tion, but he descended with as much steadiness as if his wliole life had been passed on ice-slopes of 50^ The process was repeated ; Croz again going to the front, and availing himself very skilfully of the rocks which projected from the cliff on our right. Our 200 feet of rope again came to an end, and we again descended one by one. From this point we were able to clamber down by the rocks alone for about 300 feet. They then became sheer cliff, and we stopped for dinner, about 2.30 p.m., at the last jAnce upon which we could sit. Four hours' incessant work had brought us rather more than half-way down the gully. We were now approaching, although we were still high above, the schrunds at its base, and the guides made out, in some way unknown to me, that Nature had perversely placed the only snow-bridge across the topmost one towards the centre of the gully. It was decided to cut diagonally across the gully to the point where the snow-bridge was supposed to be. Aimer and Biener undertook the work, leaving Croz and myself firmly planted on the rocks to pay out the rope to them as they advanced. It is generally admitted tliat veritable ice-slopes (understanding by ice something more than a crust of hard snow over soft snow) are only rarely met with in the Alps. They are frequently spoken of, but such as that to which I refer are venj rarely seen, and still more seldom traversed. It is, however, always possible that they may be encountered, and on this account, if for no other, it is necessary for men who go mountaineering to be armed with ice- axes, and with good ones. The form is of more importance than * Tlie next generation may witness its extiucliou. TJic j)ortion of it seen from tlie village of Argentiere was in 1809 at least one quarter less in width tluui it was ten years earlier. ON TCE-AXEH. 243 might be supposed. Of course, if you intend to act as a simple amateur, and let others do the work, and only follow in their steps, it is not of much importance what kind of ice-axe you carry, so long as its head does not fall oft', or otherwise behave itself impro- perly.* There is no better weapon for cutting steps in ice than- a common pick-axe, and the form of ice-axe which is now usually employed by the best guides is very like a miniature pick. My own axe is copied from Melchior Anderegg's. It is of wrought iron, with point and edge steeled, including handle, pounds Its weight, spiked is four For cut- ting steps in ice, the pointed end of the head is almost exclusively em- ployed ; the adze- end is handy for polishing them up, but is principally used for cutting in hard snow. Apart from its value as a cutting weapon, it is invaluable as a grapnel. It is natur- rally a rather awkward implement when it is not being employed for its legitimate purpose, and is likely to give rise to much strong language in crushes at railway termini, unless its head is protected with a leathern cap, or in some other way. Many attempts have * This observation is not made ■without reason. I have seen the head of one tundjli ■ off at a slight tap, in consequence of its handle having been perforated by an ingc- iiions but useless arrangement of nails. R 2 MY ICE-AXE. 244 TEE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. xv. been made, for the sake of convenience, to fashion an ice-axe with a movable head, but it seems difficult or impossible to produce one except at the expense of cutting qualities, and by increasing the weiofht. Mr. T. S. Kennedy (of Co.), whose practical ac- eering, and with the use makes his opinion par- trived the best that I have to me to be deficient in powerful a weapon as the the fixed head. The sim- KENNEDY ICE-AXE. the firm of Fairbairn & quaintance with mountain- and manufacture of tools, ticularly valuable, has con- seen ; but even it seems rigidity, and not to be so more common kind with pie instrument which is shown in the annexed diagram is the invention of Mr. Leslie Stephen, and it an- swers the purposes for THE LESLIE STEPHEN AXE. which he devised it, namely, for giving bet- ter hold upon snow and ice than can be obtained from the common alpenstock, and for cutting an occa- sional step. The amateur scarcely requires anything more im- posing, but for serious ice-work a heavier weapon is indispensable. To persons armed with the proper tools, ice-slopes are not so dangerous as many places which ajjpeal less to the imagination. Their ascent or descent is necessarily laborious (to those who do the work), and they may therefore be termed difficult. They ought not to be dangerous. Yet they always seem dangerous, for one is pro- foundly convinced that if he slips he will certainly go to the bottom. Hence, any man, who is not a fool, takes particular care to pre- serve his balance, and, in consequence, we have the noteworthy CHAP. XV. ON CBAMFONS. 24.: fact that accidents have seldom or never taken place upon ice- slopes. The same slopes covered with snow are much less impressive, and may be much more dangerous. They may be less slippery, the balance may be more easily preserved, and if one man slips he may be stopped by his own personal efforts, provided the snow which over-lies the ice is consolidated and of a reasonable depth. But if, as is more likely to be the case upon an angle of 50^ (or anything approaching that angle), there is only a thin stratum of snow which is not consolidated, the occurrence of a slip will most likely take the entire party as low as possible, and in addition to the chance of broken necks, there will be a strong probability that some, at least, will be smothered by the dislodged snow. Such accidents are far too common, and their occurrence, as a rule, may be traced to the want of caution which is induced by the apparent absence of danger. I do not believe that the use of the rope, in the ordinary way, affords the least real security upon ice-slopes. Nor do I think that any benefit is derived from the employment of crampons. Mr. Kennedy was good enough to present me with a pair some time ago, and one of these has been engraved. They are the best variety I have seen of the species, but I only feel com- fortable with them on my feet in places where they are not of the slightest use, that is in situations where there is no possibility of slipping, and would not wear them upon an ice-slope for any consideration whatever. All such adventitious aids are useless if you have not a good step in the ice to stand upon, and if you have got that, nothing more is wanted except a few nails in the boots. Aimer and Biener got to the end of their tether ; the rope no longer assured their safety, and they stopped work as we advanced and coiled it up. Shortly afterwards they struck a streak of snow 246 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERTIOBN. chap. xv. that proved to be just above the bridge of which they were in search. The slope steepened, and for thirty feet or so we descended face to the wall, making steps by kicking with the toes, and thrust- ing the arms well into the holes above, just as if they had been rounds in a ladder. At this time we were crossing the uppermost of the schrunds. Needless to say that the snow was of an admir- able quality ; this performance would otherwise have been impos- sible. It w^as soon over, and we then found ourselves upon a huge rhomboidal mass of ice, and still separated from the Argentiere glacier by a gigantic crevasse. The only bridge over this lower schrund was at its eastern end, and we were obliged to double back to get to it. Cutting continued for half-an-hour after it was passed, and it was 5.35 p.m. before the axes stopped work, and we could at last turn back and look comfortably at the formidable slope upon which seven hours had been spent.* The Col Dolent is not likely to compete with the Col du Geant, and I would recommend any person who starts to cross it to allow himself plenty of time, plenty of rope, and ample guide- power. There is no difficulty whatever upon any part of the route, excepting upon the steep slopes immediately below the summit on each side. When we arrived upon the Glacier d' Argentiere, our work was as good as over. We drove a straight track to the cha- lets of Lognan, and thence the way led over familiar ground. Soon after dusk we got into the high road at les Tines, and at 10 p.m. arrived at Chamounix. Our labours were duly rewarded. Houris brought us champagne and the other drinks which are reserved for the faithful, but before my share was consumed I fell asleep in an arm-chair. I slept soundly until daybreak, and then turned into bed and went to sleep again. * I csliuuito it.s height iit 1200 feet. Tlie triaugulutiou of Oupt. Mieiilet places tlie i^unimit of tlie pasw 11,021 feet ahove the sea. Tlii.s, I tluiik, is rather too high. CHAPTEK XVI. THE FIKST ASCENT OF THE AIGUILLE VEKTE. "Few have the fdrtitude of soul to honour, A friend's success, without a touch of envy." iEsCHYLUS. Michel Croz now j)arted from us. His new employer had not arrived at Chamoiinix, bnt Croz considered that he was bound by honour to wait for liim, and thus Christian Aimer, of Grindelwald, became my leading guide. Aimer displayed aptitude for mountaineering at an early age. Whilst still a very young man he was known as a crack chamois- hunter, and he soon developed into an accomplished guide. Those who have read Mr. Wills' graphic account of the first ascent of the Wetterhorn* will remember that, when his party was approaching the top of the mountain, two stranger men were seen climbing by a slightly different route, one of whom carried upon his back a young fir-tree, branches, leaves, and all. Mr. Wills' guides were extremely indignant with these two strangers (who were evidently determined to be the first at the summit), and talked of giving them blows. Eventually they gave them a cake of chocolate instead, and declared that they v/cie good fellows. "Thus the pipe of peace was smoked, and tranquillity reigned between the rival forces." Christian Aimer was one of these two men. This was in 1854. In 1858-9 he made the first ascents of the Eigher and the Monch, the former with a Mr. Harrington (?), and the latter with Dr. Porges, Since then he has wandered far and * Wanderinijs amotuj the UiijU Alps, 1858. 248 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. chap. xvi. near, from Dauphine to the Tyrol.* With the exception of Melchior Ancleregg, there is not, perhaps, another guide of such wide experience, or one who has been so invariably successful ; and his numerous employers concur in saying that there is not a truer heart or a surer foot to be found amongst the Alps. CHRISTIAN ALMEK.f Before recrossing the chain to Courmayeur, we ascended the Aiguille Verte. In company with Mr. Keilly I inspected this mountain from every direction in 1864, and came to the conclusion that an ascent could more easily be made from the south than upon any other side. We set out upon the 28th from Chamounix to attack it, minus Croz, and plus a porter (of whom I will speak more particularly presently), leaving our comrade very downcast at having to kick his heels in idleness, whilst we were about to scale the most celebrated of his native Aiguilles. Our course led us over the old Mer de Glace — the glacier made famous by De Saussure and Forbes. The heat of the day was * Most of lii^^ principal exploits arc recorded in the pidilications of the Alpine Cluh. t Engraved, Ity permission, from a piiolugrapli li\- IMr. E. Edwards. CHAP. XVI. ON THE MER DE GLACE. 249 over, but the little rills and rivulets were still flowing along the surface of the ice : cutting deep troughs where the gradients were small ; leaving ripple-marks where the water was with more diffi- culty confined to one channel ; and falling over the precipitous walls of the great crevasses, sometimes in bounding cascades, and sometimes in diffused streams, which marked the perpendicular ON THE MEK DE GLACE. faces with graceful sinuosities.* As night came on, their music died away, the rivulets dwindled down to rills ; the rills ceased to murmur, and the sparkling drops, caught by the hand of frost, were bound to the ice, coating it with an enamelled film which lasted until the sun struck the glacier once more. * AtbniraWy rt'iulerca in tlic iiccuiui>uiiyiiig drawing l«y Mr. Cyrus JuIiusku. 2.30 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTER IIOEN. vhav. xvi. We camijed on the Couvercle (7800) under a great rock, and at 3.15 the next morning started for our aiguille, leaving the porter in charge of the tent and of the food. Two hours' walking over crisp snow brought us up more than 4000 feet, and within about 1600 feet of the summit. From no other direction can it be approached so closely with equal facility. Thence the mountain steepens. After his late severe piece of ice-work. Aimer had a natural inclination for rocks; but the lower rocks of the final peak of the Yerte were not inviting, and he went on and on, looking for a Vfaj up them, until we arrived in front of a great snow couloir that led from the Glacier de Talefre right up to the crest of the ridge connecting the summit of the Verte with the mountain called Les Droites. This was the route which I intended to be taken; but Aimer pointed out that the gully narrowed at the lower part, and that, if stones fell, we should stand some chance of getting our heads broken ; and so we went on still more to the east of the summit, to another and smaller couloir which ran up side by side with the great one. At 5.30 we crossed the schrund which protected the final peak, and, a few minutes afterwards, saw the summit and the whole of the intervening route. " Oh ! Aiguille Verte," said my guide, stopping as he said it, " you are dead, you are dead ; " which, being translated into plain English, meant that he was cock-sure we should make its ascent. Aimer is a quiet man at all times. When climbing he is taciturn — and this is one of his great merits. A garrulous man is always a nuisance, and upon the mountain-side he may be a danger, for actual climbing requires a man's whole attention. Added to this, talkative men are hindrances ; they are usually thirsty, and a thirsty man is a drag. Guide-books recommend mountain-walkers to suck pebbles, to prevent their throats from becoming parched. There is not much goodness to be got out of the pebbles ; but you cannot suck them and keep the mouth open at the same time, and hence the throat does not become dry. It answers just as well to keej) the mouth CHAP. XVI. ASCENT OF THE AIGUILLE VERTE. 2,51 sliiit, without any pebbles inside,^ — indeed, I tliink, better ; for if you have occasion to open your mouth, you can do so without swallowing any pebbles.* As a rule, amateurs, and particularly novices, u-iJl not keep their mouths shut. They attempt to " force the pace," they go faster than they can go without being compelled to open their mouths to breathe, they pant, their throats and tongues become parched, they drink and perspire copiously, and, becoming exhausted, declare that the dryness of the air, or the rarefaction of the air (everything is laid upon the air), is in fault. On several accounts, therefore, a mountain-climber does well to hold his tongue when he is at his work. At the top of the small gully we crossed over the intervening rocks into the large one, and followed it so long as it was filled with snow. At last ice rejjlaced snow, and we turned over to the rocks upon its left. Charming rocks they were ; granitic in texture,! gritty, holding the nails well. At 9.45 we parted from them, and completed the ascent by a little ridge of snow which descended in the direction of the Aiguille du Moine. At 10.15 we stood on the summit (13,540), and devoured our bread and cheese with a good appetite. I have already spoken of the disappointing nature of purely panoramic views. That seen from Mont Blanc itself is notoriously unsatisfactory. When you are upon that summit you look down upon all the rest of Europe. There is nothing to look up to ; all is below; there is no one point for the eye to rest upon. The man who is there is somewhat in the position of one who has attained all that he desires,— he has nothing to aspire to; his position must needs be unsatisfactory. Upon the summit of the Verte there is not this objection. You see valleys, villages, fields ; * I heard lately of two well-kuown mouutaiueers who, under the iuflueucc of sudden alarm, sivalloived their crystals. . I am happy to say that they were able to cough them up again. t Hand specimens of the highest rocks of the Aiguille Verte cannot be distin- guished from granite. The rock is almost identical in quality with that at the sum- mit of JIuut Doleut, and is probably a granitoid gneiss. 252 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHOBN. chap. xvi. you see mountains interminable rolling away, lakes resting in their hollows ; you hear the tinkling of the sheep-bells as it rises through the clear mountain air, and the roar of the avalanches as they descend to the valleys : but above all there is the great white dome, with its shining crest high above ; with its sparkling glaciers that descend between buttresses which support them : with its brilliant snows, purer and yet purer the farther they are removed from this unclean world.* Even upon this mountain-top it was impossible to forget the world, for some vile wretch came to the Jardin and made hideous sounds by blowing through a horn. Whilst we were denouncing him a change came over the weather ; cumulous clouds gathered in all directions, and we started off in hot haste. Snow began to fall heavily before we were off the summit-rocks, our track was obscured and frequently lost, and everything became so sloppy and slippery that the descent took as long as the ascent. The schrund was re- crossed at 3.15 P.M., and thence we raced down to the Couvercle, intending to have a carouse there ; but as we rounded our rock a howl broke simultaneously from all three of us, for the porter had taken down the tent, and was in the act of moving off with it, " Stop, there ! what are you doing ? " He observed that he had thought we were killed, or at least lost, and was going to Chamounix to communicate his ideas to the guide chef. " Unfasten the tent, and get out the food." Instead of doing so the porter fumbled in his pockets. " Get out the food," we roared, losing all patience. " Here it is," said our worthy friend, producing a dirty piece of bread about as big as a halfpenny roll. We three looked solemnly at the fluff-covered morsel. It was past a joke, — he had devoured everything. Mutton, loaves, cheese, wine, eggs, sausages — all was gone — past recovery. It was idle to grumble, and useless to wait. We were light, and could move quickly, — the porter was laden * 'J'lio .suimuit of the Aiguille Verte was a snowy dome, large enough for a •liiiuliille. I WU.S surprised to see the great height of LesDroites. Captain Mieulet places its suiniuit at l:»,'222 feet, hut I thiuk it must he very sliglitly lower than the Verte itself. CHAP. XVI. THE NOBLE ATTITUDE OF CHAMOUNIX. 253 inside and out. We went our hardest,— he had to shuffle and trot. He streamed with perspiration ; the mutton and cheese oozed out in big drops, — he larded the glacier. We had our revenge, and dried our clothes at the same time, but when we arrived at the Montanvert the porter was as wet as we had been upon our arrival at the Couvercle. We halted at the inn to get a little food, and at a quarter past eight re-entered Chamounix, amidst firing of cannon and other demonstrations of satisfaction on the part of the hotel- keepers. One would have thought that the ascent of this mountain, which had been frequently assailed before without success, would have afforded some gratification to a population whose chief support is derived from tourists, and that the prospect of the perennial flow of francs which might be expected to result from it would have stifled the jealousy consequent on the success of foreigners.* It was not so. Chamounix stood on its rights. A stranger had ignored the " regulations," had imported two foreign guides, and, furthermore, he had added injury to that insult — he had not taken a single Chamounix guide. Chamounix would be revenged ! It would bully the foreign guides ; it would tell them they had lied, — that they had not made the ascent ! Where were their proofs ? Where was the flag upon the summit ? Poor Aimer and Biener were accordingly chivied from pillar to post, from one inn to another, and at length complained to me. Peter Perm, the Zermatt guide, said on the night that we returned that this was to happen, but the story seemed too absurd to be true. I now bade my men go out again, and followed them myself to see the sport. Chamounix was greatly excited. The hureau of the guide chef was thronged with clamouring men. Their ringleader — one Zacharie Cachat— a well-known guide, of no particular merit, but not a bad fellow, was haranguing the * Tlie Chamounix tariff price for tlio ascent of the Aiguille is now placed at £4 per guide,. 254 THE ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. ctiap. xvi. multitude. He met with more than his match. My friend Kennedy, who was on the spot, heard of the disturbance and rushed into the fray, confronted the burly guide, and thrust back his absurdities into his teeth. There were the materials for a very pretty riot ; but they man- age these things better in France than we do, and the gensdarmes — three strong — came down and dispersed the crowd. The guides quailed before the cocked hats, and retired to cabarets to take little glasses of absinthe and other liquors more or less injurious to the human frame. Under the influence of these stimulants, they con- ceived an idea which combined revenge with profit. " You have ascended the Aiguille Verte, you say. We say we don't believe it. We say, do it again ! Take three of us with you, and we will bet you two thousand francs to one thousand, that you won't make the ascent ! " This proposition was formally notified to me, but I declined it, with thanks, and recommended Kennedy to go in and win, I accepted, however, a hundred franc share in the bet, and calcu- lated upon getting two hundred per cent, on my investment. Alas ! how vain are human expectations ! Zacharie Cachat was put into confinement, and although Kennedy actually ascended the Aiguille a week later, with two Chamounix guides and Peter Perm, the bet came to nothing.* The weather arranged itself just as this storm in a teapot blew over, and we left at once for the Montanvert, in order to show the Chamouniards the easiest way over the chain of Mont Plane, in return for the civilities which we had received from them during the past three days. * It should be said that we received the most polite apologies for tliis ailair I'miii 1 lie cliief of the gensdarmes, and an invitation to lodge a complaint against tlie linn- IcadtTs. \Vc accepted liis apologies, and (l(c1iiic