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victoria  R'S" 


COLLECTION 

OF    VICTORIAN    BOOKS 

AT 


BRIGHAM    YOUNG 


Victorian 
914.947 
T97m 
1862 


UNIVERSITY 


Woodlands, 


FULSHAIV. 


£ 


A  VACATION  TOUR 


LONDON 

PRINTED     BY     SPOTTISWOODE     AND     CO. 

NEW-STBEET   SQUABE 


THE    WEISSHORN    PROM    THE    BJFFEL. 


MOUNTAINEEKING 


IN 


1861. 


A  VACATION   TOUR. 


BY    JOHN    TYNDALL,   F.E.S. 

PROFESSOR    OF   NATURAL   PHILOSOPHY    IN   THE   EOTAL   INSTITUTION   OF   GREAT   BRITAIN: 
AUTHOR   OF    'THE    GLACIERS   OF   THE    ALPS.' 


LONDON: 
LONGMAN,    GREEN,    LONGMAN,    AND    ROBERTS. 

1862. 


**%<>,  UTAH 


PREFACE. 


T70E  the  drawing  of  the  Weisshorn,  from  which 
-*■  the  frontispiece  is  taken,  I  am  indebted  to  the 
obhging  kindness  of  Mr.  Win.  Mathews,  Jun.,  of  the 
Alpine  Club.  As  the  reader  looks  at  the  engraving, 
the  ridge  along  which  we  ascended  is  to  his  right 
hand.  - 

For  the  sketch  of  the  Matterhorn,  I  have  to 
thank  my  friend  Mr.  E.  W.  Cooke.  It  represents 
this  c  paragon  of  mountains  as  to  form,'  in  its  sharpest 
aspect. 

The  mottoes  taken  from  Mr.  Tennyson  will  be 
recognised  by  everybody  :  —  the  others  are  from 
the  poems  of  Mr.  Emerson. 

The  writing  of  this  little  book  has  been  a  pleasure 
to  me ;  constituting,  as  it  often  did,  a  needed  relax- 
ation from  severer  duties.     Both  as  regards  the  past 


VI  PREFACE. 


and  the  future, — as  objects  of  memory  and  of  hope, 
— the  Alps  are  of  interest  to  me.  Among  them  I 
annually  renew  my  lease  of  life,  and  restore  the 
balance  between  mind  and  body  which  the  purely 
intellectual  discipline  of  London  is  calculated  to 
destroy.  I  can  wish  my  reader  no  better  possession 
than  a  full  measure  of  that  health  and  strength  which 
his  summer  exercises  confer  upon  the  mountaineer. 

J.  T. 


Eoyal  Institution: 
March  1862. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.    .    .    .   LONDON  TO  MEYRINGEN 1 

II.    .    .    .    MEYRINGEN  TO  THE  GRIMSEL,  BY  THE  URBACHTHAL 

GATJLI  GLACIER 9 

HI.    .    .    .   THE  GRIMSEL  AND  THE  -EGGISCHHORN     .  .  .19 

IV.    .    .    .    THE  BEL  ALP 27 

V.    .    .    .   REFLECTIONS 33 

VI.    .    .    .   ASCENT  OF  THE  WEISSHORN 41 

VII.    .    .    .   THE  DESCENT ^  59 

VILT.    .    .    .    THE  MOTION  OF  GLACIERS 67 

IX.    .    .    .    SUNRISE  ON  THE  PINES 75 

X.    .    .    .    INSPECTION  OF  THE  MATTERHORN   ....  78 

XI.    .    .    .    OVER  THE  MORO 89 

XII.    .    .    .    THE  OLD  WEISSTHOR 95 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


riEW  of  the  Weisshokn  from  the  Riffel,  from  a  drawing 
by  Elijah  Walton,  belonging  to  Mr.  W.  Mathews,  jun.  Frontispiece 

View    of    the    Matterhokn",    from    a    sketch    by    E.    W. 
Cooke,  A.R.A to  face  page      82 


MOUNTAINEERING   IN   1861 

A  VACATION    TOUR 

(ADDRESSED  TO  X.) 


CHAPTEE  L 

LONDON   TO   METRINGEN 

*  The  mountain  cheer,  the  frosty  skies, 
Breed  purer  wits,  inventive  eyes  ; 
And  then  the  moral  of  the  place 
Hints  summits  of  heroic  grace. 
Men  in  these  crags  a  fastness  find 
To  fight  corruption  of  the  mind, 
The  insanity  of  towns  to  stem, 
With  simpleness  for  stratagem.' 

HEKE  I  am  at  length,  my  friend,  far  away  from  the 
smoke  and  roar  of  London,  with  a  blue  sky  bending 
over  me,  and  the  Ehine  spreading  itself  in  glimmering 
sheets  beneath  my  window.  Swift  and  silent  the  flashing 
river  runs  ;  not  a  whisper  it  utters  here,  but  higher  up  it  gets 
entangled  in  the  props  of  a  bridge  and  breaks  into  foam ; 
its  compressed  bubbles  snap  like  elastic  springs,  and  shake 
the  air  into  sonorous  vibrations.  Thus  the  rude  mechanical 
motion  of  the  river  is  converted  into  music.  From  the 
windows  of  the  edifices  along  the  banks  gleam  a  series 

B 


2  THE   SEA   PASSAGE 

of  reflected  suns,  each  surrounded  by  a  coloured  glory. 
The  hammer  of  the  boat-builder  rings  on  his  plank,  the 
leaves  of  the  poplars  rustle  in  the  breeze,  the  watch-dog's 
honest  bark  is  heard  in  the  distance,  and  the  current  of 
Swiss  life  is  poured  like  that  of  electricity  in  two  direc- 
tions across  the  bridge. 

The  scene  is  very  tranquil ;  and  the  peace  of  the  present 
is  augmented  by  its  contrast  with  the  tumult  of  the  past. 
Yesterday  I  travelled  from  Paris,  and  the  day  previous  from 
London,  when  the  trail  of  a  spent  storm  swept  across  the 
sea  and  kept  its  anger  awake.  The  stern  of  our  boat  went 
up  and  down,  the  distant  craft  were  equally  pendulous,  and 
the  usual  results  followed.  Men's  faces  waxed  green ;  roses 
faded  from  ladies'  cheeks ;  while  poor  unconscious  children 
yelled  intermittently  in  the  grasp  of  the  demon  which  had 
taken  possession  of  them.  One  rare  pale  maiden  sat  right 
in  the  line  of  the  spray  which  was  churned  up  by  the 
paddle-wheel,  and  carried  by  the  wind  across  the  deck : 
she  drew  her  shawl  around  her,  and  bore  the  violence  of 
the  ocean  with  the  resignation  of  an  angel ;  a  white  arm 
could  be  seen  shining  through  the  translucent  muslin,  but 
even  against  it  the  cruel  brine  beat  as  if  it  were  a  mere 
seaweed.  I  sat  at  rest,  hovering  fearfully  on  the  verge  of 
that  doleful  region,  whose  bourne  most  of  those  on  board 
had  already  passed.  A  friend  whom  I  accompanied  betook 
himself  early  to  the  cabin,  and  there  endured  the  tortures 
of  the  condemned.  Nothing,  perhaps,  takes  down  the 
boasted  supremacy  of  the  human  will  more  effectually 
than  the  smell  and  shiver  of  a  steamer  superposed  upon 


MIND    AND    HEAT  3 

the  motion  of  the  sea.  We  finally  reached  Boulogne,  and 
sought  to  reconstitute  our  shattered  energies  at  the  restau- 
ration.  The  success  was  but  partial.  The  soup  was  poor, 
and  the  filets  reminded  one  of  the  reindeer  boots  of  the 
Laplander,  which  their  owner  gnaws  when  other  provisions 
fail.  To  one  who  regards  physical  existence  as  the  mystic 
substratum  of  man's  moral  nature,  few  seem  more  ripe  for 
judgment  than  he  who  debases  that  nature  by  the  minis- 
tration of  unwholesome  food.  The  self-same  atmosphere 
forced  through  one  instrument  produces  music ;  through 
another,  noise  :  and  thus  the  spirit  of  life,  acting  through 
the  human  organism,  is  rendered  demoniac  or  angelic  by 
the  health  or  the  disease  which  originate  in  what  we  eat. 

The  morning  of  the  1st  of  August  finds  us  on  our  way 
from  Paris  to  Bale.  The  heavens  are  unstained  by  cloud, 
and  as  the  day  advances  the  sunbeams  grow  stronger,  and 
are  drunk  in  with  avidity  by  the  absorbent  cushions  which 
surround  us.  In  addition  to  this  source  of  temperature, 
eight  human  beings,  each  burning  the  slow  fire  which  we 
call  life,  are  cooped  within  the  limits  of  our  compartment. 
We  sleep,  first  singly,  then  by  groups,  and  finally  as  a 
whole.  Vainly  we  endeavour  to  ward  off  the  coming 
lethargy.  We  set  our  thoughts  on  the  sublime  or  beau- 
tiful, and  try  by  an  effort  of  will  to  hold  them  there.  It 
is  no  use.  Thought  gradually  slips  away  from  its  object, 
or  the  object  glides  out  of  the  nerveless  grasp  of  thought, 
and  we  are  conquered  by  the  heat.  But  what  is  heat  that 
it  should  work  such  changes  in  moral  and  intellectual 
nature  ?     Why  should  '  souls  of  fire '  be  the  heirlooms  of 

b  2 


4  "BALE   TO   THUN 

1  children   of  the   sun'?      Why  are  we   unable  to  read 
i  Mill's  Logic '  or  study  the  (  Kritik  der  Eeinen  Vernunft ' 
with  any  profit  in  a  Turkish  bath  ?     Heat,  denned  without 
reference  to  our  sensations,  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  motion — 
motion,  moreover,  as  strictly  mechanical  as  the  waves  of  the 
sea,  or  as  the  aerial  vibrations  which  produce  sound.     The 
communication  of  this  motion  to  the  material  atoms  of  the 
brain  produces  the  moral  and  intellectual  effects  just  re- 
ferred to.     Human  action  is  only  possible  within  a  narrow 
zone  of  temperature.     Transgress  the  limit  on  one  side, 
and  we  are  torpid  by  excess ;  transgress  it  on  the  other,  and 
we  are  torpid  by  defect.     The  intellect  is  in  some  sense  a 
function  of  temperature.     Thus  at  2  p.  m.  we  wallowed  in 
our  cushions,  drained   of  intellectual  energy ;    six  hours 
later,  the  stars  were  sown  broadcast  through  space,  and  the 
mountains  drew  their  outlines  against  the  amber  of  the 
western    sky.     The    mind    was    awake   and    active,    and 
through  her  operations  was  shed  that  feeling  of  devotion 
which  the  mystery  of  creation  ever  inspires.     Physically 
considered,  however,  the  intellect  of  2  p.  m.  differed  from 
that  of  8  r.  M.  simply  in  the  amount  of  motion  possessed 
by  the  molecules  of  the  brain.     You,  my  friend,  know  that 
it  is  not  levity  which  prompts  me  to  write  thus.     Matter, 
in  relation  to  vital  phenomena,  has  yet  to  be  studied,  and 
the  command  of  Canute  to  the  waves  would  be  wisdom 
itself  compared  with  any  attempt  to  stop  such  inquiries. 
Let  the  tide  rise,  and  let  knowledge  advance ;  the  limits 
of   the   one    are   not  more    rigidly   fixed   than   those  of 
the    other;    and   no  worse    infidelity    could   seize   upon 


MAN   AND   NATURE  5 

the  mind  than  the  belief  that  a  man's  earnest  search 
after  truth  should  culminate  in  his  perdition.  Fear  not, 
my  friend,  but  rest  assured  that  as  we  understand 
matter  better,  mind  will  become  capable  of  nobler  and  of 
wiser  things. 

The  sun  was  high  in  heaven  as  we  rolled  from  the  sta- 
tion on  the  morning  of  the  2nd.  I  was  in  fair  health,  and 
therefore  happy.  The  man  who  has  work  to  do  in  the 
world,  who  loves  his  work,  and  joyfully  invests  his  strength 
in  the  prosecution  of  it,  needs  but  health  to  make  him 
happy.  Sooner  or  later  every  intellectual  canker  dis- 
appears before  earnest  work.  Its  influence,  moreover,  fills 
a  wide  margin  beyond  the  time  of  its  actual  performance. 
Thus,  to-day,  I  sang  as  I  rolled  along — not  with  boisterous 
glee,  but  with  that  serene  and  deep-lying  gladness  which 
becomes  a  man  of  my  years  and  of  my  vocation.  This 
happiness,  however,  had  its  roots  in  the  past,  and  had  I 
not  been  a  worker  previous  to  my  release  from  London, 
I  could  not  now  have  been  so  glad  an  idler.  Nature, 
moreover,  was  in  a  pleasant  mood ;  indeed,  in  any  other 
country  than  Switzerland,  the  valley  through  which  we 
sped  would  have  produced  excitement  and  delight.  Noble 
fells,  proudly  grouped,  flanked  us  right  and  left.  Cloud- 
like woods  of  pines  overspread  them  in  broad  patches,  with 
between  them  spaces  of  the  tenderest  green ;  while  here 
and  there  the  rushing  Ehine  gleamed  like  an  animating 
spirit  amid  the  meadows. 

Some  philosophers  inculcate  an  independence  of  ex- 
ternal   things,    and    a    reliance    upon    the    soul   alone. 


6  FIRST    VIEW   OF   THE   ALPS 

But  what  would  man  be  without  Nature  ?  A  mere 
capacity,  if  such  a  thing  be  conceivable  alone;  poten- 
tial, but  not  dynamic;  an  agent  without  an  object.  And 
yet  how  differently  Nature  affects  different  individuals! 
To  one  she  is  an  irritant  which  evokes  all  the  grandeur 
of  the  heart,  while  another  is  no  more  affected  by  her 
magnificence  than  are  the  beasts  which  perish.  The  one 
has  halls  and  corridors  within,  in  which  to  hang  those 
images  of  splendour  which  Nature  exhibits ;  the  other  has 
not  even  a  chalet  to  offer  for  their  reception.  The  coun- 
tenance betrays,  in  some  degree,  the  measure  of  endowment 
here.  I  know — you  know — countenances,  where  the  mind, 
shining  through  the  eyes,  conveys  hints  of  inner  bloom  and 
verdure ;  of  noble  heights  and  deep  secluded  dells ;  of 
regions  also  unexplored  and  unexplorable,  which  in  virtue 
of  their  mystery  present  a  never-flagging  charm  to  the 
mind.  You,  my  friend,  have  experienced  the  feelings 
which  an  Alpine  sunset  wakes  to  life.  You  call  it  tender, 
but  the  tenderness  resides  in  you ;  you  speak  of  it  as 
splendid,  but  the  splendour  is  half  your  own.  Creation 
sinks  beyond  the  bottom  of  your  eye,  and  finds  its  friend 
and  interpreter  in  a  region  far  behind  the  retina. 

Hail  to  the  Giants  of  the  Oberland !  there  they  stand, 
pyramid  beyond  pyramid,  crest  above  crest.  The  zenith 
is  blue,  but  the  thick  stratum  of  horizontal  air  invests 
the  snowy  peaks  with  a  veil  of  translucent  vapour,  through 
which  their  vast  and  spectral  outlines  are  clearly  seen. 
As  we  roll  on  towards  Thun  this  vapour  thickens,  while 
dense  and  rounded  clouds  burst  heavenwards,  as   if  let 


THUNDER  STORM  7 

loose  from  a  prison  behind  the  mountains.  The  hea- 
vens darken,  and  the  scowling  atmosphere  is  cut  by  the 
lightning  in  sharp-bent  bars  of  solid  light.  Afterwards 
comes  the  cannonade,  and  then  the  heavy  rain-pellets 
which  rattle  with  fury  against  the  carriages.  Again  it 
clears,  but  not  wholly.  Stormy  cumuli  swoop  round  the 
mountains,  between  which,  however,  the  illuminated  ridges 
seem  to  swim  in  the  transparent  air. 

At  Thun  I  find  my  faithful  and  favourite  guide,  Johann 
Benen,  of  Laax,  in  the  valley  of  the  Ehone,  the  strongest 
limb  and  stoutest  heart  of  my  acquaintance  in  the  Alps.* 
We  take  the  steamer  to  Interlaken,  and  while  on  the  lake 
the  heavens  again  darken,  and  the  deck  is  flooded  by  the 
gushing  rain.  The  dusky  cloud-curtain  is  rent  at  intervals, 
and  through  the  apertures  thus  formed  gleams  of  sunlight 
escape,  which  draw  themselves  in  parallel  bars  of  extraor- 
dinary radiance  across  the  lake.     On  reaching  Interlaken, 


*  Benen' s  letter,  in  reply  to  mine,  desiring  to  engage  him,  is,  I  think, 
worth  inserting  here. 

HoCHGESCHATZTEB,    HERE.   TyNDALL, 

Indem  ich  mit  Herrn  Tugget  (50)  fiinfzig  Tage  auf  Eeisen 
war  und  Heute  erst  nach  Laax  gekommen  bin,  habe  ich  Ihren  werthen 
Brief  von  22  Juni  auch  nur  erst  Heute  erhalten;  so  dass  ich  denselben 
Ihnen  auch  nur  Heute  gleich  beantworten  konnte.  "Wo  ich  Ihnen  mit 
Vergmigen  melde,  dass  ich  immerhin  bereit  sein  werde  Sie  zu  begleiten 
wann  und  wohin  Sie  nur  wiinschen. 

Herr  Tyndall!    Ich   mache  Ihnen    meine   Komplimente   fur   das   gute 
Zutrauen  zu  mir  und  hoffe  noch  an  der  Zeit  gekommen  zu  sein  urn  wieder 
Gelegen  heit  zu  haben  Sie  bestens  und  baldigst  zu  bedienen. 
Mit  Hochschatzung  und  Emphelung 

Ihr  Diener 

Benen. 


8  LIGHTNING   IN    THE   ALPS 

I  drive  to  the  steamer  on  the  lake  of  Brientz,  while  my 
friend  F.  diverges  to  Grindelwald  to  seek  a  guide.  We 
start  at  6  p.m.,  with  a  purified  atmosphere,  and  pass 
through  scenes  of  serene  beauty  in  the  tranquil  evening 
light.  The  bridge  of  Brientz  has  been  carried  away  by 
the  floods,  the  mail  is  intercepted,  and  I  associate  myself 
with  a  young  Oxford  man  in  a  vehicle  to  Meyringen. 
The  west  wind  has  again  filled  the  atmosphere  with  gloom, 
and  after  supper  I  spend  an  hour  watching  the  lightning 
thrilling  behind  the  clouds.  The  darkness  is  intense,  and 
the  intermittent  glare  correspondingly  impressive.  Now 
it  is  the  east  which  is  suddenly  illuminated,  now  the 
west,  now  the  heavens  in  front ;  now  the  visible  light  is 
evidently  the  fringe  of  an  illuminated  cloud  which  has 
caught  the  blaze  of  a  discharge  far  down  behind  the 
mountains.  Sometimes  the  lightning  seems  to  burst,  like 
a  fireball,  midway  between  the  horizon  and  the  zenith, 
spreading  as  a  vast  glory  behind  the  clouds  and  revealing 
all  their  outlines.  In  front  of  me  is  a  craggy  summit, 
which  indulges  in  intermittent  shots  of  thunder;  sharp, 
dry,  and  sudden,  with  scarcely  an  echo  to  soften  them  off. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MEYRINGEN      TO     THE     GRIMSEL,     BY     THE      URBACHTJAL 
AND     GAULI     GLACIER 

'  Spring  still  makes  spring  in  the  mind 
When  sixty  years  are  told, 
Love  wakes  anew  this  throbbing  heart, 
And  we  are  never  old. 
Over  the  winter  glaciers 
I  see  the  summer  glow, 
And  through  the  wild-piled  snow  drift 
The  warm  rose  buds  below.' 

/~\UR  bivouac  at  Meyringen  was  le  Sauvage,  who  dis- 
\J  charged  his  duty  as  a  host  with  credit  to  himself  and 
with  satisfaction  to  us.  F.  has  arrived,  and  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  3rd  we  walk  up  the  valley.  Between  Mey- 
ringen and  Hof,  the  vale  of  Hasli  is  dammed  across  by  a 
transverse  ridge  called  the  Kirchet,  and  the  rocky  barrier 
is  at  one  place  split  through,  forming  a  deep  chasm  with 
vertical  sides  through  which  the  river  Aar  plunges.  The 
chasm  is  called  the  Finsteraar-schlucht,  and  by  the  ready 
hypothesis  of  an  earthquake  its  formation  has  been  ex- 
plained. Man  longs  for  causes,  and  the  weaker  minds, 
unable  to  restrain  their  hunger,  often  barter,  for  the  most 
sorry  theoretic  pottage,  the  truth  which  patient  inquiry 
would  make  their  own.  This  proneness  of  the  human  mind 
to  jump  to  conclusions,  and  thus  shirk  the  labour  of  real 


10  THE    KIRCHET 

investigation,  is  a  most  mischievous  tendency.  We  com- 
plain of  the  contempt  with  which  practical  men  regard 
theory,  and,  to  confound  them,  triumphantly  exhibit  the 
speculative  achievements  of  master  minds.  But  the  prac- 
tical man,  though  puzzled,  remains  unconvinced;  and  why? 
Simply  because  nine  out  of  ten  of  the  theories  with  which 
he  is  acquainted  are  deserving  of  nothing  better  than  con- 
tempt. Our  master  minds  built  their  theoretic  edifices 
upon  the  rock  of  fact ;  the  quantity  of  fact  necessary  to 
enable  them  to  divine  the  laiv,  being  a  measure  of  in- 
dividual genius,  and  not  a  test  of  philosophic  system.  As 
regards  the  Finsteraar-schlucht,  instead  of  jumping  to  an 
earthquake  to  satisfy  our  appetite  for  ( deduction,'  we  must 
look  at  the  circumstances.  The  valley  of  Hof  lies  above 
the  mound  of  the  Kirchet ;  how  was  this  flat  formed  ?  Is 
it  not  composed  of  the  sediment  of  a  lake  ?  Did  not  the 
Kirchet  form  the  dam  of  this  lake,  a  stream  issuing  from 
the  latter  and  falling  over  the  dam  ?  And  as  the  sea- waves 
find  a  weak  point  in  the  cliffs  against  which  they  dash,  and 
gradually  eat  their  way  so  as  to  form  caverns  with  high 
vertical  sides,  as  at  the  Land's  End,  a  joint  or  fault  or  some 
other  accidental  weakness  determining  their  line  of  ac- 
tion ;  so  surely  a  mountain  torrent  rushing  for  ages  over  the 
Kirchet  dam  would  be  competent  to  cut  itself  a  channel. 
The  Kirchet  itself  has  been  moulded  by  the  ancient 
glacier  of  the  Aar.  When  Hof  was  a  lake,  that  glacier  had 
retreated,  and  from  it  issued  the  stream,  the  stoppage  of 
which  formed  the  lake.  The  stream  finally  cut  itself  a 
channel  deep  enough  to  drain  the  lake,  and  left  the  basis 


THE    URBACIITHAL  11 

of  green  meadows  as  sediment  behind  ;  while  through  these 
meadows  the  stream  that  once  overflowed  their  site  now 
runs  between  grassy  banks.  Imagination  is  essential  to  the 
natural  philosopher,  but  instead  of  indulging  in  off-hand 
theoretic  guesses,  he  must  regard  the  facts,  discern  their 
connection,  and  out  of  them  reconstruct  the  world  gone  by. 
Throughout  the  early  part  of  this  day  the  weather  had 
been  sulky,  but  towards  evening  the  clouds  were  in  many 
places  torn  asunder,  revealing  the  blue  of  heaven  and  the 
direct  beams  of  the  sun.  At  midnight  I  quitted  my  bed 
to  look  at  the  weather,  and  found  the  sky  spangled 
all  over  with  stars.  We  were  called  at  4  a.m.,  an  hour 
later  than  we  intended,  and  the  sight  of  the  cloudless 
mountains  was  an  inspiration  to  us  all.  At  5.30  a.m.  we 
were  off,  crossing  the  valley  of  Hof,  which  was  hugged 
round  its  margin  by  a  light  and  silky  mist.  We  ascended 
a  spur  which  separated  us  from  the  Urbachthal,  through 
which  our  route  lay.  The  Aar  for  a  time  babbled  in 
the  distance,  until,  on  turning  a  corner,  its  voice  was  sud- 
denly extinguished  by  the  louder  music  of  the  Urbach, 
rendered  mellow  and  voluminous  by  the  resonance  of 
the  chasm  into  which  the  torrent  leaped.  The  sun  was 
already  strong,  and  the  world  on  which  he  shone  was 
grand  and  beautiful.  His  yellow  light  glimmered  from 
the  fresh  green  leaves ;  he  smote  with  glory  the  boles 
and  the  plumes  of  the  pines  ;  soft  shadows  fell  from  shrub 
and  rock  on  the  emerald  pastures ;  snow-peaks  were  in 
sight,  cliffy  summits  also,  without  snow  or  verdure,  but 
in  many  cases,  buttressed  by  slopes  of  soil  which  bore 


12  MIND   AND   BRAIN 

a  shaggy  growth  of  trees.  The  grass  over  which  we  passed 
was  sown  with  orient  pearls ;  to  the  right  of  us  rose  the 
bare  cliffs  of  the  Engelhorner,  broken  at  the  top  into  claw- 
shaped  masses  which  were  turned,  as  if  in  spite,  against 
the  serene  heaven.  Benen  walked  on  in  front,  a  mass  of 
organised  force,  silent,  but  emitting  at  times  a  whistle 
which  sounded  like  the  piping  of  a  lost  chamois.  Hark  to 
an  avalanche !  In  a  hollow  of  the  Engelhorner  a  mass  of 
snow  had  found  a  lodgment;  melted  by  the  warm  rock, 
its  foundation  was  sapped,  and  down  it  came  in  a  thunder- 
ing cascade.  The  thick  pinewToods  to  our  right  were 
furrowed  by  the  tracks  of  these  destroyers,  the  very 
wind  of  which,  it  is  affirmed,  tears  up  distant  trees  by 
the  roots. 

For  a  time  our  route  lies  through  a  spacious  valley  which 
now  turns  to  the  left,  narrows  to  a  gorge,  and  winds  away 
amid  the  mountains.  Along  its  bottom  the  hissing  river 
rushes  ;  this  we  cross,  climb  the  wall  of  a  cut  de  sac,  and 
from  its  rim  enjoy  a  glorious  view.  The  Urbachthal  has 
been  the  scene  of  vast  glacier  action ;  with  tremendous 
energy  the  ice  of  other  days  must  have  been  driven  by 
its  own  gravity  through  the  narrow  gorge,  planing  and 
fluting  and  scoring  the  rocks.  Looking  at  these  cha- 
ractered crags,  one's  thoughts  involuntarily  revert  to  the 
ancient  days,  and  from  a  few  scattered  observations  we  re- 
store in  idea  a  state  of  things  which  had  disappeared  from 
the  world  before  the  development  of  man.  Whence  this 
wondrous  power  of  reconstruction  ?  Who  will  take  the 
step  which  shall  connect  the  faculties  of  the  human  mind 


THE    GAULI    GLACIER  13 

with  the  physics  of  the  human  brain  ?  Was  this  power 
locked  like  latent  heat  in  ancient  inorganic  nature,  and 
developed  as  the  ages  rolled  ?  Are  other  and  grander 
powers  still  latent  in  nature,  which  shall  come  to  blossom 
in  another  age  ?  Let  us  question  fearlessly,  but,  having 
done  so,  let  us  avow  frankly  that  at  bottom  we  know 
nothing ;  that  we  are  imbedded  in  a  mystery  towards  the 
solution  of  which  no  whisper  has  been  yet  conceded  to  the 
listening  intellect  of  man. 

The  world  of  life  and  beauty  is  now  retreating,  and  the 
world  of  death  and  beauty  is  at  hand.    We  are  soon  at  the 
end  of  the  Grauli  glacier,  from  which  our  impetuous  friend 
the  Urbach  rushes,  and  turn  into  a  chalet  for  a  draught  of 
milk.     The  Senner  within  proved  an  extortioner  — '  ein 
unverschamter  Hund ; '  but  let  him  pass  without  casting  a 
speck  upon  the  brightness  of  our  enjoyment.     We  work 
along  the  flank  of  the  glacier  to  a  point  which  commands 
a  view  of  the  cliffy  barrier  which  it  is  the  main  object  of 
our  journey  to  pass.     From  a  range  of  snow-peaks  linked 
together  by  ridges  of  black  rock,  the  Grauli  glacier  falls, 
at  first  steeply  as  snow,  then  more  gently  as  ice.     We 
scan  the  mountain  barrier  to  ascertain  where  it  ought  to 
be  attacked.     No  one  of  us  has  ever  been  here  before, 
and   the   scanty   scraps   of  information    which   we    have 
received  tell  us  that  at  one  place  only  is  the  barrier  pass- 
able.    We  may  reach  the  summit  at  several  points  from 
this  side,  but  all  save  one,  we  are  informed,  lead  to  the 
brink    of  intractable   precipices  which  fall  sheer  to  the 
Lauteraar  glacier.     We  observe,  discuss,  and  finally  decide 


U  PASSAGE    OF    THE    SCHRUND 

upon  a  point  of  attack.  We  enter  upon  the  glacier;  black 
chasms  yawn  here  and  there  through  the  superincumbent 
snow,  but  there  is  no  real  difficulty.  We  cross  the  glacier 
and  reach  the  opposite  slopes;  our  way  first  lies  up  a 
moraine,  and  afterwards  through  the  snow ;  a  laborious 
ascent  brings  us  close  to  the  ridge,  and  here  we  pause 
once  more  in  consultation.  There  is  a  gentle  indentation 
to  our  left,  and  a  cleft  in  the  rocks  to  our  right;  our  infor- 
mation points  decidedly  to  the  latter,  but  still  our  attention 
is  attracted  by  the  former.  '  Shall  we  try  the  saddle, 
sir  ?  I  think  we  shall  get  down ; '  asks  Benen.  '  I  think 
so  too  ;  let  us  make  for  it,'  is  my  reply. 

The  winter  snows  were  here  thickly  laid  against  the 
precipitous  crags ;  the  lower  part  of  the  buttress  thus 
formed  had  broken  away  from  the  upper,  which  still 
clung  to  the  rocks,  and  the  whole  ridge  was  thus  defended 
by  a  profound  chasm,  called  in  Switzerland  a  bergschrund. 
At  some  places  portions  of  snow  had  fallen  away  from 
the  upper  slope  and  partially  choked  the  schrund, 
closing,  however,  its  mouth  only,  and  on  this  snow  we 
were  now  to  seek  a  footing.  Benen  and  myself  wTere 
loose  coming  up,  F.  and  his  guide  were  tied  together ; 
but  now  F.  declares  that  we  must  all  be  attached,  as  it 
would  injure  his  stomach  to  see  us  try  the  schrund  singly. 
We  accordingly  rope  ourselves,  and  advance  along  the 
edge  of  the  fissure  to  one  of  the  places  where  it  is  par- 
tially stopped.  At  this  place  a  vertical  wall  of  snow 
faces  us.  Our  leader  carefully  treads  down  the  covering 
of  the  chasm ;  and  having  thus  rendered  it  sufficiently 


THE   EIDGE    SCALED  15 

rigid  to  stand  upon,  he  cuts  a  deep  gap  with  his  ice-axe 
in  the  opposing  wall.  Into  the  gap  he  tries  to  force  him- 
self, but  the  mass  yields,  and  he  falls  back,  sinking  deeply 
in  the  snow  of  the  schrund.  You  must  bear  in  mind  that 
he  stands  right  over  the  fissure,  which  is  merely  bridged 
by  the  snow.  I  call  out  i  Take  care  ! '  he  responds  '  All 
right ! '  and  returns  to  the  charge.  He  hews  a  deeper 
and  more  ample  gap ;  strikes  his  axe  into  the  slope  above 
him,  and  leaves  it  there  :  buries  his  hands  in  the  yielding 
mass,  and  raising  his  body  on  his  two  arms,  as  on  a  pair 
of  pillars,  he  lifts  himself  into  the  gap.  He  is  thus  clear 
of  the  schrund,  and  soon  anchors  his  limbs  in  the  snow 
above.  I  am  speedily  at  his  side,  and  we  both  tighten  the 
rope  as  our  friend  F.  advances.  With  perfect  courage  and 
)a  faultless  head,  he  has  but  one  disadvantage,  and  that  is 
an  excess  of  weight  of  at  least  two  stone.  Tn  his  first 
attempt  the  snow  ledge  breaks,  and  he  falls  back  ;  but  two 
men  are  now  at  the  rope,  the  tension  of  which,  aided  by  his 
own  activity,  prevents  him  from  sinking  far.  By  a  second 
effort  he  clears  the  difficulty,  is  followed  by  his  guide, 
and  all  four  of  us  are  now  upon  the  slope  above  the  chasm. 
Had  you,  unaccustomed  to  mountain  climbing,  found 
yourself  upon  such  an  incline,  you  would  have  deemed 
it  odd.  Its  steepness  was  greater  than  that  of  a  cathe- 
dral roof,  while  below  us,  and  within  a  few  yards  of  us, 
the  slope  was  cut  by  a  chasm  into  which  it  would  be 
certain  death  to  fall.  Education  enables  us  to  regard 
a  position  of  this  kind  almost  with  indifference,  still  the 
work  was  by  no  means  unexciting.     In  this  early  stage  of 


16  DESCENT   TO   THE   LAITTERAAR    GLACIER 

our  summer  performances,  it  required  perfect  trust  in  our 
leader  to  keep  our  minds  at  ease.  A  doubt  of  him  would 
have  introduced  moral  and  physical  weakness  amongst  us 
all ;  but  the  feebleness  of  uncertainty  was  unfelt ;  we  made 
use  of  all  our  strength,  and  consequently  succeeded  with 
comparative  ease.  We  are  now  near  the  top  of  the  saddle, 
separated  from  it,  however,  by  a  very  steep  piece  of  snow ; 
this  is  soon  overcome,'  and  a  cheer  at  the  summit  an- 
nounces that  our  escape  is  secured. 

The  indentation,  in  fact,  forms  the  top  of  a  kind   of 
chimney  or  cut  in  the  rocks,  which  leads  right  down  to 
the  Lauteraar  glacier.     It  is  steep,  but  we  know  that  it  is 
feasible,  and  we  pause  contentedly  upon  the  summit  to 
scan    the    world  of    mountains  extending  beyond.     The 
Schreckhorn  particularly  interests  my  friend  F.     It  had 
been  tried  in  successive  years  by  Mr.  A.  without  success, 
and  now  F.  had  set  his  heart  on  climbing  it.    The  hope  of 
doing  so  from  this  side  is  instantly  extinguished,  the  pre- 
cipices are  so  smooth  and  steep.     Elated  with  our  present 
success,  I  release  myself  from  the  rope  and  spring  down 
the  chimney,  preventing    the    descent    from    quickening 
to  an  absolute  fall  by  seizing  at  intervals  the  projecting 
rocks.     Once  an  effort  of  this  kind  shakes  the  alpenstock 
from  my  hand ;  it  slides  along  the  debris,  reaches  a  snow 
slope,  shoots  down  it,  and  is  caught  on  some  shingle  at 
the  bottom  of  the  slope.     Benen  wishes  to  get  it  for  me, 
but  I  am  instantly  after  it  myself.     Quickly  skirting  the 
snow,  which,  without  a  staff,  cannot  be  trusted,  an  arete  is 
reached,  from  which  a  jump   lands  me  on    the   debris: 


CHAMOIS    AND    KIDS  17 

it  yields  and  carries  me  down ;  passing  the  alpenstock  I 
seize  it,  and  in  an  instant  am  master  of  all  my  motions. 
Another   snow   slope  is  reached,  down  which  I  shoot  to 
the   rocks   at   the   bottom,   and   there   await  the   arrival 
of    Benen.      He    joins    me    immediately ;    F.    and    his 
guide,  however,  choosing  a  slower  mode  of  descent.     We 
have  diverged  from  the  deep  cut  of  the  chimney,  rough 
rocks  are  in  our  way;  to  these  Benen  adheres  while  I, 
hoping  to    make    an   easier  descent   through  the  funnel 
itself,  resort  to  it.     It   is  partially  filled  with  indurated 
snow,    but   underneath    this   a   stream   rushes,   and    my 
ignorance  of  the  thickness   of  the   roof  renders    caution 
necessary.     At  one  place  the  snow  is  broken  quite  across, 
and  a  dark  tunnel,  through  which  the  stream  rushes,  opens 
immediately  below  me.     My  descent  is  thus  cut  off,  and 
I  cross  the  couloir  to  the  opposite  rocks,  climb  them,  and 
find  myself  upon  the  summit  of  a  ledged  precipice,  below 
which  Benen  halts,  and  watches  me  as  I  descend  it.     On 
one  of  the  ledges  my  foot  slips ;  a  most  melancholy  whine 
issues  from  my  guide,  as  he  suddenly  moves  towards  me 
to  render  what  help  he  can ;  but  the  slip  in  no  way  com- 
promises the  firmness  of  my  grasp;  I  reach  the  next  ledge, 
and  in  a  moment  am   clear  of  the  difficulty.     We  drop 
down  the  mountain  together,  quit  the  rocks,  and  reach  the 
ice  of  the  glacier,  where  we  are  soon  joined  by  F.  and  his 
companion.     Turning  round  now  we  espy  a  herd  of  seven 
chamois  on  one  of  the  distant  slopes  of  snow.     The  tele- 
scope reduces  them  to  five  full-grown  animals  and  two 
pretty   little  kids,  fair  and  tender   tenants  of  so  wild  a 

c 


18  CRYSTALLIZATION 

habitation.  Down  we  go  along  the  glacier,  with  the  sun  on 
our  backs,  his  beams  streaming  more  and  more  obliquely 
against  the  ice.  The  deeper  glacier  pools  are  shaded  in 
part  by  their  icy  banks,  and  through  the  shadowed  water 
needles  of  ice  are  already  darting :  all  day  long  the  mole- 
cules had  been  kept  asunder  by  the  antagonistic  heat ; 
their  enemy  is  now  withdrawn,  and  they  lock  themselves 
together  in  a  crystalline  embrace.  Through  a  reach  of 
merciless  shingle,  which  covers  the  lower  part  of  the 
glacier,  we  now  work  our  way  ;  over  green  pastures ;  over 
rounded  rocks ;  up  to  the  Grrimsel  Hotel,  which,  uncom- 
fortable as  it  is,  is  reached  with  pleasure  by  us  all. 


19 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    GRIMSEL   AND    THE   ^GGISCHHORN 

1  Thou  trowest 
How  the  chemic  eddies  play- 
Pole  to  pole,  and  what  they  say  ; 
And  that  these  gray  crags 
Not  on  crags  are  hung, 
But  beads  are  of  a  rosary 
On  prayer  and  music  strung.' 

GRANDLY  on  the  morning  of  the  5th,  the  sun  rose  over 
the  mountains,  filling  earth  and  air  with  the  glory  of 
his  light.  This  Grimsel  is  a  weird  region  —  a  monument 
carved  with  hieroglyphics  more  ancient  and  more  grand 
than  those  of  Nineveh  or  the  Nile.  It  is  a  world  dis- 
interred by  the  sun  from  a  sepulchre  of  ice.  All  around 
are  evidences  of  the  existence  and  might  of  the  glacier 
which  once  held  possession  of  the  place.  All  around 
the  rocks  are  carved,  and  fluted,  and  polished,  and 
scored.  Here  and  there  angular  pieces  of  quartz,  held 
fast  by  the  ice,  inserted  their  edges  into  the  rocks  and 
scratched  them  like  diamonds,  the  scratches  varying  in 
depth  and  width  according  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
cutting  stone.  Larger  masses,  held  similarly  captive, 
scooped  longitudinal  depressions  in  the  rocks  over  which 
they  passed,  while  in  many  cases  the  polishing  must  have 

c2 


20  THE    ANCIENT   ICE-WORLD 

been  effected  by  the  ice  itself.  A  raindrop  will  wear  a 
stone  away,  much  more  would  an  ice  surface,  squeezed 
into  perfect  contact  by  enormous  pressure,  rub  away  the 
asperities  of  the  rocks  over  which  for  ages  it  was  forced  to 
slide.  The  rocks  thus  polished  by  the  ice  itself  are 
exceedingly  smooth,  and  so  slippery  that  it  is  impossible 
to  stand  on  them  where  their  inclination  is  at  all  consider- 
able. But  what  a  world  it  must  have  been  when  the 
valleys  were  thus  filled !  We  can  restore  the  state  of 
things  in  thought,  and  in  doing  so  we  submerge  many  a 
mass  which  now  lifts  its  pinnacle  skyward.  Switzerland 
in  those  days  could  not  be  so  grand  as  it  is  now.  Pour 
ice  into  those  valleys  till  they  are  filled,  and  you  elimi- 
nate those  contrasts  of  height  and  depth  on  which  the 
grandeur  of  Alpine  scenery  depends.  Instead  of  skiey 
pinnacles  and  deep-cut  gorges  we  should  have  an  icy 
sea  dotted  with  dreary  islands  formed  by  the  highest 
mountain  tops. 

In  the  afternoon  I  strolled  up  to  the  Siedelhorn;  a 
mountain  often  climbed  by  tourists  for  the  sake  of  the 
prospect  it  commands.  This  is  truly  fine.  As  I  stood 
upon  the  broken  summit  of  the  mountain  the  sun  was 
without  a  cloud ;  and  his  rays  fell  directly  against  the 
crown  and  slopes  of  the  Gralenstock  at  the  base  of  which 
lay  the  glacier  of  the  Ehone.  The  level  sea  of  neve  above 
the  great  ice-cascade,  the  fall  itself,  and  the  terminal  glacier 
below  the  fall  were  all  apparently  at  hand.  At  the  base 
of  the  fall  the  ice,  as  you  know,  undergoes  an  extraordinary 
transformation ;  it  reaches  this  place  more  or  less  amor- 


VIEW   FROM    THE    SIEDELHORN  21 

phous,  it  quits  it  most  beautifully  laminated,  the  change 
being  due  to  the  pressure  endured  by  the  ice  at  the  bottom 
of  the  fall.  The  wrinkling  of  the  glacier  here  was  quite 
visible,  the  dwindling  of  the  wrinkles  into  bands,  and  the 
subdivision  of  these  bands  into  lines  which  mark  the  edges 
of  the  laminae  of  which  the  glacier  at  this  place  is  composed. 
Beyond,  amid  the  mountains  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Ehone  valley,  lies  the  Grries  glacier,  half  its  snow  in  shadow, 
and  half  illuminated  by  the  sinking  sun.  Round  farther 
to  the  right  stand  the  Monte  Leone  and  other  grand 
masses,  the  grandest  here  being  the  Mischabel  with  its 
crowd  of  snowy  cones.  Jumping  a  gap  in  the  moun- 
tains, we  hit  the  stupendous  cone  of  the  Weisshorn,  which 
slopes  to  meet  the  inclines  of  the  Mischabel,  and  in  the 
wedge  of  space  carved  out  between  the  two,  the  Matterhorn 
lifts  its  terrible  head.  Wheeling  farther  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, we  at  length  strike  the  mighty  spurs  of  the  Finster- 
aarhorn,  between  two  of  which  lies  the  Oberaar  glacier. 
Here  is  no  turmoil  of  crevasses,  no  fantastic  ice-pinnacles, 
nothing  to  indicate  the  operation  of  those  tremendous 
forces  by  which  a  glacier  sometimes  rends  its  own  breast, 
but  soft  and  quiet  it  reposes  under  its  shining  coverlet  of 
snow.  The  grimmest  fiend  of  the  Oberland  closes  the 
view  at  the  head  of  the  Lauteraar  glacier;  this  is  the 
Schreckhorn,  whose  cliffs  on  this  side  no  mountaineer  will 
ever  scale.  Between  the  Schreckhorn  and  Finsteraarhorn 
a  curious  group  of  peaks  encircle  a  flat  snow  field,  from 
which  the  sunbeams  are  flung  in  blazing  lines.  Imme- 
diately below  is  the  Unteraar  glacier,  with  a  long  black 


22  THE    SCHKECKHORN    INSPECTED 

streak  upon  its  back,  bent  hither  and  thither,  like  a  serpent 
in  the  act  of  wriggling  down  the  valley.  Beyond  it  and 
flanking  it,  is  a  range  of  mountains  with  a  crest  of  vertical 
rock,  hacked  into  indentations  which  suggest  a  resemblance 
to  a  cockscomb  ;  and  to  the  very  root  of  the  comb  the 
mountains  have  been  cut  away  by  the  ancient  ice.  A 
scene  of  unspeakable  desolation  it  must  have  been  when 
Europe  was  thus  encased  in  frozen  armour,  and  when 
even  the  showers  of  her  western  isles  fell  solid  from  the 
skies, — when  glaciers  teemed  from  the  shoulders  of  Snow- 
don  and  Scawfell,  and  when  Llanberis  and  Borrodale  were 
ploughed  by  frozen  shares,  —  when  the  Eeeks  of  Magilli- 
cuddy  sent  down  giant  navigators  to  delve  out  space  for 
the  Killarnev  lakes,  and  to  saw  through  the  mountains 
the  Gap  of  Dunloe.  Evening  comes,  and  we  move  down- 
wards, down  amid  heaped  boulders ;  down  over  the  tufted 
alp ;  down  with  headlong  speed  over  the  roches  mou- 
tonnes  of  the  Grimsel  pass,  making  long  springs  at  inter- 
vals, over  the  polished  inclines,  and  reaching  the  hospice 
as  its  bell  rings  its  hungry  inmates  to  their  evening  meal. 
P.  and  I  had  arranged  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Schreckhorn 
on  the  following  day.  He  was  not  well,  and  wisely  stayed 
at  home ;  I  was  not  well,  and  unwisely  went.  The  day  was 
burning  hot,  and  the  stretch  of  glacier  from  the  Grimsel 
to  the  Strahleck  very  trying.  We,  however,  gained  the 
summit  of  the  pass,  and  from  it  scanned  the  peak  which 
F.  wished  to  assail.  An  adjacent  peak  had  been  sur- 
mounted by  M.  Desor  and  some  friends,  at  the  time  of 
Agassiz's  observations  on  the  Lower  Aar  glacier,  but  the 


THE   .EGGISCHHORN  23 

summit  they  attained  was  about  eighty  feet  below  the 
true  one,  and  to  pass  from  one  to  the  other  they  found 
impossible.  We  concluded  that  the  ascent,  though  diffi- 
cult, might  be  accomplished  by  spending  the  previous 
night  upon  the  Strahleck.  *  I  had  my  heart  on  other 
summits,  and  was  unwilling  to  divert  from  them  the 
time  and  trouble  which  the  Schreckhorn  would  demand. 
Neither  could  I  advise  F.  to  try  it,  as  his  power  among 
rocks  like  those  of  the  Schreckhorn  was  still  to  be  tested. 
The  idea  of  climbing  this  pinnacle  was  therefore  relin- 
quished by  us  both. 

On  Saturday,  accompanied  by  my  friend  and  former  fel- 
low climber  H.,  I  ascended  from  Viesch  to  the  Hotel  Jung- 
frau  on  the  slope  of  the  ^Eggischhorn,  and  in  the  evening 
of  the  same  day  walked  up  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
alone.  As  is  usual  with  me,  I  wandered  unconsciously 
from  the  beaten  track,  and  had  to  make  my  way  amid 
the  chaos  of  crags  which  nature,  in  her  ruinous  moods, 
had  shaken  from  the  mountain.  From  these  I  escaped 
to  a  couloir,  filled  in  part  with  loose  debris,  and  down 
which  the  liberated  boulders  roll.  My  ascent  was  quick, 
and  I  soon  found  myself  upon  the  crest  of  broken  rocks 
which  caps  the  mountain.  This  peak  and  those  adjacent, 
which  are  similarly  shattered,  exhibit  a  striking  picture 
of  the  ruin  which  nature  inflicts  upon  her  own  creations. 
She  buildeth  up  and  taketh  down.  She  lifts  the  moun- 
tains by  her  subterranean  energies,  and  then  blasts  them 

*  It  was  actually  accomplished  from  this  side,  a  few  days  after  my  visit^ 
by  the  Revd.  Leslie  Stephen. 


24  THE    ALETSCH   AND    ITS    SURROUNDINGS 

by  her  lightnings  and  her  frost.  Thus  grandly  she  rushes 
along  the  6  grooves  of  change  '  to  her  unattainable  repose. 
Is  it  unattainable?  The  incessant  tendency  of  material 
forces  is  toward  final  equilibrium ;  and  if  the  quantity  of 
this  tendency  be  finite,  a  time  of  repose  must  come  at 
last.  If  one  portion  of  the  universe  be  hotter  than  an- 
other, a  flux  instantly  sets  in  to  equalise  the  tempera- 
tures ;  while  winds  blow  and  rivers  roll  in  search  of  a 
stable  equilibrium.  Matter  longs  for  rest ;  when  is  this 
longing  to  be  fully  satisfied?  If  satisfied,  what  then?  The 
state  to  which  material  nature  tends  is  not  one  of  per- 
fection, but  of  death.  Life  is  only  compatible  with  muta- 
tion ;  and  when  the  attractions  and  repulsions  of  material 
atoms  have  been  satisfied  to  the  uttermost,  life  ceases,  and 
the  world  thenceforward  is  locked  in  everlasting  sleep. 

A  wooden  cross  bleached  by  many  storms  surmounts 
the  pinnacle  of  the  iEggischhorn,  and  at  the  base  of  it  I 
now  take  my  place  and  scan  the  surrounding  scene.  Down 
from  its  birthplace  in  the  mountains  comes  that  noblest 
of  ice-streams,  the  Great  Aletseh  glacier.  Its  arms  are 
thrown  round  the  shoulders  of  the  Jungfrau,  while  from 
the  Monk  and  the  Trugberg,  the  Gletscherhorn,  the  Breit- 
horn,  the  Aletschhorn,  and  many  another  noble  pile,  the 
tributary  snows  descend  and  thicken  into  ice.  The  moun- 
tains are  well  protected  by  their  wintry  coats,  and  hence 
the  quantity  of  debris  upon  the  glacier  is  comparatively 
small ;  still,  along  it  we  notice  dark  longitudinal  streaks, 
which  occupy  the  position  the  moraines  would  assume  had 
matter  sufficient  to  form  them  been    cast   down.     Eight 


SPLENDID    VIEW  2o 

and  J  eft  from  these  longitudinal  bands  finer  curves  sweep 
across  the  glacier,  twisted  here  and  there  into  complex 
windings.  They  mark  the  direction  in  which  the  subjacent 
ice  is  laminated.  The  glacier  lies  in  a  curved  valley, 
the  side  towards  which  its  convex  curvature  is  turned, 
is  thrown  into  a  state  of  strain,  the  ice  breaks  across  the 
line  of  tension,  and  a  curious  system  of  oblique  glacier 
ravines  is  thus  produced.  From  the  snow  line  which 
crosses  the  glacier  above  the  Faulberg  a  pure  snow-field 
stretches  upward  to  the  Col  de  la  Jungfrau;  the  Col 
which  unites  the  maiden  to  her  sacerdotal  neighbour. 
Skies  and  summits  are  to-day  without  a  cloud,  and  no 
mist  or  turbidity  interferes  with  the  sharpness  of  the 
outlines.  Jungfrau,  Monk,  Eiger,  Trugberg,  cliffy  Strahl- 
grat,  stately,  lady-like  Aletschhorn,  all  grandly  pierce 
the  empyrean.  Like  a  Saul  of  mountains  the  Finsteraar- 
horn  overtops  all  his  neighbours ;  then  we  have  the 
Oberaarhorn,  with  the  riven  glacier  of  Viesch  rolling 
from  his  shoulders.  Below  is  the  Marjelin  See,  with  its 
crystal  precipices  and  its  floating  icebergs,  snowy  white, 
sailing  on  a  blue  green  sea.  Beyond  is  the  range  which 
divides  the  Valais  from  Italy.  Sweeping  round,  the  vision 
meets  an  aggregate  of  peaks  which  look,  as  fledglings 
to  their  mother,  towards  the  mighty  Dom.  Then  come 
the  repellant  crags  of  Mont  Cervin;  the  idea  of  moral 
savagery,  of  wild  untameable  ferocity,  mingling  involun- 
tarily with  our  contemplation  of  the  gloomy  pile.  Next 
comes  an  object,  scarcely  less  grand,  conveying  it  may 
be  even  a  deeper  impression  of  majesty  and  might,  than 


26  SPLENDID   VIEW 

the  Matterhorn  itself, — the  Weisshorn,  perhaps  the  most 
splendid  object  in  the  Alps.  But  beauty  is  associated 
with  its  force,  and  we  think  of  it,  not  as  cruel,  but 
as  grand  and  strong.  Further  to  the  right  the  Great 
Cornbin  lifts  up  his  bare  head ;  other  peaks  crowd  around 
him;  while  at  the  extremity  of  the  curve  round  which  our 
gaze  has  swept  rises  the  sovran  crown  of  Mont  Blanc. 
And  now,  as  the  day  sinks,  scrolls  of  pearly  clouds  draw 
themselves  around  the  mountain  crests,  being  wafted  from 
them  into  the  distant  air.  They  are  without  colour  of 
any  kind ;  still,  by  grace  of  form,  and  as  the  embodiment 
of  lustrous  light  and  most  tender  shade,  their  beauty  is 
not  to  be  described. 


27 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

THE  BEL  ALP 

'  Happy,  I  said,  whose  home  is  here  ; 
Fair  fortunes  to  the  Mountaineer.' 

ITP  to  Tuesday  the  13th  I  remained  at  the  iEggischhorn, 
)  sauntering  over  the  Alps,  or  watching  dreamily  the 
mutations  of  light  and  shade  upon  the  mountains.  On  this 
day  I  accompanied  a  party  of  friends  to  the  Marjelin  See, 
skirted  the  lake,  struck  in  upon  the  glacier,  and  having 
heard  much  of  the  position  and  the  comfort  of  a  new  hotel 
upon  the  Bel  Alp,  I  resolved  to  descend  the  glacier  and 
pay  the  place  a  visit.  The  Valais  range  had  been  already 
clouded  before  we  quitted  the  hotel,  still  the  sun  rode  un- 
impeded in  the  higher  heavens.  Vast  vapour  masses, 
however,  continued  to  thrust  themselves  forth  like 
arms  into  the  upper  air ;  spreading  laterally,  they  became 
entangled  with  each  other,  and  thus  the  mesh  of  cloud 
became  more  continuous  and  obscure.  Having  tried  in 
vain  to  daunt  an  English  maiden  whom  I  led  among  the 
crevasses,  I  separated  from  my  companions,  who  had 
merely  made  an  excursion  from  the  hotel,  and  my  friend 


28  DOWN   THE    ALETSCH 

T.,  Benen,  and  myself  commenced  the  descent  of  the 
glacier.  The  clouds  unlocked  themselves,  thunder  rung 
and  echoed  amid  the  crags  of  the  Strahlgrat,  accompanied 
by  a  furious  downpour  of  rain.  We  crouched  for  a  time 
behind  a  parapet  of  ice  until  the  rain  seemed  to  lighten, 
when  we  emerged,  and  went  swiftly  down  the  glacier. 
Sometimes  my  guide  was  in  advance  among  the  icehills 
and  ravines,  sometimes  myself,  an  accident  now  and  then 
giving  the  one  an  advantage  over  the  other.  The  rain 
again  commencing,  we  escaped  from  the  ice  to  the  flanking 
hillside,  and  hid  ourselves  for  a  time  under  a  ledge  of 
rock ;  being  finally  washed  out  of  our  retreat  by  the 
rush  of  water. 

The  rain  again  lightens,  and  we  are  off.  The  glacier 
is  here  cut  up  into  oblique  valleys  of  ice,  these  being 
subdivided  by  sharp-edged  crevasses.  We  advance  swiftly 
along  the  ridges  which  divide  vale  from  vale,  but  these 
finally  abut  against  the  mountain,  and  we  are  compelled 
to  cross  from  ridge  to  ridge.  T.  follows  Benen,  and  I 
trust  to  my  own  devices.  Joyously  we  strike  our  axes 
into  the  crumbling  crests,  and  make  our  way  rapidly 
between  the  chasms.  The  sunshine  gushes  down  upon 
us  for  a  time,  and  partially  dries  our  drenched  clothes, 
after  which  the  atmosphere  again  darkens.  A  storm  is 
brewing,  and  we  urge  ourselves  to  a  swifter  pace.  At  some 
distance  to  our  left,  we  observe  upon  the  ice  a  group  of 
persons,  consisting  of  two  men,  a  boy,  and  an  old  woman. 
They  are  engaged  beside  a  crevasse,  and  a  thrill  of  horror 
shoots  through  me,  at  the  thought  of  a  man  being  possibly 


A   COW    IN    A   CREVASSE  29 

between   its  jaws.     We  quickly  join  them,  and  find  an 
unfortunate  cow  firmly  jammed  between  the  frozen  sides 
of  the  fissure,  groaning  most  piteously,  but  wholly  unable 
to  move.     The  men  had  possessed  themselves  of  a  bad 
rope  and  a  common  hatchet,  and  were  doing  their  utmost 
to  rescue  the  animal ;  but  their  means  were  inadequate, 
and  their  efforts  ill-directed.     They  had  passed  their  rope 
under  the  animal's  tail,  hoping  thereby  to  raise  its  heavy 
haunches  from  the  chasm;  of  course  the   noose   slipped 
along  the  tail  and  was  utterly  useless.     e  Give  the  brute 
space,  cut  away  the  ice  which  presses  the  ribs,  and  you 
step  upon  that  block  which  stops  the  chasm,  and  apply 
3^our   shoulders   to   the    creature's    buttocks.'       The   ice 
splinters  fly  aloft,  under  the  vigorous  strokes  of  Benen. 
T.  suggests  that  one  rope  should  be  passed  round   the 
horns,  so  as  to  enable  all  hands  to  join  in  the  pull.     This 
is  done.     ( Pass  your  rope  between  the  animal's  hind  legs 
instead   of  under  its  tail.'      This    is  also  done.      Benen 
has  loosened  the  ice  which  held  the  ribs  in  bondage,  and 
now  like  mariners  heaving  an  anchor,  we  all  join  in  a  tug, 
timing  our  efforts  by  an  appropriate  exclamation.     The 
brute  moves,   but   extremely  little;  again   the   cry,    and 
again  the  heave — she  moves  a  little  more.    This  is  repeated 
several  times  till   her   fore-legs   are    extricated   and   she 
throws   them    forward    on  the    ice.     We   now  apply  our 
efforts  to  her  hinder  parts,  and  succeed  in  placing  the 
animal  upon  the  glacier,  panting  and  trembling  in  all  her 
fibres.     '  Fold  your  rope,  Johann,  and  onward ;  the  day  is 
darkening,  and  we   know  not  what  glacier  work  is  still 


30  THUNDERSTORM 

before  us.'  On  we  went.  Hark  once  more,  to  the 
thunder,  now  preceded  by  vivid  lightning  gleams  which 
flash  into  my  eyes  from  the  polished  surface  of  my  axe. 
Gleam  follows  gleam,  and  peal  succeeds  peal  with  terrific 
grandeur ;  and  the  loaded  clouds  send  down  from  all  their 
fringes  dusky  streamers  of  rain.  These  look  like  water- 
spouts, so  dense  is  their  texture.  Furious  as  was  the 
descending  shower;  hard  as  we  were  hit  by  the  mixed 
pellets  of  ice  and  water,  I  scarcely  ever  enjoyed  a  scene 
more.  Grandly  the  cloud-besom  swept  the  mountains, 
their  colossal  outlines  looming  at  intervals  like  over- 
powered Titans  struggling  against  their  doom. 

We  are  now  entangled  in  crevasses,  the  glacier  is  im- 
practicable, and  we  are  forced  to  retreat  to  its  western 
shore.  We  pass  along  the  lateral  moraine :  rough  work 
it  proved,  and  tried  poor  T.  severely.  The  mountain 
slope  to  our  left  becomes  partially  clothed  with  pines, 
but  such  spectral  trees !  Down  the  glacier  valley  wild 
storms  had  rushed,  stripping  the  trunks  of  their  branches, 
and  the  branches  of  their  leaves,  and  leaving  the  tree- 
wrecks  behind,  as  if  spirit-stricken  and  accursed.  We 
pause  and  scan  the  glacier,  and  decide  upon  a  place 
to  cross  it.  Our  home  is  in  sight,  perched  upon  the 
summit  of  the  opposite  mountain.  On  to  the  ice  once 
more,  and  swiftly  over  the  ridges  towards  our  destination. 
We  reach  the  opposite  side,  wet  and  thirsty,  and  face  the 
steep  slope  of  the  mountain;  slowly  we  ascend  it,  strike 
upon  a  beaten  track,  and  pursuing  it,  finally  reach  the 
pleasant  auberge  at  which  our  day's  journey  ends. 


THE    BEL   ALP  31 

If  you   and  I  should  be   ever   in    the   Alps   together, 
I  shall  be  your  guide  from  the  iEggischhorn  to  the  Bel 
Alp.     You  shall  choose  yourself  whether  the  passage  is 
to  be  made  along  the  glacier,  as  we  made  it,  or  along  the 
grassy  mountain  side  to  the  Eieder  Alp,  and  thence  across 
the  glacier  to  our  hotel.     Here,  if  the  weather  smile  upon 
us,  we  may  halt  for  two  or  three  days.     From  the  hotel 
on  the  iEggischhorn  slope  an  hour  and  a  half's  ascent  is 
required  to  place  the  magnificent  view  from  the  summit 
of  the  iEggischhorn  in  your  possession.     But  from  the 
windows  of  the  hotel  upon  the  Bel  Alp  noble  views  are 
commanded,  and  you  may  sit  upon  the  bilberry  slopes 
adjacent,  in  the  presence  of  some  of  the  noblest  of  the 
Alps.     And  if  you  like  wildness,  I  will  take  you  down 
to  the  gorge  in  which  the  Aletsch  glacier  ends,  and  there 
chill  you  with  fear.     I  went  down  to  this  gorge  on  the 
14th,  and  shrunk  from  the  edge  of  it  at  first.     A  pine- 
tree   stood  sheer  over  it;    bending  its  trunk  at  a  right 
angle  near  its    root,   it  laid    hold    of  a   rock,    and    thus 
supported   itself  above  the    chasm.      I    stood   upon   the 
horizontal   part  of   the    tree,    and,    hugging   its   upright 
stem,   looked  down  into  the  gorge.     It  required   several 
minutes   to  chase  away  the  timidity  with  which  I  hung 
over  this  savage  ravine ;    and,   as  the  wind  blew    more 
forcibly  against  me,  I  clung  with  more  desperate  energy 
to  the  tree.     In  this  wild  spot,  and  alone,  I  watched  the 
dying  fires  of  the  day,  until  the  latest  glow  had  vanished 
from  the  mountains. 

And  if  you  like  to  climb  for  the  sake  of  a  wider  horizon, 


32  THE   SPARRENHORN 

you  shall  have  your  wish  at   the  Bel  Alp.     High  above 
it  towers  a  gray  pinnacle  called  the  Sparrenhorn,  and  two 
hours  of  moderate  exertion  will  place  you  and  me  together 
upon  that  point.     I  went  up  there  on  the  loth.     To  the 
observer  from  the  hotel  the  Sparrenhorn  appears  as  an 
isolated  peak ;  it  forms,  however,  the  lofty  end  of  a  narrow 
ridge,  which  is  torn  into  ruins  by  the  weather,  flanking  on 
the  east  the  forsaken  bed  of  a  neve,  and  bounding  on  the 
west  the  Ober  Aletsch  glacier.      In  front  of  me  was  a 
rocky  promontory  like  the  Abschwung,  right  and  left  of 
which  descended  two  streams  of  ice,  which  welded  them- 
selves to  a  common  trunk.     This  glacier  scene  was  per- 
fectly unexpected  and  strikingly  beautiful.     Nowhere  have 
I  seen  such  perfect  repose,  nowhere  more  tender  curves 
or  finer  structural  lines,  forming  loops  across  the  glacier. 
The  stripes  of  the  moraine  bending  along  its  surface  con- 
tribute to  its  beauty,  and  its  deep  seclusion  gives  it  a 
peculiar  charm.     It  is  a  river  so  protected  by  its  bounding 
mountains  that  no  storm  can  ever  reach  it,  and  no  billow 
disturb  the  perfect  serenity  of  its  rest.     The  sweep  of  the 
Aletsch  glacier  is  also  mighty  as  viewed  from  this  point, 
and  from  no  other  could  the  Valais    range  seem  more 
majestic.     It  is  needless  to  say  a  word  about  the  grandeur 
of  the  Dom,  the  Cervin,  and  the  Weisshorn,  all  of  which, 
and  a  great  deal  more,  are  commanded  from  this  point  of 
view.     Surely  you  and  I  must   clamber  thither,  and  if 
your  feet  refuse  their  aid  I  will  pass  my  strap  around 
your  waist  and  draw  you  to  the  top. 


33 


CHAPTER  V. 

REFLECTIONS 

'  The  world  was  made  in  order, 
And  the  atoms  march  in  tune.' 

THE  aspects  of  nature  are  more  varied  and  impressive 
in  Alpine  regions  than  elsewhere.  The  mountains 
themselves  are  permanent  objects  of  grandeur.  The 
effects  of  sunrise  and  sunset ;  the  formation  and  dis- 
tribution of  clouds;  the  discharge  of  electricity,  such 
as  we  witnessed  a  day  or  two  ago ;  the  precipitation 
of  rain,  hail,  and  snow ;  the  creeping  of  glaciers  and  the 
rushing  of  rivers  ;  the  colouring  of  the  atmosphere  and  its 
grosser  action  in  the  case  of  storms ; — all  these  things  tend 
to  excite  the  feelings  and1  to  bewilder  the  mind.  In  this 
entanglement  of  phenomena  it  seems  hopeless  to  seek  for 
law  or  orderly  connection.  And  before  the  thought  of  law 
dawned  upon  the  human  mind  men  naturally  referred 
these  inexplicable  effects  to  personal  agency.  The  savage 
saw  in  the  fall  of  a  cataract  the  leap  of  a  spirit,  and  the 
echoed  thunder-peal  was  to  him  the  hammer-clang  of  an 
exasperated  god.      Propitiation  of  these  terrible   powers 

D 


34  "WORSHIP   OF   NATURAL   AGENTS 

was  the  consequence,  and  sacrifice  was  offered  to  the  de- 
mons of  earth  and  air. 

But  the  effect  of  time  appears  to  be  to  chasten  the  emo- 
tions and  to  modify  the  creations  which  depend  upon  them 
alone,  by  giving  more  and  more  predominance  to  the  intel- 
lectual power  of  man.  One  by  one  natural  phenomena  were 
associated  with  their  proximate  causes ;  this  process  still 
continues,  and  the  idea  of  direct  personal  volition  mixing 
itself  in  the  economy  of  nature  is  retreating  more  and  more. 
Many  of  us  fear  this  tendency ;  our  faith  and  feelings  are 
dear  to  us,  and  we  look  with  suspicion  and  dislike  on  any 
philosophy  which  would  deprive  us  of  the  relations  in 
which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  believe,  as  tending 
directly  to  dry  up  the  soul.  Probably  every  change 
from  ancient  savagery  to  our  present  enlightenment 
excited,  in  a  greater  or  ]ess  degree,  a  fear  of  this  kind. 
But  the  fact  is,  that  we  have  not  at  all  determined 
whether  the  form  under  which  they  now  appear  in  the 
world  is  necessary  to  the  prosperity  of  faith  and  feeling. 
We  may  err  in  linking  the  imperishable  with  the  tran- 
sitory, and  confound  the  living  plant  with  the  decaying 
pole  to  which  it  clings.  My  object,  however,  at  present 
is  not  to  argue,  but  to  mark  a  tendency.  We  have  ceased 
to  propitiate  the  powers  of  Nature, —  ceased  even  to  pray 
for  things  in  manifest  contradiction  to  natural  laws.  In 
Protestant  countries,  at  least,  I  think  it  is  conceded  that 
the  age  of  miracles  is  past. 

The  general  question  of  miracles  is  at  present  in  able 
and  accomplished  hands;  and  were  it  not  so,  my  polemical 


BLESSING    THE    MOUNTAINS  35 

acquirements  are  so  limited,,  that  I  should  not  presume  to 
enter  upon  a  discussion  of  this  subject  on  its  entire  merits. 
But  there  is  one  little  outlying  point,  which  attaches  itself 
to  the  question  of  miracles,  and  on  which  a  student  of 
science  may,  without  quitting  the  ground  which  strictly 
belongs  to  him,  make  a  few  observations.  If  I  should 
err  here,  there  are  many  religious  men  in  this  country 
quite  competent  to  correct  me ;  and  did  I  not  feel  it  to  be 
needless,  I  should  invite  them  to  do  so.  I  shall,  as  far 
as  possible,  shut  out  in  my  brief  remarks  the  exercise 
of  mere  opinion,  so  that  if  I  am  wrong,  my  error  may 
be  immediately  reduced  to  demonstration. 

At  the  auberge  near  the  foot  of  the  Ehone  glacier,  I  met 
in  the  summer  of  1858,  an  athletic  young  priest,  who,  after 
he  had  accomplished  a  solid  breakfast  and  a  bottle  of  wine, 
informed  me  that  he  had  come  up  to  ( bless  the  mountains,' 
this  being  the  annual  custom  of  the  place.  Year  by  year 
the  Highest  was  entreated  to  make  such  meteorological  ar- 
rangements  as  should  ensure  food  and  shelter  for  the  flocks 
and  herds  of  the  Valaisians.  A  diversion  of  the  Ehone,  or  a 
deepening  of  the  river's  bed,  would  have  been  of  incalcu- 
lable benefit  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  at  the  time  I 
mention.  But  the  priest  would  have  shrunk  from  the  idea 
of  asking  the  Omnipotent  to  open  a  new  channel  for  the 
river,  or  to  cause  a  portion  of  it  to  flow  up  the  Mayenwand, 
over  the  Grrimsel  Pass,  and  down  the  vale  of  Oberhasli  to 
Brientz.  This  he  would  have  deemed  a  miracle,  and  he 
did  not  come  to  ask  the  Creator  to  perform  miracles,  but 
to   do   something  which  he  manifestly  thought  lay  quite 

D   2 


36  THEOLOGY  AND  METEOROLOGY 

within  the  bounds  of  the  natural  and  non-miraculous. 
A  Protestant  gentleman  who  was  present  at  the  time, 
smiled  at  this  recital.  He  had  no  faith  in  the  priest's 
blessing,  still  he  deemed  the  prayer  actually  offered  to  be 
different  in  kind  from  a  request  to  open  a  new  river- 
cut,  or  to  cause  the  water  to  flow  up-hill. 

In  a  similar  manner  we  all  smile  at  the  poor  Tyrolese 
priest,  who,  when  he  feared  the  bursting  of  a  glacier, 
offered  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass  upon  the  ice  as  a  means  of 
averting  the  calamity.  That  poor  man  did  not  expect  to 
convert  the  ice  into  adamant,  or  to  strengthen  its  texture 
so  as  to  enable  it  to  withstand  the  pressure  of  the  water ; 
nor  did  he  expect  that  his  sacrifice  would  cause  the  stream 
to  roll  back  upon  its  source  and  relieve  him,  by  a 
miracle,  of  its  presence.  But  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
his  knowledge  lay  a  region  where  rain  was  generated 
he  knew  not  how.  He  was  not  so  presumptuous  as  to 
expect  a  miracle,  but  he  firmly  believed  that  in  yonder 
cloud-land  matters  could  be  so  arranged,  without  trespass 
on  the  miraculous,  that  the  stream  which  threatened  him 
and  his  flock  should  be  caused  to  shrink  within  its  proper 
bounds. 

Both  the  priests  fashioned  that  which  they  did  not 
understand  to  their  respective  wants  and  wishes ;  the 
unintelligible  is  the  domain  of  the  imagination.  A 
similar  state  of  mind  has  been  prevalent  among  mecha- 
nicians ;  many  of  whom,  and  some  of  them  extremely 
skilful  ones,  were  occupied  a  century  ago  with  the  question 
of  a  perpetual  motion.     They  aimed  at  constructing  a 


PERPETUAL   MOTION  ,37 

machine  which  should  execute  work  without  the  expendi- 
ture of  power ;  and  many  of  them  went  mad  in  the  pursuit 
of  this  object.      The    faith  in  such  a  consummation,  in- 
volving as  it  did  immense  personal  interest  to  the  inventor, 
was  extremely  exciting,  and  every  attempt  to  destroy  this 
faith  was  met  by  bitter  resentment  on  the  part  of  those 
who  held  it.       Gradually,  however,  the   pleasant   dream 
dissolved,  as  men  became  more  and  more  acquainted  with 
the  true  functions  of  machinery.      The  hope  of  getting 
work  out  of  mere  mechanical  combinations,  without  ex- 
pending power,  disappeared ;  but  still  there  remained  for 
the  mechanical  speculator  a  cloud-land  denser  than  that 
which  filled  the  imagination  of  the  T}^rolese  priest,  and  out 
of  which  he  still  hoped  to  evolve  perpetual  motion.     There 
was  the  mystic  store  of  chemic  force,  which  nobody  under- 
stood; there  were  heat  and  light,  electricity  and  magnetism, 
all    competent  to  produce  mechanical  motions.*     Here, 
then,  is  the  mine    in  which  we  must  seek  our  gem.     A 
modified    and   more  refined    form    of   the   ancient   faith 
revived;  and,  for  aught  I  know,  a  remnant  of  sanguine 
designers  may  at  the  present  moment  be  engaged  on  the 
problem   which    like-minded   men   in   former   years   left 
unsolved. 

And  why  should  a  perpetual  motion,  even  under 
modern  conditions,  be  impossible?  The  answer  to  this 
question  is  the  statement  of  that  great  generalisation 
of  modern    science,   which   is    known   under   the   name 

*  See  Helmholtz  — '  Wechselwirkung  der  Naturkrafte.' 


S8  THE    CONSERVATION    OF    FORCE 

of  the  Conservation  of  Force.  This  principle  asserts 
that  no  power  can  make  its  appearance  in  Nature  without 
an  equivalent  expenditure  of  some  other  form  of  power ; 
that  natural  agents  are  so  related  to  each  other  as  to  be 
mutually  convertible,  but  that  no  newT  agency  is  created. 
Light  runs  into  heat ;  heat  into  electricity ;  electricity  into 
magnetism ;  magnetism  into  mechanical  force ;  and  me- 
chanical force  again  into  light  and  heat.  The  Proteus 
changes,  but  he  is  ever  the  same ;  and  his  changes  in 
Nature,  supposing  no  miracle  to  supervene,  are  the  expres- 
sion, not  of  spontaneity,  but  of  physical  necessity.  One 
primal  essence  underlies  all  natural  phenomena — and  that 
is  motion.  Every  aspect  of  Nature  is  a  quality  of  motion. 
The  atmosphere  is  such  by  its  power  of  atomic  motion. 
The  glacier  resolves  itself  to  water,  the  water  to  trans- 
parent vapour,  and  the  vapour  to  untransparent  cloud,  by 
changes  of  motion.  The  very  hand  which  moves  this 
pen  involves  in  its  mechanical  oscillation  over  this  page 
the  destruction  of  an  equivalent  amount  of  motion  of 
another  kind.  A  perpetual  motion,  then,  is  deemed  im- 
possible, because  it  demands  the  creation  of  force,  whereas 
the  principle  of  Nature  is,  no  creation  but  infinite  con- 
version. 

It  is  an  old  remark  that  the  law  which  moulds  a  tear 
also  rounds  a  planet.  In  the  application  of  law  in  Nature 
the  terms  great  and  small  are  unknown.  Thus  the  prin- 
ciple referred  to  teaches  us  that  the  south  wind  gliding 
over  the  crest  of  the  Matterhorn  is  as  firmly  ruled  as  the 
earth  in  its  orbital  revolution  round  the  sun ;  and  that 


MIEACLES  39 

the  fall  of  its  vapour  into  clouds  is  exactly  as  much  a 
matter  of  necessity  as  the  return  of  the  seasons.  The 
dispersion  therefore  of  the  slightest  mist  by  the  special 
volition  of  the  Eternal,  would  be  as  much  a  miracle  as  the 
rolling  of  the  Ehone  up  the  precipices  of  the  Mayenwand. 
It  seems  to  me  quite  beyond  the  present  power  of  science 
to  demonstrate  that  the  Tyrolese  priest,  or  his  colleague  of 
the  Ehone  valley,  asked  for  an  impossibility  in  praying 
for  good  weather ;  but  science  can  demonstrate  the  in- 
completeness of  the  knowledge  of  Nature  which  limited 
their  prayers  to  this  narrow  ground ;  and  she  may  lessen 
the  number  of  instances  in  which  we  i  ask  amiss,'  by 
showing  that  we  sometimes  pray  for  the  performance  of  a 
miracle  when  we  do  not  intend  it.  She  does  assert,  for 
example,  that  without  a  disturbance  of  natural  law,  quite 
as  serious  as  the  stoppage  of  an  eclipse,  or  the  rolling  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  up  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  no  act  of 
humiliation,  individual  or  national,  could  call  one  shower 
from  heaven,  or  deflect  towards  us  a  single  beam  of  the 
sun.  Those  therefore  who  believe  that  the  miraculous  is 
still  active  in  nature,  may,  with  perfect  consistency,  join  in 
our  periodic  prayers  for  fair  weather  and  for  rain  :  while 
those  who  hold  that  the  age  of  miracles  is  past,  will  refuse 
to  join  in  such  petitions.  And  they  are  more  especially 
justified  in  this  refusal  by  the  fact  that  the  latest  conclu- 
sions of  science  are  in  perfect  accordance  with  the  doctrine 
of  the  Master  himself,  which  manifestly  was  that  the 
distribution  of  natural  phenomena  is  not  affected  by  moral 
or  religious  causes.     ( He  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  on  the 


40  CHANGES    OF   THOUGHT 

evil  and  on  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on 
the  unjust.'  Granting  '  the  power  of  Free  Will  in  man,' 
so  strongly  claimed  in  his  admirable  essay  by  the  last  de- 
fender of  the  belief  in  miracles  *,  and  assuming  the  efficacy 
of  free  prayer  to  produce  changes  in  external  nature,  it  ne- 
cessarily follows  that  natural  laws  are  more  or  less  at  the 
mercy  of  man's  volition,  and  no  conclusion  founded  on 
the  assumed  permanence  of  those  laws  would  be  worthy 
of  confidence. 

These  considerations  have  been  already  practically  acted 
upon  by  individual  ministers  of  the  Church  of  England  ; 
and  it  is  one  of  the  most  cheering  signs  of  the  times  to  see 
such  men  coming  forward  to  prepare  the  public  mind  for 
changes,  which  though  inevitable,  could  hardly,  without  due 
preparation,  be  wrought  without  violence.  Iron  is  strong ; 
still,  water  in  crystallising  will  shiver  an  iron  envelope, 
and  the  more  rigid  the  metal  is,  the  worse  for  its  safety. 
There  are  men  of  iron  among  us  who  would  encompass 
human  speculation  by  a  rigid  envelope,  hoping  thereby 
to  chain  the  energy,  but  in  reality  dooming  what  they 
wish  to  preserve  to  more  certain  destruction.  If  we  want 
an  illustration  of  this  we  have  only  to  look  at  modern 
Eome.  In  England,  thanks  to  men  of  the  stamp  to 
which  I  have  alluded,  scope  is  gradually  given  to  thought 
for  changes  of  aggregation,  and  the  envelope  slowly  alters 
its  form  in  accordance  with  the  necessities  of  the  time. 

*  Professor  Mansel. 


41 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ASCENT    OF    THE    WEISSHORN 

'  In  his  own  loom's  garment  drest, 
By  his  proper  bounty  blest, 
Fast  abides  this  constant  giver, 
Pouring  many  a  cheerful  river, 
To  far  eyes  an  aerial  isle, 
Unploughed,  which  finer  spirits  pile ; 
Which  morn,  and  crimson  evening,  paint 
For  bard,  for  lover,  and  for  saint ; 
The  country's  core, 
Inspirer,  prophet,  evermore  ! ' 

ON  Friday  the  16th  of  August  I  rose  at  4.30  a.m.  ;  the 
eastern  heaven  was  hot  with  the  glow  of  the  rising 
sun,  and  against  the  burning  sky  the  mountain  outlines 
were  most  impressively  drawn.  At'  5.30  I  bade  good  bye  to 
the  excellent  little  auberge,  and  engaging  a  porter  to  carry 
my  knapsack,  went  straight  down  the  mountain  towards 
Briegg.  Beyond  the  end  of  the  present  ice  the  land  gives 
evidence  of  vast  glacier  operations.  It  is  scooped  into 
hollows  and  raised  into  mounds;  long  ridges,  sharpening 
to  edges  at  the  top,  indicating  the  stranded  moraines  of 
the  ancient  glacier.  And  these  hollows,  and  these  hills, 
over  which  the  ice  had  passed,  destroying  every  trace  of 


42  RANDA 

life  which  could  possibly  find  a  lodgment  in  them,  were 
now  clothed  with  the  richest  verdure.  And  not  to  vege- 
table life  alone  did  they  give  support,  for  a  million  grylli 
chirruped  in  the  grass.  Eich,  sapid  meadows  spread  their 
emerald  carpets  in  the  sun ;  nut  trees  and  fruit  trees 
glimmered  as  the  light  fell  upon  their  quivering  leaves. 
Thus  sanative  nature  healed  the  scars  which  she  had  her- 
self inflicted.  The  road  is  very  rough  a  part  of  the  way 
to  Briegg ;  let  us  trust  that  before  your  arrival  it  will  be 
improved.  I  took  the  diligence  to  Visp,  and  engaged  a 
porter  immediately  to  Eanda.  I  had  sent  Benen  thither, 
on  reaching  the  Bel  Alp,  to  seek  out  a  resting-place 
whence  the  Weisshorn  might  be  assailed.  On  my  arrival 
I  learned  that  he  had  made  the  necessary  reconnaissance, 
and  entertained  hopes  of  our  being  able  to  gain  the  top. 

This  noble  mountain  had  been  tried  on  various  occasions 
and  from  different  sides  by  brave  and  competent  men, 
but  had  never  been  scaled ;  and  from  the  entries  in 
the  travellers'  books  I  might  infer  that  formidable  ob- 
stacles stood  in  the  way  of  a  successful  ascent.  The 
peak  of  the  mountain  is  not  visible  at  Eanda,  being  far 
withdrawn  behind  the  Alps.  Beyond  the  Biezbach  its 
ramparts  consist  of  a  craggy  slope  crowned  above  by  three 
tiers  of  rocky  strata.  In  front  of  the  hotel  is  a  mountain 
slope  with  pines  clinging  to  its  ledges,  while  stretching 
across  the  couloir  of  the  Biezbach  the  divided  ramparts 
are  connected  by  battlements  of  ice.  A  quantity  of  debris 
which  has  been  carried  down  the  couloir  spreads  out  in 
the  shape  of  a  fan  at  the  bottom ;  near  the  edge  of  this 


A    CHALET   D1UUGIIT  4.* 

debris  stands  a  group  of  dingy  houses,  and  close  alongside 
them  our  pathway  up  the  mountain  runs. 

Previous  to  quitting  Eanda  I  had  two  pair  of  rugs  sewed 
together  so  as  to  form  two  sacks.  These  and  other  cover- 
lets intended  for  my  men,  together  with  our  wine  and 
provisions,  were  sent  on  in  advance  of  us.  At  1  p.m.,  on 
the  18th  of  August,  we,  that  is  Benen,  Wenger,  and  my- 
self, quitted  the  hotel,  and  were  soon  zigzagging  among 
the  pines  of  the  opposite  mountain.  Wenger  had  been 
the  guide  of  my  friend  F.,  and  had  shown  himself  so 
active  and  handy  on  the  Strahleck,  that  I  commissioned 
Benen  to  engage  him.  During  the  previous  night  I  had 
been  very  unwell,  but  I  hoped  that  the  strength  left  me,  if 
properly  applied,  and  drained  to  the  uttermost,  would  still 
enable  me  to  keep  up  with  my  companions.  As  I  climbed 
the  slope  I  suffered  from  intense  thirst,  and  we  once  halted 
beside  a  fillet  of  clear  spring  water  to  have  a  draught.  It 
seemed  powerless  to  quench  the  drought  which  beset  me. 
We  reached  a  chalet ;  milking  time  was  at  hand,  at  our  re- 
quest a  smart  young  Senner  caught  up  a  pail,  and  soon  re- 
turned with  it  full  of  delicious  milk.  It  was  poured  into  a 
small  tub.  With  my  two  hands  I  seized  the  two  ends  of  a 
diameter  of  this  vessel,  gave  it  the  necessary  inclination, 
and  stooping  down,  with  a  concentration  of  purpose 
which  I  had  rarely  before  exerted,  I  drew  the  milk  into 
me.  Thrice  I  returned  to  the  attack  before  that  insatiate 
thirst  gave  way.  The  effect  was  astonishing.  The  liquid 
appeared  to  lubricate  every  atom  "of  my  body,  and  its 
fragrance  to  permeate  my  brain.    I  felt  a  growth  of  strength 


44  THE    MOUNTAIN    INSPECTED 

at  once  commence  within  me ;  all  anxiety  as  to  physical 
power  with  reference  to  the  work  in  hand  soon  vanished, 
and  before  retiring  to  rest  I  was  able  to  say  to  Benen, 
'  Gro  were  thou  wilt  to-morrow,  and  I  will  follow  thee.' 

Two  hours'  additional  climbing  brought  us  to  our 
bivouac.  A  ledge  of  rock  jutted  from  the  mountain  side, 
and  formed  an  overhanging  roof.  On  removing  the  stones 
from  beneath  it,  a  space  of  comparatively  dry  clay  was  laid 
bare.  This  was  to  be  my  bed,  and  to  soften  it  Wenger  con- 
siderately stirred  it  up  with  his  axe.  The  position  was  ex- 
cellent, for  lying  upon  my  left  side  I  commanded  the  whole 
range  of  Monte  Eosa,  from  the  Mischabel  to  the  Breithorn. 
We  were  on  the  edge  of  an  amphitheatre.  Beyond  the 
Schallenbach  was  the  stately  Mettelhorn.  A  row  of 
eminent  peaks  swept  round  to  the  right,  linked  by  lofty 
ridges  of  cliffs,  thus  forming  the  circus  in  which  the  Schal- 
lenberg  glacier  originated.  They  were,  however,  only  a 
spur  cast  out  from  the  vaster  Weisshorn,  the  cone  of  which 
was  not  visible  from  our  dormitory.  I  wished  to  examine 
it,  and  in  company  with  Benen  skirted  the  mountain 
for  half  an  hour,  until  the  whole  colossal  pyramid  stood 
facing  us.  When  I  first  looked  at  it  my  hopes  sank,  but 
both  of  us  gathered  confidence  from  a  more  lengthened 
gaze.  The  mountain  is  a  pyramid  with  three  faces,  the 
intersections  of  which  form  three  sharp  edges  or  aretes. 
The  end  of  the  eastern  arete  was  nearest  to  us,  and  on  it 
our  attention  was  principally  fixed.  A  couloir  led  up  to  it 
filled  with  snow,  which  Benen,  after  having  examined  it 
with   the   telescope,   pronounced    'furchtbar  steil.'     This 


SUPPER    IN    THE    MOUNTAINS  45 

slope  was  cut  across  by  a  bergschrund,  which  we  also  care- 
fully examined,  and  finally,  Benen  decided  on  the  route  to 
be  pursued  next  morning.  A  chastened  hope  was  predomi- 
nant in  both  our  breasts  as  we  returned  to  our  shelter. 

Water  was  our  first  necessity:  it  seemed  everywhere, 
but  there  was  none  to  drink.  It  was  locked  to  so- 
lidity in  the  ice  and  snow.  The  sound  of  it  came 
booming  up  from  the  Vispbach,  as  it  broke  into  foam  or 
rolled  its  boulders  over  its  waterworn  bed ;  and  the  swish 
of  many  a  minor  streamlet  mingled  with  the  muffled  roar 
of  the  large  one.  Benen  set  out  in  search  of  the  pre- 
cious liquid,  and  after  a  long  absence  returned  with  a  jug 
and  panful.  I  had  been  particular  in  including  tea  in  our 
list  of  provisions  ;  but  on  opening  the  parcel  we  found  it 
half  green,  and  not  to  be  indulged  in  at  a  moment  when  the 
main  object  of  one's  life  was  to  get  an  hour's  sleep.  We 
rejected  the  tea  and  made  coffee  instead.  At  our  evening 
meal  the  idea  of  toasting  our  cheese  occurred  to  Wenger, 
who  is  a  man  rich  in  expedients  of  all  kinds.  He  turned 
the  section  of  a  large  cheese  towards  the  flame  of  our 
pine  fire ;  it  fizzed  and  blistered  and  turned  viscous,  and 
the  toasted  surface  being  removed  was  consumed  with 
relish  by  us  all.  Our  meal  being  ended  and  our  beds 
arranged,  by  the  help  of  Benen,  I  introduced  myself 
into  my  two  sacks  in  succession,  and  placed  a  knapsack 
beneath  my  head  for  a  pillow.  The  talk  now  ceased  and 
sleep  became  the  object  of  our  devotions. 

But  the  goddess  flies  most  shyly  where  she  is  most 
intensely  wooed,  still  I  think  she  touched  my  eyes  gently 


4  6  SUNSET  FROM  OUR  SLEEPING  PLACE 

once  or  twice  during  the   night.     The  sunset   had  been 
unspeakably   grand,    steeping   the   zenith   in  violet,  and 
flooding  the  base  of  the  heavens  with  crimson  light.     Im- 
mediately opposite  to  us,  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley  of 
St.  Nicholas,  rose  the  Mischabel,  with  its  two  great  peaks, 
the  Grubenhorn  and   the  Taschhorn,  each  barely  under 
15,000  feet  in   height.     Next  came   the  Alphubel,  with 
its  flattened  crown  of  snow ;   then  the  Alleleinhorn  and 
Eympfischhorn  encased  in  glittering   enamel;    then   the 
Cima  di  Jazzi ;  next  the  mass  of  Monte  Eosa,  with  nothing 
competent  to  cast  a  shadow  between  it  and  the  sun,  and 
consequently  flooded  with  light  from  bottom  to  top.     The 
face  of  the  Lyskamm  turned  towards  us  was  for  the  most  part 
shaded,  but  here  and  there  its  projecting  portions  jutted 
forth   like  redhot  embers  as    the  light  fell  upon    them. 
The  c  Twins  '  were  most  singularly  illuminated ;  across  the 
waist  of  each  of  them  was  drawn  a  black  bar  produced  by 
the  shadow  of  a  corner  of  the  Breithorn,  while  their  white 
bases  and  whiter  crowns  were  exposed  to   the   sunlight. 
Over  the  ruofeed  face  of  the  Breithorn  itself  the  li^ht  fell 
as  if  in  splashes,  igniting  its  glaciers  and  swathing  its 
black  crags  in  a  layer  of  transparent  red.     The  Mettel- 
horn  was  cold,   so  was  the  entire  range    over  which  the 
Weisshorn  ruled  as  king,  while  the  glaciers  which  they 
embraced  lay  grey  and  ghastly  in  the  twilight  shade. 

The  sun  is  going,  but  not  yet  gone  ;  while  up  the  arch 
of  the  opposite  heavens,  the  moon,  within  one  day  of  being 
full,  is  hastening  to  our  aid.  She  finally  appears  exactly 
behind  the  peak  of  the  Eympfischhorn :  the  cone  of  the 


MOONLIGHT    ON    THE    SNOWS  47 

mountain  being  projected  for  a  time  as  a  triangle  on  the 
disc.  Only  for  a  moment,  however;  for  the  queenly  orb 
sails  aloft,  clears  the  mountain,  and  bears  splendidly 
away  through  the  tinted  sky.  The  motion  was  quite 
visible,  and  resembled  that  of  a  vast  balloon.  As  the  day 
approached  its  end  the  scene  assumed  the  most  sublime 
aspect.  All  the  lower  portions  of  the  mountains  were 
deeply  shaded,  while  the  loftiest  peaks,  ranged  upon  a 
semicircle,  were  fully  exposed  to  the  sinking  sun.  They 
seemed  pyramids  of  solid  fire,  while  here  and  there  long 
stretches  of  crimson  light  drawn  over  the  higher  snow- 
fields  linked  the  glorified  summits  together.  An  intensely 
illuminated  geranium  flower  seems  to  swim  in  its  own 
colour  which  apparently  surrounds  the  petals  like  a  layer, 
and  defeats  by  its  lustre  any  attempt  of  the  eye  to  seize 
upon  the  sharp  outline  of  the  leaves.  A  similar  effect 
was  here  observed  upon  the  mountains  ;  the  glory  did  not 
seem  to  come  from  them  alone,  but  seemed  also  effluent 
from  the  air  around  them.  This  gave  them  a  certain  buoy- 
ancy which  suggested  entire  detachment  from  the  earth. 
They  swam  in  splendour,  which  intoxicated  the  soul,  and  I 
will  not  now  repeat  in  my  moments  of  soberness  the  ex- 
travagant analogies  which  then  ran  through  my  brain.  As 
the  evening  advanced,  the  eastern  heavens  low  down  as- 
sumed a  deep  purple  hue,  above  which,  and  blending  with 
it  by  infinitesimal  gradations,  was  a  belt  of  red,  and  over 
this  again  zones  of  orange  and  violet.  I  walked  round  the 
corner  of  the  mountain  at  sunset,  and  found  the  western 
sky  glowing  with  a  more  transparent  crimson  than  that 


48  NIGHT   UPON    THE   MOUNTAINS 

which  overspread  the  east.  The  crown  of  the  Weisshorn 
was  embedded  in  this  magnificent  light.  After  sunset 
the  purple  of  the  east  changed  to  a  deep  neutral 
tint,  and  against  the  faded  red  which  spread  above  it,  the 
sun-forsaken  mountains  laid  their  cold  and  ghastly  heads. 
The  ruddy  colour  vanished  more  and  more;  the  stars 
strengthened  in  lustre,  until  finally  the  moon  and  they 
held  undisputed  possession  of  the  blue  grey  sky. 

I  lay  with  my  face  turned  towards  the  moon  until  it 
became  so  chilled  that  I  was  forced  to  protect  it  by  a  light 
handkerchief.  The  power  of  blinding  the  eyes  is  ascribed 
to  the  moonbeams,  but  the  real  mischief  is  that  produced 
by  radiation  from  the  eyes  into  clear  space,  and  the  in- 
flammation consequent  upon  the  chill.  As  the  cold 
increased  I  was  fain  to  squeeze  myself  more  and  more 
underneath  my  ledge,  so  as  to  lessen  the  space  of  sky 
against  which  my  body  could  radiate.  Nothing  could  be 
more  solemn  than  the  night.  Up  from  the  valley  came 
the  low  thunder  of  the  Vispbach.  Over  the  Dom  flashed 
in  succession  the  stars  of  Orion,  until  finally  the  entire 
constellation  hung  aloft.  Higher  up  in  heaven  was  the 
moon,  and  her  rays  as  they  fell  upon  the  snow-fields  and 
pyramids  were  sent  back  in  silvery  lustre  by  some,  while 
others  remained  dull.  These,  as  the  orb  sailed  round, 
came  duly  in  for  their  share  of  the  glory.  The  Twins 
caught  it  at  length  and  retained  it  long,  shining  with  a 
pure  spiritual  radiance  while  the  moon  continued  to  ride 
above  the  hills. 

I  looked  at  my  watch  at  12  o'clock ;  and  a  second  time 


THE    START  49 

at  2  A.  m.  The  moon  was  then  just  touching  the  crest  of 
the  Schallenberg,  and  we  were  threatened  with  the  with- 
drawal of  her  light.  This  soon  occurred.  We  rose  at 
2\  a.  m.,  consumed  our  coffee,  and  had  to  wait  idly  for  the 
dawn.  A  faint  illumination  at  length  overspread  the 
west,  and  with  this  promise  of  the  coming  day  we  quitted 
our  bivouac  at  3  J  A.  m.  No  cloud  was  to  be  seen  ;  as  far 
as  the  weather  was  concerned  we  were  sure  to  have  fair 
play.  We  rounded  the  shingly  shoulder  of  the  mountain 
to  the  edge  of  a  snow-field,  but  before  entering  upon  it  I 
disburthened  myself  of  my  strong  shooting  jacket,  and  left 
it  on  the  mountain  side.  The  sunbeams  and  my  own 
exertion  would,  I  knew,  keep  me  only  too  warm  during  the 
day.  We  crossed  the  snow,  cut  our  way  through  a  piece 
of  entangled  glacier,  reached  the  bergschrund,  and  passed 
it  without  a  rope.  We  ascended  the  frozen  snow  of  the 
couloir  by  steps,  but  soon  diverged  from  it  to  the  rocks 
at  our  right,  and  scaled  them  to  the  end  of  the  eastern 
arete  of  the  mountain. 

Here  a  saddle  of  snow  separates  us  from  the  next  higher 
rocks.  With  our  staff-spikes  at  one  side  of  the  saddle, 
we  pass  by  steps  cut  upon  the  other.  The  snow  is  firmly 
congealed.  We  reach  the  rocks,  which  we  find  hewn  into 
fantastic  turrets  and  obelisks,  while  the  loose  chips  of  this 
colossal  sculpture  are  strewn  confusedly  upon  the  ridge. 
Amid  the  chips  we  cautiously  pick  our  way,  winding  round 
the  towers  or  scaling  them  amain.  From  the  very  first 
the  work  is  heavy,  the  bending,  twisting,  reaching,  and 
drawing  up,  calling  upon  all  the  muscles  of  the  frame. 

E 


50  GYMNASTICS    ON    THE    RIDGE 

After  two  hours  of  this  work  we  halt,  and  looking  back  we 
observe  two  moving  objects  on  the  glacier  below  us.  At 
first  we  take  them  to  be  chamois,  but  they  are  instantly 
pronounced  men,  and  the  telescope  at  once  confirms  this. 
The  leader  carries  an  axe,  and  his  companion  a  knapsack 
and  alpenstock.  They  are  following  our  traces,  losing 
them  apparently  now  and  then,  and  waiting  to  recover 
them.  Our  expedition  had  put  Kanda  in  a  state  of  ex- 
citement, and  some  of  its  best  climbers  had  come  to 
Benen  and  urged  him  to  take  them  with  him.  But  this 
he  did  not  deem  necessary,  and  now  here  were  two  of 
them  determined  to  try  the  thing  on  their  own  account ; 
and  perhaps  to  dispute  with  us  the  honour  of  the  enter- 
prise.    On  this  point,  however,  our  uneasiness  was  small. 

Eesuming  our  gymnastics,  the  rocky  staircase  led  us  to 
the  flat  summit  of  a  tower,  where  we  found  ourselves  cut 
off  from  a  similar  tower  by  a  deep  gap  bitten  into  the 
mountain.  Eetreat  appeared  inevitable,  but  it  is  won- 
derful how  many  ways  out  of  difficulty  open  to  a  man 
who  diligently  seeks  them.  The  rope  is  here  our  refuge. 
Benen  coils  it  round  his  waist,  scrapes  along  the  surface 
of  the  rock,  fixes  himself  on  a  ledge,  where  he  can  lend 
me  a  helping  hand.  I  follow  him,  Wenger  follows  me, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  all  three  of  us  stand  in  the  middle 
of  the  gap.  By  a  kind  of  screw  motion  we  twist  ourselves 
round  the  opposite  tower,  and  reach  the  arete  behind  it. 
Work  of  this  kind,  however,  is  not  to  be  performed  by  the 
day,  and  with  a  view  of  sparing  our  strength,  we  quit  the 
arete  and  endeavour  to  get  along  the  southern  slope  of  the 


THE   SNOW   WALL   CROSSED  51 

pyramid.  '  The  mountain  is  here  scarred  by  longitudinal 
depressions  which  stretch  a  long  way  down  it.  These  are 
now  filled  with  clear  hard  ice,  produced  by  the  melting 
and  refreezing  of  the  snow.  The  cutting  of  steps  across 
these  couloirs  proves  to  be  so  tedious  and  fatiguing,  that 
I  urge  Benen  to  abandon  it  and  try  the  arete  once  more. 
By  a  stout  tug  we  regain  the  ridge  and  work  along  it 
as  before.  Here  and  there  from  the  northern  side  the 
snow  has  folded  itself  over  the  crags,  and  along  it  we 
sometimes  work  upward.  The  arete  for  a  time  has  be- 
come gradually  narrower,  and  the  precipices  on  each  side 
more  sheer.  We  reach  the  end  of  one  of  the  subdivisions 
of  the  ridge,  and  find  ourselves  separated  from  the  next 
rocks  by  a  gap  about  twenty  yards  across.  The  arete  here 
has  narrowed  to  a  mere  wall,  which,  however,  as  rock  would 
present  no  serious  difficulty.  But  upon  the  wall  of  rock  is 
placed  a  second  wall  of  snow,  which  dwindles  to  a  knife  edge 
at  the  top.  It  is  white  and  pure,  of  very  fine  grain,  and 
a  little  moist.  How  to  pass  this  snow  catenary  I  knew  not, 
for  I  had  no  idea  of  a  human  foot  trusting  itself  upon  so 
frail  a  support.  Benen's  practical  sagacity  was,  however, 
greater  than  mine.  He  tried  the  snow  by  squeezing  it 
with  his  foot,  and  to  my  astonishment  commenced  to 
cross.  Even  after  the  pressure  of  his  feet  the  space  he 
had  to  stand  on  did  not  exceed  a  handbreadth.  I  followed 
him,  exactly  as  a  boy  walking  along  a  horizontal  pole, 
with  toes  turned  outwards.  Eight  and  left  the  precipices 
were  appalling ;  but  the  sense  of  power  on  such  occasions 
is  exceedingly  sweet.     We  reached  the  opposite  rock,  and 

E  2 


52  REGELATION   OF   SNOW 

here  a  smile  rippled  over  Benen's  countenance  as  he  turned 
towards  me.  He  knew  that  he  had  done  a  daring  thing, 
though  not  a  presumptuous  one.  6  Had  the  snow/  he  said, 
(  been  less  perfect,  I  should  not  have  thought  of  attempt- 
ing it,  but  I  knew  after  I  had  set  my  foot  upon  the  ridge 
that  we  might  pass  without  fear.' 

It  is  quite  surprising  what  a  number  of  things  the 
simple  observation  made  by  Faraday,  in  1846,  enables  us 
to  explain.  Benen's  instinctive  act  is  justified  by  theory. 
The  snow  was  fine  in  grain,  pure  and  moist.  When  pressed, 
the  attachments  of  its  granules  were  innumerable,  and 
their  perfect  cleanness  enabled  them  to  freeze  together 
with  a  maximum  energy.  It  was  this  freezing  together  of 
the  particles  at  innumerable  points  which  gave  the 
mass  its  sustaining  power.  Take  two  fragments  of 
ordinary  table  ice  and  bring  them  carefully  together,  you 
will  find  that  they  freeze  and  cement  themselves  at  their 
place  of  junction ;  or  if  two  pieces  float  in  water,  you  can 
bring  them  together,  when  they  instantly  freeze,  and  by 
laying  hold  of  either  of  them  gently,  you  can  drag  the 
other  after  it  through  the  water.  Imagine  such  points  of 
attachment  distributed  without  number  through  a  mass  of 
snow.  The  substance  becomes  thereby  a  semi-solid  instead 
of  a  mass  of  powder.  My  guide,  however,  unaided  by  any 
theory,  did  a  thing  from  which  I,  though  backed  by  all 
the  theories  in  the  world,  should  have  shrunk  in  dismay. 

After  this  we  found  the  rocks  on  the  ridge  so  shaken  to 
pieces  that  it  required  the  greatest  caution  to  avoid  bring- 
ing them  down  upon  us.     With  all  our  care,  however,  we 


FALLING   ROCKS  53 

sometimes  dislodged  vast  masses  which  leaped  upon  the 
slope  adjacent,  loosened  others  by  their  shock,  these  again 
others,  until  finally  a  whole  flight  of  them  would  escape, 
setting  the  mountain  in  a  roar  as  they  whizzed  and  thun- 
dered along  its  side  to  the  snow-fields  4000  feet  below 
us.  The  day  is  hot,  the  work  hard,  and  our  bodies  are 
drained  of  their  liquids  as  by  a  Turkish  bath.  The  per- 
spiration trickles  down  our  faces,  and  drops  profusely  from 
the  projecting  points.  To  make  good  our  loss  we  halt 
at  intervals  where  the  melted  snow  forms  a  liquid  vein, 
and  quench  our  thirst.  We  possess,  moreover,  a  bottle  of 
champagne,  which,  poured  sparingly  into  our  goblets  on 
a  little  snow,  furnishes  Wenger  and  myself  with  many  a 
refreshing  draught.  Benen  fears  his  eyes,  and  will  not 
touch  champagne.  The  less,  however,  we  rest  the  better, 
for  after  every  pause  I  find  a  certain  unwillingness  to 
renew  the  toil.  The  muscles  have  become  set,  and  some 
minutes  are  necessary  to  render  them  again  elastic.  But 
the  discipline  is  first-rate  for  both  mind  and  body.  There 
is  scarcely  a  position  possible  to  a  human  being  which, 
at  one  time  or  another  during  the  day,  I  was  not  forced  to 
assume.  The  fingers,  wrist,  and  forearm,  were  my  main 
reliance,  and  as  a  mechanical  instrument  the  human  hand 
appeared  to  me  this  day  in  a  light  which  it  never  as- 
sumed before.     It  is  a  miracle  of  constructive  art. 

We  were  often  during  the  day  the  victims  of  illusions 
regarding  the  distance  which  we  had  to  climb.  For  the 
most  part  the  summit  was  hidden  from  us,  but  on  reach- 
ing  the  eminences  it  came  frequently  into  view.     After 


54  HARD   WORK 

three  hours  spent  on  the  arete,  about  five  hours  that  is, 
subsequent  to  starting,  the  summit  was  clearly  in  view ; 
we  looked  at  it  over  a  minor  summit,  which  gave  it  an 
illusive  proximity.  'You  have  now  good  hopes,'  I  re- 
marked, turning  to  Benen.  i  Not  only  good  hopes,'  he 
replied,  'but  I  do  not  allow  myself  to  entertain  the  idea 
of  failure.'  Well,  six  hours  passed  on  the  arete,  each  of 
which  put  in  its  inexorable  claim  to  the  due  amount  of 
mechanical  work ;  the  lowering  and  the  raising  of  three 
human  bodies  through  definite  spaces,  and  at  the  end  of 
this  time  we  found  ourselves  apparently  no  nearer  to  the 
summit  than  when  Benen's  hopes  cropped  out  in  con- 
fidence. I  looked  anxiously  at  my  guide  as  he  fixed  his 
weary  eyes  upon  the  distant  peak.  There  was  no  con- 
fidence in  the  expression  of  his  countenance ;  still  I  do  not 
believe  that  either  of  us  entertained  for  a  moment  the 
thought  of  giving  in.  Wenger  complained  of  his  lungs,  and 
Benen  counselled  him  several  times  to  stop  and  let  him 
and  me  continue  the  ascent ;  but  this  the  Oberland  man 
refused  to  do.  At  the  commencement  of  a  day's  work  I 
often  find  myself  anxious,  if  not  timid ;  but  this  feeling 
vanishes  when  I  become  warm  and  interested.  When  the 
work  is  very  hard  we  become  callous,  and  sometimes 
stupefied  by  the  incessant  knocking  about.  This  was  my 
case  at  present,  and  I  kept  watch  lest  my  indifference 
should  become  carelessness.  I  supposed  repeatedly  a  case 
where  a  sudden  effort  might  be  required  of  me,  and  felt 
all  through  that  I  had  a  fair  residue  of  strength  to  fall 
back  upon.  I  tested  this  conclusion  sometimes  by  a  spurt ; 


'  WE   MUST   WIN   HIM  '  55 

flinging  myself  suddenly  from  rock  to  rock,  and  thus 
proved  my  condition  by  experiment  instead  of  relying  on 
opinion.  An  eminence  in  the  ridge  which  cut  off  the 
view  of  the  summit  was  now  the  object  of  our  exer- 
tions. We  reached  it  ;  but  how  hopelessly  distant  did 
the  summit  appear !  Benen  laid  his  face  upon  his  axe 
for  a  moment ;  a  kind  of  sickly  despair  was  in  his  eye  as 
he  turned  to  me,  remarking,  6  Lieber  Herr,  die  Spitze 
ist  noch  sehr  weit  oben.' 

Lest  the  desire  to  gratify  me  should  urge  him 
beyond  the  bounds  of  prudence,  I  said  to  Benen  that 
he  must  not  persist  on  my  account,  if  he  ceased  to 
feel  confidence  in  his  own  powers ;  that  I  should  cheer- 
fully return  with  him  the  moment  he  thought  it  no 
longer  safe  to  proceed.  He  replied  that  though  weary  he 
felt  quite  sure  of  himself,  and  asked  for  some  food.  He 
had  it,  and  a  gulp  of  wine,  which  mightily  refreshed  him. 
Looking  at  the  mountain  with  a  firmer  eye,  he  exclaimed, 
( Herr !  wir  miissen  ihn  haben,'  and  his  voice,  as  he  spoke, 
rung  like  steel  within  my  heart.  I  thought  of  Englishmen 
in  battle,  of  the  qualities  which  had  made  them  famous,  it 
was  mainly  the  quality  of  not  knowing  when  to  yield ;  of 
fighting  for  duty  even  after  they  had  ceased  to  be  animated 
by  hope.  Such  thoughts  had  a  dynamic  value,  and  helped 
to  lift  me  over  the  rocks.  Another  eminence  now  fronted 
us,  behind  which,  how  far  we  knew  not,  the  summit  lay. 
We  scaled  this  height,  and  above  us,  but  clearly  within 
reach,  a  silvery  pyramid  projected  itself  against  the  blue 
sky.     I  was  assured  ten  times  by  my  companions  that  it 


56  HURRAH  ! 

was  the  highest  point  before  I  ventured  to  stake  my  faith 
upon  the  assertion.  I  feared  that  it  also  might  take  rank 
with  the  illusions  which  had  so  often  beset  our  ascent,  and 
shrunk  from  the  consequent  moral  shock.  Towards  the 
point,  however,  we  steadily  worked.  A  large  prism  of 
granite,  or  granitic  gneiss,  terminated  the  arete,  and  from 
it  a  knife  edge  of  pure  white  snow  ran  up  to  a  little  point. 
We  passed  along  the  edge,  reached  that  point,  and  in- 
stantly swept  with  our  eyes  the  whole  range  of  the  horizon. 
The  crown  of  the  Weisshorn  was  underneath  our  feet. 

The  long  pent  feelings  of  my  two  guides  found  vent  in 
a  wild  and  reiterated  cheer.  Benen  shook  his  arms  in 
the  air  and  shouted  as  a  Valaisian,  while  Wenger  chimed 
in  with  the  shriller  yell  of  the  Oberland.  We  looked 
along  the  arete,  and  far  below  perched  on  one  of  its  crags, 
could  discern  the  two  Eanda  men.  Again  and  again  the 
roar  of  triumph  was  sent  down  to  them.  They  had  ac- 
complished but  a  small  portion  of  the  ridge,  and  soon 
after  our  success  they  wended  their  way  homewards. 
They  came,  willing  enough,  no  doubt,  to  publish  our 
failure  had  we  failed ;  but  we  found  out  afterwards  that 
they  had  been  equally  strenuous  in  announcing  our  suc- 
cess ;  they  had  seen  us  they  affirmed  like  three  flies  upon 
the  summit  of  the  mountain.  Both  men  had  to  endure 
a  little  persecution  for  the  truth's  sake,  for  nobody  in 
Eanda  would  believe  that  the  Weisshorn  could  be  scaled, 
and  least  of  all  by  a  man  who  for  two  days  previously  had 
been  the  object  of  Philomene,  the  waiter's,  constant  pity, 
on  account  of  the  incompetence  of  his  stomach  to  accept 


AN    EXTEMPORE   BANNER  57 

all  that  she  offered  for  its  acceptance.  The  energy  of 
conviction  with  which  the  men  gave  their  evidence  had, 
however,  convinced  the  most  sceptical  before  we  arrived 
ourselves. 

Benen  wished  to  leave  some  outward  and  visible  sign 
of  our  success  on  the  summit.  He  deplored  having  no 
flag ;  but  as  a  substitute  it  was  proposed  that  he  should 
knock  the  head  off  his  axe,  use  the  handle  as  a  flao-staff, 
and  surmount  it  by  a  red  pocket-handkerchief.  This  was 
done,  and  for  some  time  subsequently  the  extempore 
banner  was  seen  flapping  in  the  wind.  To  his  extreme 
delight,  it  was  shown  to  Benen  himself  three  days  after- 
wards by  my  friend  Mr.  Gralton  from  the  Eiffel  hotel. 
But  you  will  desire  to  know  what  we  saw  from  the 
summit,  and  this  desire  I  am  sorry  to  confess  my  total 
incompetence  to  gratify.  I  remember  the  picture,  but 
cannot  analyse  its  parts.  Every  Swiss  tourist  is  acquainted 
with  the  Weisshorn.  I  have  long  regarded  it  as  the 
noblest  of  all  the  Alps,  and  many,  if  not  most  other 
travellers,  have  shared  this  opinion.  The  impression  it 
produces  is  in  some  measure  due  to  the  comparative  iso- 
lation with  which  its  cone  juts  into  the  heavens.  It 
is  not  masked  by  other  mountains,  and  all  around  the 
Alps  its  final  pyramid  is  in  view.  Conversely  the  Weiss- 
horn  commands  a  vast  range  of  prospect.  Neither  Benen 
nor  myself  had  ever  seen  anything  at  all  equal  to  it.  The 
day,  moreover,  was  perfect ;  not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen  ; 
and  the  gauzy  haze  of  the  distant  air,  though  sufficient  to 
soften  the  outlines  and  enhance  the  colouring  of  the  moun- 


58  SCENE    FROM    THE   WEISSHORN 

tains,  was  far  too  thin  to  obscure  them.  Over  the  peaks 
and  through  the  valleys  the  sunbeams  poured,  unimpeded 
save  b}^  the  mountains  themselves,  which  in  some  cases 
drew  their  shadows  in  straight  bars  of  darkness  through 
the  illuminated  air.  I  had  never  before  witnessed  a  scene 
which  affected  me  like  this.  Benen  once  volunteered 
some  information  regarding  its  details,  but  I  was  unable  to 
hear  him.  An  influence  seemed  to  proceed  from  it  direct 
to  the  soul ;  the  delight  and  exultation  experienced  were 
not  those  of  Eeason  or  of  Knowledge,  but  of  Being  : — I  was 
part  of  it  and  it  of  me,  and  in  the  transcendent  glory  of 
Nature  I  entirely  forgot  myself  as  man.  Suppose  the  sea 
waves  exalted  to  nearly  a  thousand  times  their  normal 
height,  crest  them  with  foam,  and  fancy  yourself  upon  the 
most  commanding  crest,  with  the  sunlight  from  a  deep 
blue  heaven  illuminating  such  a  scene,  and  you  will  have 
some  idea  of  the  form  under  which  the  Alps  present  them- 
selves from  the  summit  of  the  Weisshorn.  East,  west, 
north,  and  south,  rose  those  '  billows  of  a  granite  sea,'  back 
to  the  distant  heaven,  which  they  hacked  into  an  in- 
dented shore.  I  opened  my  note-book  to  make  a  few  ob- 
servations, but  I  soon  relinquished  the  attempt.  There 
was  something  incongruous,  if  not  profane,  in  allowing  the 
scientific  faculty  to  interfere  where  silent  worship  was  the 
c  reasonable  service.' 


59 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    DESCENT 

*  He  clasps  the  crag  with  hooked  hands.' 

WE  had  been  ten  hours  climbing  from  our  bivouac 
to  the  summit,  and  it  was  now  necessary  that 
we  should  clear  the  mountain  before  the  close  of 
day.  Our  muscles  were  loose  and  numbed,  and  unless 
extremely  urged  declined  all  energetic  tension :  the 
thought  of  our  success,  however,  ran  like  a  kind  of 
wine  through  our  fibres  and  helped  us  down.  We  once 
fancied  that  the  descent  would  be  rapid,  but  it  was 
far  from  it.  Benen,  as  in  ascending,  took  the  lead ; 
he  slowly  cleared  each  crag,  paused  till  I  joined  him,  I 
pausing  till  Wenger  joined  me,  and  thus  one  or  other  of 
us  was  always  in  motion.  Benen  shows  a  preference  for 
the  snow  where  he  can  choose  it,  while  I  hold  on  to  the 
rocks  where  my  hands  can  assist  my  feet.  Our  muscles 
are  sorely  tried  by  the  twisting  round  the  splintered  tur- 
rets of  the  arete,  and  we  resolve  to  escape  from  it  when 
we  can;  but  a  long,  long  stretch  of  the  ridge  must  be 
passed  before  we  dare  to  swerve  from  it.     We  are  roused 


60  ALONG   THE    ARETE 

from  our  stupefaction  at  times  by  the  roar  of  the  stones 
which  we  have  loosed  from  the  ridge,  and  sent  leaping 
down  the  mountain.  The  snow  catenary  is  attained,  and 
we  recross  it.  Soon  afterwards  we  quit  the  ridge  and  try 
to  get  obliquely  along  the  slope  of  the  mountain.  The 
face  of  the  pyramid  is  here  scarred  by  couloirs,  of  which 
the  deeper  and  narrower  ones  are  filled  with  ice,  while  the 
others  are  highways  to  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  for  the 
rocks  quarried  by  the  weather  above.  Steps  must  be  cut 
in  the  ice,  but  the  swing  of  the  axe  is  very  different  now 
from  what  it  was  in  the  morning.  Still,  though  Benen's 
blows  descend  with  the  deliberateness  of  a  man  whose  fire 
is  half-quenched,  they  fall  with  sufficient  power,  and  the 
needful  cavities  are  soon  formed.  We  retrace  our  morn- 
ing steps  over  some  of  the  slopes.  No  word  of  warning 
was  uttered  here  as  we  ascended,  but  now  Benen's  ad- 
monitions were  frequent  and  emphatic,  —  'Take  care  not 
to  slip.'  I  looked  down  the  slopes  ;  they  seemed  fearfully 
long,  and  those  whose  ends  we  could  see  were  continued 
by  rocks  over  which  it  would  be  the  reverse  of  comfortable 
to  be  precipitated.  I  imagined,  however,  that  even  if  a 
man  slipped  he  would  be  able  to  arrest  his  descent ;  but 
Benen's  response  when  I  stated  this  opinion  was  very 
prompt,  — c  No !  it  would  be  utterly  impossible.  If  it 
were  snow  you  might  do  it,  but  it  is  pure  ice,  and  if 
you  fall  you  will  lose  your  senses  before  you  can  use  your 
axe.'  I  suppose  he  was  right.  At  length  we  turn  directly 
downwards,  and  work  along  one  of  the  ridges  which  are 


THE    RIDGE    FORSAKEN  61 

here  drawn  parallel  to  the  line  of  steepest  fall.  We  first 
drop  cautiously  from  ledge  to  ledge.  At  one  place  Benen 
clings  for  a  considerable  time  to  a  face  of  rock,  casting  out 
feelers  of  leg  and  arm,  and  desiring  me  to  stand  still.  I 
do  not  understand  the  difficulty,  for  the  rock  though  steep 
is  by  no  means  vertical.  I  fasten  myself  to  it,  but  Benen 
is  now  on  a  ledge  below,  waiting  to  receive  me.  The 
spot  on  which  he  stands  is  a  little  rounded  protuberance 
sufficient  to  afford  him  footing,  but  over  which  the  slightest 
momentum  would  have  carried  him.  He  knew  this,  and 
hence  his  caution  in  descending.  Soon  after  this  we 
quit  our  ridge  and  drop  into  a  couloir  to  the  left  of 
it.  It  is  dark  and  damp  with  trickling  water.  The  rope 
hampers  us,  and  I  propose  its  abandonment.  We  disen- 
cumber ourselves,  and  find  our  speed  greatly  increased. 
In  some  places  the  rocks  are  worn  to  a  powder,  along 
which  we  shoot  by  glissades.  We  swerve  again  to  the 
left ;  cross  a  ridge,  and  get  into  another  and  dryer 
couloir.  The  last  one  was  dangerous,  as  the  water  exerted 
a  constant  sapping  action  upon  the  rocks.  From  our  new 
position  we  could  hear  the  clatter  of  stones  descending  the 
gully  which  we  had  just  forsaken.  Wenger,  who  had 
brought  up  the  rear  during  the  day,  is  now  sent  to  the 
front;  he  has  not  Benen's  power,  but  his  legs  are  long 
and  his  descent  rapid.  He  scents  out  the  way,  which 
becomes  more  and  more  difficult.  He  pauses,  observes, 
dodges,  but  finally  comes  to  a  dead  stop  on  the  summit  of 
a  precipice,  which  sweeps  like  a  rampart  round  the  moun- 


62  STONE   AVALANCHE 

tain.  We  move  to  the  left,  and  after  a  long  detour  suc- 
ceed in  rounding  the  rocky  wall.  Again  straight  down- 
wards. Half  an  hour  brings  us  to  the  brow  of  a  second 
precipice,  which  is  scooped  out  along  its  centre  so  as  to 
cause  the  brow  to  overhang.  I  see  chagrin  in  Benen's 
face :  he  turns  his  eyes  upwards,  and  I  fear  mortally  that 
he  is  about  to  propose  a  re-ascent  to  the  arete.  He  had 
actually  thought  of  doing  so,  but  it  was  very  questionable 
whether  our  muscles  could  have  responded  to  such  a 
demand.  While  we  stood  pondering  here,  a  deep  and 
confused  roar  attracted  our  attention.  From  a  point  near 
the  summit  of  the  Weisshorn,  a  rock  had  been  discharged ; 
it  plunged  down  a  dry  couloir,  raising  a  cloud  of  dust  at 
each  bump  against  the  mountain.  A  hundred  similar 
ones  were  immediately  in  motion,  while  the  spaces  be- 
tween the  larger  masses  were  filled  by  an  innumerable 
flight  of  smaller  stones.  Each  of  them  shakes  its  quantum 
of  dust  in  the  air,  until  finally  the  avalanche  is  enveloped 
in  a  vast  cloud.  The  clatter  of  this  devil's  cavalry  was 
stunning.  Black  masses  of  rock  emerged  here  and  there 
from  the  cloud,  and  sped  through  the  air  like  flying 
fiends.  Their  motion  was  not  one  of  translation  merely, 
but  they  whizzed  and  vibrated  in  their  flight  as  if  urged 
by  wings.  The  clang  of  echoes  resounded  from  side  to 
side*  from  the  Schallenberg  to  the  Weisshorn  and  back, 
until  finally  the  whole  troop  came  to  rest,  after  many  a 
deep-sounding  thud  in  the  snow,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
mountain.  This  stone  avalanche  was  one  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary things  I  had  ever  witnessed,  and  in  connection 


DIFFICULTIES  63 

with  it,  I  would  draw  the  attention  of  future  climbers  to 
the  danger  which  would  infallibly  beset  any  attempt  to 
ascend  the  Weisshorn  from  this  side,  except  by  one  of  its 
aretes.  At  any  moment  the  mountain  side  may  be  raked 
by  a  fire  as  deadly  as  that  of  cannon. 

After  due  deliberation  we  move  along  the  precipice 
westward,  I  fearing  that  each  step  forward  is  but  plung- 
ing us  into  deeper  difficulty.  At  one  place,  however, 
the  precipice  bevels  off  to  a  steep  incline  of  smooth 
rock.  Along  this  runs  a  crack,  wide  enough  to  admit 
the  fingers,  and  sloping  obliquely  down  to  the  lower 
glacier.  Each  in  succession  grips  the  rock  and  shifts 
his  body  sideways  parallel  to  the  fissure,  until  he  comes 
near  enough  to  the  glacier  to  let  go  and  slide  down  by 
a  rough  glissade.  We  afterwards  pass  swiftly  along 
the  glacier,  sometimes  running,  and,  on  the  steeper 
slopes,  by  sliding,  until  we  are  pulled  up  for  the  third 
time  by  a  precipice  which  seems  actually  worse  than 
either  of  the  others.  It  is  quite  sheer,  and  as  far  as  I 
can  see  right  or  left  altogether  hopeless.  I  fully  expected 
to  hear  Benen  sound  a  retreat,  but  to  my  surprise  both 
men  turned  without  hesitation  to  the  right,  which  took 
us  away  from  our  side  of  the  mountain.  I  felt  desperately 
blank,  but  I  could  notice  no  expression  of  dismay  in  the 
countenance  of  either  of  the  men.  They  observed  the 
moraine  matter  over  which  we  walked,  and  at  length  one 
of  them  exclaimed,  '  Da  sind  die  Spuren,'  lengthening 
his  strides  at  the  same  moment.  We  look  over  the  brink 
at  intervals,  and  at  length  discover  what  appears  to  be 


64  GUIDED   BY   CHAMOIS    TRACKS 

a  mere  streak  of  clay  on  the  face  of  the  precipice.  We 
get  round  a  corner,  and  find  footing  on  this  streak.  It  is 
by  no  means  easy,  but  to  hard-pushed  men  it  is  a  de- 
liverance. The  streak  vanishes,  and  we  must  scrape  down 
the  rock.  This  fortunately  is  rough,  so  that  by  pressing  the 
hands  against  its  rounded  protuberances,  and  sticking  the 
boot-nails  against  its  projecting  crystals  we  let  our  bodies 
gradually  down.  We  thus  reach  the  bottom  ;  a  deep  cleft 
separates  the  glacier  from  the  precipice,  this  is  crossed, 
and  we  are  now  free  men,  clearly  placed  beyond  the  last 
bastion  of  the  mountain. 

I  could  not  repress  an  expression  of  admiration  at 
the  behaviour  of  my  men.  The  day  previous  to  my  ar- 
rival at  Kanda  they  had  been  up  to  examine  the  moun- 
tain, when  they  observed  a  solitary  chamois  moving 
along  the  base  of  this  very  precipice,  and  making 
several  ineffectual  attempts  to  get  up  it.  At  one  place 
the  creature  succeeded ;  this  spot  they  marked  in  their 
memories  as  well  as  they  could,  and  when  they  reached 
the  top  of  the  precipice  they  sought  for  the  traces  of 
the  chamois,  found  them,  and  were  guided  by  them  to  the 
only  place  where  escape  in  any  reasonable  time  was  pos- 
sible. Our  way  is  now  clear ;  over  the  glacier  we  cheer- 
fully march,  and  pass  from  the  ice  just  as  the  moon  and 
the  eastern  sky  contribute  about  equally  to  the  illumina- 
tion. Wenger  makes  direct  for  our  resting-place  and 
packs  up  our  things,  while  Benen  and  myself  try  to 
descend  towards  the  chalet.  Clouds  gather  round  the 
Eympfischhorn  and  intercept  the  light  of  the  moon.     We 


THE    DESCENT   ACCOMPLISHED  65 

are  often  at  a  loss,  and  wander  half-bewildered  over  the 
Alp.  At  length  the  welcome  tinkle  of  cowbells  is  heard 
in  the  distance,  and  guided  by  them  we  reach  the  chalet 
a  little  after  9  p.m.  The  cows  had  been  milked  and  the 
milk  disposed  of,  but  the  men  managed  to  get  us  a  mode- 
rate draught.  Thus  refreshed  we  continue  the  descent, 
and  are  soon  amid  the  pines  which  clothe  the  mountain 
facing  Eanda.  A  light  glimmers  from  the  window  of  the 
hotel ;  we  conclude  that  they  are  waiting  for  us ;  it  disap- 
pears, and  we  infer  that  they  have  gone  to  bed.  Wenger 
is  sent  on  to  order  some  food ;  I  was  half-famished,  for 
my  nutriment  during  the  day  consisted  solely  of  a  box 
of  meat  lozenges  given  to  me  by  Mr.  Hawkins.  Benen 
and  myself  descend  the  mountain  deliberately,  and  after 
many  windings  emerge  upon  the  valley,  cross  it,  and  reach 
the  hotel  a  little  before  1 1  p.m.  I  had  a  basin  of  broth, 
not  made  according  to  Liebig,  and  a  piece  of  mutton 
boiled  probably  for  the  seventh  time.  Fortified  by  these, 
and  comforted  by  a  warm  footbath,  I  went  to  bed,  where 
six  hours'  sound  sleep  chased  away  every  memory  of  the 
Weisshorn  save  the  pleasant  ones.  I  was  astonished 
to  find  the  loose  atoms  of  my  body  knitted  so  firmly 
together  by  so  brief  a  rest.  Up  to  my  attempt  upon  the 
Weisshorn  I  had  felt  more  or  less  dilapidated,  but  here  all 
weakness  ended.  My  fibres  assumed  more  and  more  the 
tenacity  of  steel,  and  during  my  subsequent  stay  in  Swit- 
zerland I  was  unacquainted  with  infirmity.  If  you,  my 
friend,  should  ask  me  why  I  incur  such  labour  and  such 
risk,  here  is  one  reply. 

F 


66  HEIGHT   OF   THE   WEISSHORN 

The  height  of  the  Weisshorn  is  fourteen  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  thirteen  feet.  Height,  however,  is 
but  one  element  in  the  difficulty  of  a  mountain.  Monte 
Kosa,  for  example,  is  higher  than  the  Weisshorn,  but  the 
difficulty  of  the  former  is  small  in  comparison  to  that  of 
the  latter. 


67 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

THE   MOTION    OP   GLACIERS 

'  The  god  that  made  New  Hampshire, 
Taunted  the  lofty  land 
With  little  men.' 

IT  is  impossible  for  a  man  with  his  eyes  open  to  climb 
a  mountain  like  the  Weisshorn  without  having  his 
knowledge  augmented  in  many  ways.  The  mutations 
of  the  atmosphere,  the  blue  zenith  and  the  glowing 
horizon ;  rocks,  snow,  and  ice ;  the  wondrous  mountain 
world  into  which  he  looks,  and  which  refuses  to  be  en- 
compassed by  a  narrow  brain  :  —  these  are  objects  at  once 
poetic  and  scientific,  and  of  such  plasticity  that  every 
human  soul  can  fashion  them  according  to  its  own  needs. 
It  is  not  my  object  to  dwell  on  these  things  at  present,  out 
I  made  one  little  observation  in  descending  the  Weisshorn 
to  which  I  should  like,  in  a  more  or  less  roundabout  way, 
to  direct  your  attention. 

The  wintry  clouds,  as  you  know,  drop  spangles  on  the 
mountains.  If  the  thing  occurred  once  in  a  century,  his- 
torians would  chronicle  and  poets  would  sing  of  the  event ; 
but  Nature,  prodigal  of  beauty,  rains  down  her  hexagonal 

F  2 


68  GLACIERS    LIKE    RIVERS 

ice-stars  year  by  year,  forming  layers  yards  in  thickness. 
The  summer  sun  thaws  and  partially  consolidates  the  mass. 
Each  winter's  fall  is  covered  by  that  of  the  ensuing  one, 
and  thus  the  snow  layer  of  every  year  has  to  sustain  an 
annually  augmented  weight.  It  is  more  and  more  com- 
pacted by  the  pressure,  and  ends  by  being  converted  into 
the  ice  of  a  true  glacier,  which  stretches  its  frozen  tongue 
far  down  below  the  limits  of  perpetual  snow. 

The  glaciers  move,  and  through  valleys  they  move  like 
rivers.  6  Between  the  Mer  de  Grlace  and  a  river,'  writes 
Rendu,  ( there  is  a  resemblance  so  complete  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  find  in  the  latter  a  circumstance  which  does  not 
exist  in  the  former.'  A  cork  when  cast  upon  a  stream, 
near  its  centre,  will  move  more  quickly  than  when  thrown 
near  the  sides,  for  the  progress  of  the  stream  is  retarded 
by  its  banks.  And  as  you  and  your  guide  stood  together 
on  the  solid  waves  of  that  Amazon  of  ice  you  were  borne 
resistlessly  along.  You  saw  the  boulders  perched  upon  their 
frozen  pedestals ;  these  were  the  spoils  of  distant  hills, 
quarried  from  summits  far  away,  and  floated  to  lower  levels 
Kke  timber  logs  upon  the  Ehone.  As  you  advanced 
towards  the  centre  you  were  carried  down  the  valley  with 
an  ever-augmenting  velocity.  You  felt  it  not  —  he  felt  it 
not  —  still  you  were  borne  down  with  a  velocity  which,  if 
continued,  would  amount  to  1000  feet  a  year. 

And  could  you  have  cast  a  log  into  the  solid  mass 
and  determined  the  velocity  of  its  deeper  portions,  you 
would  have  learned  that  the  ice-river,  like  the  liquid  one, 
is   retarded  by  its  bed ;   that  the   surface  of  the  glacier 


MONSEIGNEUR   EENDU  69 

moves  more  quickly  than  the  bottom.  You  remember 
also  the  shape  of  that  other  glacier,  where  you  passed  along 
an  ice  crest  six  inches  wide,  with  chasms  of  unsounded 
depth  right  and  left.  You  never  trembled ;  but  you  once 
swayed,  and  the  guide  bruised  your  arm  by  the  pressure 
of  his  fingers.  I  told  you  when  informed  of  this,  that 
the  shape  of  the  valley  was  to  blame.  My  meaning 
was  this  :  the  valley  formed  a  curve  at  the  place,  and 
you  stood  upon  the  convex  side  of  the  glacier.  This 
side  was  moving  more  speedily  than  the  opposite  one, 
thereby  tearing  itself  more  fiercely  asunder.  Hence  arose 
the  chasms  which  you  then  encountered.  At  this  place 
the  eastern  side  of  the  glacier  moved  more  quickly  than 
the  western  one.  Higher  up,  the  valley  bent  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  and  there  the  western  side  moved  quickest. 
Thus,  exactly  as  in  the  Kibble  and  the  Aire,  and  the 
Wye  and  the  Thames ;  the  place  of  swiftest  motion  of 
the  glacier  shifted  from  side  to  side  in  obedience  to  the 
curvature  of  the  valley. 

To  a  Savoyard  priest,  who,  I  am  happy  to  say,  afterwards 
became  a  bishop,  we  are  indebted  for  the  first  clear  enuncia- 
tion of  the  truth  that  a  glacier  moves  as  a  river ;  an  idea 
which,  as  you  know,  was  subsequently  maintained  with 
energy  and  success  by  a  distinguished  countryman  of  our 
own.  Rendu  called  the  portion  of  the  glacier  with  which 
you  are  acquainted,  and  which  is  confined  between  banks 
of  mountains,  '  the  floiving  glacier '  {Glacier  cVecoulement), 
associating  with  the  term  (  flowing,'  the  definite  physical 
idea  which  belongs  to  it ;  and  he  called  the  basin,  or  the 


70  BLAME    AND    PEAISE 

plateau,  in  which  the  snows  which  fed  the  lower  ice-stream 
were  collected  the  'reservoir.'  He  assigned  a  true  origin 
to  the  glacier,  a  true  progress,  and  a  true  end;  and  yet 
you,  acquainted  as  you  are  with  Alpine  literature,  and 
warmly  as  you  were  interested  in  the  discussions  to  which 
that  literature  has  given  birth  ;  you,  I  say,  had  actually  for- 
gotten the  existence  of  this  bishop,  and  required  time  to 
persuade  yourself  of  his  merits,  when  his  claims  were  in- 
troduced in  your  presence  before  a  society  of  friends  three 
years  ago. 

Some  have  blamed  me,  and  some  have  praised  me, 
for  the  part  which  I  have  acted  towards  this  man's  me- 
mory. In  one  distinguished,  but  not  disinterested  quarter, 
I  have  been  charged  with  prejudice  and  littleness  of  spirit; 
to  which  charge  I  have  nothing  to  reply.  A  peaceable  man 
when  thus  assailed,  will  offer  no  resistance.  But  you, 
my  friend,  know  how  light  a  value  I  set  on  my  scientific 
labours  in  the  Alps.  Indeed,  I  need  them  not.  The  glaciers 
and  the  mountains  have  an  interest  for  me  beyond  their 
scientific  ones.  They  have  been  to  me  well-springs  of  life 
and  joy.  They  have  given  me  royal  pictures  and  memories 
which  can  never  fade.  They  have  made  me  feel  in  all  my 
fibres  the  blessedness  of  perfect  manhood,  causing  mind, 
and  soul,  and  body,  to  work  together  with  a  harmony  and 
strength  unqualified  by  infirmity  or  ennui.  They  have 
raised  my  enjoyments  to  a  higher  level,  and  made  my  heart 
competent  to  cope  even  with  yours  in  its  love  of  Nature. 
This  has  been  the  bounty  of  the  Alps  to  me.  And  it  is 
sufficient.     I  should  look  less  cheerily  into  the  future  did 


DISCUSSIONS  7  L 

I  not  hope  to  micrify,  by  nobler  work,  my  episode  upon  the 
glaciers.  On  it  I  shall  never  found  the  slightest  claim  of 
my  own ;  but  I  do  claim  the  right,  and  shall  ever  exercise 
it,  of  doing  my  duty  towards  my  neighbour,  and  of  giving 
to  forgotten  merit  its  award.  I  have  done  no  more.  Let 
it  be  made  clear  that  I  have  wronged  any  man  by  false 
accusation,  and  Zacchseus  was  not  more  prompt  than  I  shall 
be  to  make  restitution.  We  may  have  all  erred  more  or 
less  in  connection  with  this  question;  but  had  a  little 
more  chivalry  been  imported  into  its  treatment  twenty 
years  ago,  these  personal  discussions  would  not  now  as- 
sociate themselves  with  the  glaciers  of  the  Alps. 

But  the  glaciers  have  a  motion  besides  that  which  they 
owe  to  the  quasi  plasticity  of  their  own  masses.     Ice  is 
slippy;   ice  is  fusible;  and  in   dead   winter  water   flows 
along  the  glacier's  bed.     In  dead  winter   the  under  sur- 
face of  the  glacier  is  wearing  away.     The   glacier  slides 
bodily  over  its  rocky  bed.     ( Prove   this ; '   you   have    a 
right  to  retort.     Well,  here  is  one  proof.     You  have  heard 
me  speak  of  the  fluted  rocks  of  the  Grrimsel;  you  have 
heard  of  the  ancient  glaciers  of  England,  Scotland,  Ire- 
land, and  Wales.     Killarney,   to   which   I  have   already 
referred,  affords  magnificent  examples  of  ancient  glacier 
action.     No   man   with   the   slightest    knowledge   of  the 
glacier   operations  of  to-day  could  resist  the  conclusion, 
that  the  Black  Valley  of  Killarney  was  once  filled  by  a 
glacier  fed  by  the  snows  from  Magillicuddy's  Eeeks ;  that 
the  ( Cannon  Eock,'  the  '  Man  of  War,'  the  'Giant's  Coffin,' 
and  other  masses  fantastically  named,  were  moulded  to 


72  EVIDENCE    OF    SLIDING 

their  present  shapes  by  a  glacier  which  once  held  posses- 
sion of  the  hollow  now  filled  by  the  ( Upper  Lake.'  No 
man  can  resist  the  evidence  of  glacier  action  on  the  flanks 
of  Snowdon,  and  round  about  the  slopes  of  Scawfell 
Pike  and  Great  Grable.  And  what  is  the  nature  of  the 
evidence  which  thus  refuses  to  be  gainsaid  ?  Simply  the 
scoring  and  polishing  and  fluting  of  the  rocks  to  which 
I  have  so  often  referred.  Although  executed  ages  ago, 
they  are  as  fresh  and  unmistakable  as  if  they  had  been 
executed  last  year ;  and  to  leave  such  marks  and  tokens 
behind  it,  the  glacier  must  have  slidden  over  its  bed. 

Here,  then,  is  one  proof  of  glacier  sliding  which  was 
urged  many  years  ago,  and  I  think  it  is  satisfactory.  But 
not  only  does  the  glacier  act  upon  the  rocks,  but  the  rocks 
must  of  necessity  act  upon  the  under  surface  of  the  glacier ; 
and  could  we  inspect  this,  we  should  assuredly  find  proof 
of  sliding.  This  proof  exists,  and  I  am  unable  to  state  it  in 
clearer  language  than  that  employed  in  the  following  letter 
which  I  have  already  published. 

'  Many  years  ago  Mr.  William  Hopkins  of  Cambridge, 
pointed  to  the  state  of  the  rocks  over  which  glaciers  had 
passed  as  conclusive  evidence  that  these  vast  masses  of  ice 
move  bodily  along  their  beds.  Those  rocks  are  known  to 
have  their  angles  rasped  off,  and  to  be  fluted  and  scarred 
by  the  ice  which  has  passed  over  them.  Such  appear- 
ances, indeed,  constitute  the  entire  evidence  of  the  former 
existence  of  glaciers  in  this  and  other  countries,  discussed 
in  the  writings  of  Venetz,  Charpentier,  Agassiz,  Buckland, 
Darwin,  Ramsay,  and  other  eminent  men. 


THE    GLACIEK    FURROWED   BY   ITS   BED  73 

'  I  have  now  to  offer  a  proof  of  the  sliding  of  the  ice 
exactly  complementary  to  the  above.  Suppose  a  glacier 
to  be  a  plastic  mass,  which  did  not  slide,  and  suppose 
such  a  glacier  to  be  turned  upside  down,  so  as  to  expose 
its  under  surface ;  that  surface  would  bear  the  impression 
of  its  bed,  exactly  as  melted  wax  bears  the  impression  of 
a  seal.  The  protuberant  rocks  would  make  hollows  of 
their  own  shape  in  the  ice,  and  the  depressions  of  the 
bed  would  be  matched  by  protuberances  of  their  own  shape 
on  the  under  surface  of  the  glacier.  But,  suppose  the 
mass  to  slide  over  its  bed,  these  exact  impressions  would 
no  longer  exist ;  the  protuberances  of  the  bed  would  then 
form  longitudinal  furrows,  while  the  depressions  of  the 
bed  would  produce  longitudinal  ridges.  From  the  former 
state  of  things  we  might  infer  that  the  bottom  of  the 
glacier  is  stationary,  while  from  the  latter  we  should  cer- 
tainly infer  that  the  whole  mass  slides  over  its  bed. 

( In  descending  from  the  summit  of  the  Weisshorn  on  the 
1 9th  of  August  last  I  found,  near  the  flanks  of  one  of  its 
glaciers,  a  portion  of  the  ice  completely  roofing  a  hollow, 
over  which  it  had  been  urged  without  being  squeezed  into 
it.  A  considerable  area  of  the  under  surface  of  the  glacier 
was  thus  exposed,  and  the  ice  of  that  surface  was  more 
finely  fluted  than  ever  I  have  observed  rocks  to  be.  Had 
the  tool  of  a  cabinet-maker  passed  over  it,  nothing  more 
regular  and  beautiful  could  have  been  executed.  Furrows 
and  ridges  ran  side  by  side  in  the  direction  of  the  motion, 
and  the  deeper  and  larger  ones  were  chased  by  finer  lines, 
produced  by  the  smaller  and  sharper  asperities  of  the  bed. 


7-t  COMPLEMENTARY   PROOF 

The  ice  was  perfectly  unweathered,  and  the  white  dust  of 
the  rocks  over  which  it  had  passed,  and  which  it  had 
abraded  in  its  passage,  still  clung  to  it.  The  fact  of 
sliding  has  been  hitherto  inferred  from  the  action  of  the 
glacier  upon  the  rocks ;  the  above  observation  leads  to  the 
same  inference  from  the  action  of  the  rocks  upon  the 
glacier.  As  stated  at  the  outset,  it  is  the  complementary 
proof  that  the  glacier  moves  bodily  over  its  bed.' 


75 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SUNKISE     ON     THE     PINES 

1  The  sunbeam  gave  me  to  the  sight 
The  tree  adorned  the  formless  light.' 

MUST  here  mention  a  beautiful  effect  which  I  observed 
from  Randa  on  the  morning  of  the  18th  of  August.  The 
valley  of  St.  Nicholas  runs  nearly  north  and  south,  and  the 
ridge  which  flanks  it  to  the  east  is  partially  covered  with 
pines ;  the  trees  on  the  summit  of  this  ridge  as  you  look 
at  them  from  the  valley  being  projected  against  the  sky. 
What  I  saw  was  this :  as  the  sun  was  about  to  rise  I  could 
trace  upon  the  meadows  in  the  valley  the  outline  of  the 
shadow  of  the  ridge  which  concealed  him,  and  I  could 
walk  along  the  valley  so  as  to  keep  myself  quite  within  the 
shadow  of  the  mountain.  Suppose  me  just  immersed 
in  the  shadow :  as  I  moved  along,  successive  pine-trees  on 
the  top  of  the  ridge  were  projected  on  that  portion  of  the 
heavens  where  the  sun  was  about  to  appear,  and  every 
one  of  them  assumed  in  this  position  a  perfect  silvery 
brightness.  It  was  most  interesting  to  observe,  as  I  walked 
up  or  down  the  valley,  tree  after  tree  losing  its  opacity  and 


76  LUSTROUS   TREES 

suddenly  robing  itself  in  glory.  Benen  was  at  mass  at 
the  time,  and  I  drew  Wenger's  attention  to  the  effect.  He 
had  never  observed  it  before.  I  never  met  a  guide  who 
had — a  fact  to  be  explained  by  the  natural  repugnance  of 
the  eyes  to  be  turned  towards  a  sky  of  dazzling  bright- 
ness. Professor  Necker  was  the  first  who  described  this 
effect,  and  I  have  copied  his  description  in  '  the  Glaciers  of 
the  Alps.'  The  only  difference  between  his  observation 
and  mine  is,  that  whereas  he  saw  the  stems  of  the  trees 
also  silver  bright,  I  saw  them  drawn  in  dark  streaks  through 
the  lustrous  branches.  The  cause  of  the  phenomenon  I 
take  to  be  this  :  You  have  often  noticed  the  bright  illumin- 
ation of  the  atmosphere  immediately  surrounding  the  sun; 
and  how  speedily  the  brightness  diminishes  as  your  eye 
departs  from  the  sun's  edge.  This  brightness  is  mainly 
caused  by  the  sunlight  falling  on  the  aqueous  particles 
in  the  air,  aided  by  whatever  dust  may  be  suspended 
in  the  atmosphere.  If  instead  of  aqueous  particles  fine 
solid  particles  were  strewn  in  the  air,  the  intensity  of  the 
light  reflected  from  them  would  be  greater.  Now  the 
spiculae  of  the  pine,  when  the  tree  is  projected  against 
the  heavens,  close  to  the  sun's  rim  are  exactly  in 
this  condition ;  they  are  flooded  by  a  gush  of  the  intensest 
light,  and  reflect  it  from  their  smooth  surfaces  to  the 
spectator.  Every  needle  of  the  pine  is  thus  burnished, 
appearing  almost  as  bright  as  if  it  were  cut  out  of  the  body 
of  the  sun  himself.  Thus  the  leaves  and  more  slender 
branches  shine  with  exceeding  glory,  while  the  surfaces  of 
the  thicker  stems  which  are  turned  from  the  sun  escape  the 


CAUSE    OF    LUSTRE  77 

light,  and  are  drawn  as  dark  lines  through  the  brightness. 
Their  diameters,  however,  are  diminished  by  the  irradiation 
from  each  side  of  them.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the 
lustre  of  thistle-down,  in  my  book  upon  the  Alps,  and  two 
days  after  the  observation  at  Randa,  I  saw  from  Zermatt  in- 
numerable fragments  of  the  substance  floating  at  sunset  in 
the  western  heaven,  not  far  from  the  base  of  the  Matter- 
horn.  They  gleamed  like  fragments  of  the  sun  himself. 
The  lustre  of  the  trees,  then,  I  assume  to  be  due  to  the 
same  cause  as  the  brilliancy  of  the  heavens  close  to  the 
sun ;  the  superior  intensity  of  the  former  being  due  to  the 
greater  quantity  of  light  reflected  from  the  solid  spiculae. 


78 


CHAPTEE  X. 

INSPECTION   OF   THE   MATTERHORN 

*  By  million  changes  skilled  to  tell 
What  in  the  Eternal  standeth  well, 
And  what  obedient  Nature  can, 
Is  this  colossal  talisman.' 

ON  the  afternoon  of  the  20th  we  quitted  Kanda,  with  a 
threatening  sky  overhead.  The  considerate  Philomene 
compelled  us  to  take  an  umbrella,  which  we  soon  found 
useful.  The  flood-gates  of  heaven  were  unlocked,  while 
defended  by  our  cotton  canopy,  Benen  and  myself  walked 
arm  in  arm  to  Zermatt.  I  instantly  found  myself  in  the 
midst  of  a  circle  of  pleasant  friends,  some  of  whom  had 
just  returned  from  a  successful  attempt  upon  the  Lys- 
kamm.  On  the  22nd  quite  a  crowd  of  travellers  crossed 
the  Theodule  Pass ;  and  knowing  that  every  corner  of  the 
hotel  at  Breuil  would  be  taken  up,  I  halted  a  day  so  as 
to  allow  the  people  to  disperse.  Breuil,  as  you  know, 
commands  a  view  of  the  south  side  of  the  Matterhorn; 
and  it  was  now  an  object  with  me  to  discover,  if  pos- 
sible, upon  the  true  peak  of  this  formidable  mountain, 
some  ledge  or  cranny,  where  three  men  might  spend  a 
night.     The  mountain  may  be  accessible  or  inaccessible, 


UP   TO   THE   EIFFEL  79 

but  one  thing  seems  certain,  that  starting  from  Breuil, 
or  even  from  the  chalets  above  Breuil,  the  work  of 
reaching  the  summit  is  too  much  for  a  single  day.  But 
could  a  shelter  be  found  amid  the  wild  battlements  of 
the  peak  itself,  which  would  enable  one  to  attack  the 
obelisk  at  day-dawn,  the  possibility  of  conquest  was  so  far 
an  open  question  as  to  tempt  a  trial.  I  therefore  sent 
Benen  on  to  reconnoitre,  purposing  myself  to  cross  the 
Theodule  alone  on  the  following  day. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  22nd,  I  walked  up  to  the 
Eiffel,  sauntering  slowly,  leaning  at  times  on  the  head 
of  my  axe,  or  sitting  down  upon  the  grassy  knolls,  as 
my  mood  prompted.  I  have  spoken  with  due  reverence 
of  external  nature,  still  the  magnificence  of  this  is  not 
always  a  measure  of  the  traveller's  joy.  The  joy  is  a 
polar  influence  made  up  of  two  complementary  parts, 
the  outward  object,  and  the  inward  harmony  with  that 
object.  Thus,  on  the  hackneyed  track  to  the  Eiffel,  it 
is  possible  to  drink  the  deepest  delight  from  the  con- 
templation of  the  surrounding  scene.  It  was  dinner-hour 
at  the  hotel  above — dinner-hour  at  the  hotel  below,  and 
there  seemed  to  be  but  a  single  traveller  on  the  way 
between  them.  The  Matterhorn  was  all  bare,  and  my 
vision  ranged  with  an  indefinable  longing  from  base  to 
summit  over  its  blackened  crags.  The  air  which  filled  the 
valleys  of  the  Oberland,  and  swathed  in  mitigated  density 
the  highest  peaks,  was  slightly  aqueous,  though  transparent, 
the  watery  particles  forming  so  many  points  oVappui, 
from  which  the  sunbeams  were  scattered  through  surround- 


80  OVER   THE    THEODULE 

ing  space.  The  whole  medium  glowed  as  if  with  the  red 
light  of  a  distant  furnace,  and  through  it  the  outline  of 
the  mountains  grandly  loomed.  The  glow  augmented  as 
the  sun  sank,  reached  its  maximum,  paused,  and  then 
ran  speedily  down  to  a  cold  and  colourless  twilight. 

Next  morning  at  nine  o'clock,  with  some  scraps  of 
information  from  the  guides  to  help  me  on  my  way,  I 
quitted  the  Eiffel  to  cross  the  Theodule.  I  was  soon  fol- 
lowed by  the  domestic  of  the  hotel ;  a  very  strong  fellow, 
kept  by  M.  Seiler  as  a  guide  up  Monte  Eosa.  Benen 
had  requested  him  to  see  me  to  the  edge  of  the  glacier, 
and  he  now  joined  me  with  this  intention.  He  knew  my 
designs  upon  the  Matterhorn,  and  strongly  deprecated 
them.  '  Why  attempt  what  is  impossible  ? '  he  urged. 
6  What  you  have  already  accomplished  ought  to  satisfy 
you,  without  putting  your  life  in  such  certain  peril.  Only 
think,  Herr,  what  will  avail  your  ascent  of  the  Weisshorn 
if  you  are  smashed  upon  the  Mont  Cervin.  Mein  Herr!' 
he  added  with  condensed  emphasis,  fthun  Sie  es  nicht.' 
The  whole  conversation  was  in  fact  a  homily,  the  strong 
point  of  which  was  the  utter  uselessness  of  success  on  the 
one  mountain  if  it  were  to  be  followed  by  annihilation  on 
the  other.  We  reached  the  ridge  above  the  glacier,  where 
handing  him  a  trinkgeld,  which  I  had  to  force  on  his 
acceptance,  I  bade  him  good  bye,  assuring  him  that  I 
would  submit  in  all  things  to  Benen's  opinion.  He  had 
the  highest  idea  of  Benen's  wisdom,  and  hence  the  as- 
surance sent  him  home  comforted. 

I  was  soon  upon  the  ice,  once  more  alone,  as  I  delight 


ALONE   ON   THE   GLACIER  81 

to  be  at  times.  You  have  sometimes  blamed  me  for  going 
alone,  and  the  right  to  do  so  ought  to  be  earned  by  long 
discipline.  As  a  habit  I  deprecate  it ;  but  sparingly  in- 
dulged in,  it  is  a  great  luxury.  There  are  no  doubt 
moods  when  the  mother  is  glad  to  get  rid  of  her  offspring, 
the  wife  of  her  husband,  the  lover  of  his  mistress,  and 
when  it  is  not  well  to  keep  them  together.  And  so,  at 
rare  intervals,  it  is  good  for  the  soul  to  feel  the  influence 
of  that  '  society  where  none  intrudes.'  When  your  work 
is  clearly  within  your  power,  when  long  practice  has 
enabled  you  to  trust  your  own  eye  and  judgment  in  un- 
ravelling crevasses,  and  your  own  axe  and  arm  in  subduing 
their  more  serious  difficulties,  it  is  an  entirely  new  expe- 
rience to  be  alone  amid  those  sublime  scenes.  The  peaks 
wear  a  more  solemn  aspect,  the  sun  shines  with  a  more  ef- 
fectual fire,  the  blue  of  heaven  is  more  deep  and  awful, 
the  air  seems  instinct  with  religion,  and  the  hard  heart  of 
man  is  made  as  tender  as  a  child's.  In  places  where  the 
danger  is  not  too  great,  but  where  a  certain  amount  of  skill 
and  energy  are  required,  the  feeling  of  self-reliance  is 
inexpressibly  sweet,  and  you  contract  a  closer  friendship 
with  the  universe  in  virtue  of  your  more  intimate  contact 
with  its  parts.  The  glacier  to-day  filled  the  air  with 
low  murmurs,  which  the  sound  of  the  distant  moulins 
raised  to  a  kind  of  roar.  The  debris  rustled  on  the 
moraines,  the  smaller  rivulets  babbled  in  their  channels, 
as  they  ran  to  join  their  trunk,  and  the  surface  of  the 
glacier  creaked  audibly  as  it  yielded  to  the  sun.  It 
seemed  to  breathe  and  whisper  like  a  living  thing.     To 

G 


82  OVER  THE   RIDGE 

my  left  was  Monte  Eosa  and  her  royal  court,  to  my  right 
the  mystic  pinnacle  of  the  Matterhorn,  which  from  a 
certain  point  here  upon  the  glacier  attains  its  maximum 
sharpness.  It  drew  my  eyes  towards  it  with  irresistible 
fascination  as  it  shimmered  in  the  blue,  too  preoccupied 
with  heaven,  to  think  even  with  contempt  on  the  designs 
of  a  son  of  earth  to  reach  its  inviolate  crest. 

Well,  I  crossed  the  Grorner  glacier  quite  as  speedily  as 
if  I  had  been  professionally  led.  Then  up  the  undulating 
slope  of  the  Theodule  glacier  with  a  rocky  ridge  to  my 
right,  over  which  I  was  informed  a  rude  track  led  to  the 
pass  of  St.  Theodule.  I  am  not  great  at  finding  tracks, 
and  I  missed  this  one,  ascending  until  it  became  evident 
to  me  that  I  had  gone  too  far.  Near  its  higher  extremity 
the  crest  of  the  ridge  is  cut  across  by  three  curious  chasms, 
aud  one  of  these  I  thought  would  be  a  likely  gateway 
through  the  ridge.  I  climbed  the  steep  buttress  of  the 
spur  and  was  soon  in  the  fissure.  Huge  masses  of  rock  were 
jammed  into  it,  the  presence  of  which  gave  variety  to  the 
exertion.  I  ascended  along  the  angles  between  them  and 
the  cliffs  to  the  left  of  them  ;  the  work  was  very  pleasant, 
calling  forth  strength,  but  not  exciting  fear.  From  the 
summit  the  rocks  sloped  gently  down  to  the  snow,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  the  presence  of  broken  bottles  on  the 
moraine  showed  me  that  I  had  hit  upon  the  track  over 
the  pass.  Upwards  of  twenty  unhappy  bees  staggered 
against  me  on  the  way ;  tempted  by  the  sun,  or  wafted 
by  the  wind,  they  had  quitted  the  flowery  Alps  to  meet 
torpor  and   death   in  the   ice   world   above.     From  the 


THE    MATTERHORN. 


ON   THE   MATTERHORN   IN    18G0  83 

summit  I  went  swiftly  down  to  Breuil,  where  I  was  wel- 
comed by  the  host,  welcomed  by  the  waiter  ;  loud  were 
the  expressions  of  content  at  my  arrival ;  and  I  was  in- 
formed that  Benen  had  started  early  in  the  morning  to 
'  promenade  himself  around  the  Matterhorn. 

I  lay  long  upon  the  Alp,   scanning  crag  and  snow  in 
search    of  my  guide,  and  not  doubting  that  his   report 
would  be  favourable.     You  are  already  acquainted  with 
the  admirable  account  of  our  attempt  on  the  Matterhorn 
drawn  up  by  Mr.  Hawkins,  and  from  it  you  may  infer 
that   the  ascent  of  this  mountain  is  not  likely  to  be  a 
matter  of  mere  amusement.     The  account  tells  you  that 
after  climbing  for  several  hours  in  the  face  of  novel  dif- 
ficulties, my  friend  thought  it  wise  to  halt  so  as  to  secure 
our  retreat ;  for  not  one  of  us  knew  what  difficulties  the 
descent  might  reveal.     I  will  here  state  in  a  few  words 
what  occurred  after  our  separation.     Benen  and  myself 
had  first    a  hard  scramble   up    some   very   steep  rocks, 
our  motions  giving  to  those  below  us  the  impression  that 
we  were  urging  up  bales  of  goods  instead  of  the  simple 
weight  of  our  own  bodies.     Turning  a  corner  of  the  ridge 
we  had  to  cross  a  very  unpleasant  looking  slope,  the  sub- 
stratum of  which  was  smooth  rock,  this  being  covered  by 
about  eighteen  inches  of  snow.     On  ascending,  this  place 
was  passed  in  silence,  but  in  coming  down  the  fear  arose 
that  the  superficial  layer  might  slip  away  with  us ;  this 
would  hand  us  over  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  pure  gravity  for  a  thousand  feet  or  more. 
Benen   seldom  warns  me,   but   he    did  so   here  empha- 

G  2 


84  CEAGS   OF   THE   MATTERHOKN 

tically,  declaring  his  own  powerlessness  to  render  any 
help  should  the  footing  give  way.  Having  crossed  this 
slope  in  our  ascent  we  were  fronted  by  a  cliff,  against 
which  we  rose  mainly  by  aid  of  the  felspar  crystals  pro- 
tuberant from  its  face.  Here  is  the  grand  difficulty  of  the 
Matterhorn ;  the  rocks  are  sound,  smooth,  and  steep,  and 
hardly  offer  any  grip  to  either  hands  or  feet.  Midway 
up  the  cliff  referred  to,  Benen  asked  me  to  hold  on,  as 
he  did  not  feel  sure  that  it  formed  the  best  route.  I 
accordingly  ceased  moving,  and  lay  against  the  rock  with 
legs  and  arms  outstretched  like  a  huge  and  helpless  frog. 
Benen  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  cliff,  but  returned  im- 
mediately with  a  flush  of  confidence  in  his  eye.  6 1  will 
lead  you  to  the  top,'  he  said  excitedly.  Had  I  been  free 
I  should  have  cried  '  bravo ! '  but  in  my  position  I 
did  not  care  to  risk  the  muscular  motion  which  a  hearty 
bravo  would  demand.  Aided  by  the  rope  I  was  at  his 
side  in  a  minute,  and  we  soon  learned  that  his  confidence 
was  premature.  Difficulties  thickened  round  us ;  on  no 
other  mountain  are  they  so  thick,  and  each  of  them  is 
attended  by  possibilities  of  the  most  blood-chilling  kind. 
Our  mode  of  motion  in  such  circumstances  was  this :  — 
Benen  advanced  while  I  held  on  to  a  rock,  prepared  for 
the  jerk  if  he  should  slip.  When  he  had  secured  himself, 
he  called  out,  '  Ich  bin  fest,  kommen  Sie.'  I  then  worked 
forward,  sometimes  halting  where  he  had  halted,  some- 
times passing  him  until  a  firm  anchorage  was  gained, 
when  it  again  became  his  turn  to  advance.  Thus  each  of 
us  waited  until   the   other  could   seize  upon   something 


HALT   ON    THE    MATTERHORN  85 

capable  of  bearing  the  shock  of  a  sudden  descent.  At 
some  places  Benen  deemed  a  little  extra  assurance  ne- 
cessary ;  and  here  he  emphasised  his  statement  that  he 
was  '  fest '  by  a  suitable  hyperbole.  e  Ich  bin  fest  wie 
ein  Mauer,  —  fest  wie  ein  Berg,  ich  halte  Sie  gewiss,' 
or  some  such  expression.  Looking  from  Breuil,  a  series 
of  moderate  sized  prominences  are  seen  along  the  arete 
of  the  Matterhorn  ;  but  when  you  are  near  them,  these 
black  eminences  rise  like  tremendous  castles  in  the  air, 
so  wild  and  high  as  almost  to  quell  all  hope  of  scaling  or 
getting  round  them.  At  the  base  of  one  of  these  edifices 
Benen  paused,  and  looked  closely  at  the  grand  mass ; 
he  wiped  his  forehead,  and  turning  to  me  said,  'Was 
denken  Sie  Herr  ? '  — 6  Shall  we  go  on,  or  shall  we  retreat  ? 
I  will  do  what  you  wish.'  '  I  am  without  a  wish,  Benen/ 
I  replied  :  '  Where  you  go  I  follow,  be  it  up  or  down.' 
He  disliked  the  idea  of  giving  in,  and  would  willingly 
have  thrown  the  onus  of  stopping  upon  me.  We  attacked 
the  castle,  and  by  a  hard  effort  reached  one  of  its  mid 
ledges,  whence  we  had  plenty  of  room  to  examine  the 
remainder.  We  might  certainly  have  continued  the 
ascent  beyond  this  place,  but  Benen  paused  here.  To  a 
minute  of  talk  succeeded  a  minute  of  silence,  during 
which  my  guide  earnestly  scanned  the  heights.  He  then 
turned  towards  me,  and  the  words  seemed  to  fall  from  his 
lips  through  a  resisting  medium,  as  he  said,  '  Ich  denke 
die  Zeit  ist  zu  kurtz,'  —  '  It  is  better  to  return.'  By  this 
time  each  of  the  neighbouring  peaks  had  unfolded  a 
cloud  banner,  remaining  clear  to  windward,  but  having  a 


86  PKESENT   OBJECTS 

streamer  hooked  on  to  its  summit  and  drawn  far  out  into 
space  by  the  moist  south  wind.  It  was  a  grand  and 
affecting  sight,  grand  intrinsically,  but  doubly  impressive 
to  feelings  already  loosened  by  the  awe  inseparable  from 
our  position.  Looked  at  from  Breuil,  the  mountain  shows 
two  summits  separated  from  each  other  by  a  possibly  im- 
passable cleft.  Only  the  lower  one  of  these  could  be  seen 
from  our  station.  I  asked  Ben  en  how  high  he  sup- 
posed it  to  be  above  the  point  where  we  then  stood ;  he 
estimated  its  height  at  400  feet ;  I  at  500  feet.  Pro- 
bably both  of  us  were  under  the  mark ;  however,  I  state 
the  fact  as  it  occurred.  The  object  of  my  present  visit  to 
Breuil  was  to  finish  the  piece  of  work  thus  abruptly 
broken  off,  and  so  I  awaited  Benen's  return  with  anxious 
interest. 

At  dusk  I  saw  him  striding  down  the  Alp,  and  went  out 
to  meet  him.  I  sought  to  gather  his  opinion  from  his  eye 
before  he  spoke,  but  could  make  nothing  out.  It  was  per- 
fectly firm,  but  might  mean  either  pro  or  con.  '  Herr,' 
he  said  at  length,  in  a  tone  of  unusual  emphasis,  ( I  have 
examined  the  mountain  carefully,  and  find  it  more  diffi- 
cult 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  by  this  report. 


BENEN 's   REPORT  87 


I  felt  like  a  man  whose  grip  had  given  way,  and  who  was 
dropping  through  the  air.  My  thoughts  and  hopes  had 
laid  firm  hold  upon  the  Matterhorn,  and  here  my  support 
had  suddenly  broken  off.  Benen  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  difficult,'  he  replied;  '  but  when  you  have 
reached  it,  what  then?  the  peak  has  neither  name  nor 
fame.'  I  was  silent ;  slightly  irascible,  perhaps ;  but  it  was 
against  the  law  of  my  mind  to  utter  a  word  of  remon- 
strance or  persuasion.  Benen  made  his  report  with  his 
eyes  open.  He  knew  me  well,  and  I  think  mutual  trust  has 
rarely  been  more  strongly  developed  between  guide  and 
traveller  than  between  him  and  me.  I  knew  that  I  had 
but  to  give  the  word  and  he  would  face  the  mountain  with 
me  next  day,  but  it  would  have  been  inexcusable  in  me  to 
deal  thus  with  him.  So  I  stroked  my  beard,  and  like 
Lelia  in  the  i  Princess,'  when 

'  Upon  the  sward 
She  tapt  her  tiny  silken-sandal' d  foot,' 

I  crushed  the  grass  with  my  hobnails,  seeking  thus  a 
safety-valve  for  my  disappointment. 

My  sleep  was  unsatisfying  that  night,  and  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  I  felt  a  void  within.  The  hope  that  had 
filled  my  mind  had  been  suddenly  dislodged,  and  pure 
vacuity  took  its  place.  It  was  like  the  breaking  down  of 
a  religion,  or  the  removal  of  a  pleasant  drug  to  which  one 
had  been  long  accustomed.  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do 
with  myself.     One  thing  was  certain  —  the  Italian  valleys 


88  'OVER   THE   JOCH  ' 

had  no  balm  for  my  state  of  mind ;  the  mountains  alone 
could  restore  what  I  had  lost.  Over  the  Joch  then  once 
more  !  We  packed  up  and  bade  farewell  to  the  host  and 
waiter.  Both  men  seemed  smitten  with  a  sudden  languor, 
and  could  hardly  respond  to  my  adieus.  They  had  ex- 
pected us  to  be  their  guests  for  some  time,  and  were  evi- 
dently disgusted  at  our  want  of  pluck.  '  Mais,  monsieur, 
il  faut  faire  la  penitence  pour  une  nuit.'  I  longed  for 
a  moment  to  have  the  snub-nosed  man  half-way  up  the 
Matterhorn,  with  no  arm  but  mine  to  help  him  down. 
Veils  of  the  silkiest  cloud  began  to  draw  themselves  round 
the  mountain,  and  to  stretch  in  long  gauzy  filaments 
through  the  air,  where  they  finally  curdled  up  to  common 
cloud,  and  lost  the  grace  and  beauty  of  their  infancy.  Had 
they  condensed  to  thunder  I  should  have  been  better 
satisfied  ;  but  it  was  some  consolation  to  see  them  thicken 
so  as  to  hide  the  mountain,  and  quench  the  longing  with 
which  I  should  have  viewed  its  unclouded  head.  The 
thought  of  spending  some  days  chamois  hunting  occurred 
to  me.  Benen  seized  the  idea  with  delight,  promising 
me  an  excellent  gun.  We  crossed  the  summit,  descended 
to  Zermatt,  paused  there  to  refresh  ourselves,  and  went 
forward  to  St.  Nicholas,  where  we  spent  the  night. 


89 


CHAPTER  XL 


OYER     THE     MORO 


'  The  splendour  falls  on  rocky  walls 
And  snowy  summits  old  in  story, 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 
And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory.' 

BUT  time  is  advancing,  and  I  am  growing  old ;  over  my 
left  ear,  and  here  and  there  amid  my  whiskers,  the  grey 
hairs  are  beginning  to  peep  out.  Some  few  years  hence, 
when  the  stiffness  which  belongs  to  age  has  unfitted  me 
for  anything  better,  chamois  hunting  or  the  Scotch  High- 
lands may  suffice ;  but  for  the  present  let  me  breathe  the 
air  of  the  highest  Alps.  Thus  I  pondered  on  my  pallet  at 
St.  Nicholas.  I  had  only  seen  one  half  of  Monte  Rosa ; 
and  from  the  Italian  side  the  aspect  of  the  Mountain 
Queen  was  unknown  to  me.  I  had  been  upon  the  Monte 
Moro  three  years  ago,  but  looked  from  it  merely  into  an 
infinite  sea  of  haze.  To  complete  my  knowledge  of  the 
mountain  it  was  necessary  to  go  to  Macugnaga,  and  over 
the  Moro  I  accordingly  resolved  to  go.  But  resolution 
had  as  yet  taken  no  deep  root,  and  on  reaching  Saas  I  was 
beset  by  the  desire  to  cross  the  Alphubel.     Benen  called 


90  SAAS   TO   MATTMARK 

me  at  three ;  but  over  the  pass  grey  clouds  were  swung, 
and  as  I  was  determined  not  to  mar  this  fine  excursion  by 
choosing  an  imperfect  day,  I  then  gave  it  up.  At  seven 
o'clock,  however,  all  trace  of  cloud  had  disappeared;  it 
had  been  merely  a  local  gathering  of  no  importance, 
which  the  first  sunbeams  caused  to  vanish  into  air.  It 
was  now,  however,  too  late  to  think  of  the  Alphubel,  so  I 
reverted  to  my  original  design,  and  at  9  a.m.  started  up 
the  valley  towards  Mattmark.  A  party  of  friends  who 
were  on  the  road  before  me  contributed  strongly  to  draw 
me  on  in  this  direction. 

Onward  then  we  went  through  the  soft  green  meadows, 
with  the  river  sounding  to  our  right.  The  sun  showered 
gold  upon  the  pines,  and  brought  richly  out  the  colouring 
of  the  rocks.  The  blue  wood  smoke  ascended  from  the 
hamlets,  and  the  companionable  grasshopper  sang  and 
chirruped  right  and  left.  High  up  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tains the  rocks  were  planed  down  to  tablets  by  the 
ancient  glaciers.  The  valley  narrows,  and  we  skirt  a  pile 
of  moraine  like  matter,  which  is  roped  compactly  together 
by  the  roots  of  the  pines.  Huge  blocks  here  choke  the 
channel  of  the  river,  and  raise  its  murmurs  to  a  roar.  We 
emerge  from  shade  into  sunshine,  and  observe  the  smoke 
of  a  distant  cataract  jetting  from  the  side  of  the  mountain. 
Crags  and  boulders  are  here  heaped  in  confusion  upon  the 
hill-side,  and  among  them  the  hardy  trees  find  a  lodg- 
ment ;  asking  no  nutriment  from  the  stones  —  asking  only 
a  pedestal  on  which  they  may  plant  their  trunks  and  lift 
their  branches  into  the  nourishing  air.     Then  comes  the 


RHYTHM    IN    NATURE  91 

cataract  itself,  plunging  in  rhythmic  gushes  down  the  shin- 
ing rocks.  Khythm  is  the  rule  with  Nature  ;  —  she  abhors 
uniformity  more  than  she  does  a  vacuum.  The  passage 
of  a  resined  bow  across  a  string  is  typical  of  her  opera- 
tions. The  heart  beats  by  periods,  and  the  messages  of 
sense  and  motion  run  along  the  nerves  in  oscillations.  A 
liquid  cannot  flow  uniformly  through  an  aperture,  but 
runs  by  pulses  which  a  little  tact  may  render  musical. 
A  flame  cannot  pass  up  a  funnel  without  bursting  into  an 
organ  peal,  and  when  small,  as  a  jet  of  gas,  its  periodic 
flicker  can  produce  a  note  as  pure  and  sweet  as  any 
uttered  by  the  nightingale.  The  sea  waves  are  rhythmic  ; 
and  the  smaller  ripples  wrhich  form  a  chasing  for  the  faces 
of  the  billows  declare  the  necessity  of  the  liquid  to  break 
its  motion  into  periods.  Nay,  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
the  planets  themselves  move  through  the  space  without  an 
intermittent  shiver  as  the  ether  rubs  against  their  sides. 
Ehythm  is  the  rule  with  Nature — 

'  She  lays  her  beams  in  music, 
In  music  every  one, 
To  the  cadence  of  the  whirling  world 
Which  dances  round  the  sun.' 

The  valley  again  opens,  and  finds  room  for  a  little  hamlet, 
dingy  hovels,  with  a  white  little  church  in  the  midst  of 
them ;  patches  of  green  meadow  and  yellow  rye,  with  the 
gleam  of  the  river  here  and  there.  The  moon  hangs  over 
the  Mischabelhorner,  turning  a  face  which  ever  waxes 
paler  towards  the  sun.  The  valley  in  the  distance  seems 
shut  in  by  the  Allelein  Glacier,  towards  which  we  work, 


91  MONTE  ROSA  FROM  THE  MORO 

amid  the  waterworn  boulders  which  the  river  in  its  hours 
of  fury  had  here  strewn  around.  The  rounded  rocks  are 
now  beautified  with  lichens,  and  scattered  trees  glimmer 
among  the  heaps.  Nature  heals  herself.  She  feeds  the 
glacier  and  planes  the  mountains  down.  She  fuses  the 
glacier  and  exposes  the  dead  rocks.  But  instantly  her 
energies  are  exerted  to  neutralize  the  desolation  ;  clothing 
the  crags  with  splendour,  and  setting  the  wind  to  melody 
as  it  wanders  through  the  pines. 

At  the  Mattmark  hotel,  which  stands,  as  you  perhaps 
know,  at  the  foot  of  the  Monte  Moro,  I  was  joined  by  a 
gentleman  who  had  just  liberated  himself  from  an  un- 
pleasant guide.  He  was  a  novice  in  Switzerland,  had  been 
fleeced  for  a  month  by  his  conductor,  and  finally  paid  him 
a  considerable  sum  to  be  delivered  from  his  presence.* 
Ben  en  halted  on  the  way  to  adjust  his  knapsack,  while 
my  new  companion  and  myself  went  on.  We  lost  sight  of 
my  guide,  lost  the  track  also,  and  clambered  over  crag  and 
snow  to  the  summit,  where  we  waited  "till  Benen  arrived. 
The  mass  of  Monte  Rosa  here  grandly  revealed  itself  from 
top  to  bottom.  Dark  cliffs  and  white  snows  were  finely 
contrasted,  and  the  longer  I  looked  at  it,  the  more  noble 
and  impressive  did  the  mountain  appear.  We  were  very 
soon  clear  of  the  snow,  and  went  straight  down  the  de- 
clivity towards  Macugnaga.  There  are,  or  are  to  be,  two 
hotels  at  the  place,  one  of  which  belongs  to  Lochmatter, 

*  Every  class  of  men  has  its  scoundrels,  and  the  Alpine  guides  come  in 
for  their  share.  It  would  be  a  great  boon  if  some  central  authority  existed, 
to  which  cases  of  real  delinquency  could  be  made  known. 


AN   EVENING  STKOLL  93 

the  guide.  I  looked  at  his  house  first,  but  I  found  a  host 
of  men  hammering  at  the  stones  and  rafters.  It  was  still 
for  the  most  part  in  a  rudimentary  state.  A  woman 
followed  us  as  we  receded,  and  sought  to  entice  Benen 
back.  Had  she  been  clean  and  fair  she  might  have  suc- 
ceeded, but  she  was  dingy,  and  therefore  failed.  We  put 
up  at  the  Monte  Moro,  where  a  party  of  friends  greeted 
me  with  a  vociferous  welcome.  This  was  my  first  visit  to 
Macugnaga,  and  save  as  a  cauldron  for  the  generation  of 
fogs  I  knew  scarcely  anything  about  it.  But  there  were  no 
fogs  there  at  the  time  to  which  I  refer,  and  the  place  wore 
quite  a  charmed  aspect.  I  walked  out  alone  in  the  even- 
ing, up  through  the  meadows  towards  the  base  of  Monte 
Eosa,  and  on  no  other  occasion  have  I  seen  peace,  beauty 
and  grandeur,  so  harmoniously  blended.  Earth  and  air 
were  exquisite,  and  I  returned  to  the  hotel  brimful  of 
delight. 

Monte  Eosa  with  her  peaks  and  spurs  builds  here  a 
noble  amphitheatre.  From  the  heart  of  the  mountain 
creeps  the  Macugnaga  glacier.  To  the  right  a  precipitous 
barrier  extends  to  the  Cima  di  Jazzi,  and  between  the  latter 
and  Monte  Eosa  this  barrier  is  scarred  by  two  couloirs, 
one  of  which,  or  the  cliff  beside  it,  has  the  reputation  of 
forming  the  old  pass  of  the  Weissthor.  It  had  long  been 
a  myth  whether  this  so-called  '  Alter  Pass '  had  ever  been 
used  as  such,  and  many  superior  mountaineers  deemed  it 
from  inspection  to  be  impracticable.  All  doubt  on  this 
point  was  removed  this  year ;  for  Mr.  Tuckett,  led  by 
Beneu,  had  crossed  the  barrier  by  the  couloir  most  distant 


94  PREPARATIONS   FOR   AN   EARLY   START 

from  Monte  Kosa,  and  consequently  nearest  to  the  Cima  di 
Jazzi.  It  is  a  wonder  that  it  had  not  been  scaled  by  our 
climbers  long  ago,  for  the  aspect  of  the  place  from  Macug- 
naga  is  eminently  calculated  to  excite  the  desire  to  attack  it. 
As  I  stood  in  front  of  the  hotel  in  the  afternoon,  I  said  to 
Benen  that  I  should  like  to  try  the  pass  on  the  following 
day ;  in  ten  minutes  afterwards,  the  plan  of  our  expedi- 
tion was  arranged.  We  were  to  start  before  the  dawD, 
and  to  leave  Benen's  hands  free,  a  muscular  young  fellow, 
who  had  accompanied  Mr.  Tuckett,  was  engaged  to  carry 
our  provisions.  It  was  also  proposed  to  vary  the  pro- 
ceedings by  assailing  the  ridge  by  the  couloir  nearest  to 
Monte  Eosa. 


95 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE     OLD     WEISSTHOR 

'  He  lifts  me  to  the  golden  doors. 

The  flashes  come  and  go  ; 
All  heaven  bursts  her  starry  floors, 
And  strows  her  light  below.' 

I  WAS  called  by  my  host  at  a  quarter  before  three.  The 
firmament  of  Monte  Rosa  was  almost  as  black  as  the 
rocks  beneath  it,  while  above  in  the  darkness  trembled  the 
stars.  At  4  a.m.  we  quitted  the  hotel ;  a  bright  half-moon 
was  in  the  sky,  and  Orion  hung  out  all  his  suns.  We 
wound  along  the  meadows,  by  the  slumbering  houses, 
and  the  unslumbering  river.  The  eastern  heaven  soon 
brightened,  and  we  could  look  direct  through  the  gloom  of 
the  valley  at  the  opening  of  the  dawn.  We  threaded  our 
way  amid  the  boulders  which  the  torrent  had  scattered  over 
the  plain,  and  among  which  groups  of  stately  pines  now  find 
anchorage.  Some  of  the  trees  had  exerted  all  their  force 
in  a  vertical  direction,  and  rose  straight,  tall,  and  mastlike 
without  lateral  branches.  We  reached  a  great  moraine, 
hoary  with  years,  and  clothed  with  magnificent  pines  ; 
our  way  lay  up  it,  and  from  the  top  we  dropped  into  a 


96  DAWN   ON   THE   ITALIAN   ALPS 

little  dell  of  magical  beauty.  Deep  hidden  by  the  glacier- 
built  ridges,  guarded  by  noble  trees,  soft  and  green  at  the 
bottom,  and  tufted  round  with  bilberry  bushes,  through 
which  peeped  here  and  there  the  lichen-covered  crags ;  I 
have  never  seen  a  spot  in  which  I  should  so  like  to  dream 
away  a  day.  Before  I  entered  it,  Monte  Eosa  was  still  in 
shadow,  but  I  now  noticed  that  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
all  her  precipices  were  in  a  glow.  The  purple  colouring 
of  the  mountains  encountered  on  looking  down  the  valley 
was  indescribable ;  out  of  Italy  I  have  never  seen  anything 
like  it.  Oxygen  and  nitrogen  could  not  produce  the  effect ; 
some  effluence  from  the  earth,  some  foreign  constituent  of 
the  atmosphere,  developed  in  those  deep  valleys  by  the  sun 
of  the  south,  must  sift  the  solar  beams,  abstracting  a  por- 
tion, and  blending  their  red  and  violet  to  that  incomparable 
hue.  In  the  room  where  I  work  in  London,  there  are 
three  classes  of  actions  on  calorific  rays  :  the  first  is  due  to 
the  pure  air  itself,  the  oxygen  and  nitrogen  whose  mixture 
produces  our  atmosphere ;  this  influence  is  represented  in 
magnitude  by  the  number  1.  A  second  action  is  due  to 
the  aqueous  vapour  in  the  air,  and  this  is  represented  by 
the  number  40.  A  third  action  is  due,  to  what  I  know 
not, — but  its  magnitude  is  represented  by  the  number  20. 
As  regards,  therefore,  its  action  upon  radiant  heat,  the 
atmosphere  of  my  room  embraces  a  constituent,  too  minute 
to  be  laid  hold  of  by  any  ordinary  method  of  analysis,  and 
which,  nevertheless,  is  twenty  times  more  potent  than  the 
air  itself.  We  know  not  what  we  breathe.  The  air  is 
filled  with  emanations  which  vary  from  day  to  day,  and 


ANCIENT  MORAINES  97 

mainly  to  such  extraneous  matters,  are  the  chromatic  splen- 
dours of  our  atmosphere  to  be  ascribed.  The  air  south  of 
of  the  Alps  is  in  this  respect  different  from  that  on  the 
north,  but  a  modicum  even  of  arsenic  might  be  respired 
with  satisfaction,  if  warmed  by  the  bloom  which  suffused 
the  air  of  Italy  this  glorious  dawn. 

The  ancient  moraines  of  the  Macugnaga  glacier  rank 
among  the  finest  that  I  have  ever  seen ;  long,  high  ridges 
tapering  from  base  to  edge,  hoary  with  age,  but  beautified 
by  the  shrubs  and  blossoms  of  to-day.  We  crossed  the 
ice  and  them.  At  the  foot  of  the  old  Weissthor  lay 
couched  a  small  glacier,  which  had  landed  a  multitude  of 
boulders  on  the  slope  below  it ;  and  amid  these  we  were 
soon  threading  our  way.  We  crossed  the  little  glacier 
which  at  one  place  strove  to  be  disagreeable,  and  here  I 
learned  from  the  deportment  of  his  axe  the  kind  of  work 
to  which  my  porter  had  been  previously  accustomed.  The 
head  of  the  implement  quitted  its  handle  before  half-a- 
dozen  strokes  had  sounded  on  the  ice.  We  reached  the 
rocks  to  the  right  of  our  couloir  and  climbed  them  for 
some  distance.  The  ice,  in  fact,  at  the  base  of  the  couloir 
was  cut  by  profound  fissures,  which  extended  quite  across, 
and  rendered  a  direct  advance  up  the  gully  impossible. 
At  a  proper  place  we  dropped  down  upon  the  snow.  Close 
along  the  rocks  it  was  scarred  by  a  furrow  six  or  eight 
feet  deep,  and  about  twelve  in  width,  evidently  the  track  of 
avalanches,  or  of  rocks  let  loose  from  the  heights.  Into 
this  we  descended.  The  bottom  of  the  channel  was  firm 
and  roughened  by  the   stones  which   found  a   lodgment 

H 


98  UP   THE   COULOIR 

there.  I  thought  that  we  had  here  a  suitable  roadway  up 
the  couloir,  but  I  had  not  time  to  convert  the  thought 
into  a  suggestion,  before  a  crash  occurred  in  the  upper 
regions.  I  looked  aloft,  and  right  over  the  snow-brow  which 
here  closed  the  view,  I  perceived  a  large  brown  boulder  in 
the  air,  while  a  roar  of  unseen  stones  showed  that  the 
visible  projectile  was  merely  the  first  shot  of  a  general  can- 
nonade. They  appeared, — pouring  straight  down  upon  us, 
—the  sides  of  the  couloir  preventing  them  from  squander- 
ing their  force  in  any  other  direction.  c  Schnell ! '  shouted 
the  man  behind  me,  and  there  is  a  ring  in  the  word,  when 
sharply  uttered  in  the  Alps,  that  almost  lifts  a  man  off  his 
feet.  I  sprang  forward,  but  urged  by  a  sterner  impulse, 
the  man  behind  sprung  right  on  to  me.  We  cleared  the 
furrow  exactly  as  the  first  stone  flew  by,  and  once  in  safety 
we  could  calmly  admire  the  wild  energy  with  which  the 
rattling  boulders  sped  along. 

Our  way  now  lay  up  the  couloir  ;  the  snow  was  steep  but 
knobbly,  and  hence  but  few  steps  were  required  to  give  the 
boots  a  hold.  We  crossed  and  recrossed  obliquely,  like  a 
laden  horse  drawing  up  hill.  At  times  we  paused  and  exa- 
mined the  heights ;  our  couloir  ended  in  the  snow-fields 
above,  but  near  the  summit  it  suddenly  rose  in  a  high  ice- 
wall.  If  we  persisted  in  the  couloir,  this  barrier  would  have 
to  be  surmounted,  and  the  possibility  of  scaling  it  was  very 
questionable.  Our  attention  was  therefore  turned  to  the 
rocks  at  our  right,  and  the  thought  of  assailing  them  was 
several  times  mooted  and  discussed.  They  at  length  seduced 
us,  and  we  resolved  to  abandon  the  couloir.     To  reach  the 


DANGEROUS   CANNONADES  99 

rocks,  however,  we  had  to  recross  the  avalanche  channel, 
which  was  here  very  deep.  Benen  hewed  a  gap  at  the 
top  of  its  flanking  wall,  and  stooping  over,  scooped  steps 
out  of  the  vertical  face  of  indurated  snow.  He  then  made 
a  deep  hole  in  which  he  anchored  his  left  arm,  let  himself 
thus  partly  down,  and  with  his  right  pushed  the  steps  to 
the  bottom.  While  this  was  going  on,  small  stones  were 
continually  flying  down  the  gully.  Benen  reached  the 
floor  and  I  followed.  Our  companion  was  still  clinging  to 
the  snow  wall,  when  a  horrible  clatter  was  heard  overhead. 
It  was  another  stone  avalanche,  which  there  was  hardly  a 
hope  of  escaping.  Happily  a  rock  was  here  firmly  stuck 
in  the  bed  of  the  gully,  and  I  chanced  to  be  beside  it 
when  the  first  huge  missile  appeared.  This  was  the  de- 
linquent which  had  set  the  others  loose.  I  was  directly  in 
the  line  of  fire,  but  ducking  behind  the  boulder  I  let  the 
projectile  shoot  over  my  head.  Behind  it  came  a  shoal  of 
smaller  fry,  each  of  them,  however,  quite  competent  to 
crack  a  human  life.  Benen  shouted  6  quick ! '  and  never 
before  had  I  seen  his  axe  so  promptly  wielded.  You  must 
remember  that  while  this  infernal  cannonade  was  being 
executed,  we  hung  upon  a  slope  of  snow  which  had  been 
pressed  and  polished  to  ice  by  the  descending  stones ;  and 
so  steep  that  a  single  slip  would  have  converted  us  into  an 
avalanche  also.  Without  steps  of  some  kind  we  dared  not 
set  foot  on  the  slope,  and  these  had  to  be  cut  while  the 
stone  shower  was  in  the  act  of  falling  on  us.  Mere 
scratches  in  the  ice,  however,  were  all  the  axe  could  accom- 
plish, and  on  these  we  steadied  ourselves  with  the  energy 

n  2 


100  ON    THE    ROCKS 

of  desperate  men.  Benen  was  first,  and  I  followed 
him,  while  the  stones  flew  thick  beside  and  between 
us.  Once  an  ugly  lump  made  right  at  me;  I  might 
perhaps  have  dodged  it,  but  Benen  saw  it  coming, 
turned,  caught  it  on  the  handle  of  his  axe  as  a  cricketer 
catches  a  ball,  and  thus  deflected  it  from  me.  The 
labour  of  his  axe  was  here  for  a  time  divided  between 
the  projectiles  and  the  ice,  while  at  every  pause  in  the 
volley,  i  he  cut  a  step  and  sprang  forward.'  Had  the  peril 
been  less,  it  would  have  been  amusing  to  see  our  con- 
tortions as  we  fenced  with  our  swarming  foes.  A  final 
jump  landed  us  on  an  embankment,  out  of  the  direct  line 
of  fire  which  raked  the  gully,  and  we  thus  escaped  a 
danger  new  in  this  form  and  extremely  exciting  to  us  all. 
We  had  next  to  descend  an  ice  slope  to  the  place  at  which 
the  rocks  were  to  be  invaded.  Andermatten  slipped  here, 
shot  down  the  slope,  knocked  Benen  off  his  legs,  but 
before  the  rope  had  jerked  me  off  mine,  Benen  had 
stopped  his  flight.  The  porter's  hat,  however,  was  shaken 
from  his  head  and  lost.  Our  work,  as  you  will  see,  was 
not  without  peril,  but  if  real  discipline  for  eye,  limb, 
head,  and  heart,  be  of  any  value,  we  had  it  here. 

Behold  us  then  fairly  committed  to  the  rocks  ;  our  first 
acquaintance  with  them  was  by  no  means  comforting,  — 
they  were  uniformly  steep,  and  as  far  as  we  could  judge 
from  a  long  look  upwards  they  were  likely  to  continue  so. 
A  stiffer  bit  than  ordinary  interposed  now  and  then, 
making  us  feel  how  possible  it  was  to  be  entirely  cut  off. 
We  at    length  reached  real  difficulty   number   one :    all 


UP   THE   PRECIPICES  101 

three  of  us  were  huddled  together  on  a  narrow  ledge,  with 
a  smooth  and  vertical  cliff  above  us.  Benen  tried  it  in 
various  ways  while  we  held  on  to  the  rocks,  but  he  was  seve- 
ral times  forced  back  to  the  ledge.  At  length  he  managed 
to  get  the  fingers  of  one  hand  over  the  top  of  the  cliff, 
while  to  aid  his  grip  he  tried  to  fasten  his  shoes  against 
its  face.  But  the  nails  scraped  freely  over  the  granular 
surface,  and  he  had  practically  to  lift  himself  by  a  single 
arm.  As  he  did  so  he  had  the  ugliest  place  beneath 
him  over  which  a  human  body  could  well  be  suspended. 
We  were  tied  to  hirn  of  course ;  but  the  jerk,  had  his  grip 
failed,  would  have  been  terrible.  I  am  not  given  to  heart- 
beat, but  here  my  organ  throbbed  a  little.  By  a  great 
effort  he  raised  his  breast  to  a  level  with  the  top,  and 
leaning  over  it  he  relieved  the  strain  upon  his  arm.  Sup- 
ported thus  he  seized  upon  something  further  on,  and 
lifted  himself  quite  to  the  top.  He  then  tightened  the 
rope,  and  I  slowly  worked  myself  over  the  face  of  the  cliff 
after  him.  We  were  soon  side  by  side,  while  immediately 
afterwards  Andermatten  with  his  long  unkempt  hair,  and 
face  white  with  excitement,  hung  midway  between  heaven 
and  earth  supported  by  the  rope  alone.  We  hauled  him 
up  bodily,  and  as  he  stood  upon  our  ledge,  his  limbs 
quivered  beneath  him. 

We  now  strained  slowly  upwards  amid  the  maze  of 
crags,  and  scaled  a  second  cliff  resembling,  though 
in  a  modified  form,  that  just  described.  There  was  no 
peace,  no  rest,  no  delivery  from  the  anxiety  '  which 
weighed    upon    the    heart.'      Benen    looked    extremely 


102  UP    THE    PRECIPICES 

blank,  and  often  cast  an  eye  downward  to  the  couloir, 
which  we  had  quitted,  muttering  aloud,  i  had  we  only 
stuck  to  the  snow ! '  He  had  soon  reason  to  em- 
phasise his  ejaculation.  After  climbing  for  some  time, 
we  reached  a  smooth  vertical  face  of  rock  from  which 
right  or  left,  there  was  no  escape,  and  over  which  we  must 
go.  Bennen  first  tried  it  unaided,  but  was  obliged  to 
recoil.  Without  a  lift  of  five  or  six  feet,  the  thing  was 
impossible.  When  a  boy  I  have  often  climbed  a  wall  by 
placing  a  comrade  in  a  stooping  posture  with  his  hands 
and  head  against  the  wall,  getting  on  his  back,  and  per- 
mitting him  gradually  to  straighten  himself  till  he  be- 
came erect.  This  plan  I  now  proposed  to  Benen,  offering 
to  take  him  on  my  back.  '  Nein,  Herr ! '  he  replied ; 
tf  nicht  Sie,  ich  well  es  mit  Andermatten  versuchen.'  I 
could  not  persuade  him,  so  Andermatten  got  upon  the  ledge, 
and  fixed  his  knee  for  Benen  to  stand  on.  In  this  position 
my  guide  obtained  a  precarious  grip,  just  sufficient  to 
enable  him  to  pass  with  safety  from  the  knee  to  the  shoulder. 
He  paused  here,  and  pulled  away  such  splinters  as  might 
prove  treacherous,  if  he  laid  hold  of  them.  He  at  length 
found  a  firm  one,  and  had  next  to  urge  himself,  not  fairly 
upward,  for  right  above  us  the  top  was  entirely  out  of 
reach,  but  obliquely  along  the  face  of  the  cliff.  He  suc- 
ceeded, anchored  himself,  and  called  upon  me  to  advance. 
The  rope  was  tight,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  not  vertical,  so 
that  a  slip  would  cause  me  to  swing  like  a  pendulum  over 
the  cliff's  face.  With  considerable  effort  I  managed  to 
hand  Benen  his  axe,    and  while  doing  so  my  own  staff 


THE  PORTER  HAULED  UP  103 

escaped  me  and  was  irrecoverably  lost.  I  ascended  Ander- 
matten's  shoulders  as  Benen  did.  but  my  body  was  not 
long  enough  to  bridge  the  way  to  Benen's  arm ;  I  had  to 
risk  the  possibility  of  becoming  a  pendulum.  A  little 
protrusion  gave  my  left  foot  some  support.  I  raised 
myself  a  yard,  and  here  was  suddenly  met  by  the  iron 
grip  of  my  guide.  In  a  second  I  was  safely  stowed  away 
in  a  neighbouring  fissure.  Andermatten  now  remained. 
He  first  detached  himself  from  the  rope,  tied  it  round  his 
coat  and  knapsack  which  were  drawn  up.  The  rope  was 
again  let  down,  and  the  porter  tied  it  firmly  round  his 
waist,  it  tightened  and  lifted  him  tiptoe.  It  was  not  made 
in  England,  and  was  perhaps  lighter  than  it  ought  to  be ; 
to  help  it  hands  and  feet  were  scraped  with  spasmodic 
energy  over  the  rock.  He  struggled  too  much,  and  Benen 
cried  sharply,  and  apparently  with  some  anxiety,  6  Lang- 
sam  !  langsam !  Keine  Furcht ! '  The  poor  fellow  looked 
very  pale  and  bewildered  as  his  bare  head  emerged  above 
the  ledge.  His  body  soon  followed.  Benen  always  uses 
the  imperfect  for  the  present  tense,  '  Er  war  ganz  bleich,' 
he  remarks  to  me,  the  c  war,'  meaning  ist. 

The  young  man  seemed  to  regard  Benen  with  a  kind  of 
awe.  '  Mein  Herr,'  he  exclaimed,  '  you  would  not  find  ano- 
ther guide  in  Switzerland  to  lead  you  up  here.'  Nor,  indeed, 
to  Benen's  credit  be  it  spoken,  would  he  have  done  so  if 
he  could  have  avoided  it ;  but  we  had  fairly  got  into  a  net, 
the  meshes  of  which  must  be  resolutely  cut.  I  had  pre- 
viously entertained  the  undoubting  belief  that  where  a 
chamois  could  climb  a  man  could  follow ;  but  when  I  saw 


104  SUMMIT   GAINED 

the  marks  of  the  animal  on  these  all  but  inaccessible 
ledges,  my  belief,  though  not  eradicated,  became  weaker 
than  it  had  previously  been.  Onward  again  slowly  wind- 
ing through  the  craggy  mazes,  and  closely  scanning  the 
cliffs  as  we  ascended.  Our  easiest  work  was  stiff,  but 
the  c  stiff'  was  an  agreeable  relaxation  from  the  perilous. 
By  a  lateral  deviation  we  reached  a  point  whence  we  could 
look  into  the  couloir  by  which  Mr.  Tuckett  had  ascended  : 
here  Benen  relieved  himself  by  a  sigh  and  ejaculation : 
*  Would  that  we  had  chosen  it,  we  might  pass  up  yonder 
rocks  blindfold ! '  But  repining  was  useless,  our  work 
was  marked  out  for  us  and  must  be  accomplished.  After 
another  difficult  tug  Benen  reached  a  point  whence  he 
could  see  a  large  extent  of  the  rocks  above  us.  There  was 
no  serious  difficulty  within  view,  and  the  announcement 
of  this  cheered  us  mightily.  Every  vertical  yard,  how- 
ever, was  to  be  won  only  by  strenuous  effort.  For  a  long 
time  the  snow  cornice  hung  high  above  us ;  we  now  ap- 
proach its  level ;  the  last  cliff  forms  a  sloping  stair  with 
strata  for  steps.  We  spring  up  it,  and  the  magnificent 
snowfield  of  the  Gorner  glacier  immediately  opens  to  our 
view.  The  anxiety  of  the  last  four  hours  disappears  like 
an  unpleasant  dream,  and  with  that  perfect  happiness 
which  perfect  health  can  alone  impart,  we  consumed  our 
cold  mutton  and  champagne  on  the  summit  of  the  old 
Wiessthor. 

To  the  habits  of  the  mountaineer  Milton's  opinion  re- 
garding the  utility  of  teaching  the  use  of  weapons  to  his 
pupils  is  especially  applicable.     Such  exercises  constitute 


FAREWELL  105 

fa  good  means  of  making  them  healthy,  nimble,  and  well 
in  breath,  and  of  inspiring  them  with  a  gallant  and  fear- 
less courage,  which,  being  tempered  with  seasonable  pre- 
cepts of  true  fortitude  and  patience,  shall  turn  into  a 
native  and  heroic  valour,  and  make  them  hate  the 
cowardice  of  doing  wrong.'     Farewell ! 


THE    END. 


LONDON 

PRINTED     BY     SPOTTISWOODE     AND     CO. 

NEW-STREET  SQUABE 


PEAKS,  PASSES,  AND  GLACIERS.— SECOND  SERIES. 


On  Tuesday,  April  29,  will  be  published,  in  2  vols,  square  crown  8vo. 

with  4  Double  Maps  and  10  Single  Maps  by  Edward  Weller, 

F.R.Gr.S.  ;  and  51  Illustrations  on  Wood  by  Edward 

Whymper  and  George  Pearson,  price  42*.  cloth, 

A    SECOND     SERIES     OF 

PEAKS,  PASSES,  AND  GLACIERS, 

CONSISTING-  OF 

EXCURSIONS  AND  EXPLORATIONS  BY  MEMBERS 
OF  THE  ALPINE  CLUB. 

EDITED   BY 

EDWABD  SHIELEY  KENNEDY,  M.A.,  E.E.G.S., 

President  of  the  Club. 

THE  CONTENTS  WILL   BE   AS    FOLLOWS: — 

Chapter  I. 

Icelandic  Travelling. 

1.  Travels  through  Iceland,  principally  in 
the  Eastern  and  South-Eastern  dis- 
tricts; comprising  a  Visit  to  the 
Vatna  and  Orcefa  Jokuls,  and  a 
Journey  thence  by  way  of  beru- 
fjordr,  Bru,  and  Herdubreid,  to 
Myvatn  and  Krabla    Edward  Thudstan  Holland,  B. A. 

Chapter  II. 
The  Ober  Engadine. 

1.  Explorations  of  the  Roseg  Glacier     ..  Arthur  Milman,  M.A. 

2.  The  Ascent  of  the  Pizzo  Bernina   Edward  Shirley  Kennedy,  M.A. 

Chapter  III. 
The  Noric  Alps. 
The  Ascent  of  the  Gross  Glockner....   William  Brinton,  M.D. 

Chapter  IV. 
The  Chamounix  District. 

1.  The  Passages  of  the  Glacier  du  Tour 

and  of  the  Col  de  Miage John  G.  Dodson,  M.P. 

2.  Narrative  of    the  Accident   on    the 

Slopes  of  the  Col  de  Miage  in  July, 

1861 The  Rev.  Charles  Hudson,  M.A. 

Chapter  V. 
The  High  Level  Glacier  Route  from  Chamounix  to  Zermatt. 

1.  The  Col  d'Argentiere  from  Chamou- 

nix  to  St.  Pierre* Stephen  Winkworth. 

*  Indicates  New  Ascents  and  Passes. 


Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers. 


2.  The  Col  de  Sonadon  from  St.  Pierre 

to  Ollomont* Frederick  William  Jacomb. 

3.  The  Col  de  Sonadon  from  St.  Pierre  to 

Chermontane* The  Rev.  J.  F.  Hardy,  B.D. 

4.  The  Col  de  Chermontane  from  Cher- 

montane to  Arolla*  Sir  T.  Fowell  Buxton,  Bart.  M. A. 

5.  The  Col  de  la  Reusse  de  1' Arolla  from 

Chermontane   to  Prerayen*;   with 

Notes  on  the  Valpelline F.  F.  Tuckett,  F.R.G.S. 

6.  The  Col  de  Valpelline  from  Prerayen 

to  Zermatt,  with  the  Ascent  of  the 

TSte  Blanche*    Frederick  William  Jacomb. 

Chapter  VI. 
The  Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers  of  Monte  Rosa. 

1.  The  Ascent  of  the  Breithorn Edward  Schweitzer. 

2.  The  Col  de  Lys* Wm.  Mathews,  Jun.,  M.A.,  F.G.S. 

3.  The  Ascent  of  the  Lyskamm* The  Rev.  J.  F.  Hardy,  B.D. 

4.  The  Col  des  Jumeaux  and  the  Twins*  Wm.  Mathews,  Jun.,  M.A.,  F.G.S. 

5.  The  Ascent  of  the  Nord  End  of  Monte 

Rosa* Edward  Buxton. 

Chapter  VII. 
The  Urner,  Bernese,  and  Valaisian  Oberland. 

1.  The  Ascent  of  the  Schreckhorn*  The  Rev.  Leslie  Stephen,  M.A. 

2.  The  Passage  of  the  Either  Joch* The  Rev.  Leslie  Stephen,  M.A. 

3.  The  Ascent  of  the  Aletschhorn*   F.  F.  Tuckett,  F.R.G.S. 

4.  From  the  Griitli  to  the  Grimsel,  in- 

cluding the  Ascent  of  the  Thier- 

berg* R.  W.  Elliot  Forster. 


Chapter  VIII. 
The  Graian  Alps. 

1.  The    Hunting    Grounds    of    Victor 

Emmanuel   ,....   F.  F.  Tuckett,  F.R.G.S. 

2.  The  Ascent  of  the  Grivola* John  Ormsby. 

3.  The  Alps  of  the  Tarentaise W.  Mathews,  M.A.,  F.G.S. 

4.  Two  Ascents  of  the  Grand  Paradis*  . .  J.  J.  Cowell,  F.R.G.S. 

Chapter  IX. 
The  Cottian  Alps. 

Monte  Viso* Wm.  Mathews,  Jun.,  M.A.,  F.G.S. 

Chapter  X. 
Excursions  in  Dauphine. 

1.  The  Passage  of  the  Col  de  la  Tempe 

from  the  Valley  of  La  Berade  to  the 
Val  Louise,  and  of  the  Col  de 
l'Echauda  from  Val  Louise  to  Le 
Monetier P.  C.  Nichols,  F.S.A. 

2.  With  a  Sketch  of  the  Col  de  la  Selle 

from  La  Grave  to  St.  Christophe  . .   E.  Blackstone,  B.C.L.,  F.R.G.S. 

3.  The  Val  de  St.  Christophe  and  the 

ColdeSais  The  Rev.  T.  G.  Bonney,  M.A.,  F.G.S. 

4.  The  Ascent  of  Mont  Pelvoux* Edward  Wh  ymper. 

*  Indicates  New  Ascents  and  Passes. 


UPB 


Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers. 


Chapter  XI. 
The  Pyrenees. 

The  Passage  of  the  Port  d'Oo  and 
Ascent  of  the  Pic  des  Posets Charles  Packe,  Jun.,  B.A. 

Chapter  XII. 
The  Glaciers  of  Norway. 

A  Visit  to  the  Jokuls  Glacier The  Rev.  J.  F.  Hardy,  B.D. 

Chapter  XIII. 
Phenomena  observed  on  Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers. 

1.  Observations  on  the  relative  amount 

of  Ozone  at  different  Altitudes F.  F.  Tuckett,  F.R.G.S. 

2.  Hypsometry The  Rev.  G.  C.  Hodgkinson. 

3.  An  Examination  of  the  Dirt  Bands  on 

the  Lower  Grindelwald  Glacier ....  F.  F.  Tuckett,  F.R.G.S. 

Chapter  XIV. 
Tables  of  the  Heights  of  the  Principal  Peaks  and  Passes. 

1.  The  Pyrenean  Peaks  and  Passes Charles  Packe,  Jun.,  B.A. 

2.  The  Alpine  Peaks  and  Passes F.  F.  Tuckett,  F.R.G.S. 


LIST   OF   THE    MAPS. 


1.  (double)  South-East  part  of  Iceland 

2.  The  Pyrenees,  South  of  Luchon 

3.  (double)  The  Graian  Alps 

4.  Sketch-Map  of  Pelvoux 

5.  Monte  Viso 

6.  Miage 


7,  8,  9.    The  High  Level  Route 

10.  (double)  The  Monte  Rosa  District 

11.  The  Pizzo  Bernina 

12.  (double)  The  Gross  Glockner 

13.  Alps  of  Uri 

14.  The  Bernese  Oberland 


LIST  OF   THE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Icelandic  Travelling. 


1.  Lang  Jokull  (page) 

2.  Interior  of  the  Surtshellir  Cavern 

3.  The  Lava  Field  and  Surtshellir 

Cavern 

4.  Crossing  a  Torrent 


5.  Herdubreid  from  Krabla 

6.  Sand  Crater 

7.  Oroefa  Jokull 

8.  Raudholt 

9.  Oroefa  Jokull 


The  Chamounix  District. 
10.  Outline  Sketch  of  the  Col  de  Miage 

The  High  Level  Glacier  Route  from  Chamounix  to  Zermatt. 


11.  Col  de  Sonadon  (page) 

12.  Natural  Pillars  on   the  Col   de 

Sonadon 


13.  Outline  Sketches  of  the  Matter- 

horn 

14.  Head  of  the  Valpelline 


Teaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers. 


The  Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers  of  Monte  Rosa. 


15.  The  Lyskamm  from  Gressoney 
St.  Jean 


16.  The  Lyskamm  from  the  Gorner- 
grat  {page) 


17.  Monte  Rosa  from  the  Gornergrat  (page) 


18.  Icicle  Crevasse  on  the  Bernina 

(page) 


The  Ober  Engadin. 

19.  The  Bernina  Chain  from  Boval 


The  Noric  Alps. 
20.  Summit  of  the  Gross  Glockner  |       21.  TheGemse  spies  my  hat 


The  Timer,  Bernese,  and  Valaisian  Oberland. 


22.  Rhone  Glacier  and  Triften  Joch 

23.  Summit  of  the  Thierberg 

24.  The  Schreckhorn  from  the  Grin- 

delwald  Glacier  (page) 


25.  The  Either  Joch  from  the  Wen- 

gwn  Alp  (page) 

26.  The  Aletschhorn  from  the  Mg- 

gischhorn  (page) 


27.  The  Ruitor  from  Aosta 

28.  The  Grivola  (page) 

29.  The  Grivola 


The  Graian  Alps. 

30.  The   Grand   Paradis   from    the 
Cramont 


The  Cottian  Alps. 


31.  Monte  Viso  from  the  N.  (page) 

32.  Plan  of  Monte  Viso 

33.  The  Summit  of  Monte  Viso 


34.  Outline  Sketch  of  the  Viso  from 

Turin 

35.  A  Pinnacle  of  Monte  Viso 


36.  Col  de  Sais  and  Glacier  de  Con- 

damine 

37.  Pinnacles  of  Pelvoux  from  the 

Glacier  Noir 

38.  Foot  of  Glacier  Noir,  &c. 

39.  La  Berarde  (page) 

40.  The  Mountains  of  St.  Christophe 

41.  The  Pic  d'Alefroid  (Pic  sans  nom) 

from  the  Col  de  Sais 


Excursions  in  Dauphine. 

42.  The  Pic  du  Midi  de  la  Grave 

43.  Sketch-Map  of  Author's  route 

44.  Mont  Pelvoux  from  La  Bessde 

45.  The  Grand  Pelvoux   from   Val 
Louise 

46.  Cascade  near  la  Grave 

47.  A  Buttress  of  Pelvoux 

48.  Outline  Sketch  to  show  Author's 
route 


The  Pyrenees. 


49.  The  Port  d'Oo,  Pyrenees  (page) 

50.  The  Maladetta  from  the  Antenae 


51.  Port  de  Venasque  and  the  Pic 
de  Sauvegarde 


Books  relating  to  Alpine  Travelling. 


THE  FIRST  SERIES  OF 


PEAKS,  PASSES,  AND  GLACIERS, 

COMPRISING    EXCURSIONS   BY 


E.  L.  Ames,  M.A. 
E.  Anderson. 
J.  Ball,  M.R.I.A. 
C.  H.  Bunbury,  M.A. 
Rev.  J.  Ll.  Davies,  M.A. 
R.  W.  E.  Forster. 
Rev.  J.  F.  Hardy,  B.D. 


F.  V.  Hawkins,  M.A. 
T.  W.  Hinchliff,  M.A. 
E.  S.  Kennedy,  M.A. 
W.  Mathews,  Juh.,  M.A. 
A.  C.  Ramsay,  F.R.S.  &  G.S. 
A.  Wills,  of  the  Middle  Temple, 
Barrister-at-Law,  and 


J.  Tyndall,  F.R.S. 
Edited  by  JOHN  BALL,  M.R.I.A.,  F.L.S. 

Fourth  Edition,  in  one  volume,  square  crown  8vo.  with  8  Illustrations  inChromo- 
lithography,  8  Maps  illustrative  of  the  Mountain  Explorations  described  in 
the  volume,  a  Map  illustrative  of  the  Ancient  Glaciers  of  part  of  Caernarvon- 
shire, various  Engravings  on  Wood,  and  several  Diagrams.     Price  21s.  cloth. 

55"  The  Eight  Swiss  Maps,  accompanied  by  a  Table  of  the  Heights  of  Mountains, 
may  be  had  separately.    Price  3s.  6d. 

V  A  few  copies  only  of  the  Fourth  Edition,  as  above,  with  Plates,  &c.  remain  on 
sale.    This  Edition  will  not  be  reprinted. 


TRAVELLERS'    EDITION 

OF 

THE  FIRST  SERIES  OF  PEAKS,  PASSES,  AND  GLACIERS. 


PEAKS,  PASSES,  AND   GLACIERS; 

A  Series  of  Excursions  by  Members  of  the  Alpine  Club. 

r 

Edited  by  JOHN  BALL,  M.R.I.A.,  F.L.S.,  President. 

Travellers'  Edition  (being  the  fifth),  comprising  all  the  Mountain  Expeditions 
and  the  Maps,  printed  in  a  condensed  form  adapted  for  the  Traveller's  knap- 
sack or  pocket.    !6mo.  price  5s.  6d<  half-bound. 


Books  relating  to  Alpine  Travelling. 


THE  OLD  GLACIERS  OF  NORTH  WALES 
AND  SWITZERLAND. 

By  A.   C.  RAMSAY,  F.E.S.  and  G.S. 

Local  Director  of  the  Geological  Survey  of  Great  Britain,  and  Professor  of  Geology 
in  the  Government  School  of  Mines. 

Revised  and  reprinted  from  "  Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers,"  and  forming  a 

Guide  to  the  Geologist  in  North  Wales. 

With  Woodcuts  and  Map.    Fcp.  8vo.  price  4s.  6d. 


ALPINE    BY-WAYS; 

OR,   LIGHT  LEAVES   GATHERED   IN   1859-1860. 


By  a  LADY  (Mrs.  HENKY  FEESHFIELD). 

With  8  Illustrations  in  Chromo-Iithography  from  Original  Sketches,  and  4  Route 
Maps.    Post  8vo.  price  10s.  6d. 


CONTENTS. 

1.  Murren  and  the  Schilthorn 

2.  Engelberg  and  the  Titlis 

3.  The  Gries  and  Albrun  Passes 

4.  The  Rawyl  Pass  and  Anderlenk 

5.  The  Valleys  of  Sixt  &  Champery 

6.  The  Panoramas  of  the   Graian 

Alps 

7.  Breuil  and  the  St.  Theodule 

8.  The  Riffel  and  Cima  Di  Jazi 

9.  Ascent  of  the  Mettelhorn 

10.  Mattmark  and  the  Monte  MOro 

11.  The  Col  de  Barranca  and  Varallo 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1.  The  Weisshorn, from  above  Randa, 

from  a  Drawing  by  Ed.  Why  mper 

2.  Dedication  Page 

3.  The  Titlis,  from  above  Engelberg 

4.  Anderlenk 

5.  Sixt  and  the  Pic  De  Tinneverges 

6.  Samoens 

7.  Cogne 

8.  Saas 

9.  The  Cima  Di  Jazi,  from  Macug- 

naga 


MAPS. 


1.  Oberland 

2.  Sixt  and  Champery 


3.  The  Graian  Alps 

4.  The  Matterhorn  and  Monte  Rosa 


Books  relating  to  Alpine  Travelling. 


A   SUMMER   TOUR 

IN  THE  GKISONS,  AND  THE  ITALIAN  VALLEYS  OF 

THE  BERNINA. 

By  MRS.  HENRY  FRESHFIELD, 

Author  of  Alpine  By-ways. 

1  vol.  post  8vo.  with  a  Map  and  Illustrations  in  Chromo-lithography. 

[Now  ready. 


This  Volume  directs  attention  to 
a  district  of  Eastern  Switzerland 
rich  in  magnificent  scenery  and 
historical  associations,  which  has 
hitherto  escaped  the  wandering 
footsteps  of  our  summer  travellers, 


to  whom  it  opens  a  region  full  of 
interest  and  beauty.  It  is  ac- 
companied by  a  Map,  and  illus- 
trated with  Views  in  Chromo-litho- 
graphy  by  Messrs.  M.  and  N. 
Hanhart. 


A  LADY'S  TOUR  ROUND  MONTE  ROSA 

With  Visits  to  the  Italian  Valleys  of  Anzasca,  Mastalone,  Camasco,  Sesia,  Lys, 
Challant,  Aosta,  and  Cogne.  In  a  Series  of  Excursions  in  the  years  1850, 
1856,  1858.  With  a  Map  of  the  District,  4  Illustrations  in  Chromo-lithogra- 
phy  from  Original  Sketches  by  Mr.  G.  Barnard,  and  8  Engravings  on  Wood. 
Post  8vo.  price  14s. 


THE   ALPS; 

Or,    SKETCHES  OF  LIFE   AND   NATURE    IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 
By  BARON  H.  VON  BERLEPSCH. 

Translated  by  the  Rev.  Leslie  Stephen,  M.A.,  Fellow  and  Tutor  of  Trinity  Hall, 
Cambridge.  With  17  Tinted  Illustrations,  engraved  on  Wood  from  the 
Original  Drawings  by  Emil  Rittmeyer.    8vo.  price  15s.  cloth. 


SKETCHES  OF  NATURE  IN  THE  ALPS. 

Translated  from  the  German  of  FRIEDRICH  VON  TSCHUDI  by 
LOUISA  A.   MERIVALE.    16mo.  price  2s.  6d. 


Books  relating  to  Alpine  Travelling. 


SUMMER  MONTHS  AMONG  THE  ALPS  : 

WITH  THE  ASCENT  OF  MONTE  ROSA. 

By  THOMAS  W.  HINCHLIFF,  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  Barrister-at-Law. 

With  4  Views,  in  tinted  Lithography,  from  Sketches  by  the  Author, 
and  3  coloured  Maps.    Post  8vo.  10s.  6d. 


THE   EAGLE'S   NEST 

In  the  Valley  of  Sixt ;  a  Summer  Home  among  the  Alps :  Together  with  some 
Excursions  among  the  Great  Glaciers. 

By  ALFRED  WILLS,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  Esq.,  Barrister-at-Law  ; 

Author  of  Wanderings  among  the  High  Alps,  and  one  of  the  Contributors 
to  Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers. 

Second  Edition,  revised  and  corrected ;  with  2  Maps  of  the  Valley  of  Sixt  and 
the  surrounding  country,  and  12  Illustrations  drawn  on  Stone  by  Hanhart, 
from  Sketches  and  Photographs  by  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Wills.  Post  8vo.  price 
12s.  6d.  cloth. 


London :    LONGMAN,  GREEN,  and  CO.  14  Ludgate  Hill. 


tfl/ 


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