CHAPTER VI.

A few words on our complexions--Certificates procured--Ladies'

preparation for an attempt--Nipped in the bud--Concluding remarks.

APPENDIX.

A brief account of some of the most noted ascents--Routes to Chamonix

from the Lake of Geneva.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

THE VALLEY OF CHAMONIX _Frontispiece._

MONT BLANC FROM THE BREVENT, SHEWING THE ROUTE 13

THE GLACIER DES BOSSONS 18

THE "CABANE" ON THE GRANDS MULETS 26

MONT BLANC FROM THE COL DE BALME 42

COMING DOWN THE GLACIER DES BOSSONS 50

DIAGRAM SHEWING THE RELATIVE HEIGHTS OF MONT BLANC AND SNOWDON 56

MAP OF ROUTES TO CHAMONIX 72

_CHAPTER I._

"And thou, fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains,

Why are ye beautiful?"

On a delightful evening in the month of July, 1881, table d'hote being

over, my friend S---- and myself were seated under the verandah of the

hotel d'Angleterre at Chamonix; there were many others besides

ourselves, chiefly English and Americans, grouped in parties, some

taking their coffee, others smoking, and all devoting their attention to

the summit of Mont Blanc whose diadem of snow was being warmed in colour

if not in reality by the last rays of the setting sun. Though seven

miles off as the crow flies it seemed much nearer, and it was hard to

realize that some twelve or fourteen hours of incessant toil must be

undergone before the foot could be planted on that rounded crest of

eternal snow, that guide and porter must be employed, and that ropes

and ice-axes must be brought into requisition before those apparently

gently-sloping hills of pure white down could be traversed. They looked

so smooth, so inviting, and so incapable of doing any one harm.

The summit changed from gold to grey, the dome and Aiguille du Goute

faded from view, the Grands Mulets were no longer to be seen, and the

form of the Glacier des Bossons could scarcely be distinguished from the

Montagne de la Cote. Gradually and imperceptibly they vanished into

night, the stars came out, the guests retired, and following their

example I climbed up to my room on the sixth floor. We had left Martigny

at four in the morning, and had walked most of the way to Forclaz, and

the whole of it from thence over the Col de Balme, so I was not sorry to

get to bed. Not having the remotest intention of making the ascent my

slumbers were undisturbed by the excitement which they say invariably

precedes the undertaking, from which even professionals are said not to

be exempt. On getting up next morning I was very agreeably surprised to

find that the sun was shining brightly on the summit which was entirely

free from clouds--a somewhat unusual circumstance, as lofty mountain

peaks more often than otherwise are enveloped in them, especially in the

morning.

Feeling lazy and somewhat stiff after our long walk of the previous day,

we loitered about till nearly twelve o'clock, and then decided upon

taking advantage of the splendid weather by making an excursion to the

Brevent, a mountain on the north side of the valley, from which the view

of the Mont Blanc chain is one of the finest in the neighbourhood. A

mule was hired with a boy to attend it, and a stout muscular young guide

named Francois Ravanel was employed--not that there was any need of his

good services, but the rules and regulations of the "Bureau des Guides"

must be complied with, and one of these stipulates that a guide must in

all cases accompany a mule.

After crawling upwards for a couple of hours, we arrived at a newly

erected hut, where refreshment was provided, and here the remainder of

the afternoon was devoted to the inspection of the magnificent scenery

which surrounded us on every side. The Valley of Chamonix lies nearly

east and west, and is so narrow that it might almost be termed a ravine.

It is rather more than ten miles long and less than half a mile in

width. The mountains of the Mont Blanc range on the south, and those of

the Brevent, on the north, rise abruptly on either side, their bases

being covered with thick forests of pine for some two thousand feet

above the valley. On the south side countless "aiguilles" pierce the

sky, from le Tour on the east to the Aiguille du Goute on the west.

These graceful spires are of warm tinted rock, and here and there

streaks of snow are to be seen in the crevices and gullies which are

shaded from the sun. Several large glaciers descend from the northern

slopes of the Mont Blanc chain, the first at the east or upper end being

the Glacier du Tour; the next is the Glacier d'Argentiere, which is the

largest of them all, being no less than seven miles long between its

upper and lower extremities and about a mile wide for two-thirds of its

length, at which point it tapers off--as all glaciers do on approaching

the valley. Three miles further to the west is the Glacier des Bois, the

termination of the famous Mer de Glace. Between it and the village of

Chamonix there are two or three unimportant glaciers which do not quite

reach the forest. The Glaciers des Bossons and Taconnaz complete the

list, the latter being ten miles from the Glacier du Tour.

These gigantic streams of ice, hundreds of feet thick, are formed in the

upper regions of the mountains, and slowly and with irresistible force

slide down towards the valley, moving at a rate which varies according

to the season and other circumstances, but which seldom exceeds three

feet per day. They do not, however, quite reach the foot of the

mountain, for, as the temperature is excessively hot during the summer

months, the ice thaws rapidly, and the water thus formed rushes out in a

roaring torrent through a tunnel-like hole at the extremity or "Snout."

[Illustration: VIEW OF MONT BLANC FROM THE BREVENT.

1 Forest des Pelerins.

2 Pierre Pontue.

3 Glacier des Bossons.

4 Grands Mulets.

5 Petit Plateau.

6 Grand Plateau.

7 Bosses du Dromadaire.

8 Summit of Mont Blanc.

A Aiguille du Midi.

B Mont Blanc du Tacul.

C Mont Maudit.

D Dome du Goute.

E Aiguille du Goute.

F Montagne de la Cote.

G Glacier de Taconnaz.

H Montagne de la Cote.

NOTE.--_The route to the Summit is indicated by the dotted line._]

These torrents flow into the Arve, which in summer time roars along the

valley, leaping wildly over a bed of rocks and boulders in its headlong

course to mingle with the waters of the Rhone at Geneva.

The view of Mont Blanc from this spot was magnificent. His snow-capped

head, glistening against a cloudless sky, formed the centre of the

picture. Slightly on his left, and a little lower, was the Mont Maudit,

separated by a thin line from the Mont Blanc du Tacul, and below the

rocky base of the former several dark-looking pointed specks could be

seen on the snow, the lower being the Grands-Mulets rocks, the upper the

Aiguilles a Pichner. Lower yet are the Glaciers des Bossons and

Taconnaz, on either side of the Montagne de la Cote, their delicately

green tinted surfaces becoming more rugged and sparkling as they neared

the valley. Apparently within rifle range the Aiguille du Midi raised

its mitred summit 12,600 feet above the sea, the precipitous naked rock

contrasting with the snow which here and there found lodgment, or lay in

detached fields some 5,000 feet above the valley. On the right of the

"Monarch of the Mountains" the Dome and Aiguille du Goute with their

silver robes completed the scene.

On our way down the following arrangements were made for the next day's

excursion:--We were to visit the Grands Mulets, and in order to be back

for dinner were to start at six in the morning. A porter was to be

engaged, not to carry us or our belongings, but to act as the rear-guard

when the rope was used in dangerous places, and Francois undertook to

find a suitable man for that purpose. A mule was to be hired, Francois

remarking "you shall have the same mule and the same boy you had to-day;

you know them both."

_CHAPTER II._

"Around his waist are forests braced,

The Avalanche in his hand."

"Friend! have a care,

Your next step may be fatal!--for the love

Of Him who made you, stand not on that brink!"

The day broke bright and clear, and at six we were introduced by

Francois to his friend, Jules Tairraz, who looked very business-like

with a knapsack on his back and carrying an ice-axe and a coil of rope.

The mule having overslept himself, we went on without him, and awaited

his arrival under the trees at the foot of the mountain. At last the

lazy brute hove in sight, walking in his usual style; then our coats,

the knapsack, rope, etc., were strapped on, and by way of adding to his

comfort I got into the saddle, and thus the ascent was begun.

The route lay through the forest des Pelerins, and for some distance ran

parallel with the Arve, crossing the torrents which flow into that

river, over picturesque wooden bridges. Then, on approaching the lower

extremity of the Glacier des Bossons, it wound to the left and

zig-zagged up the base of the mountain.

As we ascended the steep and narrow track an occasional gap in the trees

afforded a sight of the glacier and enabled us to perceive that

substantial progress was being made.

The first stage of mountain climbing in these parts is decidedly

tiresome; the forest is so thick one can see little else besides, and

there is a monotony in the operation that would be unendurable were it

not for the end in view. The trees at length became more scarce and

stunted, and after two hours of this unexciting work they disappeared

altogether; Pierre Pointue was reached, and the first stage of our

journey was thus accomplished. Here we breakfasted. I spent some time in

sketching this spot with its unassuming little buildings, and the

Aiguille du Goute in the back ground. We then moved on without the mule

and boy, and worked our way round the face of the mountain, the rock

being perpendicular to the left, and on our right a precipice, but the

track was sufficiently wide to enable us to walk in comfort and without

experiencing any of those feelings of nervousness which Albert Smith

felt when passing over the same ground thirty years ago.

Three quarters of an hour after leaving Pierre Pointue, we reached

Pierre a l'Echelle, against whose side was reared a strong ladder which

is kept for use when the crevasses are too wide to be crossed without

its assistance. Its services were not, however, required on this

occasion.

Before introducing my readers to the Glacier des Bossons, which we were

about to traverse, I may remark that opinions differ widely as to the

difficulties and dangers of the undertaking. Some make very light of

them, while others lead one to suppose that nothing short of cat-like

agility, combined with heroic courage, could surmount the obstacles. The

fact is, that leaving out of consideration experience, nerve, and

surefootedness, the crossing of the Glacier may be comparatively easy

one day, and beset with dangers another, the difficulties varying with

the state of the ice, which is constantly changing. New crevasses are

being formed, and those already in existence alter from day to day, so

that great skill is required on the part of the guides to select a

feasible route. Then, again, a snow bridge, consisting of a mere lump of

snow jammed into the upper part of a wide crevasse, may bear one's

weight or not according to a variety of circumstances, so after making

due allowance for the disparagement of difficulties on the one hand,

and the exaggeration of them on the other, it may fairly be said that

walking over the Bossons is not exactly child's play.

At about eleven o'clock we stepped on the ice and were agreeably

surprised to find that there was no tendency to slip, our boots having

been well studded with nails before starting, and as yet the points had

not become rounded through wear. For the first half hour walking was

fairly easy, the surface, though irregular, being in no way difficult.

After this we reached a queer-looking place, where the ice was split up

with yawning crevasses whose edges twisted and turned in the most

extraordinary way. Here there was a bit of climbing in which both hands

and feet had to take their part. Francois helped S----, Jules helped me,

and we each helped the other until all were safely across; and then

turning to look at the gulf we had just passed we noticed that the

_face_ of the ice (not the surface) was exquisitely tinted with the most

delicate green and blue, deepening into azure until it was lost in the

abyss.

Between this spot and the junction of the Glaciers des Bossons and

Taconnaz, the ice was tolerably regular, and being free from snow there

were no unseen crevasses to be guarded against; until we reached the

"junction," where these mighty Glaciers part company. They seem to part

in anger, for here the ice is in a frightful state of confusion, with

the "seracs" (ice-bergs) heaped about in all directions, and with

fathomless crevasses on every side.

[Illustration: GLACIER DES BOSSONS.]

A halt was called, and Francois uncoiled the rope which he measured out,

forming a loop at every twelve feet or thereabouts; we were tied round

the chest, and having been cautioned to keep our distances, and on no

account to let the cord be slack, we proceeded on our way very slowly,

and with the greatest care. This was by far the most trying part of the

Glacier, and just before quitting this chaos our nerves were put to a

severe test, for the only method of advance was over a ridge of ice

about a foot wide, twisting about, and having a very irregular surface.

Francois went first and cut some rude steps with his ice-axe, then we

walked after him at a snail's pace, at one moment seeking for a good

foot-hold, and the next looking into the crevasses on either side, the

azure blue of which was more beautiful than ever. We crossed without a

slip, and Francois remarked, "the most difficult part of the ascent to

the summit has now been accomplished."

This observation, however, was not borne out by the facts which shall be

narrated in due course; but small blame to him, poor fellow! He was a

young guide, having only just passed his examination and obtained his

certificate, consequently he was naturally anxious to lead a party to

the top; besides this there was another motive, his fee would be

increased five-fold, twenty francs being the regulation charge to the

Grands Mulets, a hundred to the summit. For the next half hour or so

numerous crevasses barred the way; when they did not exceed four feet or

a little more we jumped across, and although we soon became accustomed

to the work it was not always an easy operation, for putting aside the

ugly look of the chasm, the foot-hold not being secure, it was a

somewhat difficult matter to spring from the slippery brink of ice on

which we stood. Sometimes we crossed over a snow-bridge but a few feet

wide, Francois first prodding it with the handle of his axe; then, being

satisfied that it would bear, he stepped forward, while we stood on the

alert to save him from an untimely death should the snow give way. The

difficulties lessened as we advanced, and, our attention not being

constantly directed to our footsteps, we were enabled to look about us a

little more. The dark-coloured Grands Mulets, no longer insignificant

but rising some hundreds of feet above the snow, their wedge-like forms

leaning well forward, seemed to defy the mighty downward pressure of

avalanche and ice.

The colour of the sky was of the deepest blue, almost indigo, the

intensity of which far exceeded anything we had ever seen, or could have

imagined possible, and it was not until we had been in the "Cabane" on

the Grands Mulets for some time that we discovered that the sky is the

same here as in any ordinary atmosphere at a lower level. The cause of

the deception is easily explained; our eyes had been rivetted on ice and

shining snow for several hours, consequently the colour appeared deeper

by contrast. At length we quitted the Glacier, and the remainder of the

journey was on slopes of snow. In some respects it was pleasanter than

before; there was a nice soft feeling about it, there was no fear of

slipping, and no particular care had to be exercised. On the other hand

the work was more fatiguing, and worst of all our boots were getting wet

through. The base of the Grands Mulets was nearly reached when our

arrival was announced by Jules, who gave a genuine Alpine shout which

was answered from the "Cabane," and, having clambered up the rocks, at

1.30 we entered the little hut.

Prior to Albert Smith's ascent there was no refuge of any kind in this

wild and exposed situation. But as the number of excursionists spending

a night on the rocks to see the glories of sunset and sunrise was on the

increase, a rude hut fourteen feet long by seven wide was erected by the

guides in 1854. The walls were formed of flat blocks and splinters of

the rock, and the roof was of boards.

The existing "Cabane" is somewhat larger. It is divided into three

compartments, two of which are furnished with a couple of beds covered

with coarse rugs, a deal table and two stools. The other room is fitted

with a small cooking-stove, and is used by the man and woman in charge,

and by passing guides and porters. On the north side there is a narrow

walk about a yard in width protected by a hand-rail, and on the west a

short sloping path leading to the snow. Hence it is plain that the life

of those who dwell on this barren rock during the season is not unlike

that of lighthouse keepers. True it is that they may stretch their legs

on the snow, but the only out of door exercise they can take in comfort

is the narrow walk, some forty or fifty feet in length, referred to.

Supplies are as a matter of course brought to this isolated place with

difficulty and at considerable expense, consequently the prices charged,

though high, are not exorbitant, more especially as the proprietor pays

a large sum to the Commune for his license. Luncheon was just over when

a foreigner, accompanied by two guides and a porter, joined us in the

hut. He was on his way back to Chamonix, having successfully made the

ascent. There was an air of joy in his countenance, and satisfaction in

his every movement, and we fondly hoped to be in the same happy frame of

mind at the expiration of twenty-four hours or so. Having rested for a

while, he with his party quitted the "Cabane," and, roped together,

crept down the rocks. Just as they reached the snow I shouted to the

guide, "Will you have the kindness to tell them at the hotel

d'Angleterre that we mean to go to the top?" "Very well, sir, I shall

not forget." Then leaning over the post and rail-fence, we watched them

going down the slopes till they disappeared from view among the

"seracs."

_CHAPTER III._

"The world is all before me; I but ask

Of Nature that with which she will comply--

It is but with her summer's sun to bask,

To mingle in the quiet of her sky,

To see her gentle face without a mask,

And never gaze on it with apathy."

Then we were left alone. "All heaven and earth are still, though not in

sleep." The sun shone brightly on the pure white snow by which we were

surrounded; the air was motionless, and not a sound disturbed the

stillness of that memorable afternoon.

At our feet lay the Glacier des Bossons. "Heaven-descended in its

origin, it yet takes its mould and conformation from the hidden womb of

the mountain which brought it forth. At first soft and ductile, it

acquires a character and firmness of its own, as an inevitable destiny

urges it on its onward career. Jostled and constrained by the crosses

and irregularities of its prescribed path, hedged in by impassable

barriers which fix limits to its movements, it yields groaning to its

fate, and still travels forward seamed with the scars of many a conflict

of opposing obstacles. All this while, though wasting, it is renewed by

an unseen power,--it evaporates, but is not consumed.

"On its surface it bears the spoils which, during the progress of its

existence, it has made its own; often weighty burdens devoid of beauty

or value, at times precious masses, sparkling with gems or ore. Having

at length attained its greatest width and extension, commanding

admiration by its beauty and power, waste predominates over supply, the

vital springs begin to fail; it stoops into an attitude of

decrepitude--it drops the burdens one by one it had borne so proudly

aloft--its dissolution is inevitable. But as it is resolved into its

elements, it takes all at once a new, and livelier, and disembarrassed

form; from the wreck of its members it arises 'another, yet the same'--a

noble, full-bodied, arrowy stream, which leaps rejoicing over the

obstacles which had stayed its progress, and hastens through fertile

valleys towards a freer existence, and a final union in the ocean with

the boundless and the infinite."

Northward on the opposite side of the valley rose the Brevent. The

buttress up which we had ridden the day before seemed quite vertical and

inaccessible from this point of view. The pine forest clothing its base

resembled turf, while the zig-zag paths above appeared as fine yellow

threads. Turning towards the west, vast fields of sloping snow formed

the foreground, and towering above them rose the imposing Dome du Goute,

relieved here and there by dark-coloured patches of rock; further to the

left the base of the Aiguille a Pichner, the upper of the two little

specks we had noticed at Chamonix and from the Brevent. Time passed

rapidly; what with sketching, discussing the prospects of a successful

ascent (concerning which our fellows had not the slightest misgiving,

although we had two guides less than the regulation number), perusing

the traveller's book, looking at the scenery, and basking in the sun, we

had a most delightful time of it. At five we sat down to a plain dinner,

although it consisted of several courses; and having indulged in our

usual smoke, we lay down to rest during the few hours which remained

before our re-commencing the ascent. Although it was rather early for

sleep we might have done something in that direction had not our

attempts been rudely interfered with. When we lay down all was still as

death, and remained so for a time; then there was a terrific noise of

stones rattling against the wooden walls of the hut. The cause of all

this was that an addition to the building is about to be made, and the

levelling of the rock for its reception is done by the men who bring up

the materials from Pierre Pointue, and the only time they give to it is

before retiring at night. What muscles these fellows must have! They had

crossed the Glacier _twice_ that day with heavy loads of wood on their

backs, and not contented they must needs set to work at sunset to the

discomfort of those who, like good children, had gone to bed at an early

hour. At length this diabolical noise ceased, and we again courted

sleep, and were on the verge of attaining it when voices were heard

outside followed by a thundering kick at the door, which was opened by

the inconsiderate fellow who had bestowed it, and who, on perceiving

that the beds were occupied, uttered a "Pardon, Messieurs," and slamming

it disappeared. But this was not the last of him and his friend, who,

occupying the next room to ours, made as much noise as if they were

doing it by contract. The partition being thin I heard nearly every word

they said, and was somewhat amused and very disgusted at the following

dialogue which was carried on in French between one of the tourists and

a guide.

[Illustration: Aiguille a Pichner. Dome du Goute.

"CABANE" ON THE GRANDS MULETS.]

"What are the regulations as to the payment of your expenses here?"

"There are no regulations, sir; you are not obliged to pay for us; but

as a fact we have never paid; our employers have invariably done so."

"Oh, very well, we don't object, only we think that if you let it be

understood that you would have to pay, they would probably charge

somewhat less!" Exit guide.

To this interesting conversation succeeded the clattering of knives and

forks; later on subdued talking, which ended finally in regular and

prolonged snores. These interruptions effectually drove sleep away, coax

it as we would. With closed eyes and in a half dreamy state I saw the

"seracs" and crevasses, and passed over the ground we had traversed in

the morning. Then regaining the full possession of my faculties, I asked

myself if I was not bent on taking part in an idiotic action by starting

in the middle of the night to clamber up some thousands of feet of snow

and ice. Should I be repaid for the trouble and discomfort? Most likely

there would be clouds or mist to hide the scenery, and even if there

were not, would the game be worth the candle? Would not my friends say,

"Very wrong, and very foolish, too; you ought to have known better?"

Inclination tried hard to make me change my resolve, but was beaten in

the attempt; and I am glad of it, for I was repaid, and amply, too.

Later on, in the perfect stillness of that calm night, I heard a loud

rattling report caused by the falling of a mighty avalanche. It was now

ten o'clock; rolling restlessly about, I waited for the knock which was

to summon us at a quarter to twelve. At last it came; a shuffling of

feet was heard which approached nearer and nearer, then the signal was

given, and in a few minutes we were ready for Francois to put on our

half dried and dreadfully stiff boots (despite the grease) and to tie on

the gaiters. I ate some bread and cheese, and drank a glass of water,

but S---- took nothing. My flask was filled with brandy; some

provisions, two bottles of Bordeaux, and one of Champagne, were stowed

away in Jules' knapsack, and we each took a packet of raisins, prunes,

and chocolate, which we were assured would be very acceptable later on.

As to our clothing, S---- had on an alpaca coat and knickerbockers,

whilst I wore an ordinary light summer suit. We were unprovided with top

coats, wrappers, and had _no_ gloves. S---- had bought a pair of

coloured spectacles some day previously, but, having nothing of the

kind, I was fortunate in being able to procure a pair of goggles at the

Grands Mulets, without which I could not have made the ascent, as the

glare of the snow would in all probability have produced snow blindness.

We were now at an elevation of 10,000 feet, the goal we hoped to reach

at six or seven in the morning was 15,780 feet above the sea,

consequently the portion _yet_ to be ascended was no less than 5,780

feet, or nearly twice the height of Snowdon. Midway between the Grands

Mulets and the summit is the Grand Plateau, and to reach it three

gigantic snow-slopes or steps, each some 900 feet high, have to be

surmounted, then the remaining portion of the journey is over the

Bosses du Dromadaire, the Mauvaise Arete, and the final slope.

_CHAPTER IV._

"The stars are forth, the moon above the tops

Of the snow-shining mountains.--Beautiful!"

Our modest preparations being now completed, the rope was stretched

along the narrow path, loops were made, and we were tied in the

following order--Francois, S----, myself, then Jules. All being ready,

Francois moved forward with a lantern, and in a couple of minutes we

were fairly on the snow. All thoughts of difficulties, dangers, and what

our friends would say, were left in the "Cabane," and our sole attention

was devoted to the breasting of the gigantic slopes which are called Les

Montees.

The night was fine but dark, the moon not having risen yet. Onwards and

upwards we went in silence, and with slow and measured tread, keeping at

distances of about twelve feet apart. We had not proceeded very far

before we came to a dead stop, and on enquiring of S---- what it meant,

he replied that Francois' nose was bleeding. This is one of the many

inconveniences to which one is liable at these altitudes. On looking

back we saw a light advancing, and as it came nearer and nearer we made

out the figures of a party of six men crawling slowly in our direction.

They were the noisy foreigners who had not added to our comfort in the

"Cabane." On drawing near a great deal of talk went on between their

guides and ours in patois. Then they went ahead, and, Francois having

recovered, we followed them closely, as soon as the route--concerning

which there appeared to be some doubt--had been agreed upon. The work

was tiresome, with nothing to look at besides the snow under our feet,

and no excitement of any description, not even the jumping of a

crevasse. To add to the monotony, talking was prohibited, for, having

made some remarks to Jules as we went along, I was advised by him not to

speak; and no doubt he was right, as a certain amount of exertion was

necessary to carry on a conversation, separated as we were by an

interval of several yards. This portion of the journey was decidedly

uphill work, figuratively as well as literally. At about two o'clock the

moon appeared above the tops of the mountains, and although it had just

entered the last quarter, it afforded sufficient light to enable

Francois to dispense with the lantern, which he left on the snow; on

several occasions we stopped a considerable time while mounting the

steep slopes, without any apparent reason.

At last, becoming quite impatient, I asked S---- to pass the word to

Francois to get ahead of the "foreigners." He preferred, however, to

follow in their path, thinking that the track must be rather more easy

by being beaten down. Although so thinly clad I did not suffer in the

least from cold, except in my feet, which was not to be wondered at,

considering that my socks were cotton, and that my boots, damp at

starting, were now wet through. On nearing the Petit Plateau we went up

a slope which was nearly perpendicular. It was not snow, for that

substance could not have stood at so steep an angle; and it was not hard

ice, but neve--its consistence was much the same as that of an ice

pudding; by giving a smart kick the foot entered sufficiently to afford

a good hold. It was really very steep, and at the same time a

particularly easy bit of climbing; but, had we been photographed, the

uninitiated would have marvelled at our daring. After this we walked on

the level for a short distance, and arrived in full sight of the Petit

Plateau before reaching which we we went along some very narrow ridges

of ice with deep crevasses on either side, then up some snow slopes, at

the top of which we stood on the Plateau. This we crossed at as rapid a

pace as circumstances permitted on account of the danger of falling

avalanches that beset this spot. The guides will have it that the

slightest disturbance of the atmosphere, such as can be created by the

human voice, is sufficient to cause a disaster; and as it is always as

well to practice obedience, we proceeded on our way without uttering a

word.

So far I had not experienced any difficulty of breathing, nor had I

suffered from thirst; but soon after quitting the Grands Mulets I felt a

dryness in the mouth and throat, and then I tried the effects of a

raisin; but not being satisfied with the result, took a prune, and,

discarding the fruit, rolled the stone in my mouth, from which process I

derived great benefit. Plodding steadily upwards, we asked from time to

time whether we were not yet half way? "No, sir; not till we arrive at

the Grand Plateau, and it is some distance off yet."

How we longed for day-light, that the monotony of this night excursion

might be broken by the sight of the grand scenery which, though

surrounding, was almost invisible to us!

Before the Grand Plateau was reached we stopped for refreshment. We had

been tramping for nearly four hours, and it was needed. The knapsack was

opened, and a bottle of wine produced, but what about the corkscrew?

Left behind of course! So Francois volunteered to operate with his

ice-axe, but as he was far less expert in decapitating a bottle than in

hewing steps, a considerable portion of the contents was lost. It was

not long before we resumed our march, and having nearly traversed the

Grand Plateau another halt was made, and this time we meant to eat as

well as drink. Not feeling hungry I was told by our fellows that no one

had much appetite up here. Then the remaining bottle of claret was

uncorked with care, and after we had partaken of its contents sparingly,

it was deposited in the snow for our return. Much as we should have

liked to sit down and rest we could not do so, for reposing on a bed of

snow was not to be thought of. Resuming our journey we soon came up with

and passed the other party who were grouped together apparently engaged

in our late occupation. Dawn now began to break, and stopping for a few

minutes at the foot of a long and regular incline I said to S---- "Well,

have have you had enough of it?" To my inexpressible surprise, he

answered "Yes, I feel so ill that I do not think I shall be able to go

on, and the summit seems as far off as ever." It was now broad

day-light, and we were little more than half-way.

"Oh! come on, women have done it, and why should not we?"

"I am ill, and your talking in that way only makes me worse."

Then I called Francois, who made light of it, remarking that feelings of

sickness are often experienced in this locality; the flask was produced,

and we took a little nip all round, and went on.

After going a short distance, S---- said, "I feel dreadfully ill, I

never felt so bad in my life, it is impossible for me to go on. I could

not reach the Plateau for L10,000. Go on, and I will find my way back to

the Grands Mulets, somehow."

"That's out of the question; you can't get there alone, and as there is

no help for it, we must all go back." Then I told Francois, and the poor

fellow's countenance at once fell below zero.

This was his first ascent as guide, although he had accompanied other

parties as porter on eleven previous occasions. Matters certainly looked

gloomy at this moment. S---- not only appeared the picture of misery,

but was undoubtedly very ill--suffering, in fact, from mountain

sickness; he complained of internal cold and shivered all over, besides

experiencing other sensations which are best described in his own

words,--"It seemed as though all power had departed from my limbs, my

eyes were dim and incapable of vision, and I more than once put my hand

to them and my ears and mouth to make sure that blood was not spurting

forth."

Feeling averse to beat a hasty retreat after all the toil that had been

undergone, and when the end was so comparatively near, and hoping

against hope that S---- might yet be able to reach the summit, we tried

to make him as comfortable as possible. A seat was made on the snow with

alpenstocks and ice-axe handles, and Jules goodnaturedly took off his

jacket, in which he wrapped the invalid. It was near this very spot that

Sir Thomas Talfourd's expedition was forced to return through the same

cause in 1843. At this time the other party came in sight, crawling

slowly up the slope of snow, walking in single file, and roped together.

On moving past us and noticing that there was something amiss, one of

the guides observed to me:

"You are all right, or you would not be able to smoke." They then

discovered that we were going back, and the same fellow who had just

spoken to me said, "Do you wish to make the ascent, sir?"

"Of course I do; that is why I am here."

"Then untie yourself and fasten on to our line, and come on."

"Yes, with pleasure, if your employers are willing."

Whispering was carried on, and, after some conversation in patois,

Francois announced that they were _not_ willing.

Then S---- rose up, quietly remarking:

"We had better get on."

"You can't do it, man; you are far too ill."

"I will, if I die for it!"

Without further talk we made a fresh start up this interminable slope.

The indignation S---- felt at the churlish behaviour of the

"foreigners" completely restored him, the effect produced being the same

as intense excitement on those who are suffering from _mal-de-mer_. I

pictured to myself the fun we should have on our way back, and the

railway speed with which we should come down, but I quite left out of

the calculation what the condition of the snow might be a few hours

hence. It was broad day-light when we reached the top of the incline,

and the sun's welcome rays were beginning to brighten up the aiguilles

and peaks on our left. Looking back the spectacle was not only grand and

beautiful but weird-like, and the perfect stillness that reigned made it

all the more impressive. The valley of Chamonix was filled with clouds,

not mere fog or mist, but real clouds rolling beneath us, and slowly

rising up the mountains whose rugged peaks and sharp-pointed aiguilles

reared their graceful heads against a back ground of unclouded sky. The

scene was one to be remembered, and we felt that we were beginning to

reap the fruits of our five hours toil. Travelling was fairly easy, the

snow being in splendid condition, and as there was no danger to be

guarded against we were able to devote the whole of our attention to the

scenery. The summit shining white certainly appeared nearer than it did

from the Hotel d'Angleterre, but not so close as we should have expected

after the hours we had spent in journeying towards it. Arriving at the

Rochers des Bosses, some low, flat rocks, scarcely rising above the

surrounding snow, their surfaces rent by the severity of the climate

into thousands of sharp jagged pieces of stone, we sat down to rest for

the first time since quitting the Grands Mulets. Lying down on this hard

but welcome couch, and warmed by the sun now shining brightly upon us,

we surveyed the remaining portion of the task before us--the 1,500 feet

and more--yet to be mounted, immense fields of snow to be traversed, les

Bosses du Dromadaire to be climbed--and then the final slope. Having

"lighted up" I felt in a very contented mood, then an involuntary nod

reminded me that we had not slept since the night before

last,--puff--nod--puff--then a longer doze.

"Francois, I should like to have a snooze."

"You must not, sir!"

"It can't do any harm."

"You must not!"

"Then the sooner we are off the better, for there is a lot of work to be

done yet."

Getting up lazily, we buckled to once more, and surmounting first the

Grande and then the Petite Bosse, we approached a pure white ridge,

sharp as a knife, and apparently vertical. Wondering how Francois would

steer, whether to the right or left, so as to scale one of the sides, I

was surprised to see him direct his steps to the centre. "Surely he

does not intend to go up that frightful ridge! He does, though!" and on

reaching it he informed us that it was the Mauvaise Arete; and a more

wicked _back-bone_ could scarcely be conceived.

This was the spot which was visited by Pierre Balmat, Marie Couttet,

Francois Paccard, and several others, when exploring the mountain on the

8th of June, 1786. They described it as a "huge ridge which connected

the top of Mont Blanc with the Dome du Goute, but it was so steep and

narrow that its passage was impossible;" and having concluded that the

summit was inaccessible by this route, they returned to Chamonix. The

Corridor and Mur de la Cote is the route generally followed, but this

one is somewhat shorter and less fatiguing, though more difficult. It

cannot, however, be made use of unless the weather is calm. Speaking for

myself, I did not relish the prospect of climbing that knife edge, which

was frightfully steep, scarcely a foot in width, apparently several

hundred feet high, and its sides not very far removed from the

perpendicular. Acting on the principle that when a disagreeable thing

has to be done the sooner the better, we did not linger at the base, but

went straight at it, slowly and with the greatest care, for we were now

on ice. Before taking a step our alpenstocks were firmly driven in,

which was a most laborious operation, although the surface was

sufficiently soft to enable us to do so by stabbing it several times on

each occasion. Francois had by far the heaviest task to perform, for he

had constantly to use his axe in cutting steps. How long this went on I

am unable to say, perhaps half an hour, most likely more; all I know is

that ultimately we found ourselves standing in a happy frame of mind on

the snow, which was almost level, and here we rested, panting, after our

exertions, and then walking forward almost on a level the foot of the

last slope was soon reached, and now the final assault was begun.

The work was very stiff, though by no means difficult or dangerous, and

we stopped more than once. Feeling very tired I remarked to Francois:

"Well, I confess that I am fatigued."

"And so are we, sir," was his laconic reply.

During the whole of the ascent I had not experienced so much difficulty

in walking as now. I felt as though I had a greater weight to support,

and compare the work to carrying a heavy load up a long flight of

stairs. And this was not to be wondered at, considering that the density

of the air at this elevation is as nearly as possible half that at the

level of the sea. Going up the Arete the pause between each step,

whilst the alpenstock was being driven in, was sufficiently long to

afford a rest. Then again, the mind was so occupied that fatigue, though

doubtless present, passed unnoticed. But neither at this nor at any

other time did I experience any difficulty of breathing or feelings of

suffocation.

At last the goal was reached!--we stood on the summit of Mont Blanc!

The customary salute of three guns was fired from Chamonix; the bottle

of champagne was drunk with the usual toasts; and, having shaken hands

all round, we turned our attention to the world below--on which we did

not seem to stand, but rather on some huge white cloud. Above the sky

was a clear, unbroken atmosphere of blue; far beneath the spot on which

we stood detached fields of clouds covered the landscape, and, uniting

with the horizon, had the appearance of a vast sea; some of them, rising

above the rest, resembled island rocks, while others towered up like

gigantic cliffs.

Monte Rosa, the rival of Mont Blanc, though rearing its proud head far

above the ocean of clouds, seemed but a mere rock. The Jura was scarcely

visible; the Brevent was indistinct; the Mont Maudit, Tacul, and the

other peaks of the Mont Blanc range, though near and unclouded, were

dwarfed into insignificance as we looked down upon them. There was no

inclination to identify mountain, lake, or city, but rather to gaze in

silence on that vast and weird-like scene.

[Illustration: MONT BLANC FROM THE COL DE BALME.]

"There is a calm upon me--

Inexplicable stillness! which till now

Did not belong to what I knew of life.

... It will not last,

But it is as well to have known it, though but once;

It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense,

And I within my tablets would note down

... That there is such a feeling."

_CHAPTER V._

"The mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds

Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury."

Would that our stay could have been prolonged! but frail human nature

cannot perform impossibilities. We had been on foot nine hours, and had

a long day's work before us; furthermore we were thinly clad, and were

exposed to a chilly breeze, from which no shelter could be found; so,

casting a look on this indescribable scene, and with feelings of grim

satisfaction that its awful stillness would never be profaned by crowds

of noisy tourists and vendors of cheap articles, we commenced to retrace

our steps.

The Mauvaise Arete, bad as we had found it going up, was infinitely

worse coming down; the ridge seemed narrower, and the slopes on either

side much steeper. Several times our fellows called out "you must not

look down, gentlemen;" but fortunately neither S---- nor myself were

troubled with nervousness, and we did look down the steep inclines,

whose end to all appearance was eternity. Slowly and cautiously the

descent was made, each one minding his neighbour as well as himself, and

taking special care that the rope should not be slack. We did not walk

in step like soldiers on the march, but advanced in a succession of

jerks as it were. Francois having made a step, stood still; S---- having

followed his example, I did the same, and when Jules had completed his

part of the performance, the opera was repeated. Some idea of the

steepness of the ridge may be formed, when I say that at one

exceptionally steep place I leaned back, and rested my shoulders against

it. Jules at once called out, "Don't do that, sir, you are more likely

to slip; trust to your heels." So following his advice I dug them well

in and by dint of care the foot was safely reached, and we all looked

forward to an easy and enjoyable return. But the end had not come yet!

At the Rochers des Bosses we felt very much inclined to lie down, and to

take it easy, but Francois urged us on, not liking the appearance of a

cloud which was drifting in our direction. Clouds are one of the sources

of danger on the mountain, through which cause eleven lives were lost a

few years since. The poor fellows being unable to find their way

perished of cold and exposure.

We were marching down the rocks in a leisurely manner, and I, forgetful

that we were roped, was paying no attention whatever to those who

preceded me, the foot-hold being secure, when suddenly I felt a terrific

jerk, and before there was time to plant myself firmly on my feet I had

lost my balance, and was on the point of falling headlong, when to my

great satisfaction a violent backward pull arrested a very ugly fall,

which would probably have resulted in a broken limb if not something

worse.

The cause of this was an unseen piece of ice upon which S---- had placed

his foot--slipped--and, falling suddenly, had communicated his

misfortune to me through the agency of the rope. The alpenstock was

jerked violently out of his hand, and went glissading down the snow for

a distance of a hundred yards at least. It stopped, however, in a place

that fortunately was accessible.

The snow was now no longer in the same condition as in the early

morning, the heat, though temperate, being sufficient to soften the

crust, and render walking very laborious; and as we reached the top of

the incline, where the expedition nearly came to an abrupt termination,

and down which we had expected to glissade, we found the snow so soft

that we sank in it to the knee and occasionally to the waist.

Floundering along, and with an occasional grumble at a style of work

for which we had not bargained, we slowly and gradually descended this

unlucky slope, till its foot was reached. Parched and weary we went on,

keeping a sharp look out for the wine we had left in the snow. "There it

is!" "No! that belongs to the foreigners." "Then ours can't be far off;"

and sure enough it was found in the same place where we had left it. Our

stock of drinkables was now exhausted.

Nearing the Petit Plateau we were enabled to examine the much-feared

avalanches, which were almost invisible during the ascent. In appearance

they were not unlike chalk cliffs, cracked here and there as though the

foundation had yielded. On the whole, these huge blocks looked safe

enough, with the exception of one some thirty feet in height which was

hanging over, ripe for a fall at any moment. Under the very shadow of

this threatening mass of consolidated snow we were bound to pass, and,

eyeing it with suspicion, we increased our pace to the utmost possible

speed, when, as luck would have it, S---- sank into a mixture of ice and

snow just as we were immediately underneath. Francois turned back, and

tugged away; Jules went forward to assist, but their united efforts

proving of no avail they resorted to their ice-axes, and finally

succeeded in quarrying out the imprisoned limb. This was probably the

most hair-breadth escape during the whole expedition. With feelings of

relief we walked on in silence, and crossed the same uninviting ridges,

high walls of ice, with crevasses on the right hand and on the left; as

it was softer than on our way up, there was a feeling of suspicion that

the material might give way at any moment. However, it held good, and

once again we exclaimed, "All right."

Moving cautiously along, we reached the brink of the nearly vertical

slope referred to in the ascent, and now that it was visible we wondered

how we had climbed it. Looking down it appeared quite perpendicular, and

its condition was so changed by the influence of the sun that going down

in the same free and easy way that we had climbed up was quite out of

the question. "Francois, cannot we get round that way?" "It is

impossible, sir." "Well, what is to be done?" "Oh! we shall manage very

well!" We were now untied, then each one in turn was fastened round the

chest with an end of the rope, the other being held by those above.

S---- went first and disappeared over the brink; my turn came next, and

holding the rope firmly, and kicking my feet into the soft neve, I

joined him below; then Francois followed, and lastly Jules, and a very

trying time it must have been for him, for he was obliged to descend by

his own unaided exertions. The rope being fastened round his waist, we

held the other end, carefully taking in the slack as he came down, so

that in the event of a fall we might prevent him from slipping into

eternity down the slope on which we stood. As he worked his way down by

kicking his feet into the partially-melted neve, and retaining his

vertical position by means of the ice-axe, he seemed like a fly on a

wall, and was more to be admired than envied; but to his credit he

descended the forty-five feet without a slip.

Pausing for a few minutes, we commenced the descent of les Montees in a

very matter-of-fact way, glissading being quite out of the question on

account of the soft condition of the snow, for the weather was now

excessively hot. Although we were going downhill, the work was trying

enough, and to make matters worse the flask was empty! However, the

Grands Mulets were in sight, and the thought of the "Cabane," and the

refreshment contained therein, encouraged us as we alternately buried

and extricated our legs in and out of the yielding snow. The

much-desired haven seemed so very near, that I remarked in a diffident

way, "Another quarter of an hour, Jules?" "Three quarters, sir."

Deceived again! How provokingly distinct it appeared through the pure

atmosphere, unpolluted with smoke, gas, and the many other impurities to

which we are subject in England. The remaining thousand feet or

thereabouts having been descended without any incident worth recording,

we entered the "Cabane" at two o'clock, tired, parched, and our lower

extremities wet through. S---- forthwith threw himself on a bed, and

was sound asleep in a moment. Our trusty fellows disappeared, and having

taken off my boots I had some luncheon, with a bottle of beer, which was

perfect nectar. I lay down on one of the beds, and smoked the pipe of

peace. We had allowed ourselves a rest of an hour and a half; at 3-30

p.m., time being up, we once more and for the last time got into

harness, and ten minutes afterwards quitted the "Cabane." We worked our

way down the rugged rocks at a quick pace, for the weather had changed

and a thunderstorm was rapidly approaching. Heavy clouds were rolling up

the valley, and ever and anon a clap of thunder pealed forth,

reverberating amongst the mountains. "I am very anxious to cross the

glacier before the rain comes down." "Very well, Francois, go ahead as

fast as you like, and we won't stop you." So down the slopes of snow we

went at a rapid pace, soon arriving on the ice. Our route was not the

same as on going up, in consequence of a change in the crevasses; they

are always changing, for the glacier, as I have before explained, never

remains still, moving forward at the rate of some three feet or even

more per day.

[Illustration: COMING DOWN THE GLACIER DES BOSSONS.]

On the whole we found the work less trying than on the previous day.

Whether it was really so, or only by comparison, I cannot tell; however,

there were one or two awkward bits to dispose of, one, especially, which

was a perpendicular face of ice forming the side of a deep crevasse,

along which we worked our way by stepping into holes cut into it at

every two or three feet, and by gripping the ice in notches which were

hewn out for this purpose. Then the ropes were untied, and we felt like

colts unloosed. The remaining portion of the glacier was speedily

crossed; the rocky base of the Aiguille du Midi was traversed at a run;

the little torrents were bounded over; the rude zig-zag paths, covered

with rolling stones, were scampered down, and Pierre Pointue was safely

reached. Here we paid our bill for board and lodging at the Grands

Mulets, and whilst refreshing ourselves, we were rather amused at

hearing an altercation between the "foreigners"--who, by the way, had

made the ascent--and the landlord respecting the price of a bottle of

wine! This was the last we saw of them.

We now commenced the final stages of our journey, and a wet one it

proved, for the storm was overhead, the lightning flashed, and the rain

began to fall; and by the time we entered the Forest des Pelerins, it

came down in torrents. Being without top-coats or umbrellas, it was not

long in penetrating our thin clothing. But what did it signify? The

journey was nearly over, and the thought that our impromptu expedition

had been so successful cheered us as we strode down the zig-zags, which

seemed never ending. The bottom, however, was reached at last, and,

gaining the level, we soon found ourselves on the outskirts of the

village. The populace did not turn out, neither did we attempt to form a

procession, _a la_ Albert Smith, but quietly, and in the same

unostentatious manner that we had left on the previous day, we directed

our way to the Hotel; on approaching which we were rather astonished at

being again saluted by cannon, and much more so at finding the entrance

hall of the Hotel filled with guests, who had hurriedly left the table

d'hote to welcome our safe arrival. It was very good of them to give,

and very pleasant for us to receive, their kind and unexpected

congratulations. Our wet clothes having been changed, we spent a

pleasant evening sitting under the verandah, and talking over our

adventures.

_CHAPTER VI._

"Here are the Alpine landscapes which create

A fund for contemplation; to admire

Is a brief feeling of a trivial date;

But something worthier do such scenes inspire."

On getting up next morning I felt rather stiff, and there was a burning

sensation all over my face and ears, as though they had undergone a mild

scorching. The effect of the sun's rays and radiation from the snow is

very remarkable, and in a few hours the complexion is dyed the colour of

mahogany. Much to our surprise, Francois and Jules, weather-beaten and

sun-burnt as they were before going up, were several shades darker on

their return. As for S---- his condition was simply deplorable, and he

suffered great inconvenience for more than a week afterwards. For

several days he presented an indescribably unwholesome appearance, and

it was not until the whole of his skin had fallen off--which it did

piecemeal and in huge flakes--that his good looks were restored. After

breakfast our trusty fellows were paid for their services, Francois

receiving one hundred and Jules fifty francs, which with one hundred and

fifty-two francs for board and lodging at the Grands Mulets, brought up

our expenses to three hundred and two francs, or about L6 each,

exclusive of a few extras that are not worth noting; I may say, however,

that the ascent is rarely made for so moderate a sum. The regulation

number of guides is as follows, viz., two guides and one porter for a

traveller, and one extra guide for each additional person, by which we

ought to have had three guides and one porter, but not having intended

to go further than the Grands Mulets we went with half the usual number,

and although we were perfect novices at the work, we got on admirably,

and do not quite see what advantage would have been gained by having a

larger number of attendants.

The next thing to be done was to pay a visit to the guides' office, and

on our way there Francois said, "Sir, will you explain to the chief that

when we started we had not intended going further than the Grands

Mulets, otherwise we shall be fined, because we were not on turn for the

ascent?" The chief listened attentively to my explanation, and then

remarked, "In that case they shall not be punished." We then signed our

names in the record book, and afterwards obtained certificates

surmounted by comical-looking sketches, supposed to represent the summit

with a party of tourists and guides in a variety of absurd attitudes.

These documents were numbered 768, which means that this was the seven

hundred and sixty-eighth ascent from Chamonix since Balmat successfully

reached the top on the 8th August, 1786. They were dated 20th July,

1881, and were signed by Francois, Jules, and Frederic Payot, the chief

guide.

Whilst lolling about during the remainder of the day, we were

"interviewed" pretty frequently, and the interest taken in our

adventures appeared to be as deep as though the ascent was a matter of

very rare occurrence. The first question invariably asked was, "Did you

suffer from the rarified air?" The answer to which was, "Not at all as

regards breathing, but we none of us had any appetite at a higher

elevation than the Grands Mulets." They did not, however, put the second

question, which one is always asked in England, "Did it repay you?"

How many are there, of the thousands who visit Chamonix every year, who

would not go to the top of Mont Blanc if the journey could be as easily

performed as on the Rigi? But risk to life and limb, mountain sickness,

wet feet, and rather more walking than they have a fancy for, keeps

them in the lower regions, from which they content themselves with

viewing the mountain.

Amongst those who took a special interest in our late achievement were

two ladies, who, accompanied by a gentleman, were to make an attempt the

following morning. The route had been carefully studied, experienced

guides and porters had been engaged, wrappers, veils, and better fare

than can be procured at the Grands Mulets, had been provided. The

weather, too, was magnificent, the thunderstorm having completely passed

away at sunset, so as far as one could foresee they were likely to be

favoured by the weather, which is half the battle.

At six next morning, having hurried down to wish them success, I found

the party all ready for a start. Two mules, which had been hired to

carry their fair burdens to Pierre Pointue, were flapping their long

ears and looking as if they thought getting up early a horrid bore. The

guides and porters were fully equipped, and amongst other things they

were provided with coils of brand new rope, which was indicative of

precaution. On coming up to them, one of the ladies, with something very

like tears in her eyes, said, "Couttet won't go; the weather has

changed; there are clouds on the mountain; so our excursion must be put

off." Turning to the guide who was responsible for this decision, he

remarked in a most disconsolate tone, "Ah, monsieur, c'est impossible;"

and no doubt he was right, for the summit down to the Glacier des

Bossons was completely obscured; and what made it all the more vexatious

was that in other respects the weather was everything that could be

desired. Having expressed my warmest sympathy, I hastened to my room to

prepare for our departure by the diligence, which was to leave at seven

o'clock.

[Illustration: DIAGRAM SHEWING THE RELATIVE HEIGHTS OF MONT BLANC AND

SNOWDON]

In bringing my narrative to a conclusion, I may say that although the

ascent of Mont Blanc is no longer considered difficult or dangerous, I

submit that in all probability the route is practically the same as when

Balmat made the first ascent. The zig-zags to Pierre Pointue may have

been slightly improved, and possibly the path which Albert Smith

describes as so trying to the nerves on the way to Pierre a l'Echelle

may be a few inches wider, but I doubt whether the Glacier des Bossons,

the Montees, the Plateaux, and the Bosses du Dromadaire, have undergone

any appreciable change; and I would point out that, although nearly

eight hundred ascents have been made in a hundred years, the failures

are not recorded. These, I am informed, far exceed the successes;

therefore let those whose ambition it is to stand upon the highest point

in Europe be prepared to meet with disappointments; for not only may

they be unequal to the physical exertion that is necessary, but their

expedition may be brought to an untimely end by various causes, and

above all by the weather; but, on the other hand, should they be

favoured as we were, and succeed in reaching the "diadem of snow," I

promise them ample repayment. The fatigue undergone, the discomforts

endured, and the dangers encountered, will soon be forgotten. But the

deep impressions made when viewing the sublimest works of nature from

those regions of eternal snow will last as long as life.

APPENDIX.

In 1760, De Saussure paid his first visit to Chamonix, and, feeling

convinced that the summit was accessible, he promised a handsome reward

to anyone who discovered a practicable route, and even offered to pay

the wages of all those who attempted the ascent. His guide, Pierre

Simon, tried twice--once by the Tacul and once by the Bossons--but

returned without success.

1775.--Four peasants managed to reach a valley of snow which appeared to

lead directly to the summit, but they suffered so acutely from the

rarified air that they were compelled to return.

1783.--Three guides, Jean Marie Couttet, Lambard Meunier, and Joseph

Carrier, attained a great elevation, when one of the party was seized

with drowsiness and could proceed no further, so the attempt was

abandoned. Having returned to Chamonix, Lambard Meunier stated "that the

sun almost scorched him; that they had no appetite to eat even a crumb;

and that if he tried the excursion again, he should only take with him a

parasol and a bottle of scent!"

During the same season, M. Bourrit, of Geneva, accompanied by two

chamois hunters, reached the foot of a steep rock--probably the

Aiguille du Bionassay--but being exhausted he could go no further. One

of the guides remained with him, whilst the other went on until he

reached the foot of the dome of Mont Blanc, from which he was only

separated by a ridge of ice, and he was of opinion that had he only had

time and some assistance he could have gained the summit.

1785.--De Saussure, accompanied by M. Bourrit and his son, started from

the village of Bionassay on the 13th of September, and having climbed to

the foot of the Aiguille du Goute, they passed the night in a rude hut,

eight feet by seven, which had been specially prepared for them. M.

Bourrit, as well as his son, was afflicted by the rarified air and could

not eat anything. At six next morning they started again. The route was

dangerous, being over some snow drifts and blocks of ice. After five

hours one of the guides, Pierre Balmat, proposed a halt, whilst he went

on to reconnoitre the condition of the snow. In an hour he returned, and

said that it was in such a treacherous state it would not be advisable

to proceed. So the attempt was abandoned. They regained their cabin in

safety, De Saussure remaining there another night to make scientific

observations, but M. Bourrit, with his son, started off for Bionassay,

not having a fancy for another night at this elevation.

1786.--Pierre Balmat, Marie Couttet, and another guide reached the top

of the Dome du Goute, by the Aiguille of the same name, on the 8th June,

suffering acutely from the rarifaction of the air. Here they fell in

with Francois Paccard and three other guides, who had ascended by La

Cote. Uniting their forces they went onwards and upwards, until they

were brought to a stand by a ridge of ice--the Mauvaise Arete--which

they considered to be inaccessible, and on their return they were nearly

lost in a fearful storm of snow and hail.

"It so happened that one of Paccard's party, named Jacques Balmat, who

appears just at this time not to have been very popular in the valley,

had presented himself without invitation, and followed them against

their will. When they turned to descend, they did not tell this poor man

of their intention. Being on unfriendly terms with them, he had kept

aloof; and whilst stopping to look for some crystals he lost sight of

them, just as the snow began to fall, which rapidly obliterated their

traces. The storm increasing, he resolved to spend the night alone in

the centre of this desert of ice, and at an elevation of 14,000 feet

above the level of the sea! He had no food; he got under the lee of a

rock and formed a kind of niche in the snow; and there, half dead from

cold he passed the long hours of that terrible night. At last morning

broke--the storm had cleared away; and as Balmat endeavoured to move his

limbs he found that his feet had lost all sensation--they were

frost-bitten! Keeping up his courage he spent the day in surveying the

mountain, and he was rewarded: he found that if the crevasses that

border the Grand Plateau were once crossed, the path to the top of Mont

Blanc was clear, and he then traced out the route which has, with little

variation, been followed ever since. Balmat returned that evening to

Chamonix. He took to his bed, and did not leave it for weeks. He kept

his secret close, until moved with gratitude to Dr. Paccard, the village

physician, the line of road was hinted at, and an attempt agreed upon as

soon as Balmat recovered." On the 7th of August these two started alone.

They ascended La Cote, and slept there. Before daybreak next morning

they were on their march again. At three o'clock in the afternoon they

were still uncertain as to the results of the enterprise. At last they

arrived at the Summit, at sunset. Here they waited half an hour, and

then returning got back to their night bivouac, where they again slept,

by midnight. On the following morning they reached Chamonix by eight

o'clock. Their faces were swollen and excoriated--their eyes nearly

closed; and for the next week Balmat was scarcely recognisable.

1787.--De Saussure, accompanied by eighteen guides, started from

Chamonix on the 1st August. The summit of the Montagne de la Cote was

reached in about six hours, and then the party encamped for the night.

At four o'clock in the afternoon of the following day they prepared to

pass the night on the snow, at an elevation of 12,300 feet above the

level of the sea. De Saussure suffered considerably, and a raging thirst

added to his discomfort. Next morning they crossed the Grand Plateau,

and, after suffering much discomfort, succeeded in reaching the Summit;

there they remained several hours, and then commenced to retrace their

steps at half-past three in the afternoon. Towards evening they arrived

at the Grands Mulets, where they bivouaced for the night. At six the

next morning--that of the fourth day of the journey--they left the

rocks, crossed the Glacier de Taconnaz, descended the Montagne de la

Cote, and finally reached Chamonix in safety.

1788.--The indefatigable M. Bourrit made his fifth--unsuccessful--and

last attempt in the autumn of this year. Regardless of expense, he

engaged seventeen guides, and took provisions enough to last six days.

Just before starting he was joined by Mr. Woodley, an Englishman, and

Mr. Camper, a Dutchman, who were attended by five guides. This large

party passed the first night on the Cote, and attempted to reach the

Summit the next day. Mr. Woodley, with four guides, distanced the

others, some of whom gave in on the Grand Plateau and returned to the

Grands Mulets. MM. Bourrit and Camper commenced to beat a retreat after

having nearly reached the foot of the last slope; then a mist came on,

which added to their difficulties, but they managed to find their way to

the tent, where, towards night, they were rejoined by Mr. Woodley and

his guides, the former with his feet frost-bitten. The following

morning they returned to Chamonix. Mr. Woodley was obliged to keep his

feet in snow and salt for a fortnight; one of the Balmats was blind for

three weeks; Cachat had his hands frozen, and poor M. Bourrit made up

his mind never to try it again!

1791.--Two of the guides accompanying four Englishmen were seriously

injured by a fall of rocks on La Cote--one of them sustaining a broken

leg, the other a fractured skull.

1802.--On the 10th of August, M. Forneret and Baron Doorthensen reached

the Summit after suffering acutely from the rarified air. M. Forneret

compared the agony he endured to that of a man whose lungs were being

violently torn from his chest!

1820.--The first recorded fatal accident occurred in this year. Dr.

Hamel, accompanied by M. Selligue and two Oxford men--Messrs. Durnford

and Henderson--and twelve guides, reached the Grands Mulets the first

day. Here they were detained all the next by bad weather. At two the

following morning the storm passed off, and day broke most beautifully.

All were anxious to proceed, with the exception of M. Selligue, who

considered that a married man had no right to risk his life in such a

perilous adventure. Remonstrances proving of no avail, he was left

behind with two guides, who were much disgusted with the arrangement. At

twenty minutes past eight in the morning the party reached the Grand

Plateau, where they made an attempt at breakfast, but there was no great

appetite amongst them. At half-past ten they had arrived nearly below

the Rochers Rouges, and shortly afterwards a frightful disaster

happened, which is thus described by Mr. Durnford:--

"I was obliged to stop half a minute to arrange my veil; and the sun

being at that moment concealed behind a cloud, I tucked it up under the

large straw hat which I wore. In the interval, my companion, H----, and

three of the guides, passed me, so that I was now the sixth on the line,

and, of course, the centre man. H---- was next before me; and as it was

the first time we had been so circumstanced during the whole morning, he

remarked it, and said we ought to have one guide at least between us in

case of accident. This I over-ruled by referring him to the absence of

all appearance of danger at that part of our march; to which he

assented. I did not then attempt to recover my place in front--though

the wish more than once crossed my mind--finding, perhaps, that my

present one was much less laborious. To this apparently trivial

circumstance I was indebted for my life. A few minutes after the above

conversation, my veil being still up, and my eyes turned at intervals

towards the summit of the mountain--which was on the right, as we were

crossing obliquely the long slope above described, which was to conduct

us to Mont Maudit--the snow suddenly gave way beneath our feet,

beginning at the head of the line, and carried us all down the slope on

our left. I was thrown instantly off my feet, but was still on my knees

and endeavouring to regain my footing, when, in a few seconds, the snow

on our right--which, of course, was above us--rushed into the gap thus

suddenly made, and completed the catastrophe by burying us all at once

in its mass, and hurrying us downwards towards two crevasses about a

furlong below us and nearly parallel to the line of our march. The

accumulation of snow instantly threw me backwards, and I was carried

down, in spite of all my struggles. In less than a minute I emerged,

partly from my own exertions and partly because the velocity of the

falling mass had subsided. I was obliged to resign my pole in the

struggle, feeling it forced out of my hand. A short time afterwards I

found it on the very brink of the crevass. This had hitherto escaped our

notice from its being so far below us, and it was not until some time

after the snow had settled that I perceived it. At the moment of my

emerging I was so far from being alive to the danger of our situation,

that, on seeing my two companions at some distance below, up to the arms

in snow and sitting motionless and silent, a jest was rising to my lips,

till a second glance shewed me that, with the exception of Mathieu

Balmat, they were the only remnants of the party visible. Two more,

however, being those in the interval between myself and the rear of the

party, having quickly re-appeared, I was still inclined to treat the

affair as a perplexing though ludicrous delay, in having sent us down so

many hundred feet lower, than in the light of a serious accident, when

Mathieu Balmat cried out that some of the party were lost, and pointed

to the crevass, which had hitherto escaped our notice, into which he

said they had fallen. A nearer view convinced us of the sad truth. The

three front guides, Pierre Carrier, Pierre Balmat, and Auguste Tairraz,

being where the slope was somewhat steeper, had been carried down with

greater rapidity, and to a greater distance, and had thus been hurried

into the crevass, with an immense mass of snow upon them, which rose

nearly to the brink. Mathieu Balmat, who was fourth in the line, being a

man of great muscular strength, as well as presence of mind, had

suddenly thrust his pole in the firm snow beneath, when he felt himself

going, which certainly checked, in some measure, the force of his fall.

Our two hindermost guides were also missing, but we were soon gladdened

by seeing them make their appearance, and cheered them with loud and

repeated hurrahs. One of these, Julien Devoussaud, had been carried into

the crevass where it was very narrow, and had been thrown with some

violence against the opposite brink. He contrived to scramble out

without assistance. The other, Joseph Marie Couttet, had been dragged

out by his companions quite senseless, and nearly black from the weight

of snow which had been upon him. It was a long time before we could

convince ourselves that the others were past hope, and we exhausted

ourselves fruitlessly for some time in fathoming the snow with our

poles." After relating how every effort had been made to recover the

poor fellows, the abandonment of the ascent, and the melancholy return

to Chamonix, he goes on to explain the cause of the accident. "During

two or three days a pretty strong southerly wind had prevailed, which,

drifting gradually a mass of snow from the summit, had caused it to form

a sort of wreath on the northerly side, where the angle of its

inclination to the horizon was small enough to allow it to settle. In

the course of the preceding night that had been frozen, but not so hard

as to bear our weight. Accordingly, in crossing the slope obliquely, as

above described, with the summit on our right, we broke through the

outer crust and sank in nearly up to the knees. At the moment of the

accident a crack had been formed quite across the wreath; this caused

the lower part to slide down under our weight on the smooth slope of

snow beneath it, and the upper part of the wreath, thus bereft of its

support, followed it in a few seconds and was the grand contributor to

the calamity."

The route (l'Ancien Passage) followed on this occasion is no longer

used--indeed, the guides are forbidden to go that way. On the 12th

August, 1861, or thirty-nine years later, the remains of the three

unfortunate men who had lost their lives in this ill-fated expedition

were discovered at the orifice or "Snout" of the Glacier des Bossons.

Besides the fragments of human bodies were found portions of clothing,

boots, a lantern, and a boiled leg of mutton. These relics were

identified by Couttet, who had formed one of the party when the accident

occurred.

1843.--In the early part of September Sir Thomas Talfourd, with his son

Francis, and Messrs. Bosworth and Cross, formed a party, and, attended

by guides and porters, reached the Grands Mulets rocks, where they

rested for some hours before starting for the summit. Sir Thomas,

however, was compelled to return after having reached the spot where

S---- was taken ill (_vide_ page 35). The start at midnight, and the

cause of his return, is thus described by his own pen:

"I slept till the guides roused me at ten minutes before twelve from

deep and sweet slumber. There was no moonlight--the only elemental

felicity wanting to our enterprise--but the stars and snow relieved the

darkness, which was also broken by numerous lanterns, which were already

lighted, and shone among the bristling cornices of the rock below me

like huge dull glow-worms. After the first sensation of cold and

stiffness had subsided, and the mistiness that hangs over the perception

of a suddenly-awakened sleeper in a strange place had dispersed, I took

my pole, and picked my way down the rock, my steps being lighted by

Julien's lantern, and soon found myself in the midst of the long

procession of travellers and guides, slowly pacing the plain of snow

which lies between the rock and the first upward slope. When we began to

ascend, the snow was found so hard and so steep, that we were obliged to

pause every ten paces, while the guides with hatchets cut steps. Every

one, I believe, performs some part well; at least, few are without grace

or power, which they are found to possess in a peculiar degree, if the

proper occasion occurs to rouse it into action; and I performed the

stopping part admirably. While we stood still I felt as if able to go

on; and it is possible that if the progress had always been as

difficult, and consequently as slow and as replete with stoppages, I

might eventually have reached the summit--unless first frozen. But

unluckily for me, these occasions of halting soon ceased; for the snow

became so loose, as to present no obstacle excepting the necessity of

sinking to the knees at every step. The line of march lay up long slopes

of snow; nothing could ever be discovered but a waste of snow ascending

in a steep inclination before us; no crevice gave us pause; there was

nothing to vary the toil or the pain except that as fatigue crept on,

and nature began to discriminate between the stronger and the weaker,

our line was no longer continuous, but broken into parties, which, of

course, rendered the position of the hindermost more dispiriting. The

rarity of the atmosphere now began to affect us; and as the disorder

resulting from this cause was more impartial than the distribution of

muscular activity, our condition was, for a short time, almost

equalized; even Mr. Bosworth felt violent nausea and headache; while I

only felt, in addition to the distress of increasing weakness, the taste

or scent of blood in the mouth, as if it were about to burst from the

nostrils. We thus reached the Grand Plateau--a long field of snow in the

bosom of the highest pinnacles of the mountain--which, being nearly

level, was much less distressing to traverse than the previous slopes;

but just before the commencement of the next ascent, which rose in a

vast dim curve, the immediate occasion of my failure occurred. Mr.

Bosworth, who was in advance, turned back to inform me that my son was

so much affected by the elevation, that his guides thought it necessary

that he should return. We halted till we were joined by him and his

guides, on two of whom he was leaning, and who explained that he was

sick and faint, and wished to lie down for a few minutes, to which they

would not consent, as, if he should fall asleep on the snow, he might

never awake. The youth himself was anxious to proceed--quite satisfied,

if he might only rest for a very little time, he could go on--but they

shook their heads; and as their interests and wishes were strongly

engaged for our success, I felt it was impossible to trifle with such a

decision. I could not allow him to return without me; and therefore

determined at once to abandon the further prosecution of the adventure;

a determination which I should not else have formed _at that moment_,

but which I believe I must have adopted soon from mere prostration of

strength; and which, therefore, I do not lay in the least to the charge

of his indisposition. He was still light of limb, and courageous in

heart; only afflicted by the treachery of the stomach, and dizziness

produced by the rarity of the air; whereas, if I had been supported and

dragged (as perhaps I might have been) to the foot of the steep La Cote,

which is the last difficulty of the ascent, I do not believe I should

have had muscular pliancy left to raise a foot up a step of the long

staircase, which the guides are obliged to cut in the frozen snow. While

the guides were re-arranging matters for the descent, I took one

longing, lingering glance at the upward scenery, and perceived sublime

indications of those heights I was never to climb."

1851.--In the month of August, Albert Smith made an ascent, which was

rendered famous by the graphic account he gave of his adventures, during

a period of several years, at the Egyptian Hall, in London. He was

accompanied by three English gentlemen, and attended by no less than

fifteen guides, as well as a small army of porters, who were employed to

carry the provisions, wrappers, rugs, &c., as far as the Glacier des

Bossons.

The party started from Chamonix at half-past seven in the morning, and

reached the Grands Mulets at four in the afternoon. Shortly after

midnight they resumed their journey, and having traversed the Grand

Plateau they took the Corridor route, and arrived at their destination

at nine in the morning. During the latter part of the ascent, Albert

Smith seems to have been in a state bordering on delirium:

"With the perfect knowledge of where I was, and what I was about--even

with such caution as was required to place my feet on particular places

in the snow--I conjured up such a set of absurd and improbable phantoms

about me, that the most spirit-ridden intruder upon a Mayday festival on

the Hartz Mountains was never more beleaguered. I am not sufficiently

versed in the finer theories of the psychology of sleep, to know if such

a state might be; but I believe for the greater part of this bewildering

period I was fast asleep with my eyes open, and through them the

wandering brain received external impressions; in the same manner, as

upon awaking, the phantasms of our dreams are sometimes carried on, and

connected with objects about the chamber. It is very difficult to

explain the odd state in which I was, so to speak, entangled. A great

many people I knew in London were accompanying me, and calling after me,

as the stones did after Prince Pervis, in the Arabian Nights. Then there

was some terribly elaborate affair that I could not settle, about two

bedsteads, the whole blame of which transaction, whatever it was, lay on

my shoulders; and then a literary friend came up, and told me he was

sorry we could not pass over his ground on our way to the summit, but

that the King of Prussia had forbidden it. Everything was as foolish and

unconnected as this, but it worried me painfully; and my senses were

under such little control, and I reeled and staggered about so, that

when we had crossed the snow prairie, and arrived at the foot of an

almost perpendicular wall of ice, four or five hundred feet high--the

terrible Mur de la Cote--up which we had to climb, I sat down again on

the snow, and told Tairraz that I would not go any further, but they

might leave me there if they pleased."

Having stayed on the summit for half an hour, they retraced their steps,

reaching the Grands Mulets at one o'clock, and Chamonix in the evening.

One of the most remarkable things in connection with this memorable

ascent was the vast quantity of liquids and solids consumed, viz:--

93 Bottles of wine,

3 Cognac,

7 Lemonade and syrup,

20 Loaves,

10 Cheeses,

8 Joints of mutton,

6 " veal,

46 Fowls;

besides packages of raisins, prunes, sugar, salt, and wax candles! The

cost of this amounted to 456 francs, which, added to 1881 francs for the

guides' fees, &c., brought up the sum total to 2337 francs, or L93 10s.,

which sum, divided by four--the number of tourists--gives L23. 7s. 6d.

each. Thanks to the enterprising individual who manages the "Cabanes" at

Pierre Pointue and the Grands Mulets, it is no longer necessary to take

provisions; therefore, reader, should you ever visit those stations, do

not grumble at the bill, but remember Albert Smith![A]

[Footnote A: This and the foregoing ascents are condensed from Albert

Smith's "Mont Blanc."]

1866.--Sir George Young, with his brothers James and Albert, succeeded

in reaching the Summit without guides or porters. Shortly after

commencing the descent one of the brothers fell a depth of twenty feet

and broke his neck. The survivors managed to reach the Grands Mulets at

two in the morning. An hour later six guides arrived from Chamonix, and

although Sir George had been on foot twenty-four hours he placed himself

at the head of these men to recover his brother's body. In the meanwhile

another party had come up, but they did not proceed further than the

Grands Mulets. Early in the afternoon six of these guides went forward

to render what assistance they could; and at five three more followed,

carrying refreshments with them. At half-past seven the whole party

returned, bringing the corpse with them. Sir George at once went down to

Chamonix, which he reached about three in the morning, having been on

foot for two days and two nights!

1870.--One of the most disastrous events, and which resulted in the loss

of no less than eleven lives, occurred during this year. On the 5th

September, Messrs. Randall, Bean, and Corkindale, accompanied by three

guides and five porters, spent the night in the "Cabane" on the Grands

Mulets, and next morning resumed their journey. All seems to have gone

on well till they began to descend from the Summit, which they had

reached at half-past two in the afternoon. About that time a cloud

enveloped the highest parts of the mountain and obscured their

movements. At ten o'clock the man in charge of the "Cabane," feeling

uneasy at their not having arrived, sent to Chamonix for assistance. In

the meanwhile a violent storm had set in, and it was with the greatest

difficulty that the relief party managed to get to the Grands Mulets;

and there they were forced to remain a whole week, during which time the

storm raged with unabated fury. At last the weather cleared, and they

went forward. On nearing the Summit they came upon five bodies, and a

little further on upon five more; the eleventh could not be discovered.

The poor fellows, being unable to find their way, had died of starvation

and exposure. This, I believe, is the last fatal accident that has taken

place on Mont Blanc.

Although the misfortunes related in the foregoing are somewhat numerous,

they are not large when compared with the number of individuals who have

successfully gained the Summit, and which must have amounted to about

8,000; and do not, probably, exceed the proportion of sporting

accidents, if all those who have visited the Grands Mulets, and even

higher elevations, are taken into consideration.

ROUTES TO CHAMONIX.

The valley, as before stated, lies in an easterly and westerly

direction; and as there are no cross country roads, it follows that

there are only two ways of reaching it.

ROUTE A.

From Lausanne you may take the train direct to Martigny; or go by

steamer from Ouchy to Villeneuve, then by rail to Martigny, and thence

by private conveyance via Forclaz and the Tete Noire.

At Forclaz you may proceed on foot and walk over the Col de Balme,

giving directions to your driver to meet you at Le Tour on the other

side.

We started from Ouchy--a small village near Lausanne--at mid-day, and

steamed along the northern shore of the lake, touching at several

stations, and passing close to the celebrated Castle of Chillon. At

half-past one we landed at Villeneuve, where we had to wait for about an

hour for the train, and then proceeded on our journey up the Valley of

the Rhone. The scenery is very fine, gigantic mountains rising up on

either side, so close and so lofty that their summits can only be seen

under difficulties from the railway carriage. There are waterfalls in

abundance, and the grey-coloured Rhone roars and bounds along the line

of railway on its course to the Lake of Geneva. We arrived at Martigny

at half-past four, and ordered a carriage from the hotel (Clerc) for the

following morning. This we were obliged to do, as there are no

diligences or public conveyances of any description to Chamonix. Having

decided upon walking over the Col de Balme, we made arrangements to

leave at four in the morning. The weather being excessively hot, we

deemed it advisable to start at this early hour in order to reach

Forclaz before the great mid-day heat. This arrangement, however, did

not meet with the approval of the hotel authorities, who did their best

to persuade us to delay our departure till six or seven o'clock, so that

breakfast might be included in the bill! This little secret was let out

by our driver on the way, and he wound up by saying, "I received a good

blowing up for not having got you to do as they wished!" Punctually at

four we were all ready for a start; and the luggage having been secured

at the back of a liliputian carriage, drawn by a pair of horses, we set

off.

After clearing the village the gradient becomes very steep, and there is

no proper road for a considerable portion of the way, but simply a track

which winds up the pass, amongst walnut and other trees, the fragrance

from which, at that early hour of the day, was very agreeable. We made

comparatively little use of the conveyance, but preferred to take short

cuts; and, whilst waiting for it to come up, to sketch or merely admire

the view as the fancy took us. At half-past eight we reached the little

wayside inn on the Col de Forclaz (5,000 feet above the sea). Here we

breakfasted, and exchanged our carriage for one that had just conveyed a

party from Chamonix. This is an arrangement that is commonly made for

the convenience of the coachmen. At about half-past nine we set off on

foot for the Col de Balme, having first given directions to our new man

to meet us at Le Tour at two o'clock. Having descended the western slope

of the hill, we reached a valley and crossed the torrent issuing from

the extremity of the Glacier du Trient, and immediately began to ascend

the eastern side of the mountain. The zig-zag paths were well shaded by

pine trees for a considerable distance, but in spite of this we found it

very hot work. The fact is we were utterly ignorant of the first

principles of mountain climbing, and walked too quickly. The consequence

was that we were fagged at the expiration of the second hour. There is

no greater mistake than to move rapidly on such expeditions, for by so

doing one's heart, lungs, and muscles, are unduly taxed, and when lofty

ascents are being made, such action would be fatal to the undertaking;

for, _if once the legs fail_--as a guide remarked to me when conversing

with him on the subject--it is useless attempting to go on. You may rest

for a while, and feel recruited, but the effect will not last, and a few

minutes after resuming the journey a painful sensation will be

experienced in the muscles of the legs, which will necessitate another

and perhaps a longer halt; and finally you will have to give in, and

return home. Fortunately for us, there were only a few hundreds of feet

to be mounted when the pace began to tell, or we might have been put to

serious inconvenience.

[Illustration]

At about eleven o'clock we had left the last tree behind, and continuing

our upward journey, the only vegetation to be seen consisted of small

plants--the pretty Alpine rose, a species of rhododendron, and turf.

Further on we came to large patches of snow, on reaching which there was

a marked diminution in the temperature, although the sun was shining

brightly and the air was calm. Nearing the summit, we passed a rude hut,

inhabited by two or three men, whose occupation is to look after a herd

of cows, the tinkling of whose bells was the only sound to be heard in

that wild place. As the snow gradually disappears from the mountain

side, the cows are driven higher and higher, until the last available

blade of grass has been reached; and the milk, which could not be

otherwise used, by reason of the distance from the towns and villages,

is converted into cheese. Having interchanged a few words with the

occupiers of this lonely, though beautifully-situated dwelling, we

passed on. Threading our way between patches of snow, we reached the

summit of the Col (7,212 feet) at noon. The sight which now presented

itself was inexpressibly grand, and no adequate idea of it can be

conveyed by pen or pencil.

Mont Blanc, the "Monarch of Mountains," with his girdle of ice and his

diadem of snow, rising thousands of feet above the valley of Chamonix,

was _the_ feature of the scene, and he looked every inch a king,

surrounded by his subjects, in the form of graceful aiguilles and lofty

peaks! Before quitting this spot (where, by the way, we were able to

procure luncheon), I may remark that Mont Blanc, to be appreciated, must

be seen from this or some equally advantageous point of view--if such

there be--at a high elevation.

The descent on the west side was easy, and was soon accomplished. We

found the carriage waiting for us at Le Tour, and at four o'clock were

set down at the Hotel d'Angleterre.

ROUTE B.

From Geneva via Bonneville, Cluses, and Sallenches. There is no

necessity for hiring a private carriage, as there is a regular service

of diligences the whole way. If possible, secure a top front seat, and

if that cannot be done, take the conductor's place; he will readily give

it up for a few francs. You must, however, be prepared to work the brake

going down hill. Between Geneva and Bonneville the immediate scenery is

not very interesting, and in dry weather this portion of the road is

exceptionally dusty. Hence, to Chamonix, the mountains grow in size, and

tremendous precipices of perpendicular rock, with cascades pouring down,

are to be seen within a short distance of the road. The view of Mont

Blanc from Sallenches is said to be very fine, but unfortunately the

upper portion of the mountain was enveloped in clouds when we were

there, so I cannot speak from experience. The time occupied in

performing the whole journey of forty-nine miles is about nine hours.