NARRATIVE OF AN ASCENT TO THE SUMMIT OF PRIMROSE HILL.
BY MESSRS. POPKINS AND VULT.
The celebrated Primrose Hill, which is estimated to be nearly one
hundred feet above the level of the Regent's Canal, forms one end of the
great chain of the Metropolitan Alps, which comprises the respective
hills of Highgate, Ludgate, Snow, Saffron, Mutton, Addle, Tower, Corn,
Constitution, and many other peaks. Whilst the enterprises of Sherwill,
Clarke, De Saussure, Auldjo, and others, had carried them to the summit
of Mont Blanc, and M. Agassiz had overcome the hitherto impracticable
Jungfrau, and given their published accounts to the world, it is
somewhat strange that no narrative has hitherto been published of the
ascent of Primrose Hill. To supply this void in our literature, as well
as to furnish an account to Peter Parley, which, in the event of his
refusing, I should have sent to the "Penny Magazine," I was induced to
undertake the excursion. Although the time of year was somewhat against
me, yet, from the noble offer of Mr. Vult, whom I met casually in the
diving-bell at the bottom of the tank in the Polytechnic Institution, I
determined, at all risks, to make the attempt.
On inquiry, we found that the charity boys of the district schools were
best acquainted with the localities, and we therefore engaged four of
them as guides. Their parents did not seem to comprehend our intentions,
but possibly this arose from reluctance to allow their children to join
our venture: but we overcame their scruples by offers of liberal
payment, and named the eldest ("Plucky Simmuns" as he was familiarly
termed by his fellows) as our chief guide. We also contracted with a
broom merchant in Kentish Town for our ice-poles.
The next morning at nine o'clock, and in a deep snow, we left the Albany
Tavern, amidst a crowd collected to see us start; and crossing some
palings and a piece of broken ground, prepared to ascend. Our progress
soon became one of extreme peril, as the snow had been collected from
Park Village, and shot out on this waste, forming vast hills, which
required great labour to surmount. Once I completely stuck fast, and
before I was extricated nearly left one of my cloth boots behind me. Our
respiration also became very difficult, evidently from the rarefaction
of the air at so great a height, although Mr. Vult persisted in
attributing it to the hot rolls we had eaten at breakfast. We crossed
this large confusion of snow, which we presumed to be part of the Chalk
Farm Glacier, and were astonished, on arriving at the opposite side, to
see a man in these wild solitudes. He was evidently a child of the
mountain, and proffered for sale an article he termed "ginger cocktail,"
which he assured us would prove most palatable. We bought some, and went
on.
The conduct of our guides was most remarkable: in circumstances of the
utmost peril they betrayed a levity almost unnatural, and more than once
took to snowballing each other, as if they had been on level ground. We
continued to ascend until the dreary waste of the Hill opened on us in
all its awful grandeur. No living thing was visible, and the earth below
was fading in the misty distance, leaving no trace of its existence but
the tops of the tall chimneys on the Birmingham Railway. Once, and once
only, Mr. Vult fancied he heard the squeak of a train coming in: this
might or might not have been the case. The cold was most intense, but we
had made up our minds to succeed or die, and we pushed bravely up the
last slope.
At half-past eleven we reached the summit—and never shall I forget the
eventful moment. My companions partook of my excitement, with the
exception of Mr. Vult, who having had the care of the brandy flask in
the ascent, and not being a teetotaller, had indulged in so many tastes,
that his conduct was most unscientific. He insisted on trying to waltz
with Simmons, and threw his new hat at a bird that flew over our heads.
A passing breeze carried it down the Hill with as much ease as if it had
been its namesake production of the fields—the work of the _Aranea
Sylvestris_, or Gossamer Spider of Linnæus.
With respect to the view, so dense was the fog reigning around, that we
saw nothing beyond twenty yards from us. What lay within that radius
was, however, very magnificent, consisting of a deep layer of snow,
broken only by our footsteps. In answer to my inquiry of Simmons, if
avalanches were common in the winter, he replied, with much candour,
"That he didn't disactly know, but he believed there was lots of nuts
and brandy-balls, now and then." Having satisfied our eyes, we prepared
to act similarly towards our stomachs: and we were glad to find our
elevated situation had no other effect upon our animal economy than
wonderfully increasing our appetites. The guides feasted at a small
distance from us; their provision consisted principally of cold bacon,
which they had tied up in their neckcloths, where it acted as a
stiffener. We allowed a bottle of Guinness amongst them, fearing, if we
gave them more, they would get confused, and unable to find their way
down again. After dinner I proposed "Prosperity to Science," which Mr.
Vult insisted upon giving with three times six, and finished by falling
down on the snow, quite overcome. The sentiment given by Plucky was
simple, and indicative of pastoral feeling. He merely exclaimed, as he
slapped his hand against his yellow-leather indispensables, "Here's
luck!" and drank up nearly all the bottle at a draught, to show how much
in earnest he was.
I wrote some notes in pencil for our friends to keep as _souvenirs_, and
made several scientific observations. On endeavouring to ascertain, from
the fall of the mercury in my barometer, at what height we stood, I was
surprised to see no traces at all of the mercury on the index plate. I
subsequently found Mr. Vult had tumbled on it, and all the quicksilver
had run out.
As afternoon advanced we prepared to descend, dreading lest night should
overtake us in these wild solitudes. Our guides showed us a method of
coming down the declivities, at which they seemed very expert. They sat
on the snow, and glided down with the rapidity of a railroad. Not liking
to trust myself alone, Plucky took me behind him, and we got down
safely. Mr. Vult, however, over valiant, would go by himself, and
consequently, after sliding at a fearful rate, he suddenly disappeared,
having, as we imagined, slipped into some tremendous crevice of the
glacier. We found that he had fallen into a hole where the railway
navigators had been digging for clay, the water in which had got
slightly frozen over, and then covered with snow. This accident somewhat
checked our ardour, but we congratulated ourselves upon its fortunate
result. At length we reached the level ground, and returned to our inn,
highly gratified with our excursion, although we would recommend no one
to undertake so perilous a task from mere motives of curiosity.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Champagne.