My attention had often been attracted this day by projecting masses of

what at first appeared to be pure white snow, rising in seams above the

general surface of the glacier. On examination, however, I found them to

be compact ice, filled with innumerable air-cells, and so resistant as

to maintain itself in some places at a height of four feet above the

general level. When amongst the ridges they appeared discontinuous and

confused, being scattered apparently at random over the glacier; but

when viewed from a sufficient distance, the detached parts showed

themselves to belong to a system of white seams which swept quite across

the Glacier du Geant, in a direction concentric with the structure.

Unable to account for these singular seams, I climbed up among the

tributary glaciers on the Rognon side of the Glacier du Geant, and

remained there until the sun sank behind the neighbouring peaks, and the

fading light warned me that it was time to return.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] "Le petit Balmat" my host always called him.

[B] To such towers the name _Seracs_ is applied. In the chalets of

Savoy, after the richer curd has been precipitated by rennet, a stronger

acid is used to throw down what remains; an inferior kind of cheese

called _Serac_ is thus formed, the shape and colour of which have

suggested the application of the term to the cubical masses of ice.

(8.)

Early on the following day I was again upon the ice. I first confined

myself to the right side of the Glacier du Geant, and found that the

veins of white ice which I had noticed on the previous day were

exclusively confined to this glacier, or to the space between the

moraines _a_ and _b_ (Fig. 7), bending up so that the moraine _a_

between the Glacier du Geant and the Glacier des Periades was tangent to

them. At a good distance up the glacier I encountered a considerable

stream rushing across it almost from side to side. I followed the

rivulet, examining the sections which it exposed. At a certain point

three other streams united, and formed at their place of confluence a

small green lake. From this a rivulet rushed, which was joined by the

stream whose track I had pursued, and at this place of junction a second

green lake was formed, from which flowed a stream equal in volume to the

sum of all the tributaries. It entered a crevasse, and took the bottom

of the fissure for its bed. Standing at the entrance of the chasm, a low

muffled thunder resounding through the valley attracted my attention. I

followed the crevasse, which deepened and narrowed, and, by the blue

light of the ice, could see the stream gambolling along its bottom, and

flashing as it jumped over the ledges which it encountered in its way.

The fissure at length came to an end: placing a foot on each side of it,

and withholding the stronger light from my eyes, I looked down between

its shining walls, and saw the stream plunge into a shaft which carried

it to the bottom of the glacier.

Slowly, and in zigzag fashion, as the crevasses demanded, I continued to

ascend, sometimes climbing vast humps of ice from which good views of

the surrounding glacier were obtained; sometimes hidden in the hollows

between the humps, in which also green glacier tarns were often formed,

very lonely and very beautiful.

[Sidenote: A LAKE SET FREE. 1857.]

While standing beside one of these, and watching the moving clouds which

it faithfully mirrored, I heard the sound of what appeared to be a

descending avalanche, but the time of its continuance surprised me.

Looking through my opera-glass in the direction of the sound, I saw

issuing from the end of a secondary glacier on the Tacul side a torrent

of what appeared to me to be stones and mud. I could see the stones and

finer debris jumping down the declivities, and shaping themselves into

singular cascades. The noise continued for a quarter of an hour, after

which the torrent rapidly diminished, until, at length, the ordinary

little stream due to the melting of the glacier alone remained. A

subglacial lake had burst its boundary, and carried along with it in its

rush downwards the debris which it met with in its course.

[Sidenote: IMPRESSIVE SCENE. 1857.]

In some places I found the crevasses difficult, the ice being split in a

very singular manner. Vast plates of it not more than a foot in

thickness were sometimes detached from the sides of the crevasses, and

stood alone. I was now approaching the base of the _seracs_, and the

glacier around me still retained a portion of the turbulence of the

cascade. I halted at times amid the ruin and confusion, and examined

with my glass the cascade itself. It was a wild and wonderful scene,

suggesting throes of spasmodic energy, though, in reality, all its

dislocation had been _slowly_ and _gradually_ produced. True, the

stratified blocks which here and there cumbered the terraces suggested

_debacles_, but these were local and partial, and did not affect

the general question. There is scarcely a case of geological

disturbance which could not be matched with its analogue upon the

glaciers,--contortions, faults, fissures, joints, and dislocations,--but

in the case of the ice we can prove the effects to be due to

slowly-acting causes; how reasonable is it then to ascribe to the

operation of similar causes, which have had an incomparably longer time

to work, many geological effects which at first sight might suggest

sudden convulsion!

Wandering slowly upwards, successive points of attraction drawing me

almost unconsciously on, I found myself as the day was declining deep in

the entanglements of the ice. A shower commenced, and a splendid rainbow

threw an oblique arch across the glacier. I was quite alone; the scene

was exceedingly impressive, and the possibility of difficulties on which

I had not calculated intervening between me and the lower glacier, gave

a tinge of anxiety to my position. I turned towards home; crossed some

bosses of ice and rounded others; I followed the tracks of streams which

were very irregular on this portion of the glacier, bending hither and

thither, rushing through deep-cut channels, falling in cascades and

expanding here and there to deep green lakes; they often plunged into

the depths of the ice, flowed under it with hollow gurgle, and

reappeared at some distant point. I threaded my way cautiously amid

systems of crevasses, scattering with my axe, to secure a footing, the

rotten ice of the sharper crests, which fell with a ringing sound into

the chasms at either side. Strange subglacial noises were sometimes

heard, as if caverns existed underneath, into which blocks of ice fell

at intervals, transmitting the shock of their fall with a dull boom to

the surface of the glacier. By the steady surmounting of difficulties

one after another, I at length placed them all behind me, and afterwards

hastened swiftly along the glacier to my mountain home.

[Sidenote: CHAMOUNI RULES. 1857.]

On the 30th incessant rain confined us to indoor work; on the 31st we

determined the velocity with which the glacier is forced through the

entrance of the trunk valley at Trelaporte, and also the motion of the

Grand Moulin. We also determined both the velocity and the width of the

Glacier du Geant. The 1st of August was spent by me at the cascade of

the Talefre, examining the structure, crumpling, and scaling off of the

ice. Finding that the rules at Chamouni put an unpleasant limit to my

demands on my guide Simond, I visited the Guide Chef on the 2nd of

August, and explained to him the object of my expedition, pointing out

the inconvenience which a rigid application of the rules made for

tourists would impose upon me. He had then the good sense to acknowledge

the reasonableness of my remarks, and to grant me the liberty I

requested. The 3rd of August was employed in determining the velocity

and width of the Glacier de Lechaud, and in observations on the

lamination of the glacier.

[Sidenote: THE JARDIN. 1857.]

THE JARDIN.

(9.)

[Sidenote: A RESERVOIR OF ICE. 1857.]

On the 4th of August, with a view of commencing a series of observations

on the inclinations of the Mer de Glace and its tributaries, we had our

theodolite transported to the _Jardin_, which, as is well known, lies

like an island in the middle of the Glacier du Talefre. We reached the

place by the usual route, and found some tourists reposing on the soft

green sward which covers the lower portion, and to which, and the

flowers which spangle it, the place owes its name. Towards the summit of

the Jardin, a rock jutted forward, apparently the very apex of the

place, or at least hiding by its prominence everything that might exist

behind it; leaving our guide with the instrument, we aimed at this, and

soon left the grass and flowers behind us. Stepping amid broken

fragments of rock, along slopes of granite, with fat felspar crystals

which gave the boots a hold, and crossing at intervals patches of snow,

which continued still to challenge the summer heat, I at length found

myself upon the peak referred to; and, although it was not the highest,

the unimpeded view which it commanded induced me to get astride it. The

Jardin was completely encircled by the ice of the glacier, and this was

held in a mountain basin, which was bounded all round by a grand and

cliffy rim. The outline of the dark brown crags--a deeply serrated and

irregular line--was forcibly drawn against the blue heaven, and still

more strongly against some white and fleecy clouds which lay here and

there behind it; while detached spears and pillars of rock, sculptured

by frost and lightning, stood like a kind of defaced statuary along the

ridge. All round the basin the snow reared itself like a buttress

against the precipitous cliffs, being streaked and fluted by the descent

of blocks from the summits. This mighty tub is the collector of one of

the tributaries of the Mer de Glace. According to Professor Forbes, its

greatest diameter is 4200 yards, and out of it the half-formed ice is

squeezed through a precipitous gorge about 700 yards wide, forming there

the ice cascade of the Talefre. Bounded on one side by the Grande

Jorasse, and on the other by Mont Mallet, the principal tributary of the

Glacier de Lechaud lay white and pure upon the mountain slope. Round

further to the right we had the vast plateau whence the Glacier du Geant

is fed, fenced on the left by the Aiguille du Geant and the Aiguille

Noire, and on the right by the Monts Maudits and Mont Blanc. The scene

was a truly majestic one. The mighty Aiguilles piercing the sea of air,

the soft white clouds floating here and there behind them; the shining

snow with its striped faults and precipices; the deep blue firmament

overhead; the peals of avalanches and the sound of water;--all conspired

to render the scene glorious, and our enjoyment of it deep.

A voice from above hailed me as I moved from my perch; it was my friend,

who had found a lodgment upon the edge of a rock which was quite

detached from the Jardin, being the first to lift its head in opposition

to the descending _neve_. Making a detour round a steep concave slope of

the glacier, I reached the flat summit of the rock. The end of a ridge

of ice abutted against it, which was split and bent by the pressure so

as to form a kind of arch. I cut steps in the ice, and ascended until I

got beneath the azure roof. Innumerable little rills of pellucid water

descended from it. Some came straight down, clear for a time, and

apparently motionless, rapidly tapering at first, and more slowly

afterwards, until, at the point of maximum contraction, they resolved

themselves into strings of liquid pearls which pattered against the ice

floor underneath. Others again, owing to the directions of the little

streamlets of which they were constituted, formed spiral figures of

great beauty: one liquid vein wound itself round another, forming a

spiral protuberance, and owing to the centrifugal motion thus imparted,

the vein, at its place of rupture, scattered itself laterally in little

liquid spherules.[A] Even at this great elevation the structure of the

ice was fairly developed, not with the sharpness to be observed lower

down, but still perfectly decided. Blue bands crossed the ridge of ice

to which I have referred, at right angles to the direction of the

pressure.

[Sidenote: MORAINES OF THE TALEFRE. 1857.]

I descended, and found my friend beneath an overhanging rock.

Immediately afterwards a peal like that of thunder shook the air, and

right in front of us an avalanche darted down the brown cliffs, then

along a steep slope of snow which reared itself against the mountain

wall, carrying with it the debris of the rocks over which it passed,

until it finally lay a mass of sullied rubbish at the base of the

incline: the whole surface of the Talefre is thus soiled. Another peal

was heard immediately afterwards, but the avalanche which caused it was

hidden from us by a rocky promontory. From this same promontory the

greater portion of the medial moraine which descends the cascade of the

Talefre is derived, forming at first a gracefully winding curve, and

afterwards stretching straight to the summit of the fall. In the chasms

of the cascade its boulders are engulfed, but the lost moraine is

restored below the fall, as if disgorged by the ice which had swallowed

it. From the extremity of the Jardin itself a mere driblet of a moraine

proceeds, running parallel to the former, and like it disappearing at

the summit of the cascade.

[Sidenote: AMONG THE CREVASSES. 1857.]

We afterwards descended towards the cascade, but long before this is

attained the most experienced iceman would find himself in difficulty.

Transverse crevasses are formed, which follow each other so speedily as

to leave between them mere narrow ridges of ice, along which we moved

cautiously, jumping the adjacent fissures, or getting round them, as the

case demanded. As we approached the jaws of the gorge, the ridges

dwindled to mere plates and wedges, which being bent and broken by the

lateral pressure, added to the confusion, and warned us not to advance.

The position was in some measure an exciting one. Our guide had never

been here before; we were far from the beaten track, and the riven

glacier wore an aspect of treacherous hostility. As at the base of the

_seracs_, a subterranean noise sometimes announced the falling of

ice-blocks into hollows underneath, the existence of which the resonant

concussion of the fallen mass alone revealed. There was thus a dash of

awe mingled with our thoughts; a stirring up of the feelings which

troubled the coolness of the intellect. We finally swerved to the right,

and by a process the reverse of straightforward reached the Couvercle.

Nightfall found us at the threshold of our hotel.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] The recent hydraulic researches of Professor Magnus furnish some

beautiful illustrations of this action.

(10.)

[Sidenote: ROUND HAILSTONES. 1857.]

[Sidenote: A DANGEROUS LEAP. 1857.]

On the 5th we were engaged for some time in an important measurement at

the Tacul. We afterwards ascended towards the _seracs_, and determined

the inclinations of the Glacier du Geant downwards. Dense cloud-masses

gathered round the points of the Aiguilles, and the thunder bellowed at

intervals from the summit of Mont Blanc. As we descended the Mer de

Glace the valley in front of us was filled with a cloud of pitchy

darkness. Suddenly from side to side this field of gloom was riven by a

bar of lightning of intolerable splendour; it was followed by a peal of

commensurate grandeur, the echoes of which leaped from cliff to cliff

long after the first sound had died away. The discharge seemed to unlock

the clouds above us, for they showered their liquid spheres down upon us

with a momentum like that of swan-shot: all the way home we were

battered by this pellet-like rain. On the 6th the rain continued with

scarcely any pause; on the 7th I was engaged all day upon the Glacier du

Geant; on the morning of the 8th heavy hail had fallen there, the stones

being perfect spheres; the rounded rain-drops had solidified during

their descent without sensible change of form. When this hail was

squeezed together, it exactly resembled a mass of oolitic limestone

which I had picked up in 1853 near Blankenburg in the Hartz. Mr. Hirst

and myself were engaged together this day taking the inclinations: he

struck his theodolite at the Angle, and went home accompanied by Simond,

and the evening being extremely serene, I pursued my way down the centre

of the glacier towards the Echelets. The crevasses as I advanced became

more deep and frequent, the ridges of ice between them becoming

gradually narrower. They were very fine, their downward faces being

clear cut, perfectly vertical, and in many cases beautifully veined.

Vast plates of ice moreover often stood out midway between the walls of

the chasms, as if cloven from the glacier and afterwards set on edge.

The place was certainly one calculated to test the skill and nerve of an

iceman; and as the day drooped, and the shadow in the valley deepened, a

feeling approaching to awe took possession of me. My route was an

exaggerated zigzag; right and left amid the chasms wherever a hope of

progress opened; and here I made the experience which I have often

repeated since, and laid to heart as regards intellectual work also,

that enormous difficulties may be overcome when they are attacked in

earnest. Sometimes I found myself so hedged in by fissures that escape

seemed absolutely impossible; but close and resolute examination so

often revealed a means of exit, that I felt in all its force the brave

verity of the remark of Mirabeau, that the word "impossible" is a mere

blockhead of a word. It finally became necessary to reach the shore, but

I found this a work of extreme difficulty. At length, however, it became

pretty evident that, if I could cross a certain crevasse, my retreat

would be secured. The width of the fissure seemed to be fairly within

jumping distance, and if I could have calculated on a safe purchase for

my foot I should have thought little of the spring; but the ice on the

edge from which I was to leap was loose and insecure, and hence a kind

of nervous thrill shot through me as I made the bound. The opposite side

was fairly reached, but an involuntary tremor shook me all over after I

felt myself secure. I reached the edge of the glacier without further

serious difficulty, and soon after found myself steeped in the creature

comforts of our hotel.

On Monday, August 10th, I had the great pleasure of being joined by my

friend Huxley; and though the weather was very unpromising, we started

together up the glacier, he being desirous to learn something of its

general features, and, if possible, to reach the Jardin. We reached the

Couvercle, and squeezed ourselves through the Egralets; but here the

rain whizzed past us, and dense fog settled upon the cascade of the

Talefre, obscuring all its parts. We met Mr. Galton, the African

traveller, returning from an attempt upon the Jardin; and learning that

his guides had lost their way in the fog, we deemed it prudent to

return.

The foregoing brief notes will have informed the reader that at the

period of Mr. Huxley's arrival I was not without due training upon the

ice; I may also remark, that on the 25th of July I reached the summit

of the Col du Geant, accompanied by the boy Balmat, and returned to the

Montanvert on the same day. My health was perfect, and incessant

practice had taught me the art of dealing with the difficulties of the

ice. From the time of my arrival at the Montanvert the thought of

ascending Mont Blanc, and thus expanding my knowledge of the glaciers,

had often occurred to me, and I think I was justified in feeling that

the discipline which both my friend Hirst and myself had undergone ought

to enable us to accomplish the journey in a much more modest way than

ordinary. I thought a single guide sufficient for this purpose, and I

was strengthened in this opinion by the fact that Simond, who was a man

of the strictest prudence, and who at first declared four guides to be

necessary, had lowered his demand first to two, and was now evidently

willing to try the ascent with us alone.

[Sidenote: PREPARATIONS FOR A CLIMB. 1857.]

On mentioning the thing to Mr. Huxley he at once resolved to accompany

us. On the 11th of August the weather was exceedingly fine, though the

snow which had fallen during the previous days lay thick upon the

glacier. At noon we were all together at the Tacul, and the subject of

attempting Mont Blanc was mooted and discussed. My opinion was that it

would be better to wait until the fresh snow which loaded the mountain

had disappeared; but the weather was so exquisite that my friends

thought it best to take advantage of it. We accordingly entered into an

agreement with our guide, and immediately descended to make preparations

for commencing the expedition on the following morning.

FIRST ASCENT OF MONT BLANC, 1857.

(11.)

[Sidenote: SCENE FROM THE CHARMOZ. 1857.]

On Wednesday, the 12th of August, we rose early, after a very brief rest

on my part. Simond had proposed to go down to Chamouni, and commence the

ascent in the usual way, but we preferred crossing the mountains from

the Montanvert, straight to the Glacier des Bossons. At eight o'clock we

started, accompanied by two porters who were to carry our provisions to

the Grands Mulets. Slowly and silently we climbed the hill-side towards

Charmoz. We soon passed the limits of grass and rhododendrons, and

reached the slabs of gneiss which overspread the summit of the ridge,

lying one upon the other like coin upon the table of a money-changer.

From the highest-point I turned to have a last look at the Mer de Glace;

and through a pair of very dark spectacles I could see with perfect

distinctness the looped dirt-bands of the glacier, which to the naked

eye are scarcely discernible except by twilight. Flanking our track to

the left rose a series of mighty Aiguilles--the Aiguille de Charmoz,

with its bent and rifted pinnacles; the Aiguille du Grepon, the Aiguille

de Blaitiere, the Aiguille du Midi, all piercing the heavens with their

sharp pyramidal summits. Far in front of us rose the grand snow-cone of

the Dome du Gouter, while, through a forest of dark pines which gathered

like a cloud at the foot of the mountain, gleamed the white minarets of

the Glacier des Bossons. Below us lay the Valley of Chamouni, beyond

which were the Brevent and the chain of the Aiguilles Rouges; behind us

was the granite obelisk of the Aiguille du Dru, while close at hand

science found a corporeal form in a pyramid of stones used as a

trigonometrical station by Professor Forbes. Sound is known to travel

better up hill than down, because the pulses transmitted from a denser

medium to a rarer, suffer less loss of intensity than when the

transmission is in the opposite direction; and now the mellow voice of

the Arve came swinging upwards from the heavier air of the valley to the

lighter air of the hills in rich deep cadences.

[Sidenote: PASSAGE TO THE PIERRE A L'ECHELLE. 1857.]

The way for a time was excessively rough, our route being overspread

with the fragments of peaks which had once reared themselves to our

left, but which frost and lightning had shaken to pieces, and poured in

granite avalanches down the mountain. We were sometimes among huge

angular boulders, and sometimes amid lighter shingle, which gave way at

every step, thus forcing us to shift our footing incessantly. Escaping

from these, we crossed the succession of secondary glaciers which lie at

the feet of the Aiguilles, and having secured firewood found ourselves

after some hours of hard work at the Pierre a l'Echelle. Here we were

furnished with leggings of coarse woollen cloth to keep out the snow;

they were tied under the knees and quite tightly again over the insteps,

so that the legs were effectually protected. We had some refreshment,

possessed ourselves of the ladder, and entered upon the glacier.

[Sidenote: LADDER LEFT BEHIND. 1857.]

[Sidenote: DIFFICULT CREVASSES. 1857.]

The ice was excessively fissured: we crossed crevasses and crept round

slippery ridges, cutting steps in the ice wherever climbing was

necessary. This rendered our progress very slow. Once, with the

intention of lending a helping hand, I stepped forward upon a block of

granite which happened to be poised like a rocking stone upon the ice,

though I did not know it; it treacherously turned under me; I fell, but

my hands were in instant requisition, and I escaped with a bruise, from

which, however, the blood oozed angrily. We found the ladder necessary

in crossing some of the chasms, the iron spikes at its end being firmly

driven into the ice at one side, while the other end rested on the

opposite side of the fissure. The middle portion of the glacier was not

difficult. Mounds of ice rose beside us right and left, which were

sometimes split into high towers and gaunt-looking pyramids, while the

space between was unbroken. Twenty minutes' walking brought us again to

a fissured portion of the glacier, and here our porter left the ladder

on the ice behind him. For some time I was not aware of this, but we

were soon fronted by a chasm to pass which we were in consequence

compelled to make a long and dangerous circuit amid crests of crumbling

ice. This accomplished, we hoped that no repetition of the process would

occur, but we speedily came to a second fissure, where it was necessary

to step from a projecting end of ice to a mass of soft snow which

overhung the opposite side. Simond could reach this snow with his

long-handled axe; he beat it down to give it rigidity, but it was

exceedingly tender, and as he worked at it he continued to express his

fears that it would not bear us. I was the lightest of the party, and

therefore tested the passage, first; being partially lifted by Simond on

the end of his axe, I crossed the fissure, obtained some anchorage at

the other side, and helped the others over. We afterwards ascended until

another chasm, deeper and wider than any we had hitherto encountered,

arrested us. We walked alongside of it in search of a snow bridge, which

we at length found, but the keystone of the arch had unfortunately given

way, leaving projecting eaves of snow at both sides, between which we

could look into the gulf, till the gloom of its deeper portions cut the

vision short. Both sides of the crevasse were sounded, but no sure

footing was obtained; the snow was beaten and carefully trodden down as

near to the edge as possible, but it finally broke away from the foot

and fell into the chasm. One of our porters was short-legged and a bad

iceman; the other was a daring fellow, and he now threw the knapsack

from his shoulders, came to the edge of the crevasse, looked into it,

but drew back again. After a pause he repeated the act, testing the snow

with his feet and staff. I looked at the man as he stood beside the

chasm manifestly undecided as to whether he should take the step upon

which his life would hang, and thought it advisable to put a stop to

such perilous play. I accordingly interposed, the man withdrew from the

crevasse, and he and Simond descended to fetch the ladder. While they

were away Huxley sat down upon the ice, with an expression of fatigue

stamped upon his countenance: the spirit and the muscles were evidently

at war, and the resolute will mixed itself strangely with the sense of

peril and feeling of exhaustion. He had been only two days with us, and,

though his strength is great, he had had no opportunity of hardening

himself by previous exercise upon the ice for the task which he had

undertaken. The ladder now arrived, and we crossed the crevasse. I was

intentionally the last of the party, Huxley being immediately in front

of me. The determination of the man disguised his real condition from

everybody but myself, but I saw that the exhausting journey over the

boulders and debris had been too much for his London limbs. Converting

my waterproof haversack into a cushion, I made him sit down upon it at

intervals, and by thus breaking the steep ascent into short stages we

reached the cabin of the Grands Mulets together. Here I spread a rug on

the boards, and placing my bag for a pillow, he lay down, and after an

hour's profound sleep he rose refreshed and well; but still he thought

it wise not to attempt the ascent farther. Our porters left us: a baton

was stretched across the room over the stove, and our wet socks and

leggings were thrown across it to dry; our boots were placed around the

fire, and we set about preparing our evening meal. A pan was placed upon

the fire, and filled with snow, which in due time melted and boiled; I

ground some chocolate and placed it in the pan, and afterwards ladled

the beverage into the vessels we possessed, which consisted of two

earthen dishes and the metal cases of our brandy flasks. After supper

Simond went out to inspect the glacier, and was observed by Huxley, as

twilight fell, in a state of deep contemplation beside a crevasse.

[Sidenote: STAR TWINKLING. 1857.]

Gradually the stars appeared, but as yet no moon. Before lying down we

went out to look at the firmament, and noticed, what I suppose has been

observed to some extent by everybody, that the stars near the horizon

twinkled busily, while those near the zenith shone with a steady light.

One large star in particular excited our admiration; it flashed

intensely, and changed colour incessantly, sometimes blushing like a

ruby, and again gleaming like an emerald. A determinate colour would

sometimes remain constant for a sensible time, but usually the flashes

followed each other in very quick succession. Three planks were now

placed across the room near the stove, and upon these, with their rugs

folded round them, Huxley and Hirst stretched themselves, while I

nestled on the boards at the most distant end of the room. We rose at

eleven o'clock, renewed the fire and warmed ourselves, after which we

lay down again. I at length observed a patch of pale light upon the

wooden wall of the cabin, which had entered through a hole in the end of

the edifice, and rising found that it was past one o'clock. The

cloudless moon was shining over the wastes of snow, and the scene

outside was at once wild, grand, and beautiful.

[Sidenote: START FROM THE GRANDS MULETS. 1857.]

Breakfast was soon prepared, though not without difficulty; we had no

candles, they had been forgotten; but I fortunately possessed a box of

wax matches, of which Huxley took charge, patiently igniting them in

succession, and thus giving us a tolerably continuous light. We had

some tea, which had been made at the Montanvert, and carried to the

Grands Mulets in a bottle. My memory of that tea is not pleasant; it had

been left a whole night in contact with its leaves, and smacked strongly

of tannin. The snow-water, moreover, with which we diluted it was not

pure, but left a black residuum at the bottom of the dishes in which the

beverage was served. The few provisions deemed necessary being placed in

Simond's knapsack, at twenty minutes past two o'clock we scrambled down

the rocks, leaving Huxley behind us.

The snow was hardened by the night's frost, and we were cheered by the

hope of being able to accomplish the ascent with comparatively little

labour. We were environed by an atmosphere of perfect purity; the larger

stars hung like gems above us, and the moon, about half full, shone with

wondrous radiance in the dark firmament. One star in particular, which

lay eastward from the moon, suddenly made its appearance above one of

the Aiguilles, and burned there with unspeakable splendour. We turned

once towards the Mulets, and saw Huxley's form projected against the sky

as he stood upon a pinnacle of rock; he gave us a last wave of the hand

and descended, while we receded from him into the solitudes.

The evening previous our guide had examined the glacier for some

distance, his progress having been arrested by a crevasse. Beside this

we soon halted: it was spanned at one place by a bridge of snow, which

was of too light a structure to permit of Simond's testing it alone; we

therefore paused while our guide uncoiled a rope and tied us all

together. The moment was to me a peculiarly solemn one. Our little party

seemed so lonely and so small amid the silence and the vastness of the

surrounding scene. We were about to try our strength under unknown

conditions, and as the various possibilities of the enterprise crowded

on the imagination, a sense of responsibility for a moment oppressed

me. But as I looked aloft and saw the glory of the heavens, my heart

lightened, and I remarked cheerily to Hirst that Nature seemed to smile

upon our work. "Yes," he replied, in a calm and earnest voice, "and, God

willing, we shall accomplish it."

[Sidenote: A WRONG TURN. 1857.]

A pale light now overspread the eastern sky, which increased, as we

ascended, to a daffodil tinge; this afterwards heightened to orange,

deepening at one extremity into red, and fading at the other into a pure

ethereal hue to which it would be difficult to assign a special name.

Higher up the sky was violet, and this changed by insensible degrees

into the darkling blue of the zenith, which had to thank the light of

moon and stars alone for its existence. We wound steadily for a time

through valleys of ice, climbed white and slippery slopes, crossed a

number of crevasses, and after some time found ourselves beside a chasm

of great depth and width, which extended right and left as far as we

could see. We turned to the left, and marched along its edge in search

of a _pont_; but matters became gradually worse: other crevasses joined

on to the first one, and the further we proceeded the more riven and

dislocated the ice became. At length we reached a place where further

advance was impossible. Simond in his difficulty complained of the want

of light, and wished us to wait for the advancing day; I, on the

contrary, thought that we had light enough and ought to make use of it.

Here the thought occurred to me that Simond, having been only once

before to the top of the mountain, might not be quite clear about the

route; the glacier, however, changes within certain limits from year to

year, so that a general knowledge was all that could be expected, and we

trusted to our own muscles to make good any mistake in the way of

guidance. We now turned and retraced our steps along the edges of chasms

where the ice was disintegrated and insecure, and succeeded at length

in finding a bridge which bore us across the crevasse. This error caused

us the loss of an hour, and after walking for this time we could cast a

stone from the point we had attained to the place whence we had been

compelled to return.

[Sidenote: SERACS OF THE DOME DU GOUTER. 1857.]

Our way now lay along the face of a steep incline of snow, which was cut

by the fissure we had just passed, in a direction parallel to our route.

On the heights to our right, loose ice-crags seemed to totter, and we

passed two tracks over which the frozen blocks had rushed some short

time previously. We were glad to get out of the range of these terrible

projectiles, and still more so to escape the vicinity of that ugly

crevasse. To be killed in the open air would be a luxury, compared with

having the life squeezed out of one in the horrible gloom of these

chasms. The blush of the coming day became more and more intense; still

the sun himself did not appear, being hidden from us by the peaks of the

Aiguille du Midi, which were drawn clear and sharp against the

brightening sky. Right under this Aiguille were heaps of snow smoothly

rounded and constituting a portion of the sources whence the Glacier du

Geant is fed; these, as the day advanced, bloomed with a rosy light. We

reached the Petit Plateau, which we found covered with the remains of

ice avalanches; above us upon the crest of the mountain rose three

mighty bastions, divided from each other by deep vertical rents, with

clean smooth walls, across which the lines of annual bedding were drawn

like courses of masonry. From these, which incessantly renew themselves,

and from the loose and broken ice-crags near them, the boulders amid

which we now threaded our way had been discharged. When they fall their

descent must be sublime.

[Sidenote: THE LOST GUIDES. 1857.]

The snow had been gradually getting deeper, and the ascent more

wearisome, but superadded to this at the Petit Plateau was the

uncertainty of the footing between the blocks of ice. In many places

the space was merely covered by a thin crust, which, when trod upon,

instantly yielded, and we sank with a shock sometimes to the hips. Our

way next lay up a steep incline to the Grand Plateau, the depth and

tenderness of the snow augmenting as we ascended. We had not yet seen

the sun, but, as we attained the brow which forms the entrance to the

Grand Plateau, he hung his disk upon a spike of rock to our left, and,

surrounded by a glory of interference spectra of the most gorgeous

colours, blazed down upon us. On the Grand Plateau we halted and had our

frugal refreshment. At some distance to our left was the crevasse into

which Dr. Hamel's three guides were precipitated by an avalanche in

1820; they are still entombed in the ice, and some future explorer may

perhaps see them disgorged lower down, fresh and undecayed. They can

hardly reach the surface until they pass the snow-line of the glacier,

for above this line the quantity of snow that annually falls being in

excess of the quantity melted, the tendency would be to make the

ice-covering above them thicker. But it is also possible that the waste

of the ice underneath may have brought the bodies to the bed of the

glacier, where their very bones may have been ground to mud by an agency

which the hardest rocks cannot withstand.

[Sidenote: THE GUIDE TIRED. 1857.]

[Sidenote: A PERILOUS SLOPE. 1857.]

As the sun poured his light upon the Plateau the little snow-facets

sparkled brilliantly, sometimes with a pure white light, and at others

with prismatic colours. Contrasted with the white spaces above and

around us were the dark mountains on the opposite side of the valley of

Chamouni, around which fantastic masses of cloud were beginning to build

themselves. Mont Buet, with its cone of snow, looked small, and the

Brevent altogether mean; the limestone bastions of the Fys, however,

still presented a front of gloom and grandeur. We traversed the Grand

Plateau, and at length reached the base of an extremely steep incline

which stretched upwards towards the Corridor. Here, as if produced by a

fault, consequent upon the sinking of the ice in front, rose a vertical

precipice, from the coping of which vast stalactites of ice depended.

Previous to reaching this place I had noticed a haggard expression upon

the countenance of our guide, which was now intensified by the prospect

of the ascent before him. Hitherto he had always been in front, which

was certainly the most fatiguing position. I felt that I must now take

the lead, so I spoke cheerily to the man and placed him behind me.

Marking a number of points upon the slope as resting places, I went

swiftly from one to the other. The surface of the snow had been

partially melted by the sun and then refrozen, thus forming a

superficial crust, which bore the weight up to a certain point, and then

suddenly gave way, permitting the leg to sink to above the knee. The

shock consequent on this, and the subsequent effort necessary to

extricate the leg, were extremely fatiguing. My motion was complained of

as too quick, and my tracks as imperfect; I moderated the former, and,

to render my footholes broad and sure, I stamped upon the frozen crust,

and twisted my legs in the soft mass underneath,--a terribly exhausting

process. I thus led the way to the base of the Rochers Rouges, up to

which the fault already referred to had prolonged itself as a crevasse,

which was roofed at one place by a most dangerous-looking snow-bridge.

Simond came to the front; I drew his attention to the state of the snow,

and proposed climbing the Rochers Rouges; but, with a promptness unusual

with him, he replied that this was impossible; the bridge was our only

means of passing, and we must try it. We grasped our ropes, and dug our

feet firmly into the snow to check the man's descent if the _pont_ gave

way, but to our astonishment it bore him, and bore us safely after him.

The slope which we had now to ascend had the snow swept from its

surface, and was therefore firm ice. It was most dangerously steep, and,

its termination being the fretted coping of the precipice to which I

have referred, if we slid downwards we should shoot over this and be

dashed to pieces upon the ice below.[A] Simond, who had come to the

front to cross the crevasse, was now engaged in cutting steps, which he

made deep and large, so that they might serve us on our return. But the

listless strokes of his axe proclaimed his exhaustion; so I took the

implement out of his hands, and changed places with him. Step after step

was hewn, but the top of the Corridor appeared ever to recede from us.

Hirst was behind unoccupied, and could thus turn his thoughts to the

peril of our position: he _felt_ the angle on which we hung, and saw the

edge of the precipice, to which less than a quarter of a minute's slide

would carry us, and for the first time during the journey he grew giddy.

A cigar which he lighted for the purpose tranquilized him.

[Sidenote: WILL AND MUSCLE. 1857.]

I hewed sixty steps upon this slope, and each step had cost a minute, by

Hirst's watch. The Mur de la Cote was still before us, and on this the

guide-books informed us two or three hundred steps were sometimes found

necessary. If sixty steps cost an hour, what would be the cost of two

hundred? The question was disheartening in the extreme, for the time at

which we had calculated on reaching the summit was already passed, while

the chief difficulties remained unconquered. Having hewn our way along

the harder ice we reached snow. I again resorted to stamping to secure a

footing, and while thus engaged became, for the first time, aware of the

drain of force to which I was subjecting myself. The thought of being

absolutely exhausted had never occurred to me, and from first to last I

had taken no care to husband my strength. I always calculated that the

_will_ would serve me even should the muscles fail, but I now found that

mechanical laws rule man in the long run; that no effort of will, no

power of spirit, can draw beyond a certain limit upon muscular force.

The soul, it is true, can stir the body to action, but its function is

to excite and apply force, and not to create it.

While stamping forward through the frozen crust I was compelled to pause

at short intervals; then would set out again apparently fresh, to find,

however, in a few minutes that my strength was gone, and that I required

to rest once more. In this way I gained the summit of the Corridor, when

Hirst came to the front, and I felt some relief in stepping slowly after

him, making use of the holes into which his feet had sunk. He thus led

the way to the base of the Mur de la Cote, the thought of which had so

long cast a gloom upon us; here we left our rope behind us, and while

pausing I asked Simond whether he did not feel a desire to go to the

summit--"_Bien sur_," was his reply, "_mais!_" Our guide's mind was so

constituted that the "_mais_" seemed essential to its peace. I stretched

my hand towards him, and said, "Simond, we must do it." One thing alone

I felt could defeat us: the usual time of the ascent had been more than

doubled, the day was already far spent, and if the ascent would throw

our subsequent descent into night it could not be contemplated.

[Sidenote: A DOZE ON THE CALOTTE. 1857.]

We now faced the Mur, which was by no means so bad as we had expected.

Driving the iron claws of our boots into the scars made by the axe, and

the spikes of our batons into the slope above our feet, we ascended

steadily until the summit was attained, and the top of the mountain rose

clearly above us. We congratulated ourselves upon this; but Simond,

probably fearing that our joy might become too full, remarked, "_Mais le

sommet est encore bien loin!_" It was, alas! too true. The snow became

soft again, and our weary limbs sank in it as before. Our guide went on

in front, audibly muttering his doubts as to our ability to reach the

top, and at length he threw himself upon the snow, and exclaimed, "_Il

faut y renoncer!_" Hirst now undertook the task of rekindling the

guide's enthusiasm, after which Simond rose, exclaiming, "_Ah! comme ca

me fait mal aux genoux_," and went forward. Two rocks break through the

snow between the summit of the Mur and the top of the mountain; the

first is called the Petits Mulets, and the highest the Derniers Rochers.

At the former of these we paused to rest, and finished our scanty store

of wine and provisions. We had not a bit of bread nor a drop of wine

left; our brandy flasks were also nearly exhausted, and thus we had to

contemplate the journey to the summit, and the subsequent descent to the

Grands Mulets, without the slightest prospect of physical refreshment.

The almost total loss of two nights' sleep, with two days' toil

superadded, made me long for a few minutes' doze, so I stretched myself

upon a composite couch of snow and granite, and immediately fell asleep.

My friend, however, soon aroused me. "You quite frighten me," he said;

"I have listened for some minutes, and have not heard you breathe once."

I had, in reality, been taking deep draughts of the mountain air, but so

silently as not to be heard.

I now filled our empty wine-bottle with snow and placed it in the

sunshine, that we might have a little water on our return. We then rose;

it was half-past two o'clock; we had been upwards of twelve hours

climbing, and I calculated that, whether we reached the summit or not,

we could at all events work _towards_ it for another hour. To the sense

of fatigue previously experienced, a new phenomenon was now added--the

beating of the heart. We were incessantly pulled up by this, which

sometimes became so intense as to suggest danger. I counted the number

of paces which we were able to accomplish without resting, and found

that at the end of every twenty, sometimes at the end of fifteen, we

were compelled to pause. At each pause my heart throbbed audibly, as I

leaned upon my staff, and the subsidence of this action was always the

signal for further advance. My breathing was quick, but light and

unimpeded. I endeavoured to ascertain whether the hip-joint, on account

of the diminished atmospheric pressure, became loosened, so as to throw

the weight of the leg upon the surrounding ligaments, but could not be

certain about it. I also sought a little aid and encouragement from

philosophy, endeavouring to remember what great things had been done by

the accumulation of small quantities, and I urged upon myself that the

present was a case in point, and that the summation of distances twenty

paces each must finally place us at the top. Still the question of time

left the matter long in doubt, and until we had passed the Derniers

Rochers we worked on with the stern indifference of men who were doing

their duty, and did not look to consequences. Here, however, a gleam of

hope began to brighten our souls; the summit became visibly nearer,

Simond showed more alacrity; at length success became certain, and at

half-past three P.M. my friend and I clasped hands upon the top.

[Sidenote: THE SUMMIT ATTAINED. 1857.]

The summit of the mountain is an elongated ridge, which has been

compared to the back of an ass. It was perfectly manifest that we were

dominant over all other mountains; as far as the eye could range Mont

Blanc had no competitor. The summits which had looked down upon us in

the morning were now far beneath us. The Dome du Gouter, which had held

its threatening _seracs_ above us so long, was now at our feet. The

Aiguille du Midi, Mont Blanc du Tacul, and the Monts Maudits, the

Talefre with its surrounding peaks, the Grand Jorasse, Mont Mallet, and

the Aiguille du Geant, with our own familiar glaciers, were all below

us. And as our eye ranged over the broad shoulders of the mountain, over

ice hills and valleys, plateaux and far-stretching slopes of snow, the

conception of its magnitude grew upon us, and impressed us more and

more.

[Sidenote: CLOUDS FROM THE SUMMIT. 1857.]

The clouds were very grand--grander indeed than anything I had ever

before seen. Some of them seemed to hold thunder in their breasts, they

were so dense and dark; others, with their faces turned sunward, shone

with the dazzling whiteness of the mountain snow; while others again

built themselves into forms resembling gigantic elm trees, loaded with

foliage. Towards the horizon the luxury of colour added itself to the

magnificent alternations of light and shade. Clear spaces of amber and

ethereal green embraced the red and purple cumuli, and seemed to form

the cradle in which they swung. Closer at hand squally mists, suddenly

engendered, were driven hither and thither by local winds; while the

clouds at a distance lay "like angels sleeping on the wing," with

scarcely visible motion. Mingling with the clouds, and sometimes rising

above them, were the highest mountain heads, and as our eyes wandered

from peak to peak, onwards to the remote horizon, space itself seemed

more vast from the manner in which the objects which it held were

distributed.

[Sidenote: INTENSITY OF SOUND. 1857.]

I wished to repeat the remarkable experiment of De Saussure upon sound,

and for this purpose had requested Simond to bring a pistol from

Chamouni; but in the multitude of his cares he forgot it, and in lieu of

it my host at the Montanvert had placed in two tin tubes, of the same

size and shape, the same amount of gunpowder, securely closing the tubes

afterwards, and furnishing each of them with a small lateral aperture.

We now planted one of them upon the snow, and bringing a strip of amadou

into communication with the touchhole, ignited its most distant end: it

failed; we tried again, and were successful, the explosion tearing

asunder the little case which contained the powder. The sound was

certainly not so great as I should have expected from an equal quantity

of powder at the sea level.[B]

The snow upon the summit was indurated, but of an exceedingly fine

grain, and the beautiful effect already referred to as noticed upon the

Stelvio was strikingly manifest. The hole made by driving the baton into

the snow was filled with a delicate blue light; and, by management, its

complementary pinky yellow could also be produced. Even the iron spike

at the end of the baton made a hole sufficiently deep to exhibit the

blue colour, which certainly depends on the size and arrangement of the

snow crystals. The firmament above us was without a cloud, and of a

darkness almost equal to that which surrounded the moon at 2 A.M. Still,

though the sun was shining, a breeze, whose tooth had been sharpened by

its passage over the snow-fields, searched us through and through. The

day was also waning, and, urged by the warnings of our ever prudent

guide, we at length began the descent.

[Sidenote: AN UNEXPECTED GLISSADE. 1857.]

Gravity was now in our favour, but gravity could not entirely spare our

wearied limbs, and where we sank in the snow we found our downward

progress very trying. I suffered from thirst, but after we had divided

the liquefied snow at the Petits Mulets amongst us we had nothing to

drink. I crammed the clean snow into my mouth, but the process of

melting was slow and tantalizing to a parched throat, while the chill

was painful to the teeth. We marched along the Corridor, and crossed

cautiously the perilous slope on which we had cut steps in the morning,

breathing more freely after we had cleared the ice-precipice before

described. Along the base of this precipice we now wound, diverging from

our morning's track, in order to get surer footing in the snow; it was

like flour, and while descending to the Grand Plateau we sometimes sank

in it nearly to the waist. When I endeavoured to squeeze it, so as to

fill my flask, it at first refused to cling together, behaving like so

much salt; the heat of the hand, however, soon rendered it a little

moist, and capable of being pressed into compact masses. The sun met us

here with extraordinary power; the heat relaxed my muscles, but when

fairly immersed in the shadow of the Dome du Gouter, the coolness

restored my strength, which augmented as the evening advanced. Simond

insisted on the necessity of haste, to save us from the perils of

darkness. "_On peut perir_" was his repeated admonition, and he was

quite right. We reached the region of _ponts_, more weary, but, in

compensation, more callous, than we had been in the morning, and moved

over the soft snow of the bridges as if we had been walking upon eggs.

The valley of Chamouni was filled with brown-red clouds, which crept

towards us up the mountain; the air around and above us was, however,

clear, and the chastened light told us that day was departing. Once as

we hung upon a steep slope, where the snow was exceedingly soft, Hirst

omitted to make his footing sure; the soft mass gave way, and he fell,

uttering a startled shout as he went down the declivity. I was attached

to him, and, fixing my feet suddenly in the snow, endeavoured to check

his fall, but I seemed a mere feather in opposition to the force with

which he descended.[C] I fell, and went down after him; and we carried

quite an avalanche of snow along with us, in which we were almost

completely hidden at the bottom of the slope. All further dangers,

however, were soon past, and we went at a headlong speed to the base of

the Grands Mulets; the sound of our batons against the rocks calling

Huxley forth. A position more desolate than his had been can hardly be

imagined. For seventeen hours he had been there. He had expected us at

two o'clock in the afternoon; the hours came and passed, and till seven

in the evening he had looked for us. "To the end of my life," he said,

"I shall never forget the sound of those batons." It was his turn now to

nurse me, which he did, repaying my previous care of him with high

interest. We were all soon stretched, and, in spite of cold and hard

boards, I slept at intervals; but the night, on the whole, was a weary

one, and we rose next morning with muscles more tired than when we lay

down.

[Sidenote: BLIND AMID THE CREVASSES. 1857.]

_Friday, 14th August._--Hirst was almost blind this morning; and our

guide's eyes were also greatly inflamed. We gathered our things

together, and bade the Grands Mulets farewell. It had frozen hard during

the night, and this, on the steeper slopes, rendered the footing very

insecure. Simond, moreover, appeared to be a little bewildered, and I

sometimes preceded him in cutting the steps, while Hirst moved among the

crevasses like a blind man; one of us keeping near him, so that he might

feel for the actual places where our feet had rested, and place his own

in the same position. It cost us three hours to cross from the Grands

Mulets to the Pierre a l'Echelle, where we discarded our leggings, had a

mouthful of food, and a brief rest. Once upon the safe earth Simond's

powers seemed to be restored, and he led us swiftly downwards to the

little auberge beside the Cascade du Tard, where we had some excellent

lemonade, equally choice cognac, fresh strawberries and cream. How sweet

they were, and how beautiful we thought the peasant girl who served

them! Our guide kept a little hotel, at which we halted, and found it

clean and comfortable. We were, in fact, totally unfit to go elsewhere.

My coat was torn, holes were kicked through my boots, and I was

altogether ragged and shabby. A warm bath before dinner refreshed all

mightily. Dense clouds now lowered upon Mont Blanc, and we had not been

an hour at Chamouni when the breaking up of the weather was announced by

a thunder-peal. We had accomplished our journey just in time.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Those acquainted with the mountain will at once recognise the grave

error here committed. In fact on starting from the Grands Mulets we had

crossed the glacier too far, and throughout were much too close to the

Dome du Gouter.

[B] I fired the second case in a field in Hampshire, and, as far as my

memory enabled me to make the comparison, found its sound considerably

_denser_, if I may use the expression. In 1859 I had a pistol fired at

the summit of Mont Blanc: its sound was sensibly feebler and _shorter_

than in the valley; it resembled somewhat the discharge of a cork from a

champagne bottle, though much louder, but it could not be at all

compared to the sound of a common cracker.

[C] I believe that I could stop him now (1860).

(12.)

[Sidenote: HAPPY EVENINGS. 1857.]

After our return we spent every available hour upon the ice, working at

questions which shall be treated under their proper heads, each day's

work being wound up by an evening of perfect enjoyment. Roast mutton and

fried potatoes were our incessant fare, for which, after a little

longing for a change at first, we contracted a final and permanent love.

As the year advanced, moreover, and the grass sprouted with augmented

vigour on the slopes of the Montanvert, the mutton, as predicted by our

host, became more tender and juicy. We had also some capital Sallenches

beer, cold as the glacier water, but effervescent as champagne. Such

were our food and drink. After dinner we gathered round the pine-fire,

and I can hardly think it possible for three men to be more happy than

we then were. It was not the goodness of the conversation, nor any high

intellectual element, which gave the charm to our gatherings; the

gladness grew naturally out of our own perfect health, and out of the

circumstances of our position. Every fibre seemed a repository of latent

joy, which the slightest stimulus sufficed to bring into conscious

action.

[Sidenote: A GLACIER "BLOWER." 1857.]

On the 17th I penetrated with Simond through thick gloom to the Tacul;

on the 18th we set stakes at the same place: on the same day, while

crossing the medial moraine of the Talefre, a little below the cascade,

a singular noise attracted my attention; it seemed at first as if a

snake were hissing about my feet. On changing my position the sound

suddenly ceased, but it soon recommenced. There was some snow upon the

glacier, which I removed, and placed my ear close to the ice, but it was

difficult to fix on the precise spot from which the sound issued. I cut

away the disintegrated portion of the surface, and at length discovered

a minute crack, from which a stream of air issued, which I could feel as

a cold blast against my hand. While cutting away the surface further, I

stopped the little "blower." A marmot screamed near me, and while I

paused to look at the creature scampering up the crags, the sound

commenced again, changing its note variously--hissing like a snake,

singing like a kettle, and sometimes chirruping intermittently like a

bird. On passing my fingers to and fro over the crack, I obtained a

succession of audible puffs; the current was sufficiently strong to blow

away the corner of a gauze veil held over the fissure. Still the crack

was not wide enough to permit of the entrance of my finger nail; and to

issue with such force from so minute a rent the air must have been under

considerable pressure. The origin of the blower was in all probability

the following:--When the ice is recompacted after having descended a

cascade, it is next to certain that chambers of air will be here and

there enclosed, which, being powerfully squeezed afterwards, will issue

in the manner described whenever a crack in the ice furnishes it with a

means of escape. In my experiments on flowing mud, for example, the air

entrapped in the mass while descending from the sluice into the trough,

bursts in bubbles from the surface at a short distance downwards.

[Sidenote: A DIFFICULT LINE. 1857.]

I afterwards examined the Talefre cascade from summit to base, with

reference to the structure, until at the close of the day thickening

clouds warned me off. I went down the glacier at a trot, guided by the

boulders capped with little cairns which marked the route. The track

which I had pursued for the last five weeks amid the crevasses near

l'Angle was this day barely passable. The glacier had changed, my work

was drawing to a close, and, as I looked at the objects which had now

become so familiar to me, I felt that, though not viscous, the ice did

not lack the quality of "adhesiveness," and I felt a little sad at the

thought of bidding it so soon farewell.

At some distance below the Montanvert the Mer de Glace is riven from

side to side by transverse crevasses: these fissures indicate that the

glacier where they occur is in a state of longitudinal strain which

produces transverse fracture. I wished to ascertain the amount of

stretching which the glacier here demanded, and which the ice was not

able to give; and for this purpose desired to compare the velocity of a

line set out across the fissured portion with that of a second line

staked out across the ice before it had become thus fissured. A previous

inspection of the glacier through the telescope of our theodolite

induced us to fix on a place which, though much riven, still did not

exclude the hope of our being able to reach the other side. Each of us

was, as usual, armed with his own axe; and carrying with us suitable

stakes, my guide and myself entered upon this portion of the glacier on

the morning of the 19th of August.

[Sidenote: "NOUS NOUS TROUVERONS PERDUS!" 1857.]

I was surprised on entering to find some veins of white ice, which from

their position and aspect appeared to be derived from the Glacier du

Geant; but to these I shall subsequently refer. Our work was extremely

difficult; we penetrated to some distance along one line, but were

finally forced back, and compelled to try another. Right and left of us

were profound fissures, and once a cone of ice forty feet high leaned

quite over our track. In front of us was a second leaning mass borne by

a mere stalk, and so topheavy that one wondered why the slight pedestal

on which it rested did not suddenly crack across. We worked slowly

forwards, and soon found ourselves in the shadow of the topheavy mass

above referred to; and from which I escaped with a wounded hand, caused

by over-haste. Simond surmounted the next ridge and exclaimed, "_Nous

nous trouverons perdus!_" I reached his side, and on looking round the

place saw that there was no footing for man. The glacier here, as shown

in the frontispiece, was cut up into thin wedges, separated from each

other by profound chasms, and the wedges were so broken across as to

render creeping along their edges quite impossible. Thus brought to a

stand, I fixed a stake at the point where we were forced to halt, and

retreated along edges of detestable granular ice, which fell in showers

into the crevasses when struck by the axe. At one place an exceedingly

deep fissure was at our left, which was joined, at a sharp angle, by

another at our right, and we were compelled to cross at the place of

intersection: to do this we had to trust ourselves to a projecting knob

of that vile rotten ice which I had learned to fear since my experience

of it on the Col du Geant. We finally escaped, and set out our line at

another place, where the glacier, though badly cut, was not impassable.

[Sidenote: FAREWELL TO THE MONTANVERT. 1857.]

On the 20th we made a series of final measurements at the Tacul, and

determined the motion of two lines which we had set out the previous

day. On the 21st we quitted the Montanvert; I had been there from the

15th of July, and the longer I remained the better I liked the

establishment and the people connected with it. It was then managed by

Joseph Tairraz and Jules Charlet, both of whom showed us every

attention. In 1858 and 1859 I had occasion to revisit the establishment,

which was then managed by Jules and his brother, and found in it the

same good qualities. During my winter expedition of 1859 I also found

the same readiness to assist me in every possible way; honest Jules

expressing his willingness to ascend through the snow to the auberge if

I thought his presence would in any degree contribute to my comfort.

We crossed the glacier, and descended by the Chapeau to the Cascade des

Bois, the inclination of which and of the lower portion of the glacier

we then determined. The day was magnificent. Looking upwards, the

Aiguilles de Charmoz and du Dru rose right and left like sentinels of

the valley, while in front of us the ice descended the steep, a

bewildering mass of crags and chasms. At the other side was the

pine-clad slope of the Montanvert. Further on the Aiguille du Midi threw

its granite pyramid between us and Mont Blanc; on the Dome du Gouter the

_seracs_ of the mountain were to be seen, while issuing as if from a

cleft in the mountain side the Glacier des Bossons thrust through the

black pines its snowy tongue. Below us was the beautiful valley of

Chamouni itself, through which the Arve and Arveiron rushed like

enlivening spirits. We finally examined a grand old moraine produced by

a Mer de Glace of other ages, when the ice quite crossed the valley of

Chamouni and abutted against the opposite mountain-wall.

[Sidenote: EDOUARD SIMOND. 1857.]

Simond had proved himself a very valuable assistant; he was intelligent

and perfectly trustworthy; and though the peculiar nature of my work

sometimes caused me to attempt things against which his prudence

protested, he lacked neither strength nor courage. On reaching Chamouni

and adding up our accounts, I found that I had not sufficient cash to

pay him; money was waiting for me at the post-office in Geneva, and

thither it was arranged that my friend Hirst should proceed next

morning, while I was to await the arrival of the money at Chamouni. My

guide heard of this arrangement, and divined its cause: he came to me,

and in the most affectionate manner begged of me to accept from him the

loan of 500 francs. Though I did not need the loan, the mode in which it

was offered to me augmented the kindly feelings which I had long

entertained towards Simond, and I may add that my intercourse with him

since has served only to confirm my first estimate of his worthiness.

EXPEDITION OF 1858.

(13.)

[Sidenote: DOUBTS REGARDING STRUCTURE. 1858.]

I had confined myself during the summer of 1857 to the Mer de Glace and

its tributaries, desirous to make my knowledge accurate rather than

extensive. I had made the acquaintance of all accessible parts of the

glacier, and spared no pains to master both the details and the meaning

of the laminated structure of the ice, but I found no fact upon which I

could take my stand and say to an advocate of an opposing theory, "This

is unassailable." In experimental science we have usually the power of

changing the conditions at pleasure; if Nature does not reply to a

question we throw it into another form; a combining of conditions is, in

fact, the essence of experiment. To meet the requirements of the present

question, I could not twist the same glacier into various shapes, and

throw it into different states of strain and pressure; but I might, by

visiting many glaciers, find all needful conditions fulfilled in detail,

and by observing these I hoped to confer upon the subject the character

and precision of a true experimental inquiry.

The summer of 1858 was accordingly devoted to this purpose, when I had

the good fortune to be accompanied by Professor Ramsay, the author of

some extremely interesting papers upon ancient glaciers. Taking Zuerich,

Schaffhausen, and Lucerne in our way, we crossed the Bruenig on the 22nd

of July, and met my guide, Christian Lauener, at Meyringen. On the 23rd

we visited the glacier of Rosenlaui, and the glacier of the

Schwartzwald, and reached Grindelwald in the evening of the same day. My

expedition with Mr. Huxley had taught me that the Lower Grindelwald

Glacier was extremely instructive, and I was anxious to see many parts

of it once more; this I did, in company with Ramsay, and we also spent a

day upon the upper glacier, after which our path lay over the Strahleck

to the glaciers of the Aar and of the Rhone.

PASSAGE OF THE STRAHLECK.

(14.)

[Sidenote: A GLOOMY PROSPECT. 1858.]

On Monday, the 26th of July, we were called at 4 A.M., and found the

weather very unpromising, but the two mornings which preceded it had

also been threatening without any evil result. There was, it is true,

something more than usually hostile in the aspect of the clouds which

sailed sullenly from the west, and smeared the air and mountains as if

with the dirty smoke of a manufacturing town. We despatched our coffee,

went down to the bottom of the Grindelwald valley, up the opposite

slope, and were soon amid the gloom of the pines which partially cover

it. On emerging from these, a watery gleam on the mottled head of the

Eiger was the only evidence of direct sunlight in that direction. To our

left was the Wetterhorn surrounded by wild and disorderly clouds,

through the fissures of which the morning light glared strangely. For a

time the Heisse Platte was seen, a dark brown patch amid the ghastly

blue which overspread the surrounding slopes of snow. The clouds once

rolled up, and revealed for a moment the summits of the Viescherhoerner;

but they immediately settled down again, and hid the mountains from top

to base. Soon afterwards they drew themselves partially aside, and a

patch of blue over the Strahleck gave us hope and pleasure. As we

ascended, the prospect in front of us grew better, but that behind

us--and the wind came from behind--grew worse. Slowly and stealthily the

dense neutral-tint masses crept along the sides of the mountains, and

seemed to dog us like spies; while over the glacier hung a thin veil of

fog, through which gleamed the white minarets of the ice.

[Sidenote: ICE CASCADE AND PROTUBERANCES. 1858.]

[Sidenote: DIRT-BANDS OF THE STRAHLECK BRANCH. 1858.]

When we first spoke of crossing the Strahleck, Lauener said it would be

necessary to take two guides at least; but after a day's performance on

the ice he thought we might manage very well by taking, in addition to

himself, the herd of the alp, over the more difficult part of the pass.

He had further experience of us on the second day, and now, as we

approached the herd's hut, I was amused to hear him say that he thought

any assistance beside his own unnecessary. Relying upon ourselves,

therefore, we continued our route, and were soon upon the glacier, which

had been rendered smooth and slippery through the removal of its

disintegrated surface by the warm air. Crossing the Strahleck branch of

the glacier to its left side, we climbed the rocks to the grass and

flowers which clothe the slopes above them. Our way sometimes lay over

these, sometimes along the beds of streams, across turbulent brooks, and

once around the face of a cliff, which afforded us about an inch of

ledge to stand upon, and some protruding splinters to lay hold of by the

hands. Having reached a promontory which commanded a fine view of the

glacier, and of the ice cascade by which it was fed, I halted, to check

the observations already made from the side of the opposite mountain.

Here, as there, cliffy ridges were seen crossing the cascade of the

glacier, with interposed spaces of dirt and debris--the former being

toned down, and the latter squeezed towards the base of the fall, until

finally the ridges swept across the glacier, in gentle swellings, from

side to side; while the valleys between them, holding the principal

share of the superficial impurity, formed the cradles of the so-called

Dirt-Bands. These swept concentric with the protuberances across the

glacier, and remained upon its surface even after the swellings had

disappeared. The swifter flow of the centre of the glacier tends of

course incessantly to lengthen the loops of the bands, and to thrust the

summits of the curves which they form more and more in advance of their

lateral portions. The depressions between the protuberances appeared to

be furrowed by minor wrinkles, as if the ice of the depressions had

yielded more than that of the protuberances. This, I think, is extremely

probable, though it has never yet been proved. Three stakes, placed, one

on the summit, another on the frontal slope, and another at the base of

a protuberance, would, I think, move with unequal velocities. They

would, I think, show that, upon the large and general motion of the

glacier, smaller motions are superposed, as minor oscillations are known

to cover parasitically the large ones of a vibrating string. Possibly,

also, the dirt-bands may owe something to the squeezing of impurities

out of the glacier to its surface in the intervals between the

swellings. From our present position we could also see the swellings on

the Viescherhoerner branch of the glacier, in the valleys between which

coarse shingle and debris were collected, which would form dirt-bands if

they could. On neither branch, however, do the bands attain the

definition and beauty which they possess upon the Mer de Glace.

After an instructive lesson we faced our task once more, passing amid

crags and boulders, and over steep moraines, from which the stones

rolled down upon the slightest disturbance. While crossing a slope of

snow with an inclination of 45 deg., my footing gave way, I fell, but

turned promptly on my face, dug my staff deeply into the snow, and

arrested the motion before I had slid a dozen yards. Ramsay was behind me,

speculating whether he should be able to pass the same point without

slipping; before he reached it, however, the snow yielded, he fell, and

slid swiftly downwards. Lauener, whose attention had been aroused by my

fall, chanced to be looking round when Ramsay's footing yielded. With

the velocity of a projectile he threw himself upon my companion, seized

him, and brought him to rest before he had reached the bottom of the

slope. The act made a very favourable impression upon me, it was so

prompt and instinctive. An eagle could not swoop upon its prey with more

directness of aim and swiftness of execution.

[Sidenote: ICE CLIFFS THROUGH THE FOG. 1858.]

While this went on the clouds were playing hide and seek with the

mountains. The ice-crags and pinnacles to our left, looming through the

haze, seemed of gigantic proportions, reminding one of the Hades of

Byron's 'Cain.'

"How sunless and how vast are these dim realms!"

We climbed for some time along the moraine which flanks the cascade, and

on reaching the level of the brow Lauener paused, cast off his knapsack,

and declared for breakfast. While engaged with it the dense clouds which

had crammed the gorge and obscured the mountains, all melted away, and a

scene of indescribable magnificence was revealed. Overhead the sky

suddenly deepened to dark blue, and against it the Finsteraarhorn

projected his dark and mighty mass. Brown spurs jutted from the

mountain, and between them were precipitous snow-slopes, fluted by the

descent of rocks and avalanches, and broken into ice-precipices lower

down. Right in front of us, and from its proximity more gigantic to the

eye, was the Schreckhorn, while from couloirs and mountain-slopes the

matter of glaciers yet to be was poured into the vast basin on the rim

of which we now stood.

[Sidenote: MUTATIONS OF THE CLOUDS. 1858.]

This it was next our object to cross; our way lying in part through deep

snow-slush, the scene changing perpetually from blue heaven to gray haze

which massed itself at intervals in dense clouds about the mountains.

After crossing the basin our way lay partly over slopes of snow, partly

over loose shingle, and at one place along the edge of a formidable

precipice of rock. We sat down sometimes to rest, and during these

pauses, though they were very brief, the scene had time to go through

several of its Protean mutations. At one moment all would be perfectly

serene, no cloud in the transparent air to tell us that any portion of

it was in motion, while the blue heaven threw its flattened arch over

the magnificent amphitheatre. Then in an instant, from some local

cauldron, the vapour would boil up suddenly, eddying wildly in the air,

which a moment before seemed so still, and enveloping the entire scene.

Thus the space enclosed by the Finsteraarhorn, the Viescherhoerner, and

the Schreckhorn, would at one moment be filled with fog to the mountain

heads, every trace of which a few minutes sufficed to sweep away,

leaving the unstained blue of heaven behind it, and the mountains

showing sharp and jagged outlines in the glassy air. One might be almost

led to imagine that the vapour molecules endured a strain similar to

that of water cooled below its freezing point, or heated beyond its

boiling point; and that, on the strain being relieved by the sudden

yielding of the opposing force, the particles rushed together, and thus

filled in an instant the clear atmosphere with aqueous precipitation.

I had no idea that the Strahleck was so fine a pass. Whether it is the

quality of my mind to take in the glory of the present so intensely as

to make me forgetful of the glory of the past, I know not, but it

appeared to me that I had never seen anything finer than the scene from

the summit. The amphitheatre formed by the mountains seemed to me of

exceeding magnificence; nor do I think that my feeling was subjective

merely; for the simple magnitude of the masses which built up the

spectacle would be sufficient to declare its grandeur. Looking down

towards the Glacier of the Aar, a scene of wild beauty and desolation

presented itself. Not a trace of vegetation could be seen along the

whole range of the bounding mountains; glaciers streamed from their

shoulders into the valley beneath, where they welded themselves to form

the Finsteraar affluent of the Unteraar glacier.

[Sidenote: DESCENT OF THE CRAGS. 1858.]

After a brief pause, Lauener again strapped on his knapsack, and

tempered both will and muscles by the remark, that our worst piece of

work was now before us. From the place where we sat, the mountain fell

precipitously for several hundred feet; and down the weathered crags,

and over the loose shingle which encumbered their ledges, our route now

lay. Lauener was in front, cool and collected, lending at times a hand

to Ramsay, and a word of encouragement to both of us, while I brought up

the rear. I found my full haversack so inconvenient that I once or twice

thought of sending it down the crags in advance of me, but Lauener

assured me that it would be utterly destroyed before reaching the

bottom. My complaint against it was, that at critical places it

sometimes came between me and the face of the cliff, pushing me away

from the latter so as to throw my centre of gravity almost beyond the

base intended to support it. We came at length upon a snow-slope, which

had for a time an inclination of 50 deg.; then once more to the rocks;

again to the snow, which was both steep and deep. Our batons were at

least six feet long: we drove them into the snow to secure an anchorage,

but they sank to their very ends, and we merely retained a length of them

sufficient for a grasp. This slope was intersected by a so-called

Bergschrund, the lower portion of the slope being torn away from its

upper portion so as to form a crevasse that extended quite round the

head of the valley. We reached its upper edge; the chasm was partially

filled with snow, which brought its edges so near that we cleared it by

a jump. The rest of the slope was descended by a _glissade_. Each sat

down upon the snow, and the motion, once commenced, swiftly augmented to

the rate of an avalanche, and brought us pleasantly to the bottom.

[Sidenote: THROUGH GLOOM TO THE GRIMSEL. 1858.]

As we looked from the heights, we could see that the valley through

which our route lay was filled with gray fog: into this we soon plunged,

and through it we made our way towards the Abschwung. The inclination of

the glacier was our only guide, for we could see nothing. Reaching the

confluence of the Finsteraar and Lauteraar branches, we went downwards

with long swinging strides, close alongside the medial moraine of the

trunk glacier. The glory of the morning had its check in the dull gloom

of the evening. Across streams, amid dirt-cones and glacier-tables, and

over the long reach of shingle which covers the end of the glacier, we

plodded doggedly, and reached the Grimsel at 7 P.M., the journey having

cost a little more than 14 hours.

(15.)

[Sidenote: ANCIENT GLACIER ACTION. 1858.]

We made the Grimsel our station for a day, which was spent in examining

the evidences of ancient glacier action in the valley of Hasli. Near the

Hospice, but at the opposite side of the Aar, rises a mountain-wall of

hard granite, on which the flutings and groovings are magnificently

preserved. After a little practice the eye can trace with the utmost

precision the line which marks the level of the ancient ice: above this

the crags are sharp and rugged; while below it the mighty grinder has

rubbed off the pinnacles of the rocks and worn their edges away. The

height to which this action extends must be nearly two thousand feet

above the bed of the present valley. It is also easy to see the depth to

which the river has worked its channel into the ancient rocks. In some

cases the road from Guttanen to the Grimsel lay right over the polished

rocks, asperities being supplied by the chisel of man in order to

prevent travellers from slipping on their slopes. Here and there also

huge protuberant crags were rounded into domes almost as perfect as if

chiselled by art. To both my companion and myself this walk was full of

instruction and delight.

On the 28th of July we crossed the Grimsel pass, and traced the

scratchings to the very top of it. Ramsay remarked that their direction

changed high up the pass, as if a tributary from the summit had produced

them, while lower down they merged into the general direction of the

glacier which had filled the principal valley. From the summit of the

Mayenwand we had a clear view of the glacier of the Rhone; and to see

the lower portion of this glacier to advantage no better position can be

chosen. The dislocation of its cascade, the spreading out of the ice

below, its system of radial crevasses, and the transverse sweep of its

structural groovings, may all be seen. A few hours afterwards we were

among the wild chasms at the brow of the ice-fall, where we worked our

way to the centre of the ice, but were unable to attain the opposite

side.

Having examined the glacier both above and below the cascade, we went

down the valley to Viesch, and ascended thence, on the 30th of July, to

the Hotel Jungfrau on the slopes of the AEggischhorn. On the following

day we climbed to the summit of the mountain, and from a sheltered nook

enjoyed the glorious prospect which it commands. The wind was strong,

and fleecy clouds flew over the heavens; some of which, as they formed

and dispersed themselves about the flanks of the Aletschhorn, showed

extraordinary iridescences.

[Sidenote: THE MAeRJELEN SEE. 1858.]

The sunbeams called us early on the morning of the 1st of August. No

cloud rested on the opposite range of the Valais mountains, but on

looking towards the AEggischhorn we found a cap upon its crest; we looked

again--the cap had disappeared and a serene heaven stretched overhead.

As we breasted the alp the moon was still in the sky, paling more and

more before the advancing day; a single hawk swung in the atmosphere

above us; clear streams babbled from the hills, the louder sounds

reposing on a base of music; while groups of cows with tinkling bells

browsed upon the green alp. Here and there the grass was dispossessed,

and the flanks of the mountain were covered by the blocks which had been

cast down from the summit. On reaching the plateau at the base of the

final pyramid, we rounded the mountain to the right and came over the

lonely and beautiful Maerjelen See. No doubt the hollow which this lake

fills had been scooped out in former ages by a branch of the Aletsch

glacier; but long ago the blue ice gave place to blue water. The glacier

bounds it at one side by a vertical wall of ice sixty feet in height:

this is incessantly undermined, a roof of crystal being formed over the

water, till at length the projecting mass, becoming too heavy for its

own rigidity, breaks and tumbles into the lake. Here, attacked by sun

and air, its blue surface is rendered dazzlingly white, and several

icebergs of this kind now floated in the sunlight; the water was of a

glassy smoothness, and in its blue depths each ice mass doubled itself

by reflection.[A]

[Sidenote: THE ALETSCH GLACIER. 1858.]

The Aletsch is the grandest glacier in the Alps: over it we now stood,

while the bounding mountains poured vast feeders into the noble stream.

The Jungfrau was in front of us without a cloud, and apparently so near

that I proposed to my guide to try it without further preparation. He

was enthusiastic at first, but caution afterwards got the better of his

courage. At some distance up the glacier the snow-line was distinctly

drawn, and from its edge upwards the mighty shoulders of the hills were

heavy laden with the still powdery material of the glacier.

Amid blocks and debris we descended to the ice: the portion of it which

bounded the lake had been sapped, and a space of a foot existed between

ice and water: numerous chasms were formed here, the mass being thus

broken, preparatory to being sent adrift upon the lake. We crossed the

glacier to its centre, and looking down it the grand peaks of the

Mischabel, the noble cone of the Weisshorn, and the dark and stern

obelisk of the Matterhorn, formed a splendid picture. Looking upwards, a

series of most singularly contorted dirt-bands revealed themselves upon

the surface of the ice. I sought to trace them to their origin, but was

frustrated by the snow which overspread the upper portion of the

glacier. Along this we marched for three hours, and came at length to

the junction of the four tributary valleys which pour their frozen

streams into the great trunk valley. The glory of the day, and that joy

of heart which perfect health confers, may have contributed to produce

the impression, but I thought I had never seen anything to rival in

magnificence the region in the heart of which we now found ourselves. We

climbed the mountain on the right-hand side of the glacier, where,

seated amid the riven and weather-worn crags, we fed our souls for hours

on the transcendent beauty of the scene.

[Sidenote: A CHAMOIS DECEIVED. 1858.]

We afterwards redescended to the glacier, which at this place was

intersected by large transverse crevasses, many of which were apparently

filled with snow, while over others a thin and treacherous roof was

thrown. In some cases the roof had broken away, and revealed rows of

icicles of great length and transparency pendent from the edges. We at

length turned our faces homewards, and looking down the glacier I saw

at a great distance something moving on the ice. I first thought it was

a man, though it seemed strange that a man should be there alone. On

drawing my guide's attention to it he at once pronounced it to be a

chamois, and I with my telescope immediately verified his statement. The

creature bounded up the glacier at intervals, and sometimes the vigour

of its spring showed that it had projected itself over a crevasse. It

approached us sometimes at full gallop: then would stop, look toward us,

pipe loudly, and commence its race once more. It evidently made the

reciprocal mistake to my own, imagining us to be of its own kith and

kin. We sat down upon the ice the better to conceal our forms, and to

its whistle our guide whistled in reply. A joyous rush was the

creature's first response to the signal; but it afterwards began to

doubt, and its pauses became more frequent. Its form at times was

extremely graceful, the head erect in the air, its apparent uprightness

being augmented by the curvature which threw its horns back. I watched

the animal through my glass until I could see the glistening of its

eyes; but soon afterwards it made a final pause, assured itself of its

error, and flew with the speed of the wind to its refuge in the

mountains.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] A painting of this exquisite lake has been recently executed by Mr.

George Barnard.

ASCENT OF THE FINSTERAARHORN, 1858.

(16.)

[Sidenote: MY GUIDE. 1858.]

Since my arrival at the hotel on the 30th of July I had once or twice

spoken about ascending the Finsteraarhorn, and on the 2nd of August my

host advised me to avail myself of the promising weather. A guide, named

Bennen, was attached to the hotel, a remarkable-looking man, between 30

and 40 years old, of middle stature, but very strongly built. His

countenance was frank and firm, while a light of good-nature at times

twinkled in his eye. Altogether the man gave me the impression of

physical strength, combined with decision of character. The proprietor

had spoken to me many times of the strength and courage of this man,

winding up his praises of him by the assurance that if I were killed in

Bennen's company there would be two lives lost, for that the guide would

assuredly sacrifice himself in the effort to save his _Herr_.

He was called, and I asked him whether he would accompany me alone to

the top of the Finsteraarhorn. To this he at first objected, urging the

possibility of his having to render me assistance, and the great amount

of labour which this might entail upon him; but this was overruled by my

engaging to follow where he led, without asking him to render me any

help whatever. He then agreed to make the trial, stipulating, however,

that he should not have much to carry to the cave of the Faulberg, where

we were to spend the night. To this I cordially agreed, and sent on

blankets, provisions, wood, and hay, by two porters.

[Sidenote: IRIDESCENT CLOUD. 1858.]

My desire, in part, was to make a series of observations at the summit

of the mountain, while a similar series was made by Professor Ramsay in

the valley of the Rhone, near Viesch, with a view to ascertaining the

permeability of the lower strata of the atmosphere to the radiant heat

of the sun. During the forenoon of the 2nd I occupied myself with my

instruments, and made the proper arrangements with Ramsay. I tested a

mountain-thermometer which Mr. Casella had kindly lent me, and found the

boiling point of water on the dining-room table of the hotel to be

199.29 deg. Fahrenheit. At about three o'clock in the afternoon we quitted

the hotel, and proceeded leisurely with our two guides up the slope of

the AEggischhorn. We once caught a sight of the topmost pinnacle of the

Finsteraarhorn; beside it was the Rothhorn, and near this again the

Oberaarhorn, with the Viescher glacier streaming from its shoulders. On

the opposite side we could see, over an oblique buttress of the mountain

on which we stood, the snowy summit of the Weisshorn; to the left of

this was the ever grim and lonely Matterhorn; and farther to the left,

with its numerous snow-cones, each with its attendant shadow, rose the

mighty Mischabel. We descended, and crossed the stream which flows from

the Maerjelen See, into which a large mass of the glacier had recently

fallen, and was now afloat as an iceberg. We passed along the margin of

the lake, and at the junction of water and ice I bade Ramsay good-bye.

At the commencement of our journey upon the ice, whenever we crossed a

crevasse, I noticed Bennen watching me; his vigilance, however, soon

diminished, whence I gathered that he finally concluded that I was able

to take care of myself. Clouds hovered in the atmosphere throughout the

whole time of our ascent; one smoky-looking mass marred the glory of the

sunset, but at some distance was another which exhibited colours almost

as rich and varied as those of the solar spectrum. I took the glorious

banner thus unfurled as a sign of hope, to check the despondency which

its gloomy neighbour was calculated to produce.

[Sidenote: EVENING NEAR THE JUNGFRAU. 1858.]

Two hours' walking brought us near our place of rest; the porters had

already reached it, and were now returning. We deviated to the right,

and, having crossed some ice-ravines, reached the lateral moraine of the

glacier, and picked our way between it and the adjacent mountain-wall.

We then reached a kind of amphitheatre, crossed it, and climbing the

opposite slope, came to a triple grotto formed by clefts in the

mountain. In one of these a pine-fire was soon blazing briskly, and

casting its red light upon the surrounding objects, though but half

dispelling the gloom from the deeper portions of the cell. I left the

grotto, and climbed the rocks above it to look at the heavens. The sun

had quitted our firmament, but still tinted the clouds with red and

purple; while one peak of snow in particular glowed like fire, so vivid

was its illumination. During our journey upwards the Jungfrau never once

showed her head, but, as if in ill temper, had wrapped her vapoury veil

around her. She now looked more good-humoured, but still she did not

quite remove her hood; though all the other summits, without a trace of

cloud to mask their beautiful forms, pointed heavenward. The calmness

was perfect; no sound of living creature, no whisper of a breeze, no

gurgle of water, no rustle of debris, to break the deep and solemn

silence. Surely, if beauty be an object of worship, those glorious

mountains, with rounded shoulders of the purest white--snow-crested and

star-gemmed--were well calculated to excite sentiments of adoration.

[Sidenote: THE CAVE OF THE FAULBERG. 1858.]

I returned to the grotto, where supper was prepared and waiting for me.

The boiling point of water, at the level of the "kitchen" floor, I found

to be 196 deg. Fahr. Nothing could be more picturesque than the aspect of

the cave before we went to rest. The fire was gleaming ruddily. I sat

upon a stone bench beside it, while Bennen was in front with the red

light glimmering fitfully over him. My boiling-water apparatus, which

had just been used, was in the foreground; and telescopes,

opera-glasses, haversacks, wine-keg, bottles, and mattocks, lay

confusedly around. The heavens continued to grow clearer, the thin

clouds, which had partially overspread the sky, melting gradually away.

The grotto was comfortable; the hay sufficient materially to modify the

hardness of the rock, and my position at least sheltered and warm. One

possibility remained that might prevent me from sleeping--the snoring of

my companion; he assured me, however, that he did not snore, and we lay

down side by side. The good fellow took care that I should not be

chilled; he gave me the best place, by far the best part of the clothes,

and may have suffered himself in consequence; but, happily for him, he

was soon oblivious of this. Physiologists, I believe, have discovered

that it is chiefly during sleep that the muscles are repaired; and ere

long the sound I dreaded announced to me at once the repair of Bennen's

muscles and the doom of my own. The hollow cave resounded to the

deep-drawn snore. I once or twice stirred the sleeper, breaking thereby

the continuity of the phenomenon; but it instantly pieced itself

together again, and went on as before. I had not the heart to wake him,

for I knew that upon him would devolve the chief labour of the coming

day. At half-past one he rose and prepared coffee, and at two o'clock I

was engaged upon the beverage. We afterwards packed up our provisions

and instruments. Bennen bore the former, I the latter, and at three

o'clock we set out.

[Sidenote: "SHALL WE TRY THE JUNGFRAU?" 1858.]

We first descended a steep slope to the glacier, along which we walked

for a time. A spur of the Faulberg jutted out between us and the

ice-laden valley through which we must pass; this we crossed in order to

shorten our way and to avoid crevasses. Loose shingle and boulders

overlaid the mountain; and here and there walls of rock opposed our

progress, and rendered the route far from agreeable. We then descended

to the Gruenhorn tributary, which joins the trunk glacier at nearly a

right angle, being terminated by a saddle which stretches across from

mountain to mountain, with a curvature as graceful and as perfect as if

drawn by the instrument of a mathematician. The unclouded moon was

shining, and the Jungfrau was before us so pure and beautiful, that the

thought of visiting the "Maiden" without further preparation occurred to

me. I turned to Bennen, and said, "Shall we try the Jungfrau?" I think

he liked the idea well enough, though he cautiously avoided incurring

any responsibility. "If you desire it, I am ready," was his reply. He

had never made the ascent, and nobody knew anything of the state of the

snow this year; but Lauener had examined it through a telescope on the

previous day, and pronounced it dangerous. In every ascent of the

mountain hitherto made, ladders had been found indispensable, but we had

none. I questioned Bennen as to what he thought of the probabilities,

and tried to extract some direct encouragement from him; but he said

that the decision rested altogether with myself, and it was his business

to endeavour to carry out that decision. "We will attempt it, then," I

said, and for some time we actually walked towards the Jungfrau. A gray

cloud drew itself across her summit, and clung there. I asked myself why

I deviated from my original intention? The Finsteraarhorn was higher,

and therefore better suited for the contemplated observations. I could

in no wise justify the change, and finally expressed my scruples. A

moment's further conversation caused us to "right about," and front the

saddle of the Gruenhorn.

[Sidenote: MAGNIFICENT SCENE. 1858.]

The dawn advanced. The eastern sky became illuminated and warm, and high

in the air across the ridge in front of us stretched a tongue of cloud

like a red flame, and equally fervid in its hue. Looking across the

trunk glacier, a valley which is terminated by the Loetsch saddle was

seen in a straight line with our route, and I often turned to look along

this magnificent corridor. The mightiest mountains in the Oberland form

its sides; still, the impression which it makes is not that of vastness

or sublimity, but of loveliness not to be described. The sun had not yet

smitten the snows of the bounding mountains, but the saddle carved out a

segment of the heavens which formed a background of unspeakable beauty.

Over the rim of the saddle the sky was deep orange, passing upwards

through amber, yellow, and vague ethereal green to the ordinary

firmamental blue. Right above the snow-curve purple clouds hung

perfectly motionless, giving depth to the spaces between them. There was

something saintly in the scene. Anything more exquisite I had never

beheld.

We marched upwards over the smooth crisp snow to the crest of the

saddle, and here I turned to take a last look along that grand corridor,

and at that wonderful "daffodil sky." The sun's rays had already smitten

the snows of the Aletschhorn; the radiance seemed to infuse a principle

of life and activity into the mountains and glaciers, but still that

holy light shone forth, and those motionless clouds floated beyond,

reminding one of that eastern religion whose essence is the repression

of all action and the substitution for it of immortal calm. The

Finsteraarhorn now fronted us; but clouds turbaned the head of the

giant, and hid it from our view. The wind, however, being north,

inspired us with a strong hope that they would melt as the day advanced.

I have hardly seen a finer ice-field than that which now lay before us.

Considering the _neve_ which supplies it, it appeared to me that the

Viescher glacier ought to discharge as much ice as the Aletsch; but this

is an error due to the extent of _neve_ which is here at once visible:

since a glance at the map of this portion of the Oberland shows at once

the great superiority of the mountain treasury from which the Aletsch

glacier draws support. Still, the ice-field before us was a most noble

one. The surrounding mountains were of imposing magnitude, and loaded to

their summits with snow. Down the sides of some of them the

half-consolidated mass fell in a state of wild fracture and confusion.

In some cases the riven masses were twisted and overturned, the ledges

bent, and the detached blocks piled one upon another in heaps; while in

other cases the smooth white mass descended from crown to base without a

wrinkle. The valley now below us was gorged by the frozen material thus

incessantly poured into it. We crossed it, and reached the base of the

Finsteraarhorn, ascended the mountain a little way, and at six o'clock

paused to lighten our burdens and to refresh ourselves.

[Sidenote: THE MOUNTAIN ASSAILED. 1858.]