It is now already a year that the locomotive has been rolling over the
St. Gothard road, crossing at a flash the distance separating Basle from
Milan, and passing rapidly from the dark and damp defiles of German
Switzerland into the sun lit plains of Lombardy. Our neighbors
uproariously feted the opening of this great international artery, which
they consider as their personal and exclusive work, as well from a
technical point of view as from that of the economic result that they
had proposed to attain--the creation of a road which, in the words of
Bismarck, "glorifies no other nation." As regards the piercing of the
Gothard, the initiative does, in fact, belong by good right to the
powerful "Iron Chancellor," so we have never dreamed of robbing Germany
of the glory (and it is a true glory) of having created the second of
the great transalpine routes, that open to European products a new gate
to the Oriental world. It seems to us, however, that in the noisy
concert of acclamations that echoed during the days of the fetes over
the inauguration of the line, a less modest place might have been made
for those who, with invincible tenacity and rare talent, directed the
technical part of the work, and especially those 15 kilometers of
colossal boring--the great St. Gothard Tunnel, which ranks in the
history of great public works side by side with the piercing of the
Frejus, and the marvelous digging of Suez and Panama.
We recall just now the names of those who, during nearly ten years, have
contributed with entire disinterestedness to the completion of this
colossal work. Over all stands a figure of very peculiar
originality--that of M. Louis Favre, the general contractor of the great
tunnel, whose name will remain attached to the creation of this work
through the Helvetian Alps, like that of Sommeiller to the great tunnel
of the Frejus, and that of De Lesseps to the artificial straits that
henceforward join the oceans. Having myself had the honor of occupying
the position of general secretary of the enterprise under consideration,
I have been enabled to make a close acquaintance with the man who was so
remarkable in all respects, and who, after passing his entire life in
great public works, died like a soldier on the field of honor--in the
depths of the tunnel.
[Illustration: LOUIS FAVRE.]
[Illustration: THE DOWNFALL OF THE TITANS, CONQUERED BY THE GENIUS OF
MAN. (Monument at Turin to Commemorate the Tunneling of the Alps.)]
I saw Favre, for the first time, in Geneva, in 1872, a few days after he
had assumed the responsibility of undertaking the great work. He had
been living since the war on his magnificent Plongeon estate, on the
right bank of the lake. There was no need of dancing attendance in order
to reach the contractor of the greatest work that has been accomplished
up to the present time, for M. Favre was easy of access. We had scarcely
passed five minutes together than we we were conversing as we often did
later after an acquaintance of six years. After making known to him the
object of my visit, the desire of being numbered among the _personnel_
of his enterprise, the conversation quickly took that turn of
mirthfulness that was at the bottom of Favre's character. "This is the
first time," said he to me, laughing, "that I ever worked with Germans,
and I had not yet struck the first blow of the pick on the Gothard when
they began to quibble about our contract of the 8th of last August. Ah!
that agreement of August 8th! How I had to change and re-change it,
later on. If this thing continues, we shall have a pretty quarrel,
considering that I do not understand a word of the multiple
interpretations of their _charabia_. I ought to have mistrusted this.
But you see I have remained inactive during the whole of this
unfortunate war. I was not made for promenading in the paths of a
garden, and I should have died of chagrin if such inaction had had to be
prolonged. When one lives, as I have, for thirty years around lumber
yards, it is difficult to accustom one's self to the sedentary and
secluded life that I have led here for nearly two years."
As he said, with just pride, Louis Favre had, indeed, before becoming
the first contractor of public works in the world, lived for a long time
in lumber yards. The years that so many other better instructed but less
learned persons, who were afterward to gladly accept his authority, had
given up to their studies, Favre had passed in the humble shop of his
father, a carpenter at Chene, a small village at a half league from
Geneva. It soon becoming somewhat irksome for him in the village, he
left the paternal workbench to start on what is called the "tour of
France." He was then eighteen years of age. Three years afterward, he
was undertaking small works. It was not long ere he was remarked by the
engineers conducting the latter, and he was soon called to give his
advice on all difficult questions. Between times, Favre had courageously
studied the principal bases of such sciences as were to be useful to
him. In the evening, he made up at the public school what was lacking in
his early instruction; not that he hoped to make a complete study for an
engineer, but only to learn the indispensable. He was, before all
things, a practical man, who made up for the enforced insufficiency of
his technical knowledge by a _coup d'oeil_ of surprising accuracy.
Here it may be said to me that the piercing of the great St. Gothard
Tunnel was accompanied by considerable loss. That is true, but it must
be recalled also that this colossal work was accomplished amid the most
insurmountable difficulties which ever presented themselves. In spite of
this, the cost of the tunnel per running foot was also a third less than
that of the great Mont Cenis Tunnel.
When Favre undertook the St. Gothard, he already reckoned to his credit
numerous victories in the domain of public works, especially in the
construction of subterranean ones. The majority of tunnels of any length
which, since the beginning of the establishment of railways, have been
considered as works of some proportions (the Blaisy Tunnel, for
instance), were executed by him, in addition to other open air works. So
Favre reached the St. Gothard full of hope. The battle with the colossus
did not displease him, and his courage and his confidence in the success
of the work seemed to increase in measure as the circumstances
surrounding the boring became more difficult. In the presence of the
terrible inundation of the gallery of Airolo and the falling of
aquiferous rocks, creating in the subterranean work so desperate a
situation that a large number of very experienced engineers almost
advised the abandonment of the works, Favre remained impassive. Amid the
general apprehension, which, it may be readily comprehended, was felt in
such a situation he made his confident and cheerful voice heard,
reviving the ardor of all, and speaking disdainfully of "that
insignificant Gothard, which would come out all right." The _personnel_
of the enterprise were not the only ones, however, who were uneasy over
the constantly occurring difficulties in the way of the work, for the
company itself and the Swiss Federal Council made known to Favre their
fears that the execution of the work would be delayed. He, however,
calmed their fears, and exposed his projects to them, and the seances
always ended by a vote of confidence in the future of the undertaking.
Favre certainly did not dissimulate the difficulties that he should have
to conquer, but he execrated those who were timorous and always tried to
put confidence into those who surrounded him. But, singular phenomenon,
he ended by deceiving himself and, at certain times, it would not have
been easy to prove to him that the St. Gothard was not the most easy
undertaking in the world. Those who have lived around him know the jokes
that he sometimes made at the expense of poor Gothard, which paid him
back with interest, however, and did not allow itself to be pierced so
easy after all.
Such confidence as existed in the first years, however, was not to exist
for ever. The tunnel advanced, the heading deepened, but at the price of
what troubles, and especially of how many expenses! Day by day one could
soon count the probable deficit in the affair and the silent partners
began to get a glimpse of the loss of the eight millions of securities
that had had to be deposited with the Swiss Federal Council. For Favre
personally the failure of the enterprise would have been ruin for his
fortune was not so large as has been stated. To fears which Favre
possessed more on account of the associates that he had engaged in the
enterprise than for himself, came to join themselves those troubles with
the Germans that he had spoken to me about on the first day. The St.
Gothard Company, whose troubles are so celebrated, and whose inactivity
lasted until the reconstruction of the affair, was seemingly undertaking
to make Favre, who was directing the only work then in activity, bear
all the insults that it had itself had to endure. And yet, amid these
multiple cares, the contractor of the tunnel did not allow himself to
become disheartened. Constantly at the breach he lived at his works,
going from the gigantic adit of Goschenen to the inundated one of Anolo,
constantly on the mountain, having no heed of the icy and perilous
crossing, and passing days in the torrential rain that was flooding the
tunnel. Who of us does not picture him in mind as he reached the inn at
night, with his high boots still soaking wet, and his gray beard full of
icicles to take his accustomed seat at the table, and, between courses,
to tell some story full of mirth, some joke from the other works whence
he had come, which made us laugh immoderately, and brought a smile to
the faces of the German engineers.
It is a singular coincidence that this confidence in his own work,
despite all the struggles borne, was shared likewise by another man than
Favre--by Germano Sommeiller, the creator of the Mont Cenis Tunnel. When
the work of the first piercing of the Alps was yet in the period of
attacks and incredulity, Sommeiller wrote his brother the following
letter: "Always keep me posted my dear Leander, as to what the laughers
are saying and remember the proverb that 'he will laugh well who laughs
last!' The majority of the people, even engineers, are rubbing their
hands in expectation of the colossal fiasco that awaits us, and it is
for that that the envious keep somewhat silent. I will predict to you
that as soon as success is assured everybody will mount to the house
tops and say 'I told you so! It was an idea of my own!' What great
geniuses are going to spring from the earth! I am in haste, so adieu,
courage, energy, silence and especially cheerfulness! And especially
cheerfulness!" Perhaps this cheerfulness of strong minds is the
invincible weapon of those who, like Sommeiller and Favre, fight against
apathy or the bad faith of their adversaries! Like Favre however
Sommeiller had not the pleasure of being present at the consecration of
his glory, for at the Mont Cenis banquet as at the St. Gothard the place
reserved for the creator of the great work was empty.
As disastrous as was the enterprise from a financial point of view what
a triumph for Favre would have been the day on which he traversed from
one end to the other that 15 kilometers of tunnel that he had walked
over step by step since the first blow of the pick had struck the rock
of the St. Gothard! But such a satisfaction was not to be reserved for
him. Suddenly, on the 19th of July, 1879, less than seven years after
the beginning of the work, and six months before the meeting of the
adits, in the course of one of his visits to the tunnel Favre was
carried off by the rupture of a blood vessel. A year before that epoch,
I had left the enterprise, Favre having confided to me the general
supervision over the manufacture of dynamite that he had undertaken at
Varallo Pombia for the needs of his tunnel, but my friend M. Stockalper,
engineer in chief of the Goschenen section, who accompanied Favre on his
fatal subterranean excursion, has many a time recounted to me the sad
details of his sudden death.
For months before it must be said Favre had been growing old. The man of
broad shoulders and with head covered with thick hair in which here and
there a few silver threads showed themselves, and who was as straight as
at the age of twenty years, had begun to stoop, his hair had whitened
and his face had assumed an expression of sadness that it was difficult
for him to conceal. As powerful as it was this character had been
subjugated. The transformation had not escaped me. Often during the days
that we passed together he complained of a dizziness that became more
and more frequent. We all saw him rapidly growing old. On the 19th of
July, 1879, he had entered the tunnel with one of his friends, a French
engineer who had come to visit the work, accompanied by M. Stockalper.
Up to the end of the adit he had complained of nothing, but, according
to his habit, went along examining the timbers, stopping at different
points to give instructions, and making now and then a sally at his
friend, who was unused to the smell of dynamite. In returning he began
to complain of internal pains. "My dear Stockalper," said he, "take my
lamp, I will join you." At the end of ten minutes not seeing him return,
M. Stockalper exclaimed, "Well! M. Favre, are you coming?" No answer.
The visitor and engineer retraced their steps, and when they reached
Favre he was leaning against the rocks with his head resting upon his
breast. His heart had already ceased to beat. A train loaded with
excavated rock was passing and on this was laid the already stiff body
of him who had struggled up to his last breath to execute a work all
science and labor. A glorious end, if ever there was one!
Favre died in the full plenitude of his forces at less than fifty four
years of age, and I can say, without fear of contradiction, that he was
universally and sincerely regretted by all those who had worked at his
side. Still at the present time when a few of us old colleagues of
Goschenen, Airolo or Altorf meet, it is not without emotion that we
recall the old days, the joyful reunions at which he cheered the whole
table with his broad and genial laugh.--_Maxime Helene, in La Nature._
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