CHAPTER XX.

DESCENT OF THE MATTERHORN.(233)

Hudson and I again consulted as to the best and safest arrangement of the party. We agreed that it would be best for Croz to go first,(234) and Hadow second; Hudson, who was almost equal to a guide in sureness of foot, wished to be third; Lord F. Douglas was placed next, and old Peter, the strongest of the remainder, after him. I suggested to Hudson that we should attach a rope to the rocks on our arrival at the difficult bit, and hold it as we descended, as an additional protection. He approved the idea, but it was not definitely settled that it should be done. The party was being arranged in the above order whilst I was sketching the summit, and they had finished, and were waiting for me to be tied in line, when some one remembered that our names had not been left in a bottle. They requested me to write them down, and moved off while it was being done.

A few minutes afterwards I tied myself to young Peter, ran down after the others, and caught them just as they were commencing the descent of the difficult part.(235) Great care was being taken. Only one man was moving at a time; when he was firmly planted the next advanced, and so on. They had not, however, attached the additional rope to rocks, and nothing was said about it. The suggestion was not made for my own sake, and I am not sure that it even occurred to me again. For some little distance we two followed the others, detached from them, and should have continued so had not Lord F. Douglas asked me, about 3 P.M., to tie on to old Peter, as he feared, he said, that Taugwalder would not be able to hold his ground if a slip occurred.

A few minutes later, a sharp-eyed lad ran into the Monte Rosa hotel, to Seiler, saying that he had seen an avalanche fall from the summit of the Matterhorn on to the Matterhorngletscher. The boy was reproved for telling idle stories; he was right, nevertheless, and this was what he saw.

Michel Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to give Mr. Hadow greater security, was absolutely taking hold of his legs, and putting his feet, one by one, into their proper positions.(236) As far as I know, no one was actually descending. I cannot speak with certainty, because the two leading men were partially hidden from my sight by an intervening mass of rock, but it is my belief, from the movements of their shoulders, that Croz, having done as I have said, was in the act of turning round to go down a step or two himself; at this moment Mr. Hadow slipped, fell against him, and knocked him over. I heard one startled exclamation from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downwards; in another moment Hudson was dragged from his steps, and Lord F. Douglas immediately after him.(237) All this was the work of a moment. Immediately we heard Croz’s exclamation, old Peter and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks would permit:(238) the rope was taut between us, and the jerk came on us both as on one man. We held; but the rope broke midway between Taugwalder and Lord Francis Douglas. For a few seconds we saw our unfortunate companions sliding downwards on their backs, and spreading out their hands, endeavouring to save themselves. They passed from our sight uninjured, disappeared one by one, and fell from precipice to precipice on to the Matterhorngletscher below, a distance of nearly 4000 feet in height. From the moment the rope broke it was impossible to help them.

So perished our comrades! For the space of half-an-hour we remained on the spot without moving a single step. The two men, paralysed by terror, cried like infants, and trembled in such a manner as to threaten us with the fate of the others. Old Peter rent the air with exclamations of “Chamounix! Oh, what will Chamounix say?” He meant, Who would believe that Croz could fall? The young man did nothing but scream or sob, “We are lost! we are lost!” Fixed between the two, I could neither move up nor down. I begged young Peter to descend, but he dared not. Unless he did, we could not advance. Old Peter became alive to the danger, and swelled the cry, “We are lost! we are lost!” The father’s fear was natural—he trembled for his son; the young man’s fear was cowardly—he thought of self alone. At last old Peter summoned up courage, and changed his position to a rock to which he could fix the rope; the young man then descended, and we all stood together. Immediately we did so, I asked for the rope which had given way, and found, to my surprise—indeed, to my horror—that it was the weakest of the three ropes. It was not brought, and should not have been employed, for the purpose for which it was used. It was old rope, and, compared with the others, was feeble. It was intended as a reserve, in case we had to leave much rope behind, attached to rocks. I saw at once that a serious question was involved, and made him give me the end. It had broken in mid-air, and it did not appear to have sustained previous injury.

For more than two hours afterwards I thought almost every moment that the next would be my last; for the Taugwalders, utterly unnerved, were not only incapable of giving assistance, but were in such a state that a slip might have been expected from them at any moment. After a time we were able to do that which should have been done at first, and fixed rope to firm rocks, in addition to being tied together. These ropes were cut from time to time, and were left behind.(239) Even with their assurance the men were sometimes afraid to proceed, and several times old Peter turned with ashy face and faltering limbs, and said, with terrible emphasis, “_I cannot!_”

About 6 P.M. we arrived at the snow upon the ridge descending towards Zermatt, and all peril was over. We frequently looked, but in vain, for traces of our unfortunate companions; we bent over the ridge and cried to them, but no sound returned. Convinced at last that they were neither within sight nor hearing, we ceased from our useless efforts; and, too cast down for speech, silently gathered up our things, and the little effects of those who were lost, preparatory to continuing the descent. When, lo! a mighty arch appeared, rising above the Lyskamm, high into the sky. Pale, colourless, and noiseless, but perfectly sharp and defined, except where it was lost in the clouds, this unearthly apparition seemed like a vision from another world; and, almost appalled, we watched with amazement the gradual development of two vast crosses, one on either side. If the Taugwalders had not been the first to perceive it, I should have doubted my senses. They thought it had some connection with the accident, and I, after a while, that it might bear some relation to ourselves. But our movements had no effect upon it. The spectral forms remained motionless. It was a fearful and wonderful sight; unique in my experience, and impressive beyond description, coming at such a moment.(240)

I was ready to leave, and waiting for the others. They had recovered their appetites and the use of their tongues. They spoke in patois, which I did not understand. At length the son said in French, “Monsieur.” “Yes.” “We are poor men; we have lost our Herr; we shall not get paid; we can ill afford this.”(241) “Stop!” I said, interrupting him, “that is nonsense; I shall pay you, of course, just as if your Herr were here.” They talked together in their patois for a short time, and then the son spoke again. “We don’t wish you to pay us. We wish you to write in the hotel-book at Zermatt, and to your journals, that we have not been paid.” “What nonsense are you talking? I don’t understand you. What do you mean?” He proceeded—“Why, next year there will be many travellers at Zermatt, and we shall get more _voyageurs_.”(242)

Who would answer such a proposition? I made them no reply in words,(243) but they knew very well the indignation that I felt. They filled the cup of bitterness to overflowing, and I tore down the cliff, madly and recklessly, in a way that caused them, more than once, to inquire if I wished to kill them. Night fell; and for an hour the descent was continued in the darkness. At half-past 9 a resting-place was found, and upon a wretched slab, barely large enough to hold the three, we passed six miserable hours. At daybreak the descent was resumed, and from the Hörnli ridge we ran down to the chalets of Buhl, and on to Zermatt. Seiler met me at his door, and followed in silence to my room. “What is the matter?” “The Taugwalders and I have returned.” He did not need more, and burst into tears; but lost no time in useless lamentations, and set to work to arouse the village. Ere long a score of men had started to ascend the Hohlicht heights, above Kalbermatt and Z’Mutt, which commanded the plateau of the Matterhorngletscher. They returned after six hours, and reported that they had seen the bodies lying motionless on the snow. This was on Saturday; and they proposed that we should leave on Sunday evening, so as to arrive upon the plateau at daybreak on Monday. Unwilling to lose the slightest chance, the Rev. J. M’Cormick and I resolved to start on Sunday morning. The Zermatt men, threatened with excommunication by their priests if they failed to attend the early mass, were unable to accompany us. To several of them, at least, this was a severe trial. Peter Perrn declared with tears that nothing else would have prevented him from joining in the search for his old comrades. Englishmen came to our aid. The Rev. J. Robertson and Mr. J. Phillpotts offered themselves, and their guide Franz Andermatten;(244) another Englishman lent us Joseph Marie and Alexandre Lochmatter. Frédéric Payot and Jean Tairraz, of Chamounix, also volunteered.

We started at 2 A.M. on Sunday the 16th, and followed the route that we had taken on the previous Thursday as far as the Hörnli. From thence we went down to the right of the ridge,(245) and mounted through the _séracs_ of the Matterhorngletscher. By 8.30 we had got to the plateau at the top of the glacier, and within sight of the corner in which we knew my companions must be.(246) As we saw one weather-beaten man after another raise the telescope, turn deadly pale, and pass it on without a word to the next, we knew that all hope was gone. We approached. They had fallen below as they had fallen above—Croz a little in advance, Hadow near him, and Hudson some distance behind; but of Lord F. Douglas we could see nothing.(247) We left them where they fell; buried in snow at the base of the grandest cliff of the most majestic mountain of the Alps.

All those who had fallen had been tied with the Manilla, or with the second and equally strong rope, and, consequently, there had been only one link—that between old Peter and Lord F. Douglas—where the weaker rope had been used. This had a very ugly look for Taugwalder, for it was not possible to suppose that the others would have sanctioned the employment of a rope so greatly inferior in strength when there were more than 250 feet of the better qualities still remaining out of use.(249) For the sake of the old guide (who bore a good reputation), and upon all other accounts, it was desirable that this matter should be cleared up; and after my examination before the court of inquiry which was instituted by the Government was over, I handed in a number of questions which were framed so as to afford old Peter an opportunity of exculpating himself from the grave suspicions which at once fell upon him. The questions, I was told, were put and answered; but the answers, although promised, have never reached me.(250)

Meanwhile, the administration sent strict injunctions to recover the bodies, and upon the 19th of July, twenty-one men of Zermatt accomplished that sad and dangerous task.(251) Of the body of Lord Francis Douglas they, too, saw nothing; it is probably still arrested on the rocks above.(252) The remains of Hudson and Hadow were interred upon the north side of the Zermatt Church, in the presence of a reverent crowd of sympathising friends. The body of Michel Croz lies upon the other side, under a simpler tomb; whose inscription bears honourable testimony to his rectitude, to his courage, and to his devotion.

So the traditional inaccessibility of the Matterhorn was vanquished, and was replaced by legends of a more real character. Others will essay to scale its proud cliffs, but to none will it be the mountain that it was to its early explorers. Others may tread its summit-snows, but none will ever know the feelings of those who first gazed upon its marvellous panorama; and none, I trust, will ever be compelled to tell of joy turned into grief, and of laughter into mourning. It proved to be a stubborn foe; it resisted long, and gave many a hard blow; it was defeated at last with an ease that none could have anticipated, but, like a relentless enemy—conquered but not crushed—it took terrible vengeance. The time may come when the Matterhorn shall have passed away, and nothing, save a heap of shapeless fragments, will mark the spot where the great mountain stood; for, atom by atom, inch by inch, and yard by yard, it yields to forces which nothing can withstand. That time is far distant; and, ages hence, generations unborn will gaze upon its awful precipices, and wonder at its unique form. However exalted may be their ideas, and however exaggerated their expectations, none will come to return disappointed!

With the Ascent of the Matterhorn, my mountaineering in the Alps came to a close. The disastrous termination, though casting a permanent cloud over otherwise happy memories, and leaving a train of life-long regrets, has not altered my regard for the purest, healthiest and most manly of sports; and, often, in grappling with every day difficulties, sometimes in apparently hopeless tasks, encouragement has been found in the remembrance of hard-won victories over stubborn Alps.

We who go mountain-scrambling have constantly set before us the superiority of fixed purpose or perseverance to brute force. We know that each height, each step, must be gained by patient, laborious toil, and that wishing cannot take the place of working; we know the benefits of mutual aid; that many a difficulty must be encountered, and many an obstacle must be grappled with or turned, but we know that where there’s a will there’s a way: and we come back to our daily occupations better fitted to fight the battle of life, and to overcome the impediments which obstruct our paths, strengthened and cheered by the recollection of past labours, and by the memories of victories gained in other fields.

I have not made myself an apologist for mountaineering, nor do I now intend to usurp the functions of a moralist; but my task would have been ill performed if it had been concluded without one reference to the more serious lessons of the mountaineer. We glory in the physical regeneration which is the product of our exertions; we exult over the grandeur of the scenes that are brought before our eyes, the splendours of sunrise and sunset, and the beauties of hill, dale, lake, wood, and waterfall; but we value more highly the development of manliness, and the evolution, under combat with difficulties, of those noble qualities of human nature—courage, patience, endurance, and fortitude.

Some hold these virtues in less estimation, and assign base and contemptible motives to those who indulge in our innocent sport.

“Be thou chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.”

Others, again, who are not detractors, find mountaineering, as a sport, to be wholly unintelligible. It is not greatly to be wondered at—we are not all constituted alike. Mountaineering is a pursuit essentially adapted to the young or vigorous, and not to the old or feeble. To the latter, toil may be no pleasure; and it is often said by such persons, “This man is making a toil of pleasure.” Let the motto on the title-page be an answer, if an answer be required. Toil he must who goes mountaineering; but out of the toil comes strength (not merely muscular energy—more than that), an awakening of all the faculties; and from the strength arises pleasure. Then, again, it is often asked, in tones which seem to imply that the answer must, at least, be doubtful, “But does it repay you?” Well, we cannot estimate our enjoyment as you measure your wine, or weigh your lead,—it is real, nevertheless. If I could blot out every reminiscence, or erase every memory, still I should say that my scrambles amongst the Alps have repaid me, for they have given me two of the best things a man can possess—health and friends.

The recollections of past pleasures cannot be effaced. Even now as I write they crowd up before me. First comes an endless series of pictures, magnificent in form, effect, and colour. I see the great peaks, with clouded tops, seeming to mount up for ever and ever; I hear the music of the distant herds, the peasant’s jodel, and the solemn church-bells; and I scent the fragrant breath of the pines: and after these have passed away, another train of thoughts succeeds—of those who have been upright, brave, and true; of kind hearts and bold deeds; and of courtesies received at stranger hands, trifles in themselves, but expressive of that good will towards men which is the essence of charity.

Still, the last, sad memory hovers round, and sometimes drifts across like floating mist, cutting off sunshine, and chilling the remembrance of happier times. There have been joys too great to be described in words, and there have been griefs upon which I have not dared to dwell; and with these in mind I say, Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are nought without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end.

APPENDIX.

*A.* THE DEATH OF BENNEN.(253)

On February 28, 1864, Mr. P. C. Gosset and Mr. B—— started from the village of Ardon (about mid-way between Sion and Martigny), to make the ascent of the Haut-de-Cry (9688 feet), with the guides J. J. Nance, F. Rebot, A. Bevard, and J. J. Bennen. They arrived within a few hundred feet of the summit before mid-day, and determined to complete the ascent by following the crest of a ridge leading towards the east. Before this could be done it was necessary to cross some steep snow; and, while passing this, an avalanche was unfortunately started. Bennen and Mr. B—— perished; the others happily escaped. The following narrative, from the pen of Mr. Gosset, illustrates, in a very impressive manner, the danger of traversing new-fallen snow at considerable inclinations:—

“We had to go up a steep snow-field, about 800 feet high, as well as I remember. It was about 150 feet broad at the top, and 400 or 500 at the bottom. It was a sort of couloir on a large scale. During the ascent we sank about one foot deep at every step. Bennen did not seem to like the look of the snow very much. He asked the local guides whether avalanches ever came down this couloir, to which they answered that our position was perfectly safe. We had mounted on the northern side of the couloir, and having arrived at 150 feet from the top, we began crossing it on a horizontal curve, so as to gain the E. arête. The inflexion or dip of the couloir was slight, not above 25 feet, the inclination near 35°. We were walking in the following order:—Bevard, Nance, Bennen, myself, B., and Rebot. Having crossed over about three-quarters of the breadth of the couloir, the two leading men suddenly sank considerably above their waists. Bennen tightened the rope. The snow was too deep to think of getting out of the hole they had made, so they advanced one or two steps, dividing the snow with their bodies. Bennen turned round and told us he was afraid of starting an avalanche; we asked whether it would not be better to return and cross the couloir higher up. To this the three Ardon men opposed themselves; they mistook the proposed precaution for fear, and the two leading men continued their work. After three or four steps gained in the aforesaid manner, the snow became hard again. Bennen had not moved—he was evidently undecided what he should do; as soon, however, as he saw hard snow again, he advanced and crossed parallel to, but above, the furrow the Ardon men had made. Strange to say, the snow supported him. While he was passing I observed that the leader, Bevard, had ten or twelve feet of rope coiled round his shoulder. I of course at once told him to uncoil it and get on the arête, from which he was not more than fifteen feet distant. Bennen then told me to follow. I tried his steps, but sank up to my waist in the very first. So I went through the furrows, holding my elbows close to my body, so as not to touch the sides. This furrow was about twelve feet long, and as the snow was good on the other side, we had all come to the false conclusion that the snow was accidentally softer there than elsewhere. Bennen advanced; he had made but a few steps when we heard a deep, cutting sound. The snow-field split in two about fourteen or fifteen feet above us. The cleft was at first quite narrow, not more than an inch broad. An awful silence ensued; it lasted but a few seconds, and then it was broken by Bennen’s voice, ‘We are all lost.’ His words were slow and solemn, and those who knew him felt what they really meant when spoken by such a man as Bennen. They were his last words. I drove my alpenstock into the snow, and brought the weight of my body to bear on it. I then waited. It was an awful moment of suspense. I turned my head towards Bennen to see whether he had done the same thing. To my astonishment I saw him turn round, face the valley, and stretch out both arms. The snow on which we stood began to move slowly, and I felt the utter uselessness of any alpenstock. I soon sank up to my shoulders, and began descending backwards. From this moment I saw nothing of what had happened to the rest of the party. With a good deal of trouble I succeeded in turning round. The speed of the avalanche increased rapidly, and before long I was covered up with snow. I was suffocating when I suddenly came to the surface again. I was on a wave of the avalanche, and saw it before me as I was carried down. It was the most awful sight I ever saw. The head of the avalanche was already at the spot where we had made our last halt. The head alone was preceded by a thick cloud of snow-dust; the rest of the avalanche was clear. Around me I heard the horrid hissing of the snow, and far before me the thundering of the foremost part of the avalanche. To prevent myself sinking again, I made use of my arms much in the same way as when swimming in a standing position. At last I noticed that I was moving slower; then I saw the pieces of snow in front of me stop at some yards’ distance; then the snow straight before me stopped, and I heard on a large scale the same creaking sound that is produced when a heavy cart passes over frozen snow in winter. I felt that I also had stopped, and instantly threw up both arms to protect my head in case I should again be covered up. I had stopped, but the snow behind me was still in motion; its pressure on my body was so strong, that I thought I should be crushed to death. This tremendous pressure lasted but a short time; I was covered up by snow coming from behind me. My first impulse was to try and uncover my head—but this I could not do, the avalanche had frozen by pressure the moment it stopped, and I was frozen in. Whilst trying vainly to move my arms, I suddenly became aware that the hands as far as the wrist had the faculty of motion. The conclusion was easy, they must be above the snow. I set to work as well as I could; it was time, for I could not have held out much longer. At last I saw a faint glimmer of light. The crust above my head was getting thinner, but I could not reach it any more with my hands; the idea struck me that I might pierce it with my breath. After several efforts I succeeded in doing so, and felt suddenly a rush of air towards my mouth. I saw the sky again through a little round hole. A dead silence reigned around me; I was so surprised to be still alive, and so persuaded at the first moment that none of my fellow-sufferers had survived, that I did not even think of shouting for them. I then made vain efforts to extricate my arms, but found it impossible; the most I could do was to join the ends of my fingers, but they could not reach the snow any longer. After a few minutes I heard a man shouting; what a relief it was to know that I was not the sole survivor! to know that perhaps he was not frozen in and could come to my assistance! I answered; the voice approached, but seemed uncertain where to go, and yet it was now quite near. A sudden exclamation of surprise! Rebot had seen my hands. He cleared my head in an instant, and was about to try and cut me out completely, when I saw a foot above the snow, and so near to me that I could touch it with my arms, although they were not quite free yet. I at once tried to move the foot; it was my poor friend’s. A pang of agony shot through me as I saw that the foot did not move. Poor B. had lost sensation, and was perhaps already dead. Rebot did his best: after some time he wished me to help him, so he freed my arms a little more so that I could make use of them. I could do but little, for Rebot had torn the axe from my shoulder as soon as he had cleared my head (I generally carry an axe separate from my alpenstock—the blade tied to the belt, and the handle attached to the left shoulder). Before coming to me Rebot had helped Nance out of the snow; he was lying nearly horizontally, and was not much covered over. Nance found Bevard, who was upright in the snow, but covered up to the head. After about twenty minutes the two last-named guides came up. I was at length taken out; the snow had to be cut with the axe down to my feet before I could be pulled out. A few minutes after one o’clock P.M. we came to my poor friend’s face.... I wished the body to be taken out completely, but nothing could induce the three guides to work any longer, from the moment they saw that it was too late to save him. I acknowledge that they were nearly as incapable of doing anything as I was. When I was taken out of the snow the cord had to be cut. We tried the end going towards Bennen, but could not move it; it went nearly straight down, and showed us that there was the grave of the bravest guide the Valais ever had, and ever will have. The cold had done its work on us; we could stand it no longer, and began the descent.”

*B.* STRUCK BY LIGHTNING UPON THE MATTERHORN.(254)

[Mr. B. B. Heathcote, of Chingford, Essex, whilst attempting to ascend the Matterhorn by the southern route, was unfortunately used as a lightning-conductor, when he was within 500 feet of the summit of the mountain. It may be observed that the Matterhorn (like all isolated Alpine rock summits) is frequently struck by lightning. Signor Giordano has pointed out elsewhere that he found numerous traces of electric discharges upon its summit.](255)

“On July 30, 1869, in company with Peter Perrn,(256) Peter Taugwalder junior, and Jos. Maquignaz, I commenced the ascent. The atmosphere was clear, and the wind southerly. When very near to the summit an extremely loud thunder-clap was heard, and we thought it prudent to descend. We commenced the descent in the following order:—Taugwalder first, myself next, then Perrn, and Maquignaz last. On approaching the Col do Felicité(257) I received a sharp, stinging blow on the leg, and thought, at first, that a stone had been dislodged; but a loud thunder-clap at once told me what it was. Perrn also said that he had been hit on the leg. In a few moments I received a hit on the right arm, which seemed to run along it, and resembled a shock from a galvanic battery. At the same time all the men gave a startled shriek, and exclaimed that they were hit by lightning. The storm continued near us for some little time, and then gradually died away. On arriving at the _cabane_ I found that Perrn had a long sore on his arm; next morning his leg was much swollen and very weak. We descended to Breil on the following day, and crossed to Zermatt. The same day my hand began to swell, and it continued very weak for about a week. Maquignaz’s neck was much swollen on each side; the lightning hitting him (according to his account) on the back, and upon each side of the neck. Taugwalder’s leg was also slightly swollen. The thunder was tremendous—louder than I have ever heard it before. There was no wind, nor rain, and everything was in a mist.”

*C.* NOTE TO CHAPTER VII.

It was stated in the commencement of this chapter that the Pointe des Ecrins was the highest mountain in France. I have learned, since that paragraph was written, that Captain Mieulet has determined that the height of the Aiguille Verte is 13,540 feet; that mountain is consequently 78 feet higher than the Pointe des Ecrins, and is the highest in France.

*D.* SUBSEQUENT HISTORY OF THE MATTERHORN.(258)

The Val Tournanche natives who started to facilitate the way up the south-west ridge of the Matterhorn for MM. Giordano and Sella, pitched their tent upon my third platform, at the foot of the Great Tower (12,992 feet), and enjoyed several days of bad weather under its shelter. On the first fine day (13th of July) they began their work, and about midday on the 14th got on to the “shoulder,” and arrived at the base of the final peak (the point where Bennen stopped on July 28, 1862). The counsels of the party were then divided. Two—Jean-Antoine Carrel and Joseph Maquignaz—wished to go on; the others were not eager about it. A discussion took place, and the result was they all commenced to descend, and whilst upon the “cravate” (13,524) they heard our cries from the summit.(259) Upon the 15th they went down to Breil and reported their ill-success to M. Giordano (see p. 281). That gentleman was naturally much disappointed, and pressed the men to set out again.(260) Said he, “Until now I have striven for the honour of making the first ascent,—fate has decided against me,—I am beaten. Patience! Now, if I make further sacrifices it will be on your account, for your honour, and for your interests. Will you start again to settle the question, or, at least, to let there be no more uncertainty?” The majority of the men (in fact the whole of them with the exception of Jean-Antoine) refused point-blank to have anything more to do with the mountain. Carrel, however, stepped forward, saying, “As for me, I have not given it up; if you (turning to the Abbé Gorret) or the others will come, I will start again immediately.” “Not I!” said one. “No more for me,” cried a second. “If you would give me a thousand francs I would not go back,” said a third. The Abbé Gorret alone volunteered. This plucky priest was concerned in the very first attempts upon the mountain,(261) and is an enthusiastic mountaineer. Carrel and the Abbé would have set out by themselves had not J. B. Bich and J.-A. Meynet (two men in the employ of Favre the innkeeper) come forward at the last moment. M. Giordano also wished to accompany them, but the men knew the nature of the work they had to undertake, and positively declined to be accompanied by an amateur.

These four men left Breil at 6.30 A.M. on July 16, at 1 P.M. arrived at the third tent-platform, and there passed the night. At daybreak on the 17th they continued the ascent by the route which had been taken before; passed successively the Great Tower, the “crête du coq,” the “cravate,” and the “shoulder,”(262) and at 10 A.M. gained the point at the foot of the final peak from which the explorers had turned back on the 14th.(263) They had then about 800 feet to accomplish, and, says the Abbé, “nous allions entrer en pays inconnu, aucun n’étant jamais allé aussi loin.”

The passage of the cleft which stopped Bennen was accomplished, and then the party proceeded directly towards the summit, over rocks which for some distance were not particularly difficult. The steep cliffs down which we had hurled stones (on the 14th) then stopped their way, and Carrel led round to the left or Z’Mutt side. The work at this part was of the very greatest difficulty, and stones and icicles which fell rendered the position of the party very precarious;(264) so much so that they preferred to turn up directly towards the summit, and climb by rocks that the Abbé termed “almost perpendicular.” He added, “This part occupied the most time, and gave us the greatest trouble.” At length they arrived at a fault in the rocks which formed a roughly horizontal gallery. They crept along this in the direction of a ridge that descended towards the north-west, or thereabouts, and when close to the ridge, found that they could not climb on to it; but they perceived that, by descending a gully with perpendicular sides, they could reach the ridge at a lower point. The bold Abbé was the heaviest and the strongest of the four, and he was sacrificed for the success of the expedition. He and Meynet remained behind, and lowered the others, one by one, into the gully. Carrel and Bich clambered up the other side, attained the ridge descending towards the north-west, shortly afterwards gained an “easy route, they galloped,”(265) and in a few minutes reached the southern end of the summit-ridge.

The time of their arrival does not appear to have been noticed. It was late in the day, I believe about 3 P.M. Carrel and his comrade only waited long enough to plant a flag by the side of the cairn that we had built three days previously, then descended at once, rejoined the others, and all four hurried down as fast as possible to the tent. They were so pressed for time that they could not eat! and it was 9 P.M. before they arrived at their camp at the foot of the Great Tower. In descending they followed the gallery above mentioned throughout its entire length, and so avoided the very difficult rocks over which they had passed on the ascent. As they were traversing the length of the “shoulder” they witnessed the phenomenon to which I have already adverted at the foot of p. 289.

When Carrel and Bich were near the summit they saw our traces upon the Matterhorngletscher, and suspected that an accident had occurred; they did not, however, hear of the Matterhorn catastrophe until their return to Breil, at 3 P.M. upon the 18th. The details of that sad event were in the mouths of all, and it was not unnaturally supposed, in the absence of correct information, that the accident was a proof that the northern side was frightfully dangerous. The safe return of the four Italians was regarded, on the other hand, as evidence that the Breil route was the best. Those who were interested (either personally or otherwise) in the Val Tournanche made the most of the circumstances, and trumpeted the praises of the southern route. Some went farther, and instituted comparisons between the two routes to the disadvantage of the northern one, and were pleased to term our expedition on the 13-14th of July precipitate, and so forth. Considering the circumstances which caused us to leave the Val Tournanche on the 12th of July, these remarks were not in the best possible taste, but I have no feeling regarding them. There may be some, however, who may be interested in a comparison of the two routes, and for their sakes I will place the essential points in juxtaposition. We (that is the Taugwalders and myself) were absent from Zermatt 53 hours. Excluding halts and stoppages of one sort or another, the ascent and descent occupied us 23 hours. Zermatt is 5315 feet above the level of the sea, and the Matterhorn is 14,780; we had therefore to ascend 9465 feet. As far as the point marked 10,820 feet the way was known, so we had to find the way over only 3960 feet. The members of our party (I now include all) were very unequal in ability, and none of us could for a moment be compared as cragsmen with Jean-Antoine Carrel. The four Italians who started from Breil on the 16th of July were absent during 56½ hours, and as far as I can gather from the published account, and from conversation with the men, excluding halts, they took for the ascent and descent 23¾ hours. The hotel at Breil is 6890 feet above the sea, so they had to ascend 7890 feet. As far as the end of the “shoulder” the way was known to Carrel, and he had to find the way over only about 800 feet. All four men were born mountaineers, good climbers, and they were led by the most expert cragsman I have seen. The weather in each instance was fine. It is seen, therefore, that these four nearly equally matched men took a _longer_ time to ascend 1500 feet _less_ height than ourselves, although we had to find the way over more than four times as much untrodden ground as they. This alone would lead any mountaineer to suppose that their route must have been more difficult than ours.(266) I know the greater part of the ground over which they passed, and from my knowledge, and from the account of Mr. Grove, I am sure that their route was not only more difficult, but that it was _much_ more difficult than ours.

This was not the opinion in the Val Tournanche at the end of 1865, and the natives confidently reckoned that tourists would flock to their side in preference to the other. It was, I believe, the late Canon Carrel of Aosta (who always took great interest in such matters) who first proposed the construction of a _cabane_ upon the southern side of the Matterhorn. The project was taken up with spirit, and funds for its execution were speedily provided—principally by the members of the Italian Alpine Club, or by their friends. The indefatigable Carrel found a natural hole upon the ledge called the “cravate” (13,524), and this, in course of time, was turned, under his direction, into a respectable little hut. Its position is superb, and gives a view of the most magnificent character.

Whilst this work was being carried out, my friend Mr. F. Craufurd Grove consulted me respecting the ascent of the Matterhorn. I recommended him to ascend by the northern route, and to place himself in the hands of Jean-Antoine Carrel. Mr. Grove found, however, that Carrel distinctly preferred the southern side, and they ascended accordingly by the Breil route. Mr. Grove has been good enough to supply the following account of his expedition. He carries on my description of the southern route from the highest point I attained on that side (a little below the “cravate”) to the summit, and thus renders complete my descriptions of the two sides.

“In August 1867 I ascended the Matterhorn from Breil, taking as guides three mountaineers of the Val Tournanche—J. A. Carrel, J. Bich, and S. Meynet,—Carrel being the leader. At that time the Matterhorn had not been scaled since the famous expedition of the Italian guides mentioned above.

“Our route was identical with that which they followed in their descent when, as will be seen, they struck out on one part of the mountain a different line from that which they had taken in ascending. After gaining the Col du Lion, we climbed the south-western or Breil _arête_ by the route which has been described in these pages, passing the night at the then unfinished hut constructed by the Italian Alpine Club on the ‘cravate.’ Starting from the hut at daylight, we reached at an early hour the summit of the ‘shoulder,’ and then traversed its _arête_ to the final peak of the Matterhorn. The passage of this _arête_ was perhaps the most enjoyable part of the whole expedition. The ridge, worn by slow irregular decay into monstrous and rugged battlements, and guarded on each side by tremendous precipices, is grand beyond all description, but does not, strange to say, present any remarkable difficulty to the climber, save that it is exceedingly trying to the head. Great care is of course necessary, but the scramble is by no means of so arduous a nature as entirely to absorb the attention; so that a fine climb, and rock scenery, of grandeur perhaps unparalleled in the Alps, can both be appreciated.

“It was near the end of this _arête_, close to the place where it abuts against the final peak, that Professor Tyndall’s party turned in 1862,(267) arrested by a cleft in the ridge. From the point where they stopped the main tower of the Matterhorn rises in front of the climber, abrupt, magnificent, and apparently inaccessible. The summit is fully 750 feet in vertical height above this spot, and certainly, to my eye, appeared to be separated from me by a yet more considerable interval; for I remember, when at the end of the _arête_, looking upward at the crest of the mountain, and thinking that it must be a good 1000 feet above me.

“When the Italian guides made their splendid ascent, they traversed the _arête_ of the shoulder to the main peak, passed the cleft which has been mentioned (p. 90), clambered on to the tremendous north-western face of the mountain (described by Mr. Whymper at pp. 277 and 282), and then endeavoured to cross this face so as to get on to the Z’Mutt _arête_.(268) The passage of this slope proved a work of great difficulty and danger. I saw it from very near the place which they traversed, and was unable to conceive how any human creatures managed to crawl over rocks so steep and so treacherous. After they had got about half-way across, they found the difficulties of the route and the danger from falling stones so great, that they struck straight up the mountain, in the hope of finding some safer way. They were to a certain extent successful, for they came presently to a small ledge, caused by a sort of fault in the rock, running horizontally across the north-western face of the mountain a little distance below the summit. Traversing this ledge, the Italians found themselves close to the Z’Mutt _arête_, but still separated from it by a barrier, to outflank which it was necessary to descend a perpendicular gully. Carrel and Bich were lowered down this, the other two men remaining at the top to haul up their companions on their return, as otherwise they could not have got up again. Passing on to the Z’Mutt _arête_ without further difficulty, Carrel and Bich climbed by that ridge to the summit of the mountain. In returning, the Italians kept to the ledge for the whole distance across the north-western face, and descended to the place where the _arête_ of the shoulder abuts against the main peak by a sort of rough ridge of rocks between the north-western and southern faces. When I ascended in 1867, we followed this route in the ascent and in the descent. I thought the ledge difficult, in some places decidedly dangerous, and should not care to set foot on it again; but assuredly it neither is so difficult nor so continuously dangerous as those gaunt and pitiless rock-slopes which the Italians crossed in their upward route.

“The credit of making the _Italian_ ascent of the Matterhorn belongs undoubtedly to J.-A. Carrel and to the other mountaineers who accompanied him. Bennen led his party bravely and skilfully to a point some 750 feet below the top. From this point, however, good guide though he was, Bennen had to retire defeated; and it was reserved for the better mountain-craft of the Valtournanche guide to win the difficult way to the summit of the Matterhorn.”

Mr. Craufurd Grove was the first traveller who ascended the Matterhorn after the accident, and the natives of Val Tournanche were, of course, greatly delighted that his ascent was made upon their side. Some of them, however, were by no means well pleased that J.-A. Carrel was so much regarded. They feared, perhaps, that he would acquire the monopoly of the mountain. Just a month after Mr. Grove’s ascent, six Valtournanchians set out to see whether they could not learn the route, and so come in for a share of the good things which were expected to arrive. They were three Maquignaz’s, Cæsar Carrel (my old guide), J.-B. Carrel, and a daughter of the last named! They left Breil at 5 A.M. on Sept. 12, and at 3 P.M. arrived at the hut, where they passed the night. At 7 A.M. the next day they started again (leaving J.-B. Carrel behind), and proceeded along the “shoulder” to the final peak; passed the cleft which had stopped Bennen, and clambered up the comparatively easy rocks on the other side until they arrived at the base of the last precipice, down which we had hurled stones on July 14, 1865. They (young woman and all) were then about 350 feet from the summit! Then, instead of turning to the left, as Carrel and Mr. Grove had done, Joseph and J.-Pierre Maquignaz paid attention to the cliff in front of them, and managed to find a means of passing up, by clefts, ledges, and gullies, to the summit. This was a shorter (and it appears to be an easier) route than that taken by Carrel and Grove, and it has been followed by all those who have since then ascended the mountain from the side of Breil.(269) Subsequently, a rope was fixed over the most difficult portions of the final climb.

In the meantime they had not been idle upon the other side. A hut was constructed upon the eastern face, at a height of 12,526 feet above the sea, near to the crest of the ridge which descends towards Zermatt (north-east ridge). This was done at the expense of Monsieur Seiler and of the Swiss Alpine Club. Mons. Seiler placed the execution of the work under the direction of the Knubels, of the village of St. Nicholas, in the Zermatt valley; and Peter Knubel, along with Joseph Marie Lochmatter of the same village, had the honour of making the second ascent of the mountain upon the northern side with Mr. Elliott. This took place on July 24-25, 1868. Since then very numerous ascents have been made both on the Swiss and upon the Italian side. The list of ascents will, however, show that far more have been made by the Zermatt or northern route than by the Breil or southern route.

Mr. Elliott supposed that he avoided the place where the accident occurred, and that he improved the northern route. This, however, is not the case. Both he and the others who have succeeded him have followed in all essential points the route which we took upon July 13-15, 1865, with the exception of the deviations which I will point out. Upon leaving Zermatt, the traveller commences by crossing a bridge which is commonly termed the Matterhorn bridge, and proceeds to the chapel at the Schwarzsee. Thence he mounts the Hörnli, and follows its ridge along its entire length right up to the foot of the Matterhorn. There is now a good path along the whole of this ridge, but when we traversed it for the First Ascent there was not even so much as a faintly marked track. The first steps which are taken upon the mountain itself follow the exact line over which I myself led upon the first ascent, and the track presently passes over the precise spot upon which our tent was placed in 1865. In 1874, and again in 1876, I saw the initials which I marked on the rock by the side of our tent. The route now taken passes this rock, and then goes round the corner of the buttress to which I referred upon p. 276. At this point the route now followed deviates somewhat from the line of our ascent, and goes more directly up to the part of the north-east ridge upon which the _Cabane_ is placed. We bore more away on to the face of the mountain, and proceeded more directly towards the summit. At the upper part of the ascent of the north-east ridge the route now taken is exactly that of the first ascent until the foot of the final peak is reached; and there, instead of bearing away to the right, as we did, the tourist now clambers up directly towards the summit by means of the fixed ropes and chains. The final portion of the ascent, over the snow at the summit, again follows our route.

So far as the _Cabane_ there is now a strongly marked track, almost a path, over the mountain; and little piles of stones, placed in prominent situations, point out the way even to the dullest person. What the _Cabane_ itself is like will be seen by reference to the illustration which faces p. 309. It is placed in a very insecure position, and will probably one of these days disappear by disintegration. It is not easy at this part of the mountain to find a good situation for a hut, though there is plenty of choice both higher up and lower down.

Amongst the ascents that have been made which are most worthy of note, that made by Signor Giordano may be mentioned first. This gentleman came to Breil several times after his famous visit in 1865, with the intention of making the ascent, but he was always baffled by the weather. In July 1866 he got as high as the “cravate” (with J. A. Carrel and other men) and _was detained there five days and nights, unable to move either up or down_. At last, upon Sept. 3-5, 1868, he was able to gratify his desires, and accomplished the feat of ascending the mountain on one side and descending it upon the other. Signor Giordano is, I believe, the only geologist who has ascended the mountain. He spent a considerable time in the examination of its structure, and became benighted on its eastern face in consequence. I am indebted to him for the valuable note and the accompanying section which follow the Table of Ascents. Signor Giordano carried a mercurial barometer throughout the entire distance, and read it frequently. His observations have enabled me to determine with confidence and accuracy the heights which were attained upon the different attempts to ascend the mountain, and the various points upon it which have been so frequently mentioned throughout this volume.

Questions having been frequently put to me respecting the immediate summit of the Matterhorn, and difficulties having been expressed as to the recognition of the two views given upon pp. 279 and 281, I made an ascent of the mountain in 1874 to photograph the summit, in order that I might see what changes had occurred since our visit of ten years before. The summits of all high mountains vary from time to time, and I was not surprised to find that the Matterhorn was no exception to the general rule. It was altogether sharper and narrower in 1874 than 1865. Instead of being able “to run about,” every step had to be painfully cut with the axe; and the immediate summit, instead of being a blunt and rounded eminence, was a little piled-up cone of snow which went to a very sharp point. Our photographic operations were conducted with difficulty, for a furious north wind was blowing which would have whisked away the camera immediately if it had been set up in the most convenient position for taking a view; and we were compelled to cut a great gash in the snow and to work down upon the edge of the cliff overlooking Breil before we could escape from the gusts which were whirling away the snow in writhing eddies. My guides J. A. Carrel, Bic, and Lochmatter formed a strong party, and eventually we gained a position, protected from the wind, whence there was a good view of the summit; but our ledge was so small that we could not venture to unrope, and Carrel had to squat down whilst I photographed over his head. The engraving upon p. 311 has been made from the photograph so taken. It will interest some of my readers to know that the nearest peak, seen below, is the summit of the Dent d’Hérens.

The light was not favourable for photographing the _Cabane_ when we returned from the summit, and I stopped alone with Carrel in it for a second night in order to get the morning light on the next day. Whilst quietly reposing inside, I was startled to hear a rustling and crackling sound, and jumped up, expecting that the building was about to take itself off to lower quarters; and presently I perceived that the hut had a tenant to whom I certainly did not expect to be introduced. A little, plump mouse came creeping out over the floor, being apparently of opinion that there ought not to be any one there at that time of day. It wandered about picking up stray fragments of food, occasionally crunching a bit of egg-shell, totally unaware of my presence, for I made out that the little animal was both blind and deaf. It would have been easy to capture it, but I would not do so, and left it there to keep company with other solitary tourists.

The view from the _Cabane_ extends from the Bietschhorn on the north to the Grand Tournalin in the south; and includes the Mischabel group, the Allalleinhorn and Alphubel, Mont Rosa, etc. etc. Its situation is not high enough to overlook those mountains, and so the prospect is very similar to the northern and eastern half of the view from the Riffel. The uppermost 800 feet of the Matterhorn can be seen from the hut, but the rest of the part above it is not visible, being hidden by a small ridge which projects from the face. Whilst stopping in the _Cabane_ we had the insecurity of its position forcibly impressed upon us by seeing a huge block break away from the rock at its side, and go crashing down over the very route which is commonly pursued by tourists.

The year 1879 is a memorable one in the history of the Matterhorn, for in it there occurred two deaths upon the mountain, and two new routes were discovered. Sufficient information has not come to hand at the time I write upon what is termed the “_affaire Brantschen_” to enable one to form a correct opinion about that lamentable business, and it is enough to say that upon August 12 a party started from Breil, composed of Dr. Lüscher, Prof. Schiess, and the guides J. M. Lochmatter, Jos. Brantschen, and Petryson of Evolena. They gained the hut on the “cravate” in due course, and on the following day the party crossed the mountain to Zermatt, with the exception of Brantschen, who was left behind in the hut, some say only slightly ill, and others at the point of death. Which of these was the case is only known by those concerned. They sent back assistance to their comrade in a somewhat tardy fashion, and when the relief party gained the hut Brantschen was found dead.

At the time that this was taking place on the southern side of the Matterhorn, an accident occurred on the north-east face by which a life was lost. Messrs. A. E. Craven and Dr. Moseley (of Boston), with the guides Peter Rubi and C. Inabnit, left Zermatt at 10.30 P.M. on the night of August 13, and ascended the mountain by the usual northern route without stopping at the hut. They reached the summit at 9 A.M. on the 14th, and had returned to within a short distance of the hut, when Dr. Moseley (who had found it irksome to be tied up, and had frequently wished to go unroped) untied himself from the rest, doing so entirely upon his own responsibility. A few minutes later, and within quite a short distance of the hut, the party had to cross a projecting piece of rock. Rubi went over first, and planted his axe in position to give firm footing to Dr. Moseley, who followed. But, unhappily, he declined assistance; placed his hand on the rock, and endeavoured to vault over it. In doing so he slipped, lost hold of his axe, and fell with ever accelerating velocity down almost the whole of the north-east face. He fell about 2000 feet, and was of course killed on the spot. His body was recovered three days later, and was interred in the English burying-ground at Zermatt.

Many persons have talked at different times about the possibility of finding a way up the Matterhorn from the side of the Z’Mutt glacier; but it was not until the year 1879 that a way was found. On September 2-3, Mr. A. F. Mummery, with the guides ? and ? , succeeded in gaining the summit by first going up the long buttress of snow which runs out from the mountain to the Z’Mutt glacier, and then up the rocks above. I have been unable to procure any details respecting this expedition and my only information about it has been derived from Mr. Baumann, who followed in Mr. Mummery’s traces three days later. Mr. Baumann says: “We followed the long ice-slope to its extreme upper end, then the jagged arête above it for a short distance, and then deviated a little to the right, climbing by a secondary rocky ridge descending towards the Stockhi until within an hour of the summit, when we struck the main Z’Mutt arête and so completed the ascent by joining the Breil route.”

At the very time that Mr. Mummery was occupied in his expedition, Mr. W. Penhall, with the guides F. Imseng and L. Sorbriehen, was engaged in a similar enterprise, and also ascended the Matterhorn from the direction of the Stockhi. He, however, at the first took a route closer to the Tiefenmatten glacier, though he at last, like the others, eventually got upon the main Z’Mutt arête and completed the ascent by following a portion of the Breil route.

Neither Mr. Mummery, nor Messrs. Baumann and Penhall, descended by the routes which they struck out, and in each case the respective parties descended by the northern or Zermatt route. It is therefore at present impossible to determine the relative difficulty of the various routes up the mountain. Still, I think that the great majority of tourists will, as heretofore, prefer the ordinary Zermatt route, and that comparatively few will patronize the newly-discovered ones.

The ascent of the Matterhorn has now taken its place amongst those which are considered fashionable, and many persons get upon it who ought not to be upon a mountain at all. Although much has been done on both sides of it to facilitate the routes, and although they are much easier to traverse than they were in years gone by, it is still quite possible to get into trouble upon them, and to come utterly to grief. Considering how large a number of entirely incompetent persons venture upon the mountain, it is surprising so few meet with accidents; but if the number of accidents continues to increase at its present rate it will, ere long, not be easy to find a place of interment in the English churchyard at Zermatt.

*E.* TABLE OF ATTEMPTS MADE TO ASCEND THE MATTERHORN PREVIOUS TO THE FIRST ASCENT.

No. of Date. Names. Side upon Greatest REMARKS. Attempt. which Height the Attempt attained. was made, and Place arrived at.

1 1858-9. J.-Antoine Breil side 12,650 Several attempts Carrel. “Chimney.” were made before J.-Jacques this height was Carrel attained; the men Victor Carrel. concerned cannot Gab. Maquignaz. remember how many. Abbé Gorret. See p. 46.

1860. 2 July Alfred Zermatt 11,500? Without guides. Parker. side P. 46-7. Charles East face. Parker. Sandbach Parker.

3 August V. Hawkins. Breil side 12,992 Guides—J. J. J. Tyndall. Hawkins got 13,050? Bennen and to foot of J.-Jacques “Great Tower,” Carrel. Pp. 47-9. Tyndall a few feet higher.

1861. 4 July Messrs. Zermatt 11,700? No guides. Parker side P. 49. East face.

5 Aug. 29 J.-Antoine Breil side 13,230 See p. 57. Carrel. “Crête du J.-Jacques Coq.” Carrel.

6 Aug. 29-30 Edward Breil side 12,650 Camped upon the Whymper “Chimney.” mountain, with an Oberland guide. Pp. 51-7.

1862. 7 January T. S. Zermatt 11,000? Winter attempt. Kennedy side Pp. 58-9. East face.

8 July 7-8 R. J. S. Breil side 12,000 Guides—Johann zum Macdonald. Arête below Taugwald and Edward “Chimney.” Johann Kronig. Whymper. Pp. 64-5.

9 July 9-10 R. J. S. Breil side 12,992 Guides—J.-A. Macdonald. “Great Carrel and Edward Tower.” Pession. P. 66. Whymper.

” July 18-19 ” ” Breil side 13,400 Alone. Pp. Somewhat 67-79. higher than the lowest part of the “Cravate.”

10 July 23-24 ” ” Breil side 13,150 Guides—J.-A. “Crête du Carrel, Cæsar Coq.” Carrel, and Luc Meynet. P. 80.

11 July 25-26 ” ” Breil side 13,460 With Luc Meynet. Nearly as Pp. 81-2. high as the highest part of the “Cravate.”

12 July 27-28 J. Tyndall Breil side 13,970 Guides—J. J. “The Bennen and Anton Shoulder,” Walter; porters— to foot of J.-Antoine final peak. Carrel, Cæsar Carrel, and another. Pp. 83-87, 90-92.

1863. 13 Aug. 10-11 Edward Breil side 13,280 Guides—J.-A. Whymper “Crête du Carrel, Cæsar Coq.” Carrel, Luc Meynet, and two porters. Pp. 114-123.

1865. 14 June 21. ” ” South-east 11,200? Guides—Michel face Croz, Christian Almer, Franz Biener; porter—Luc Meynet. Pp. 231-235.

*F.* ASCENTS OF THE MATTERHORN.

No. of Date. Names. Route taken. REMARKS. Ascent 1865. 1 July 13-15 Lord Francis Douglas. Zermatt Guides—Michel D. Hadow. (Or Northern Croz, Peter Charles Hudson. route.) Taugwalder Edward Whymper. _père_, Peter Taugwalder _fils_. See pp. 271-290.

2 July 16-18 Jean-Antoine Carrel. Breil The first two J. Baptiste Bich. (Or Southern named only Amé Gorret. route.) ascended to the J.-Augustin Meynet. summit. See pp. 282, 304-6.

1867. 3 Aug. 13-15 F. Craufurd Grove Breil Guides—J. A. Carrel, Salamon Meynet, and J. B. Bich.

4 Sept. 12-14 Jos. Maquignaz. Breil An easier route J.-Pierre Maquignaz. was discovered Victor Maquignaz. by this party Cæsar Carrel. than that taken J.-B. Carrel. upon July 17, 1865. The first two named only ascended to the summit. See p. 309.

5 Oct. 1-3 W. Leighton Jordan Breil Guides—the Maquignaz’s just named, Cæsar Carrel, and F. Ansermin. The Maquignaz’s and Mr. Jordan alone reached the summit.

1868. 6 July 24-25 J. M. Elliott Zermatt Guides—Jos. Marie Lochmatter and Peter Knubel.

7 July 26-28 J. Tyndall Up Breil Guides—Jos. and side and Pierre Maquignaz, down Zermatt and three others. side.

8 Aug. 2-4 O. Hoiler. ” ? Account given in F. Thioly. hotel-book at Breil is not very clear. Guides seem to have been Jos. and Victor Maquignaz and Elie Pession.

9 Aug. 3-4 G. E. Foster Zermatt Guides—Hans Baumann, Peter Bernett, and Peter Knubel.

10 Aug. 8 Paul Guessfeldt Zermatt Guides—Jos. Marie Lochmatter, Nich. Knubel, and Peter Knubel.

11 Sept. 1-2 A. G. Girdlestone. Zermatt Guides—Jos. Marie F. Craufurd Grove. Lochmatter and W. E. U. Kelso. the two Knubels.

12 Sept. 2-3 G. B. Marke Zermatt Guides—Nich. Knubel and Pierre Zurbriggen (Saas).

13 Sept. 3-5 F. Giordano Up Breil Guides—J. A. side and Carrel and down Zermatt Jos. Maquignaz. side. See p. 310.

14 Sept. 8-9 Paul Sauzet Breil Guides—J. A. Carrel and Jos. Maquignaz.

1869. 15 July 20 James Eccles Breil Guides—J. A. Carrel, Bich, and two Payots (Chamounix).

16 Aug. 26-27 R. B. Heathcote Breil Guides—The four Maquignaz’s (Val Tournanche).

1870. 17 July 20 (?) ? Zermatt No details have come to hand.

1871. 18 July 16-17 E. R. Whitwell Zermatt Guides—Ulrich and Ch. Lauener.

19 July 21-22 F. Gardiner. Zermatt Guides—Peter F. Walker. Perrn, P. Knubel, Lucy Walker. N. Knubel, Melchior Anderegg, and Heinrich Anderegg.

20 ? — Fowler Zermatt Guides—C. Knubel and J. M. Lochmatter.

21 Aug. 2-3 W. E. Utterson-Kelso Breil Guides—Victor and Emmanuel Maquignaz and Joseph Gillioz.

22 Aug. 7-8 R. S. Lyle Breil Guides—J. J. Maquignaz and ?

23 Aug. 18-19 C. E. Mathews. Breil Guides—J. A. F. Morshead. Carrel and Melchior Anderegg, with two porters.

24 Sept. 4-5 M. C. Brevoort. Zermatt to Breil Guides—Ch. W. A. B. Coolidge. Almer, Ulr. Almer, and N. Knubel.

25 Sept. 7-8 R. Fowler Zermatt Guides—J. M. Lochmatter and P. Knubel.

1872. 26 July 22-23 F. Gardiner. Zermatt to Breil Guides—J. T. Middlemore. Maquignaz, Peter Knubel, and Johann Jaun.

27 July 21 H. Bicknell ? Guides—Not known.

28 July 24-25 R. Pendlebury. Zermatt to Breil Guides—Peter W. M. Pendlebury. Taugwalder C. Taylor. _fils_, Gabriel Spechtenhauser, and F. Imseng.

29 July 26 J. Jackson Breil to Zermatt Guides—Jos. Maquignaz and Anton Ritz.

30 July ? F. A. Wallroth ? Guides—Not known.

31 Aug. 29-30 A. Rothschild Zermatt Guides—Franz Biener and two Knubels.

32 Sept. 1-2 G. A. Passingham Zermatt Guides—F. Imseng and Franz Andermatten.

33 Sept. 9-10 H. Denning. Zermatt Guides—Melchior E. Hutchins. Schlapp, Peter J. Young. Rubi, and two Knubels.

34 Sept. 10-11 L. Saunderson Zermatt Guides—Peter Bohren and Peter Knubel.

35 Sept. 11-12 E. Millidge Zermatt Guide— — Pollinger.

36 Sept. 11-12 D. J. Abercromby Zermatt Guides—N. Knubel and P. J. Knubel.

37 Sept. 16-17 C. Bronzet Zermatt Guides—P. Knubel, F. Truffer, and J. Truffer.

1873. 38 July 6-7 T. Cox. Zermatt Guides—Peter J. Gardiner. Knubel and J. M. Lochmatter.

39 July 6-7 C. Théraulaz Zermatt Guides—J. Gillot and Ignace Sarbach.

40 July 21-22 A. F. Leach Zermatt Guides—P. Taugwalder _fils_ and J. M. Kronig.

41 July 21-22 T. A. Bishop Zermatt Guides—P. Knubel, P. J. Knubel, and F. Devouassoud.

42 July 23-24 H. Salmond Breil Guides—Not known.

43 July 23-24 A. G. Puller. Breil to Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel and Jos. Maquignaz.

44 July 25-26 E. Leatham Zermatt Guides—P. Knubel and Joseph Imboden.

45 July 25-27 W. W. Simpson Breil to Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel, P. Maquignaz, and a Chamounix guide.

46 July 29-30 M. Déchy Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel and P. Taugwalder _fils_.

47 Aug. 3 J. Bischoff. Zermatt Guides— E. Burckhardt.

48 Aug. 6-7 Emile Veyrin Zermatt Guides—P. J. Knubel; porter, Joh. Knubel.

49 Aug. 9-10 L. Ewbank Zermatt Guides—J. M. and Alex. Lochmatter.

50 Aug. 11 G. E. Hulton. Zermatt Guides—Ch. F. C. Hulton. Lauener, Johann Fischer, and Peter Rubi.

51 Aug. 11-12 Marquis Maglioni Zermatt Guides—P. Knubel, Edouard Capelin; porter H. Knubel.

52 Aug. 14-15 F. Dawkins Zermatt Guides—Franz Andermatten, A. Burgener; porter, Abraham Imseng.

53 Aug. 15-16 J. F. Bramston. Zermatt Guides—Melchior F. Morshead. Anderegg, B. C. H. Hawkins. Nageli, and J. M. Lochmatter.

54 Aug. 16 H. S. Hoare Zermatt Guides—Johann von Bergen and A. Pollinger.

55 Aug. 18-22 E. Pigeon. Breil to Zermatt Guides—J. A. — Pigeon. Carrel, V. Maquignaz, and J. Martin. This party was confined in the hut on the Italian side from the 18th to the 21st of August, by bad weather; and in descending upon the Zermatt side it was surprised by night before the _cabane_ could be reached, and had to pass the night on the open mountain-side.

56 Aug. 22-23 F. P. Barlow Zermatt Guides—Jakob Anderegg and P. Taugwalder _fils_.

57 Oct 2-3 W. W. Stuart Breil to Zermatt Guides—Jos. Maquignaz, F. Bic, and Jos. Balmat.

1874. 58 July 14-15 T. G. Bonney Zermatt Guides—J. M. Lochmatter and J. Petrus.

59 July 17-18 F. Wolf Zermatt Guides—A. Pollinger and Jos. Lauber.

60 July 18-19 A. Millot and wife Zermatt Guides—Melchior Anderegg, A. Maurer, and P. Taugwalder _fils_.

61 July ? H. Lamb ? Guides—Not known.

62 July 19-20 J. Baumann Zermatt Guide-Ulrich Lauener.

63 July 23-24 ? E. Javelle Breil to Zermatt Guides—

64 July 27-29 L. K. Rankine Zermatt Guides—A. Pollinger and Jos. Längen.

65 Aug. 7 J. Birkbeck, Jun. Breil to Breil Guides—J. Petrus and J. B. Bic. Mr. Birkbeck and his guides started from Breil, crossed the mountain to the northern side, and returned to Breil, in 19 hours.

66 Aug. 7-8 G. F. Cobb. Zermatt Guides—P. S. Forster. Taugwalder A. M. Tod. _fils_, Jos. Taugwalder, and A. Summermatter.

67 Aug. 7-8 M. Bramston Zermatt Guide—B. Nageli.

68 Aug. 12 G. Dévin Zermatt Guides—L. Pollinger and Henri Séraphin.

69 Aug. 19-20 L. N. Walford Zermatt Guides—Alex. Burgener and B. Venetz.

70 Aug. 20-21 A. D. Puckle Zermatt Guides—J. Petrus and N. Knubel.

71 Aug. 20-21 R. Lindt Zermatt Guides—Ig. Sarbach and Peter Sulzer.

72 Aug. 20-22 Edward Whymper Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel, J. B. Bic, and J. M. Lochmatter. An ascent made for the sake of photography. Passed two nights in the Zermatt _cabane_.

73 Aug. 22-23 W. E. Davidson Zermatt Guides—Laurent Lanier and Ig. Sarbach.

74 Aug. 23 Prof. G. B—— ? Guides—P. Prof. K—— Maquignaz, E. Pession, and Chas. Gorret. Account is illegible.

75 Aug. 25 F. W. Headley. Zermatt Guides—A. E. P. Arnold. Pollinger and J. J. Truffer.

76 Aug. 25 H. J. Smith Zermatt Guides—Alex. Lochmatter and Jos. Längen.

77 Aug. 25 M. J. Boswell Zermatt Guides—Jos. Imboden and Jos. Sarbach.

78 Aug. 26 W. J. Lewis Zermatt Guides—Moritz Julen and Jos. Taugwalder.

79 Aug. 27 W. Stirling Zermatt Guides—Johann Petrus and Franz Burgener.

80 Aug. 28 J. H. Pratt. Zermatt Guides—J. A. — Prothero. Carrel and P. Knubel. Ascent made in one day.

81 Aug. 31 H. N. Malan Zermatt Guides—Jean Martin and A. Lochmatter.

82 Sept. 1-2 W. A. Lewis Zermatt Guides—J. M. Lochmatter and P. Imboden.

83 Sept. 2 E. Dent. Zermatt Guide—A. C. T. Dent. Burgener.

84 Sept. 2 J. W. Borel Zermatt Guides—A. Pollinger and J. J. Truffer.

85 Sept. 3 Ernst Calbenla Zermatt Guides—P. Bohren and P. Müller.

86 Sept. 8 A. H. Simpson. Zermatt Guides—P. Knubel, M. Cullinan. P. J. Knubel, and P. Truffer.

87 Sept. 8 A. H. Burton Zermatt Guides—P. Baumann, P. Taugwalder, and B. Nageli.

88 Sept. 9 E. Pigeon. Zermatt Guides—N. and — Pigeon. J. Knubel, and F. Sarbach.

89 Sept. 16-17 W. Nägeli Zermatt Guides—J. and P. Knubel.

1875. 90 May 10 — Corona ? Guides—J. A. Carrel and J. J. Maquignaz. Account is perfectly illegible.

91 Aug. 2-3 L. Brioschi Zermatt Guides—F. and A. Imseng and P. J. Andermatten.

92 Aug. 10 J. W. Hartley Zermatt Guides—P. Rubi and J. Moser.

93 Aug. 10-11 F. T. Wethered Zermatt Guides—Ch. Almer and A. Pollinger.

94 Aug. 11 A. Fairbanks. Zermatt Guide—J. Perrn, W. Fairbanks. and a porter.

95 Aug. 12 D. L. Pickman Zermatt Guides—J. Taugwalder and F. Biener. Ascent made in one day.

96 Aug. 16 D. Merritt Zermatt Guides—No information.

97 Aug. 16 E. Hornby Zermatt Guides—A. and F. Pollinger.

98 Aug. 16 J. J. Morgan. Zermatt Guides—J. C. L. Morgan. Imboden and J. Sarbach.

99 Aug. 16 A. W. Payne Zermatt Guide—J. Taugwalder.

100 Aug. 17 J. H. Pratt. Breil to Zermatt Guides—J. A. W. Leaf. Carrel and N. Knubel.

101 Aug. 19-20 F. Tendron. Zermatt Guides—F. and G. F. Vernon. P. Sarbach and J. Taugwalder.

102 Aug. 23-24 H. R. Whitehouse Zermatt Guides—P. J. Knubel and P. T. Truffer.

103 Aug. 26-27 F. Morshead. Zermatt Guides—M. A. O. Prickard. Anderegg, Ch. H. S. Wilson. Lauener, and J. Moser.

104 Sept. 7 H. G. Gotch Zermatt Guides—Ig. and Jos. Sarbach.

105 Sept. 8 R. King Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel and Jos. Coulter, and (porter) A. Payot.

106 Sept. 8 H. Loschge Breil to Zermatt Guides—J. Petrus and A. Ranier.

107 Sept. 9 P. Methuen Zermatt Guides—Johann Jaun and A. Maurer.

108 Sept. 14 — Butter Zermatt Guides—Jos. Imboden and J. Brantschen.

109 Sept. 15 W. Kittan Zermatt Guides—J. Petrus and Franz Burgener.

1876. 110 July 22-23 A. H. Cawood. Zermatt Without guides, J. B. Colgrove. and with two A. Cust. porters.

111 July 29 J. Hazel. Zermatt Guides—P. W. F. Loverell. Maquignaz and F. Zuber.

112 July 30 Eug. Dacqué Zermatt Guides—Borren (Bohren?) and Platter (?).

113 Aug. 3-4 F. Corbett. Zermatt Guides—F. M. Courtenay. Burgener, P. Taugwalder _fils_, and J. Taugwalder.

114 Aug. 3-4 P. A. Singer. Zermatt Guides—J. P. A. Singer. Imboden, Jos. Perrn, P. Perrn, and F. Perrn (porter).

115 Aug. 6-7 D. E. Cardinal Zermatt Guides—Pierre Carrel and Louis Carrel.

116 Aug. 7 F. Reiners. Zermatt Guides—P. and M. Haushofer. J. Knubel.

117 Aug. 8-9 H. de Saussure Zermatt Guides—A. Burgener and J. Knubel.

118 Aug. 8-9 W. Cooke Zermatt Guides—Louis Carrel and Pierre Carrel.

119 Aug. 8-9 J. J. Bischoff Zermatt Guides—J. Petrus, P. T. Truffer, and another.

120 Aug. 9 Joseph Seiler Zermatt Guides— — Lauber and ? An one day ascent.

121 Aug. 9-10 W. J. Whelpdale. Zermatt Guides—J. M. C. Weightmann. Lochmatter, A. Ritz, and Jos. Brantschen as porter.

122 Aug. 10 P. Watson Zermatt Guides—Alex. Burgener and B. Venetz.

123 Aug. 12 S. Waller. Zermatt Guides—J. M. G. Fitzgerald. Lochmatter and J. Lauber.

124 Aug. 12 H. Meyer. Zermatt Guides—Jos. C. Estertag. Brantschen, P. J. Knubel, and Jos. Taugwalder.

125 Aug. 12 J. Jackson. Zermatt Guides—Christian T. H. Kitson. and Ulrich Almer. Ascent in one day.

126 Aug. 12 Jos. Nantermod Zermatt Guides—A. Pollinger and B. Andenmatten.

127 Aug. 14 C. E. Mathews. Zermatt Guides—M. F. Morshead. Anderegg and ? Ascent made in one day.

128 (?) — Dent. Zermatt Guide—Alex. Burgener.

129 Aug. 28-29 G. W. Prothero. Zermatt to Breil Guide—J. A. Carrel.

1877. 130 Aug. 4 O. Boenaud. Zermatt Guides—No G. Mermod. information. L. Mermod.

131 Aug. 13-14 Q. Sella. Zermatt to Breil Guides—J. A. L. Biraghi. Carrel, — Imseng, J. B. Carrel, Louis Carrel, Jos. and Vict. Maquignaz, etc. etc.

132 Aug. 19 W. H. Grenfell. Breil Guides— — Imseng J. H. A. Peebles. and ?

133 Aug. 20 W. Penhall Zermatt Guides—Jos. Imboden and P. Taugwalder _fils_.

134 Aug. 24-25 G. Fitzgerald Zermatt Guides—J. M. Lochmatter and Joseph Lauber.

135 Aug. 29 J. A. Cooper Zermatt Guides—Alex and Alois Burgener.

136 Aug. 30 J. D. Griffiths Zermatt Guides—Basile Andenmatten and ?

137 Aug. 30 J. F. Yearsley Zermatt Guides—F. Burgener, P. Andenmatten, and (porter) — Blumenthal.

138 Aug. 30-31 J. C. Leman Zermatt Guides— — Pollinger and ?

139 Aug. 30-31 T. de Cambray Digny Zermatt to Breil Guides—J. A. Carrel and Henri Séraphin.

140 Sept. 4 J. Freitschke Zermatt Guide—Basile Andenmatten.

141 Sept. 4-5 H. Loschge Zermatt to Breil Guides—Alex. Burgener and a Tyrol guide.

142 Sept. 6-7 J. Nérot Breil to Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel, a Chamounix guide, and a porter.

1878. 143 ? T. Jose Zermatt Guides—J. M. Lochmatter, P. Knubel, and Pierre Truffer.

144 Sept. 7 Carl Hecke Zermatt Guide—Basile Andenmatten.

145 Sept. 9 Jules Seiler Zermatt Guides—P. Knubel and Basile Andenmatten.

146 Sept. 21 Dr. Minnigerode Zermatt Guides—J. M. Lochmatter and J. Taugwalder.

147 Sept. 11-12 C. J. Thompson Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel and — Imseng.

1879. 148 Aug. 12-13 Dr. Lüscher. Up Breil side Guides—J. M. Prof. Schiess. and down Zermatt Lochmatter, Jos. side. Brantschen, and Petryson (Evolena). Brantschen was left behind in the hut on the “_cravate_,” and died there.

149 Aug. 13 W. W. R. Powell Zermatt Guides—Peter Taugwalder _fils_ and A. Imseng.

150 Aug. 13-14 C. E. Freeman Breil to Zermatt Guides—J. A. Carrel and—Sopersac (Saas).

151 Aug. 13-14 A. E. Craven. Zermatt Guides—P. Rubi W. O. Moseley. and C. Inabnit. Dr. Moseley lost his life in descending the mountain. See Appendix *D*.

152 Aug. 28-29 C. E. B. Watson Zermatt to Breil Guides—P. Anderegg and A. Imboden.

153 Aug. G. H. Savage Zermatt Guides—Jos. 30-Sept. 1 Imboden and Franz Andermatten. Dr. Savage slept on the Hörnli Aug. 30; began the ascent by moonlight at a little before 2 A.M. on Sept. 1, reached the summit at 6.30 A.M., and returned to Zermatt by 12.30 P.M.

154 Sept. 2-3 A. F. Mummery Z’Mutt side Mr. Mummery was the first to ascend the Matterhorn from the side of the Z’Mutt Glacier. No details have been received.

155 Sept. 2-3 W. Penhall Z’Mutt side Guides—Ferdinand Imseng and Louis Sorbrichen. Mr. Penhall also made his ascent upon the Z’Mutt side, but took a route more to the south than that followed by Mr. Mummery.

156 Sept. 4-5 B. Wainewright Zermatt to Breil Guides—Jos. Imboden and Peter Sarbach.

157 Sept. 4-5 H. Hoare Zermatt Guide—J. Anderegg and (porter) Jos. Chanton.

158 Sept. 5-6 J. Baumann Z’Mutt side Guides—Petrus (Stalden) and Emile Rey. Mr. Mummery’s route was followed.

159 ? J. Maurer Breil to Zermatt Guides—? No information.

The above table is known to be imperfect, and the Author will be obliged if correspondents will enable him to correct and extend it. Communications should be addressed to him _Care of the Publisher_.

*G.* COURTE NOTE SUR LA GÉOLOGIE DU MATTERHORN. PAR SIGNOR F. GIORDANO, Ingénieur en Chef des Mines d’Italie, etc. etc.

Le Matterhorn ou Mont Cervin est formé depuis la base jusqu’au sommet de roches stratifiées en bancs assez réguliers, qui sont tous légèrement rélevés vers l’Est, savoir vers le Mont Rose. Ces roches quoiqu’évidemment d’origine sédimentaire ont une structure fortement cristalline qui doit être l’effet d’une puissante action de métamorphisme très développée dans cette région des Alpes. Dans la série des roches constituantes du Mont Cervin l’on peut faire une distinction assez marquée, savoir celles formant la base inférieure de la montagne, et celles formant le pic proprement dit.

Les roches de la base qu’on voit dans le Val Tournanche, dans le vallon de Z’Mutt, au col de Théodule et ailleurs, sont en général des schistes talqueux, serpentineux, chloriteux, et amphiboliques, alternant fort souvent avec des schistes calcaires à noyaux quartzeux. Ces schistes calcaires de couleur brunâtre alternent ça et là avec des dolomies, des cargueules, et des quartzites tégulaires. Cette formation calcaréo-serpentineuse est très étendue dans les environs. Le pic au contraire est tout formé d’un gneiss talqueux, souvent à gros éléments, alternant parfois à quelques bancs de schistes talqueux et quartzeux, mais sans bancs calcaires. Vers le pied ouest du pic, le gneiss est remplacé par de l’euphotide granitoïde massive, qui semble y former une grosse lentille se fondant de tous côtés dans le gneiss même. Du reste, les roches du Cervin montrent partout des exemples fort instructifs de passages graduels d’une structure à l’autre, résultant du métamorphisme plus ou moins avancé.

Le pic actuel n’est que le reste d’une puissante formation géologique ancienne, triasique peut-être, dont les couches puissantes de plus de 3500 mètres enveloppaient tout autour comme un immense manteau le grand massif granitoïde et feldspathique du Mont Rose. Aussi son étude détaillée, qui par exception est rendue fort facile par la profondeur des vallons d’où il surgit, donne la clef de la structure géologique de beaucoup d’autres montagnes des environs. On y voit partout le phénomène assez curieux d’une puissante formation talqueuse très cristalline, presque granitoïde, régulièrement superposée à une formation schisteuse et calcarifère. Cette même constitution géologique est en partie la cause de la forme aiguë et de l’isolement du pic qui en font la merveille des voyageurs. En effet, tandis que les roches feuilletées de la base, étant facilement corrodées par l’action des météores et de l’eau, ont été facilement creusées en vallées larges et profondes, la roche supérieure qui constitue la pyramide donne lieu par sa dureté à des fendillements formant des parois escarpées qui conservent au pic ce profil élancé, et caractéristique alpin. Les glaciers qui entourent son pied de tous les côtés, en emportant d’une manière continue les débris tombant de ses flancs, contribuent pour leur part à maintenir cet isolement de la merveilleuse pyramide qui sans eux serait peut-être déjà ensevelie sous ses propres ruines.

REFERENCES TO THE GEOLOGICAL SECTION OF THE MATTERHORN.

I. Gneiss talqueux quartzifère. Beaucoup de traces de foudres. II. Banc de 3 à 4 mètres de schistes serpentineux et talqueux verts. III. Gneiss talqueux à éléments plus ou moins schisteux, avec quelque lit de quartzite. ” Gneiss et micaschistes ferrugineux à éléments très fins, beaucoup de traces de foudre. IV. Gneiss alternant avec des schistes talqueux et à des felsites en zones blanches et grises. V. Petite couche de schistes serpentineux, vert sombre. VI. Gneiss et micaschiste avec zones quartzifères rubanées. VII. Gneiss talqueux à éléments schisteux. _VIII. Id._ _id._ verdâtre, porphyroïde à éléments moyens. IX. Gneiss talqueux granitoïde à gros éléments et avec des cristaux de feldspath. X. Schistes grisâtres. XI. Micaschistes ferrugineux. XII. Gneiss talqueux vert sombre. XIII. Gneiss et schistes quartzeux, couleur vert clair. XIV. Euphotide massive (feldspath et diallage) à éléments cristallins bien développés, traversée par des veines d’eurite blanchâtre. Cette roche forme un banc ou plutôt une lentille de plus de 500 mètres de puissance intercalée au gneiss talqueux.(270) XV. Gneiss talqueux alternant avec des schistes talqueux et micacés. XVI. Schistes compactes, couleur vert clair. XVII. Calcaire cristallin micacé (calcschiste) avec veines et rognons de quartz. Il alterne avec des schistes verts chloriteux et serpentineux. XVIII. Schistes verts chloriteux, serpentineux et talqueux, avec des masses stéatiteuses. XIX. Calcschistes (comme ci-dessus) formant un banc de plus de 100 mètres.(271) XX. Schistes verts chloriteux. XXI. Calcschistes (comme ci-dessus). XXII. Il suit ci-dessous une série fort puissante de schistes verts serpentineux, chloriteux, talqueux et stéatiteux alternant encore avec des calcschistes. En plusieurs localités les schistes deviennent très amphiboliques à petits cristaux noirs. Cette puissante formation calcaréo-serpentineuse repose inférieurement sur des micaschistes et des gneiss anciens.

*H.* PROFESSOR TYNDALL AND THE MATTERHORN.

In the second edition of Tyndall’s _Hours of Exercise in the Alps_ the Professor made some additional remarks upon his defeat in 1862, and to these remarks I replied in No. 35 of the _Alpine Journal_. I do not feel that the additional information afforded in these publications possesses the least interest to the majority of my readers, and therefore I do not reprint it; and I refer to it only for the sake of those who may be desirous to pursue the subject.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

THE MATTERHORN AND ITS GLACIERS

[Map: The Matterhorn and its glaciers]

THE VALLEY OF ZERMATT

[Map: The Valley of Zermatt; and the Central Pennine Alps]

FOOTNOTES

1 In the lower diagram the tins are shown as they appear when packed for travelling. I generally carry them at the top of a knapsack, outside.

2 I extract from No. 63 of the _Alpine Journal_ the following note by Gustav de Veh, a retired Russian officer, upon the prevention of snow-blindness. “We were on the march home along the mountain plains, when, dazzled by the intense sun-rays reflected by the endless snow-fields we were marching along, my eyelids lost all power to open; I felt my elbow touched, and, looking through my fingers, I beheld one of our friendly highlanders preparing a kind of black paste by mixing gunpowder with snow. The General told me to let him do what he wanted. The Circassian applied the black stuff under my eyes, on my cheeks, and to the sides of my nose. To my astonishment I could then open my eyes, and felt no more difficulty to see plainly and clearly everything. I have tried that experiment many times since, and it never failed to relieve me, although I used common Indian-ink and black water-colour, instead of the above-mentioned paste.”

3 I understand that scarcely any nails wore found in the boots of Dr. Moseley, who lost his life recently on the Matterhorn, and this fact sufficiently accounts for the accident.

4 The author of _Travels in Alaska_.

5 The Riffel hotel (the starting-point for the ascent of Monte Rosa), a deservedly popular inn, leased to Monsieur Seiler, the hotel proprietor of Zermatt, is placed at a height of 3100 feet above that village (8400 above the sea), and commands a superb panoramic view. The house has continually grown, and it can now accommodate a large number of persons. In 1879, it was connected by telegraph with the rest of Switzerland.

6 The highest of the Mischabelhörner.

7 The temperature at the St. Bernard in the winter is frequently 40° Fahr. below freezing-point. January is their coldest month. See Dollfus-Ausset’s _Matériaux pour l’étude des Glaciers_, vols. vi. and vii.

8 There was not a pass between Prerayen and Breil. See note to p. 105.

9 This pass is called usually the Va Cornère. It is also known as the Gra Cornère; which is, I believe, patois for Grand Cornier. It is mentioned in the first volume of the second series of _Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers_, and in Chapters V. and XVIII. of this volume.

10 I had been sent to the Val Louise to illustrate this ascent.

11 Since that time a decent house has been built on the summit of this pass. The old vaulted hospice was erected for the benefit of the pilgrims who formerly crossed the pass _en route_ for Rome.—Joanne’s _Itinéraire du Dauphiné_.

12 See the Map in Chap. VIII.

13 The depth of the valleys is so great that the sun not only is not seen for more than a few hours per day during the greatest portion of the year, but in some places—at Villard d’Arène and at Andrieux for example—it is not seen at all for one hundred days.—Lodoucette’s _Hautes-Alpes_, p. 599.

14 Sometimes called the Aiguille du Midi de la Grave, or the Aiguille de la Medje.

15 The maps of the Dauphiné Alps to Ball’s _Guide to the Western Alps_, and to Joanne’s _Itinéraire du Dauphiné_, must be excepted. These maps are, however, on too small a scale for travelling purposes.

16 “Faits pour servir à l’Histoire des Montagnes de l’Oisans,” by Elie de Beaumont, in the _Annales des Mines_.

_Norway and its Glaciers; followed by Excursions in the High Alps of Dauphiné._ By J. D. Forbes.

The following works also treat more or less of the districts referred to in this chapter:—

_ Outline Sketches in the High Alps of Dauphiné_, by T. G. Bonney. _ Histoire des Hautes-Alpes_, by J. C. F. Ladoucette. _ Itinéraire du Dauphiné_, by Adolphe Joanne (2nd part). _ Tour du Monde, 1860_, edited by Ed. Charton. _ The Israel of the Alps_, by Alexis Muston. _ A Memoir of Felix Neff_, by W. S. Gilly.

Good pictures of Dauphiné scenery are to be found in _Voyages Pittoresques dans l’ancienne France_, by Ch. Nodier, J. Taylor, and A. de Cailleux, and in Lord Monson’s _Views in the Departments of the Isère and the High Alps_.

17 M. Puiseux took for guide a man named Pierre Bornéoud, of Claux in the Val Louise; who had accompanied Captain Durand in 1828. In 1861, the expedition of M. Puiseux was quite forgotten in the Val Louise. I am indebted to M. Puiseux for the above and other details.

18 This is a common saying in Dauphiné. It means that there is usually less snow on the mountains during these days than at any other time of the year. The natives have an almost childish dread of venturing upon snow or glaciers, and hence the period of minimum snow seems to them to be the most favourable time for excursions.

19 See Chapter VII.

20 Monte Viso is not seen from the Lautaret Road. That this is so is seen when one crosses the Col du Galibier, on the south side of which pass the Monte Viso is visible for a short time.

21 It became a regular business. “We find amongst the current accounts of the Bailiff of Embrun this singular article—‘_Item, for persecuting the Vaudois, eight sols and thirty deniers of gold._’”—Muston, vol. i. p. 38.

22 On the 22d of May 1393, eighty persons of the valleys of Freissinières and Argentière, and one hundred and fifty persons of the Val Louise, were burnt at Embrun.—Muston, vol. i. p. 41.

23 See Morland’s _History of the Evangelical Churches of Piedmont_, 1658; Cromwell’s _Acts_, 1658; and Burton’s _Diary_, 1828.

24 The commune of the Val Louise contains at the present time about 3400 inhabitants. This crétin population has been aptly described by M. Elisée Reclus in the _Tour du Monde_, 1860. He says:—“They attain the highest possible development of their intelligence in their infancy, and—abundantly provided with majestic goîtres, which are lengthened and swollen by age—are in this respect like to the ourangoutangs, who have nothing more to acquire after the age of three years. At the age of five years the little crétins have already the placid and mature expression which they ought to keep all their lives.... They wear trousers, and coats with tails, and a large black hat.”

25 “The nucleus of the ‘massif’ is a line protogine, divided by nearly vertical cracks.”—_Dollfus-Ausset._

26 J. G. Whittier, “Snow-Bound.”

27 M. Puiseux, on his expedition of 1848, was surprised, when at breakfast on the side of the mountain, by a mass of rock of more than a cubic yard falling like a bomb at his side, which threw up splinters in all directions.

28 This mountain is the culminating point of the group, and is named on the French map, Pointe des Ecrins. It is seen from the Val Christophe, and from that direction its ridges completely conceal Mont Pelvoux. On the other side—that is, from the direction of La Bessée or the Val Louise—the reverse is the case: the Pelvoux completely conceals it.

Unaware that this name was going to be applied to it, we gave the name Pic des Arcines or des Ecrins to our summit, in accordance with the traditions of the natives.

29 There are three cols or passes close to Monte Viso on its northern side, which lead from the valley of the Po into that of the Guil. The deep notch spoken of above is the nearest to the mountain, and although it is by far the lowest gap in that part of the chain, and would seem to be the true Col Viso, it does not appear to be used as a pass. The second, which I crossed in 1860, has the name Col del Color del Porco given to it upon the Sardinian map! The third is the Col de la Traversette; and this, although higher than at least one of those mentioned above, is that which is used by the natives who pass from one valley to the other.

30 See Ladoucette’s _Hautes-Alpes_, p. 596.

31 Frequently spelt Breuil.

32 See the Map of the Matterhorn and its Glaciers.

33 There were no guides, properly speaking, in this valley at that time, with the exception of one or two Pessions and Pelissiers.

34 This face is that on the right hand of the large engraving opposite p. 46. It is also represented, more prominently, in the engraving facing p. 227.

35 Mr. Hawkins was unaware that any attempts had been made before his own, and spoke of it as the first.

_ 36 Macmillan_, 1861.

37 This ridge is seen on the left of the large engraving accompanying this chapter; and if the reader consults this view, the explanatory outlines, and the maps, he will be able to form a fair idea of the points which were attained on this and on the subsequent attempts.

38 Since this time the small peak has received the name Tête du Lion. The gap is now called the Col du Lion; the glacier at its base, the Glacier du Lion; and the gully which connects the Col with the glacier, the Couloir du Lion.

39 By the kindness of its owner, Mr. F. Tuckett.

40 See Appendix A.

41 A view of this place faces p. 76.

42 The guide Bennen must be excepted.

43 The engraving is made after a sketch taken from the rocks of the Matterhorn just above the Col.

44 J. G. Whittier.

45 Mr. Hawkins referred to this place as one of excessive difficulty. He, however, found it coated with ice; we found it free from ice.

46 I learned afterwards from Jean-Antoine Carrel that they got considerably higher than upon their previous attempts, and about 250 or 300 feet higher than Professor Tyndall in 1860. In 1862 I saw the initials of J. A. Carrel cut on the rocks at the place where he and his comrade had turned back.

47 This man proved to be both willing and useful on lower ground, and voluntarily accompanied me a considerable distance out of his way, without fee or reward.

_ 48 Alpine Journal_, 1863, p. 82.

49 See p. 49.

_ 50 Mountaineering in 1861_, pp. 86-7. Tyndall and Bennen were mistaken in supposing that the mountain has two summits; it has only one. They seem to have been deceived by the appearance of that part of the south-west ridge which is called “the shoulder” (l’épaule), as seen from Breil. Viewed from that place, its southern end has certainly, through foreshortening, the semblance of a peak; but when one regards it from the Col Théodule, or from any place in the same direction, the delusion is at once apparent.

51 The late Principal Forbes was similarly situated while crossing the same pass in 1842. He described the sounds as rustling, fizzing, and hissing. See his _Travels in the Alps of Savoy_, second ed., p. 323. Mr. R. Spence Watson experienced the same upon the upper part of the Aletsch glacier in July 1863, and he spoke of the sounds as singing or hissing. See the _Athenæum_, Sept. 12, 1863. The respective parties seem to have been highly electrified on each occasion. Forbes says that his fingers “yielded a fizzing sound;” and Watson says that his “hair stood on end in an uncomfortable but very amusing manner,” and that “the veil on the wide-awake of one of the party stood upright in the air!”

52 I have described this tent at length, as frequent application has been made to me for information on the subject. I would strongly recommend any person who wishes to have one for long-continued use, to have one made under his own eye, and to be particularly careful to test the poles. My experience goes to show that poles which (when supported upon their extremities) will bear a dead weight of 100 lbs. suspended from their centres, will stand any wind to which they are likely to be submitted. Ash is, perhaps, the best wood that can be selected. Tents of this pattern have been used, amongst others, by Messrs. Freshfield, Moore, and Tucker, in the Caucasus; by the Rev. W. H. Hawker in Corsica; and by myself in Greenland.

53 The heights given on the outlines of the Matterhorn accompanying Chap. III., on the geological section in the Appendix, and quoted throughout the book, are after the barometric (mercurial) measurements of Signor F. Giordano in 1866 and 1868. I have ventured to differ from him only in regard to the height of the second tent-platform, and have assigned to it a somewhat lower elevation than his estimate.

54 During this time making the ascent of Monte Rosa.

55 They were not guides by profession.

56 Those which I collected were as follow:—_Myosotis alpestris_, Gm.; _Veronica alpina_, L.; _Linaria alpina_, M.; _Gentiana Bavarica_, L.; _Thlaspi rotundifolium_, Gaud.; _Silene acaulis_, L. (?); _Potentilla_ sp.; _Saxifraga_ sp.; _Saxifraga muscoides_, Wulf. I am indebted for these names to Mr. William Carruthers of the British Museum. These plants ranged from about 10,500 to a little below 13,000 feet, and are the highest which I have seen anywhere in the Alps. Several times this number of species might be collected, I have no doubt, within these limits. I was not endeavouring to make a _flora_ of the Matterhorn, but to obtain those plants which attained the greatest height. Very few lichens are seen on the higher parts of this mountain; their rarity is due, doubtless, to the constant disintegration of the rocks, and the consequent exposure of fresh surfaces. _Silene acaulis_ was the highest plant found by De Saussure on his travels in the Alps. He mentions (§ 2018) that he found a tuft “near the place where I slept on my return (from the ascent of Mont Blanc), about 1780 toises (11,388 feet) above the level of the sea.”

Mr. William Mathews and Mr. Charles Packe, who have botanised respectively for many years in the Alps and Pyrenees, have favoured me with the names of the highest plants that they have obtained upon their excursions. Their lists, although not extensive, are interesting as showing the extreme limits attained by some of the hardiest of Alpine plants. Those mentioned by Mr. Mathews are—_Campanula renisia_ (on the Grivola, 12,047 feet); _Saxifraga bryoides_ and _Androsace glacialis_ (on the summits of Mont Emilius, 11,677, and the Ruitor, 11,480); _Ranunculus glacialis_, _Armeria alpina_, and _Pyrethrum alpinum_ (on Monte Viso, from 10,000 to 10,500 feet); _Thlaspi rotundifolium_ and _Saxifraga biflora_ (Monte Viso, about 9500 feet); and _Campanula rotundifolia_ (?), _Artemisia spicata_ (Wulf.), _Aronicum Doronicum_, and _Petrocallis Pyrenaica_ (Col de Seylières, 9247).

Mr. Packe obtained, on or close to the summit of the Pic de Mulhahacen, Sierra Nevada, of Granada (11,600 to 11,700 feet), _Papaver alpinum_ (var. _Pyrenaicum_), _Artemisia Nevadensis_ (used for giving the flavour to the Manzanilla sherry), _Viola Nevadensis_, _Galium Pyrenaicum_, _Trisetum glaciale_, _Festuca Clementei_, _Saxifraga Grœnlandica_ (var. _Mista_), _Erigeron alpinum_ (var. _glaciale_), and _Arenaria tetraquetra_. On the Picacho de Veleta (11,440 feet), and on the Alcazaba (11,350), the same plants were obtained, with the exception of the first named. At a height of 11,150 feet on these mountains he also collected _Ptilotrichum purpureum_, _Lepidium stylatum_, and _Biscutella saxatilis_; and, at 10,000 feet, _Alyssum spicatum_ and _Sideritis scordiodes_. Mr. Packe mentions the following plants as occurring at 9000 to 10,000 feet in the Pyrenees:—_Cerastium latifolium_, _Draba Wahlenbergii_, _Hutchinsia alpina_, _Linaria alpina_, _Oxyria reniformis_, _Ranunculus glacialis_, _Saxifraga nervosa_, _S. oppositifolia_, _S. Grœnlandica_, _Statice Armeria_, _Veronica alpina_.

Information on the botany of the Val Tournanche is contained in the little pamphlet by the late Canon G. Carrel, entitled _La Vallée de Valtornenche en 1867_; and a list of the plants which have hitherto been collected on the glacier-surrounded ridge (Furgen Grat) connecting the Matterhorn with the Col Théodule, will be found in Dollfus-Ausset’s _Matériaux pour l’étude des Glaciers_, vol. viii. part first, 1868. In the _Jahrbuch_ for 1873 of the Swiss Alpine Club it is stated that on an ascent of the Finsteraarhorn (14,106 feet) the following were collected within the last 1000 feet:—_Saxifraga bryoides_, _S. Muscoides_, _Achillea atrata_, and _Ranunculus glacialis_.

57 I have already had occasion to mention the rapid changes which occur in the weather at considerable elevations in the Alps, and shall have to do so again in subsequent chapters. No one can regret more than myself the variable weather which afflicts that otherwise delightful chain of mountains, or the necessity of speaking about it: its summits appear to enjoy more than their fair share of wind and tempests. Meteorological disturbances, some would say, are by no means necessary accompaniments of high regions. There are some happy places which are said to be favoured with almost perpetual calm. Take the case of the Sierra Nevada of California, for example, which includes numerous summits from 13,000 to 15,000 feet. Mr. Whitney, of San Francisco, says (in his _Guide-book to the Yosemite Valley, and the adjacent region_), “At high altitudes, all through the mountains, the weather during the summer is almost always the finest possible for travelling. There are occasional storms in the high mountains; but, in ordinary seasons, these are quite rare, and one of the greatest drawbacks to the pleasure of travelling in the Alps, the uncertainty of the weather, is here almost entirely wanting.” It is probable that a more thorough acquaintance with that region will modify this opinion; for it must be admitted that it is very difficult to judge of the state of the atmosphere at great heights from the valleys, and it often occurs that a terrific storm is raging above when there is a dead calm below, at a distance perhaps of not more than three or four miles. A case of this kind is described in Chapter VI., and another may be mentioned here. At the very time that I was regarding the Dent Blanche from a height of 12,550 feet on the Matterhorn, Mr. T. S. Kennedy was engaged in making the first ascent of the former mountain. He described his ascent in a very picturesque paper in the _Alpine Journal_ (1863), and I learn from it that he experienced severe weather. “The wind roared over our ridge, making fearfully wild music among the desolate crags.... It rendered an ordinary voice inaudible,” and “nothing at a distance greater than fifty yards could be seen at all.... Thick mists and driving clouds of snow swept over and past us;” the thermometer fell to 20° Fahr., and his companion’s hair became a mass of white icicles. Now, at this time, Mr. Kennedy was distant from me only four and a half miles. With me, and in my immediate neighbourhood, the air was perfectly calm, and the temperature was agreeably warm; even during the night it fell only two or three degrees below freezing-point. During most of the day the Dent Blanche was perfectly unclouded, though, for a time, light fleecy clouds were hovering about its upper 2000 feet. Still no one would have supposed from appearances that my friend was experiencing a storm such as he has described.

58 See the engraving “Crags of the Matterhorn,” facing p. 120.

59 A remarkable streak of snow (marked “cravate” in the outline of the Matterhorn, as seen from the Théodule) runs across the cliff at this part of the mountain. My highest point was somewhat higher than the lowest part of this snow, and was consequently about 13,400 feet above the sea.

60 I received much attention from a kind English lady who was staying in the inn.

61 As it seldom happens that one survives such a fall, it may be interesting to record what my sensations were during its occurrence. I was perfectly conscious of what was happening, and felt each blow; but, like a patient under chloroform, experienced no pain. Each blow was, naturally, more severe than that which preceded it, and I distinctly remember thinking, “Well, if the next is harder still, that will be the end!” Like persons who have been rescued from drowning, I remember that the recollection of a multitude of things rushed through my head, many of them trivialities or absurdities, which had been forgotten long before; and, more remarkable, this bounding through space did not feel disagreeable. But I think that in no very great distance more, consciousness as well as sensation would have been lost, and upon that I base my belief, improbable as it seems, that death by a fall from a great height is as painless an end as can be experienced.

The battering was very rough, yet no bones were broken. The most severe cuts were one of four inches long on the top of the head, and another of three inches on the right temple: this latter bled frightfully. There was a formidable-looking cut, of about the same size as the last, on the palm of the left hand, and every limb was grazed, or cut, more or less seriously. The tips of the ears were taken off, and a sharp rock cut a circular bit out of the side of the left boot, sock, and ankle, at one stroke. The loss of blood, although so great, did not seem to be permanently injurious. The only serious effect has been the reduction of a naturally retentive memory to a very common-place one; and although my recollections of more distant occurrences remain unshaken, the events of that particular day would be clean gone but for the few notes which were written down before the accident.

62 An incident like this goes far to make one look favourably upon the _règlements_ of Chamounix and other places. This could not have occurred at Chamounix, nor here, if there had been a _bureau des guides_.

63 This appeared to be the most difficult part of the mountain. One was driven to keep to the edge of the ridge, or very near to it; and at the point where we turned back (which was almost as high as the _highest_ part of the “cravate,” and perhaps 100 feet higher than my scramble on the 19th) there were smooth walls seven or eight feet high in every direction, which were impassable to a single man, and which could only be surmounted by the assistance of ladders, or by using one’s comrades as ladders.

64 See Appendix H.

65 Professor Tyndall describes this incident in the following words:—“We had gathered up our traps, and bent to the work before us, when suddenly an explosion occurred overhead. We looked aloft and saw in mid-air a solid shot from the Matterhorn describing its proper parabola, and finally splitting into fragments as it smote one of the rocky towers in front. Down the shattered fragments came like a kind of spray, slightly wide of us, but still near enough to compel a sharp look-out. Two or three such explosions occurred, but we chose the back fin of the mountain for our track, and from this the falling stones were speedily deflected right or left.”—_Saturday Review_, Aug. 8, 1863. Reprinted in _Macmillan’s Magazine_, April, 1869.

_ 66 Saturday Review_, August 8, 1863.

67 The pinnacle, in fact, had a name,—“L’ange Anbé.”

_ 68 Saturday Review_, 1863, and _Macmillan’s Magazine_, 1869.

69 I have entered into this matter because much surprise has been expressed that Carrel was able to pass this place without any great difficulty in 1865, which turned back so strong a party in 1862. The cause of Professor Tyndall’s defeat was simply that his second guide (Walter) did not give aid to Bennen when it was required, and that the Carrels _would not act as guides after having been hired as porters_. J.-A. Carrel not only knew of the existence of this place before they came to it, but always believed in the possibility of passing it, and of ascending the mountain; and had he been leader to the party, I do not doubt that he might have taken Tyndall to the top. But when appealed to to assist Bennen (a Swiss, and the recognised leader of the party), was it likely that he (an Italian, a porter), who intended to be the first man up the mountain by a route which he regarded peculiarly his own, would render any aid?

It is not so easy to understand how Dr. Tyndall and Bennen overlooked the existence of this cleft, for it is seen over several points of the compass, and particularly well from the southern side of the Théodule pass. Still more difficult is it to explain how the Professor came to consider that he was only a stone’s-throw from the summit; for, when he got to the end of “the shoulder,” he must have been perfectly aware that the whole height of the final peak was still above him.

70 Dr. Tyndall ascended the Matterhorn in 1868. See Appendix *F*.

71 Information upon the Val Tournanche will be found in De Saussure’s _Voyages dans les Alpes_, vol. iv. pp. 379-81, 406-9; in Canon Carrel’s pamphlet, _La Vallée de Valtornenche en 1867_; and in King’s _Italian Valleys of the Alps_, pp. 220-1.

72 I shall speak again of this mountain, and therefore pass it over for the present.

73 See the Map of the Matterhorn and its Glaciers.

74 My attention was directed to this note by Mr. A. Adams-Reilly.

75 The summit of the Théodule pass is 10,899 feet above the sea. It is estimated that of late about a thousand tourists have crossed it per annum. In the winter, when the crevasses are bridged over and partially filled up, and the weather is favourable, cows and sheep pass over it from Zermatt to Val Tournanche, and _vice versa_.

In the _middle of August, 1792_, De Saussure appears to have taken mules from Breil, over the Val Tournanche glacier to the summit of the Théodule; and on a previous journey he did the same, also in the middle of August. He distinctly mentions (§ 2220) that the glacier was completely covered with snow, and that _no_ crevasses were open. I do not think mules could have been taken over the same spot in any August during the past twenty years without great difficulty. In that month the glacier is usually very bare of snow, and many crevasses are open. They are easily enough avoided by those on foot, but would prove very troublesome to mules.

A few days before we crossed the Breuiljoch in 1863, Mr. F. Morshead made a parallel pass to it. He crossed the ridge on the _western_ side of the little peak, and followed a somewhat more difficult route than ours. In 1865 I wanted to use Mr. Morshead’s pass (see p. 235), but found that it was not possible to descend the Zermatt side; for, during the two years which had elapsed, the glacier had shrunk so much that it was completely severed from the summit of the pass, and we could not get down the rocks that were exposed.

76 Although the admirable situation of Zermatt has been known for, at least, forty years, it is only within the last twenty or so that it has become an approved Alpine centre. Thirty years ago the Théodule pass, the Weissthor, and the Col d’Hérens, were, I believe, the only routes ever taken from Zermatt across the Pennine Alps. At the present time there are (inclusive of these passes and of the valley road) no less than twenty-six different ways in which a tourist may go from Zermatt. The summits of some of these cols are more than 14,000 feet above the level of the sea, and a good many of them cannot be recommended, either for ease, or as offering the shortest way from Zermatt to the valleys and villages to which they lead.

Zermatt itself is still only a village with 600 inhabitants (about forty of whom are guides), with picturesque châlet dwellings, black with age. The hotels, including the new inn on the Riffelberg, mostly belong to M. Alexandre Seiler, to whom the village and valley are very much indebted for their prosperity, and who is the best person to consult for information, or in all cases of difficulty.

77 “Un des faits les mieux constatés est que l’érosion des glaciers se distingue de celle des eaux en ce que la première produit des roches convexes ou moutonnées, tandis que la seconde donne lieu à des concavités.”—Prof. B. Studer, _Origine des Lacs Suisses_.

78 Professor Ruskin’s view of “the Cervin from the north-west” (_Modern Painters_, vol. iv.) is taken from the Stockje. The Col du Lion is a little depression on the ridge, close to the margin of the engraving, on the right-hand side; the third tent-platform was formed at the foot of the perpendicular cliff, on the ridge, exactly one-third way between the Col du Lion and the summit. The battlemented portion of the ridge, a little higher up, is called the “_crête du coq_”; and the nearly horizontal portion of the ridge above it is “the shoulder.”

79 On p. 7 it is stated that there was not a pass from Prerayen to Breil in 1860, and this is correct. On July 8, 1868, my enterprising guide, Jean-Antoine Carrel, started from Breil at 2 A.M. with a well-known comrade—J. Baptiste Bich, of Val Tournanche—to endeavour to make one. They went towards the glacier which descends from the Dent d’Erin to the south-east, and, on arriving at its base, ascended at first by some snow between it and the cliffs on its south, and afterwards took to the cliffs themselves. [This glacier they called the glacier of Mont Albert, after the local name of the peak which on Mr. Reilly’s map of the Valpelline is called “Les Jumeaux.” On Mr. Reilly’s map the glacier is called “Glacier d’Erin.”] They ascended the rocks to a considerable height, and then struck across the glacier, towards the north, to a small “_rognon_” (isolated patch of rocks) that is nearly in the centre of the glacier. They passed above this, and between it and the great _séracs_. Afterwards their route led them towards the Dent d’Erin, and they arrived at the base of its final peak by mounting a _couloir_ (gully filled with snow), and the rocks at the head of the glacier. They gained the summit of their pass at 1 P.M., and, descending by the glacier of Zardesan, arrived at Prerayen at 6.30 P.M.

As their route joins that taken by Messrs. Hall, Grove, and Macdonald, on their ascent of the Dent d’Erin in 1863, it is evident that that mountain can be ascended from Breil. Carrel considers that the route taken by himself and his comrade Bich can be improved upon; and, if so, it is possible that the ascent of the Dent d’Erin can be made from Breil in less time than from Prerayen. Breil is very much to be preferred as a starting-point.

80 See p. 8. The height of this pass, according to the late Canon Carrel, is 10,335 feet. A portrait of this enthusiastic and worthy mountaineer is given upon p. 109.

81 A brief account of this excursion was published in the _Athenæum_, August 29, 1863.

82 This incident occurred close to the place represented in the engraving facing p. 78. The new, dry snow was very troublesome, and poured down like flour into the steps which were cut across the slopes. The front man accordingly moved ahead as far as possible, and anchored himself to rocks. A rope was sent across to him, was fixed at each end, and was held as a rail by the others as they crossed. We did not trust to this rope alone, but were also tied in the usual manner. The second rope was employed as an additional security against slips.

83 “There is, therefore, little hope of thus arriving at anything decisive as to the exact part which echoes take in the production of the rolling sound of thunder.” P. 165, English ed., translated by Col. Sabine: Longmans, 1855.

84 The same has seemed to me to be the case at all times when I have been close to the points of explosion. There has been always a distinct interval between the first explosion and the rolling sounds and secondary explosions which I have _believed_ to be merely echoes; but it has never been possible (except in the above-mentioned case) to _identify_ them as such.

Others have observed the same. “The geologist, Professor Theobald, of Chur, who was in the Solferino storm, between the Tschiertscher and Urden Alp, in the electric clouds, says that the peals were short, like cannon shots, but of a clearer, more cracking tone, and that the rolling of the thunder was only heard farther on.” Berlepsch’s _Alps_, English ed., p. 133.

85 Mr. J. Glaisher has frequently pointed out that all sounds in balloons at some distance from the earth are notable for their brevity. “It is one sound only; _there is no reverberation, no reflection_; and this is characteristic of all sounds in the balloon, one clear sound, continuing during its own vibrations, then gone in a moment.”—_Good Words_, 1863, p. 224.

I learn from Mr. Glaisher that the thunder-claps which have been heard by him during his “travels in the air” have been no exception to the general rule, and the absence of rolling has fortified his belief that the rolling sounds which accompany thunder are echoes, and echoes _only_.

86 See Appendix B for the experiences of Mr. R. B. Heathcote during a thunderstorm on the Matterhorn in 1869.

87 Since then (on at least one occasion), several persons have found themselves in this predicament for five or six consecutive days!

88 I am speaking exclusively of the disturbances which occur in the day-time during fine weather.

89 The rocks are sometimes so hot that they are almost painful to touch.

90 The mists are extremely deceptive to those who are on the mountain itself. Sometimes they _seem_ to be created at a _considerable distance_, as if the whole of the atmosphere of the neighbourhood was undergoing a change, when in reality they are being formed in immediate proximity to the mountain.

91 Croz was born at the Village du Tour, in the valley of Chamounix, on April 22, 1830; Almer was a year or two older.

92 The Pointe des Ecrins is also seen from the top of the Col de Valloires, rising above the Col du Galibier. This is the lowest elevation from which I have seen the actual summit of the Ecrins.

93 It should be observed that these mountains were included in the territory recently ceded to France. The Sardinian map above referred to was the old official map. The French survey alluded to afterwards is the survey in continuation of the great French official map. Sheet No. 179 includes the Aiguilles d’Arve.

94 Whilst stopping in the hospice on the Col de Lautaret, in 1869, I was accosted by a middle-aged peasant, who asked if I would ride (for a consideration) in his cart towards Briançon. He was inquisitive as to my knowledge of his district, and at last asked, “Have you been at La Sausse?” “Yes.” “Well, then, I tell you, _you saw there some of the first people in the world_.” “Yes,” I said, “they were primitive, certainly.” But he was serious, and went on—“Yes, real brave people;” and, slapping his knee to give emphasis, “_but that they are first-rate for minding the cows!_”

After this he became communicative. “You thought, probably,” said he, “when I offered to take you down, that I was some poor ——, not worth a _sou_; but I will tell you, that was my mountain! _my_ mountain! that you saw at La Sausse; they were _my_ cows! a hundred of them altogether.” “Why, you are rich.” “Passably rich. I have another mountain on the Col du Galibier, and another at Villeneuve.” He (although a common peasant in outward appearance) confessed to being worth four thousand pounds.

95 We had seen a tracing from the unpublished sheets of the French Government Survey.

96 The bracketed paragraphs in Chaps. VII. VIII. and IX. are extracted from the Journal of Mr. A. W. Moore.

It would be uninteresting and unprofitable to enter into a discussion of the confusion of these names at greater length. It is sufficient to say that they were confounded in a most perplexing manner by all the authorities we were able to consult, and also by the natives on the spot.

97 A great part of this morning’s route led over shales, which were loose and troublesome, and were probably a continuation of the well-known beds of the Col du Galibier and the Col de Lautaret.

98 The ridge called La Meije runs from E.S.E. to W.N.W., and is crowned by numerous aiguilles of tolerably equal elevation. The two highest are towards the eastern and western ends of the ridge, and are rather more than a mile apart. To the former the French surveyors assign a height of 12,730, and to the latter 13,080 feet. In our opinion the western aiguille can hardly be more than 200 feet higher than the eastern one. It is possible that its height may have diminished since it was measured.

In 1869 I carefully examined the eastern end of the ridge from the top of the Col de Lautaret, and saw that the summit at that end can be ascended by following a long glacier which descends from it towards the N.E. into the Valley of Arsine. The highest summit presents considerable difficulties.

Sheet 189 of the French map is extremely inaccurate in the neighbourhood of the Meije, and particularly so on its northern side. The ridges and glaciers which are laid down upon it can scarcely be identified on the spot.

99 The justness of the observation will be felt by those who knew La Grave in or before 1864. At that time the horses of the couriers who were passing from Grenoble to Briançon, and _vice versa_, were lodged immediately underneath the salle-à-manger and bedrooms, and a pungent, steamy odour rose from them through the cracks in the floor, and constantly pervaded the whole house. I am told that the inn has been considerably improved since 1864.

100 Our route from La Grave to La Bérarde will be seen on the accompanying map.

101 Taking one kind of work with another, a thousand feet of height per hour is about as much as is usually accomplished on great Alpine ascents.

102 Fig. 2 represents in a similar manner the distance and elevation of the Matterhorn from and above Zermatt. See p. 45.

103 The drawing was inadvertently made the right way on the wood, and the view is now _reversed_ in consequence.

104 This wall may be described as an exaggerated Gemmi, as seen from Leukerbad. From the highest summit of La Meije right down to the Glacier des Etançons (a depth of about 3200 feet), the cliff is all but perpendicular, and appears to be completely unassailable. It is the most imposing thing of its kind that I have seen.

105 Since this chapter was first printed, the whole of the Aiguilles d’Arve have been ascended, and also the highest point of the Meije. For information upon these ascents the reader is referred to the pages of the _Alpine Journal_.

_ 106 Alpine Journal_, December 1863.

107 There are more than twenty peaks exceeding 12,000 feet, and thirty others exceeding 11,000 feet, within the district bounded by the rivers Romanche, Drac, and Durance.

_ 108 Alpine Journal_, Dec. 1863.

_ 109 Alpine Journal_, June 1863.

110 The above view of the Ecrins was taken from the summit of the Col du Galibier.

111 The most striking example which has come under my notice is referred to in Chapter XIX.

112 See vol. i., p. 73 of _Alpine Journal_. We considered the height assigned to the final peak by Mr. Bonney was too small, and thought it should have been 200 feet more.

113 The Glacier Blanc is in the direction indicated by the arrow below the letter *E* on the outline on p. 156.

114 The ascent of the Pointe des Ecrins has been made several times since 1864. The second ascent was made by a French gentleman, named Vincent, with the Chamounix guides Jean Carrier and Alexandre Tournier. They followed our route, but reversed it; that is to say, ascended by the western and descended by the eastern arête.

The best course to adopt in future attacks on the mountain, would be to bring a ladder, or some other means of passing the bergschrund, in its centre, immediately under the summit. One could then proceed directly upwards, and so avoid the labour and difficulties which are inevitable upon any ascent by way of the arêtes.

115 For route, see Map in Chap. VIII.

116 For route, see Map in Chap. VIII.

117 The path from Ville de Val Louise to Entraigues is good, and well shaded by luxuriant foliage. The valley (d’Entraigues) is narrow; bordered by fine cliffs; and closed at its western end by a noble block of mountains, which looks much higher than it is. The highest point (the Pic de Bonvoisin) is 11,500 feet. Potatoes, peas, and other vegetables, are grown at Entraigues (5284 feet), although the situation of the chalets is bleak, and cut off from the sun.

The Combe (or Vallon) de la Selle joins the main valley at Entraigues, and one can pass from the former by the little-known Col de Loup (immediately to the south of the Pic de Bonvoisin) into the Val Godemar. Two other passes, both of considerable height, lead from the head of the Vallon de la Selle into the valleys of Champoléon and Argentière.

118 This, like many other names given to mountains and glaciers on sheet 189, is not a local name, or, at least, is not one that is in common use.

119 The height of the Col de Sellar (or de Celar) is 10,073 feet (Forbes). I was told by peasants at Entraigues that sheep and goats can be easily taken across it.

120 See map on p. 146. It is perhaps just possible, although improbable, that these little glaciers were united together at the time that the survey was made. Since then the glaciers of Dauphiné (as throughout the Alps generally) have shrunk very considerably. A notable diminution took place in their size in 1869, which was attributed by the natives to the very heavy rains of that year.

121 This drawing was made to illustrate the remarks which follow. It does not represent any particular couloir, though it would serve, tolerably well, as a portrait of the one which we ascended when crossing the Col de Pilatte.

122 The upper part of the southern side of the Col de Pilatte, and the small glaciers spoken of on p. 168, can be seen from the high road leading from Briançon to Mont Dauphin, between the 12th and 13th kilomètre stones (from Briançon).

123 Since the above paragraphs were first printed, there has been some improvement in Dauphiné in respect to the inns; and there is now at La Ville de Val Louise a very decent little auberge called the Hôtel Pelvoux, kept by M. Gauthier.

124 Under the title of _Massif du Mont Blanc, extrait des minutes de la Carte de France, leré par M. Mieulet, Capitaine d’Etat Major_.

125 The heights (in mètres) are after Captain Mieulet.

126 Some of these heights have no business to figure in a list of the principal peaks of the chain, being nothing more than teeth or pinnacles in ridges, or portions of higher mountains. Such, for example, are the Aiguilles du Géant, du Dru, and de Bionnassay.

127 Besides Mont Blanc itself.

128 Previous to this we made an attempt to ascend the Aiguille d’Argentière, and were defeated by a violent wind when within a hundred feet of the summit.

129 Great crevasses. A bergschrund is a schrund, and something more.

130 The passage of the Col de Triolet from the Couvercle to Prè du Bar occupied 8½ hours of actual walking. If the pass had been taken in the contrary direction it would have consumed a much longer time. It gave a route shorter than any known at the time between Chamounix and the St. Bernard. As a pass I cannot conscientiously recommend it to any one (see Chap. XVII.), nor am I desirous to go again over the moraine on the left bank of the Glacier de Triolet, or the rocks of Mont Rouge.

131 The ascent of Mont Dolent and return to Prè du Bar (halts included) occupied less than 11 hours.

132 The bracketed paragraphs in this chapter are extracted from the notes of Mr. Reilly.

133 From a sketch by Mr. Adams-Reilly.

134 This glacier is named Glacier du Mont Blanc.

135 The Calotte is the name given to the dome of snow at the summit of Mont Blanc.

136 Glacier du Dôme.

137 This is without a name.

138 I do not know the origin of the term _moraine_. De Saussure says (vol. i. p. 380, § 536), “the peasants of Chamounix call these heaps of débris _the moraine_ of the glacier.” It may be inferred from this that the term was a local one, peculiar to Chamounix.

139 An example is referred to on p. 106. Much more remarkable cases might be instanced.

140 It is not usual to find small moraines to large glaciers fed by many branches draining many different basins. That is, if the branches are draining basins which are separated by mountain ridges, or which, at least, have islands of rock protruding through the ice. The small moraines contributed by one affluent are balanced, probably, by great ones brought by another feeder.

_ 141 Atlas of Physical Geography_, by Augustus Petermann and the Rev. T. Milner. The italics are not in the original.

142 “The stones that are found upon the upper extremities of glaciers are of the same nature as the mountains which rise above; but, as the ice carries them down into the valleys, they arrive between rocks of a totally different nature from their own.”—De Saussure, § 536.

143 One cannot do worse than follow that path.

144 The lower chalet de Lognan is 2½ hours’ walking from Chamounix. From thence to the summit of the Aiguille d’Argentière, and down to the village of the same name, occupied 12½ hours.

145 The Col de Zinal or Triftjoch, between the Trifthorn and the Ober Gabelhorn; and the Col Durand between the last-mentioned mountain and the Dent Blanche.

For our route from Zinal to Zermatt, see the Map of the Valley of Zermatt.

146 High above the Glacier de Moming at the foot of the Crête de Milton.

147 Moore’s Journal.

148 Through what is technically called an “ice-fall.”

149 The responsibility, however, did not rest with Croz. His part was to advise, but not to direct.

150 The summit of the pass has been marked on Dufour’s map 3793 mètres, or 12,444 feet.

151 These snow-cornices are common on the crests of high mountain ridges, and it is always prudent (just before arriving upon the summit of a mountain or ridge) to _sound_ with the alpenstock, that is to say, drive it in, to discover whether there is one or not. Men have often narrowly escaped losing their lives from neglecting this precaution. Several instances have been known of cornices having given way without a moment’s notice, and of life only having been saved through men being tied together.

These cornices are frequently rolled round in a volute, and sometimes take most extravagant forms. See page 32.

152 This opportunity has been taken to introduce to the reader some of the most expert amateur mountaineers of the time; and a few of the guides who have been, or will be, mentioned in the course of the book.

The late Peter Perrn is on the extreme right. Then come young Peter Taugwalder (upon the bench); and J. J. Maquignaz (leaning against the door-post). Franz Andermatten occupies the steps, and Ulrich Lauener towers in the background.

153 See pp. 115 and 190.

154 See p. 141.

155 See pp. 169-171.

156 See pp. 236 and 266.

157 I engaged Croz for 1865 before I parted from him in 1864; but upon writing to him in the month of April to fix the dates of his engagement, I found that he had supposed he was free (in consequence of not having heard from me earlier), and had engaged himself to a Mr. B—— from the 27th of June. I endeavoured to hold him to his promise, but he considered himself unable to withdraw from his later obligation. His letters were honourable to him. The following extract from the last one he wrote to me is given as an interesting souvenir of a brave and upright man:—

158 It was an entry describing an ascent of the Grand Cornier (which we supposed had never been ascended) from the very direction which we had just pronounced to be hopeless! It was especially startling, because Franz Biener was spoken of in the account as having been concerned in the ascent. On examining Biener it was found that he had made the excursion, and had supposed at the time he was upon his summit that it was the Grand Cornier. He saw afterwards that they had only ascended one of the several points upon the ridge running northwards from the Grand Cornier—I believe, the Pigne de l’Allée (11,168 feet)!

159 For route, see the map of the Valley of Zermatt.

160 I wrote in the _Athenæum_, August 29, 1863, to the same effect. “This action of the frost does not cease in winter, inasmuch as it is impossible for the Matterhorn to be entirely covered by snow. Less precipitous mountains may be entirely covered up during winter, and if they do not then actually gain height, the wear and tear is, at least, suspended.... We arrive, therefore, at the conclusion that, although such snow-peaks as Mont Blanc _may_ in the course of ages grow higher, the Matterhorn must decrease in height.” These remarks have received confirmation.

The men who were left by M. Dollfus-Ausset in his observatory upon the summit of the Col Théodule, during the winter of 1865, remarked that the snow was partially melted upon the rocks in their vicinity upon 19th, 20th, 21st, 22d, 23d, 26th, 27th December of that year, and upon the 22d of December they entered in their Journal, “_Nous avons vu au Matterhorn que la neige se fondait sur roches et qu’il s’en écoulait de l’eau._”—_Matériaux pour l’étude des Glaciers_, vol. viii. part i. p. 246, 1868; and vol. viii. part ii. p. 77, 1869.

161 In each of the seven nights I passed upon the south-west ridge of the Matterhorn in 1861-3 (at heights varying from 11,844 to 12,992 feet above the level of the sea), the rocks fell incessantly in showers and avalanches. See p. 120.

162 Tonson’s Ed. of 1758. Bacon may have had this passage in mind when he wrote, “It must not be thought that heat generates motion, or motion heat (though in some respects this be true), but that the very essence of heat, or the substantial self of heat, is motion and nothing else.”—_Novum Organum_, book ii. Devey’s Translation.

163 Doubtless, _at the sides_ of glacier beds, the range of temperature is greater. But there is evidence that the winter cold does not penetrate to the innermost recesses of glacier-beds in the fact that streams continue to flow underneath the ice all the year round, winter as well as summer, in the Alps and (I was informed in Greenland) in Greenland. Experimental proof can be readily obtained that even in midsummer the bottom temperature is close to 32° Faht.

164 Professor Tyndall “On the Conformation of the Alps,” _Phil. Mag._, Sept. 1862.

165 This had been crossed, for the first time, a few months before.

166 The following details may interest mountain-climbers. Left Zinal (5505 feet) 2.5 A.M. Thence to plateau S.E. of summit of Grand Cornier, 5 h. 25 min. From the plateau to the summit of the mountain, 2½ hours. The last 300 feet of the ridge followed were exceedingly sharp and narrow, with a great cornice, from which huge icicles depended. We were obliged to go _underneath_ the cornice, and to cut a way through the icicles. Descent from summit to plateau, 1 h. 40 min. Sharp snow-storm, with thunder. Plateau to summit of Col du Grand Cornier (rocks easy), 45 min. From the summit of the Col to the end of glacier leading to the west, 55 min. Thence to Abricolla (7959), 15 min.

167 The brother of my guide Michel Croz.

168 See note to p. 70.

169 See map of the Valley of Zermatt.

170 Couloirs are invariably protected at their bases by bergschrunds. An example of a couloir with a double bergschrund is given on p. 169.

171 The summit of the Dent Blanche is a ridge, perhaps one hundred yards in length. The highest point is usually at its north-eastern end. Several ascents besides those made by Mr. Kennedy and the author have been made in late years; but, as yet, no one seems to have discovered an easy route up the mountain.

172 The ascent of the Dent Blanche is the hardest that I have made. There was nothing upon it so difficult as the last 500 feet of the Pointe des Ecrins; but, on the other hand, there was hardly a step upon it which was positively easy. The whole of the face required actual climbing. There was, probably, very little difference in difficulty between the route we took in 1865, and that followed by Mr. Kennedy in 1862.

173 See Map of the Valley of Zermatt. The route taken upon June 19 is alone marked.

174 See Chap. III. pp. 44-5.

175 Subsequent experiences of others have strengthened this opinion.

176 I prefer to be on the safe side. My impression is that snow cannot accumulate in large masses _at_ 45°.

177 Upon this subject I beg to refer the reader to the valuable note furnished by Signor F. Giordano in the Appendix.

178 See pp. 56 and 73.

179 Weathered granite is an admirable rock to climb; its gritty texture giving excellent hold to the nails in one’s boots. But upon such metamorphic schists as compose the mass of the great peak of the Matterhorn, the texture of the rock itself is of little or no value.

180 I refer here only to that portion of the ridge which is between the Col du Lion and the Great Tower. The remarks would not apply to the rocks higher up (see p. 75); higher still the rocks are firm again; yet higher (upon the “Shoulder”) they are much disintegrated; and then, upon the final peak, they are again firm.

_ 181 Travels through the Alps_, 2nd ed. p. 317.

182 Its position is shown by the letter F, on the right of the outline, on p. 85. See also Map of the Matterhorn and its Glaciers.

183 See p. 94.

184 See Frontispiece.

185 See note to p. 95.

186 The ascent of the Grandes Jorasses was made to obtain a view of the upper part of the Aig. Verte, and upon that account the westernmost summit was selected in preference to the highest one. Both summits are shown upon the accompanying engraving. That on the right is (as it appears to be) the highest. That upon its left is the one which we ascended, and is about 100 feet lower than the other. A couple of days after our ascent, Henri Grati, Julien Grange, Jos. Mar. Perrod, Alexis Clusaz, and Daniel Gex (all of Courmayeur), followed our traces to the summit in order to learn the way. As far as my observation extends, such things are seldom done by money-grasping or spiritless guides, and I have much pleasure in being able to mention their names. The highest point (13,799) was ascended on June 29-30, 1868, by Mr. Horace Walker, with the guides Melchior Anderegg, J. Jaun, and Julien Grange.

187 The view of Mont Blanc from a gorge on the south of the Italian Val Ferret, mid-way between the villages of La Vachey and Praz Sec, and about 3000 feet above them, is, in my opinion, the finest which can be obtained of that mountain range anywhere upon the Italian side.

188 The next generation may witness its extinction. The portion of it seen from the village of Argentière was in 1869 at least one quarter less in width than it was ten years earlier.

189 This observation is not made without reason. I have seen the head of one tumble off at a slight tap, in consequence of its handle having been perforated by an ingenious but useless arrangement of nails.

190 I estimate its height at 1200 feet. The triangulation of Capt. Mieulet places the summit of the pass 11,624 feet above the sea. This, I think, is rather too high.

_ 191 Wanderings among the High Alps_, 1858.

192 Most of his principal exploits are recorded in the publications of the Alpine Club.

193 Engraved, by permission, from a photograph by Mr. E. Edwards.

194 Admirably rendered in the accompanying drawing by Mr. Cyrus Johnson.

195 I heard lately of two well-known mountaineers who, under the influence of sudden alarm, _swallowed their crystals_. I am happy to say that they were able to cough them up again.

196 Hand specimens of the highest rocks of the Aiguille Verte cannot be distinguished from granite. The rock is almost identical in quality with that at the summit of Mont Dolent, and is probably a granitöid gneiss.

197 The summit of the Aiguille Verte was a snowy dome, large enough for a quadrille. I was surprised to see the great height of Les Droites. Captain Mieulet places its summit at 13,222 feet, but I think it must be very slightly lower than the Verte itself.

198 The Chamounix tariff price for the ascent of the Aiguille is now placed at £4 _per guide_.

199 It should be said that we received the most polite apologies for this affair from the chief of the gensdarmes, and an invitation to lodge a complaint against the ring-leaders. We accepted his apologies, and declined his invitation. Needless to add, Michel Croz took no part in the demonstration.

200 Below the second ice-fall the glacier is completely covered up with moraine matter, and if the _left_ bank is followed, one is compelled either to traverse this howling waste or to lose much time upon the tedious and somewhat difficult rocks of Mont Rouge.

201 In glissading an erect position should be maintained, and the point of the alpenstock allowed to trail over the snow. If it is necessary to stop, or to slacken speed, the point is pressed against the slope, as shown in the illustration.

202 Comparison of the Col de Triolet with the Col de Talèfre will show what a great difference in ease there may be between tracks which are nearly identical. For a distance of several miles these routes are scarcely more than half-a-mile apart. Nearly every step of the former is difficult, whilst the latter has no difficulty whatever. The route we adopted over the Col de Talèfre may perhaps be improved. It may be possible to go directly from the head of the Glacier de Triolet to its right bank, and, if so, at least thirty minutes might be saved.

The following is a list of the principal of the passes across the main ridge of the range of Mont Blanc, with the years in which the first passages were effected, as far as I know them:—1. Col de Trélatête (1864), between Aig. du Glacier and Aig. de Trélatête. 2. Col de Miage, between Aig. de Miage and Aig. de Bionnassay. 3. Col du Dôme (1865), over the Dôme du Goûter. 4. Col du Mont Blanc (1868), over Mont Blanc. 5. Col de la Brenva (1865), between Mont Blanc and Mont Maudit. 6. Col de la Tour Ronde (1867), over la Tour Ronde. 7. Col du Géant, between la Tour Ronde and Aigs. Marbrées. 8. Col des Grandes Jorasses (1873), between the Grandes and Petites Jorasses. 9. Col de Leschaux (1877), between the Aig. de l’Eboulement and the Aig. de Leschaux. 10. Col Pierre Joseph (1866), over Aig. de l’Eboulement. 11. Col de Talèfre (1865), between Aigs. Talèfre and Triolet. 12. Col de Triolet (1864), between Aigs. Talèfre and Triolet. 13. Col Dolent (1865), between Aig. de Triolet and Mont Dolent. 14. Col d’Argentière (1861), between Mont Dolent and la Tour Noire. 15. Col de la Tour Noire (1863), between the Tour Noire and the Aig. d’Argentière. 16. Col du Chardonnet (1863), between Aigs. d’Argentière and Chardonnet. 17. Col du Tour, between Aigs. du Chardonnet and Tour.

203 After crossing the glacier de Breney, we ascended by some débris, and then by some cliffy ground, to the glacier which surrounds the peak upon the south; bore to the left (that is to the west) and went up the edge of the glacier; and lastly took to the arête of the ridge which descends towards the south-west, and followed it to the summit (12,727).

204 Manufactured and sold by Messrs. Buckingham, Broad Street, Bloomsbury.

205 For example, when the leader suspects crevasses, and _sounds_ for them, in the manner shown in the engraving, he usually loses half a step or more. The second man should take a turn of the rope around his hand to draw it back in case the leader goes through.

206 When several persons are descending such places, it is evident that the _last man_ cannot derive any assistance from the rope, and so might as well be untied. Partly upon this account, it is usual to place one of the strongest and steadiest men last. Now, although this cannot be termed a senseless precaution, it is obvious that it is a perfectly useless one, if it is true that a single slip would upset the entire party. The best plan I know is that which we adopted on the descent of the Col Dolent, namely, to let one man go in advance until he reaches some secure point. This one then detaches himself, the rope is drawn up, and another man is sent down to join him, and so on until the last. The last man still occupies the most difficult post, and should be the steadiest man; but he is not exposed to any risk from his comrades slipping, and they, of course, draw in the rope as he descends, so that his position is less hazardous than if he were to come down quite by himself.

207 If you are out upon an excursion, and find the work becoming so arduous that you have great difficulty in maintaining your balance, you should at once retire, and not imperil the lives of others. I am well aware that the withdrawal of one person for such reasons would usually necessitate the retreat of a second, and that expeditions would be often cut short if this were to happen. With the fear of this before their eyes, I believe that many amateurs continue to go on, albeit well convinced that they ought not. They do not wish to stop the sport of their comrades; but they frequently suffer mental tortures in consequence, which most emphatically do not assist their stability, and are likely to lead to something even more disagreeable than the abandonment of the excursion. The moral is, take an adequate number of guides.

208 During the preceding eighteen days (I exclude Sundays and other non-working days) we ascended more than 100,000 feet, and descended 98,000 feet.

209 See p. 79.

210 Tourists usually congregate at Zermatt upon Sundays, and large gangs and droves cross the Théodule pass on Mondays.

211 The Italian Minister. Signor Giordano had undertaken the business arrangements for Signor Sella.

212 Peter Taugwalder, the father, is called _old_ Peter, to distinguish him from his eldest son, _young_ Peter. In 1865 the father’s age was about 45.

213 Brother of the present Marquis of Queensberry.

214 For route, and the others mentioned in the subsequent chapters, see map of Matterhorn and its glaciers.

215 The two young Taugwalders were taken as porters, by desire of their father, and carried provisions amply sufficient for three days, in case the ascent should prove more troublesome than we anticipated.

216 I remember speaking about pedestrianism to a well-known mountaineer some years ago, and venturing to remark that a man who averaged thirty miles a-day might be considered a good walker. “A fair walker,” he said, “a _fair_ walker.” “What then would you consider _good_ walking?” “Well,” he replied, “I will tell you. Some time back a friend and I agreed to go to Switzerland, but a short time afterwards he wrote to say he ought to let me know that a young and delicate lad was going with him who would not be equal to great things, in fact, he would not be able to do more than fifty miles a-day!” “What became of the young and delicate lad?” “He lives.” “And who was your extraordinary friend?” “Charles Hudson.” I have every reason to believe that the gentlemen referred to _were_ equal to walking more than fifty miles a-day, but they were exceptional, not _good_ pedestrians.

Charles Hudson, Vicar of Skillington in Lincolnshire, was considered by the mountaineering fraternity to be the best amateur of his time. He was the organiser and leader of the party of Englishmen who ascended Mont Blanc by the Aig. du Goûter, and descended by the Grands Mulets route, without guides, in 1855. His long practice made him surefooted, and in that respect he was not greatly inferior to a born mountaineer. I remember him as a well-made man of middle height and age, neither stout nor thin, with face pleasant—though grave, and with quiet unassuming manners. Although an athletic man, he would have been overlooked in a crowd; and although he had done the greatest mountaineering feats which have been done, he was the last man to speak of his own doings. His friend Mr. Hadow was a young man of nineteen, who had the looks and manners of a greater age. He was a rapid walker, but 1865 was his first season in the Alps. Lord Francis Douglas was about the same age as Mr. Hadow. He had had the advantage of several seasons in the Alps. He was nimble as a deer, and was becoming an expert mountaineer. Just before our meeting he had ascended the Ober Gabelhorn (with old Peter Taugwalder and Jos. Viennin), and this gave me a high opinion of his powers; for I had examined that mountain all round, a few weeks before, and had declined its ascent on account of its apparent difficulty.

My personal acquaintance with Mr. Hudson was very slight—still I should have been content to have placed myself under his orders if he had chosen to claim the position to which he was entitled. Those who knew him will not be surprised to learn that, so far from doing this, he lost no opportunity of consulting the wishes and opinions of those around him. We deliberated together whenever there was occasion, and our authority was recognised by the others. Whatever responsibility there was devolved upon _us_. I recollect with satisfaction that there was no difference of opinion between us as to what should be done, and that the most perfect harmony existed between all of us so long as we were together.

217 Arrived at the chapel 7.30 A.M.; left it, 8.20; halted to examine route 9.30; started again 10.25, and arrived at 11.20 at the cairn made by Mr. Kennedy in 1862 (see p. 59), marked 10,820 feet upon the map. Stopped 10 min. here. From the Hörnli to this point we kept, when possible, to the crest of the ridge. The greater part of the way was excessively easy, though there were a few places where the axe had to be used.

218 Thus far the guides did not once go to the front. Hudson or I led, and when any cutting was required we did it ourselves. This was done to spare the guides, and to show them that we were thoroughly in earnest. The spot at which we camped was four hours’ walking from Zermatt, and is marked upon the map—CAMP (1865). It was just upon a level with the Furggengrat, and its position is indicated upon the engraving facing p. 227 by a little circular white spot, in a line with the word CAMP.

219 It was originally intended to leave both of the young men behind. We found it difficult to divide the food, and so the new arrangement was made.

220 See pp. 227-231.

221 For track, see the lower of the outlines facing p. 230.

222 See remarks on arêtes and faces on p. 206. There is very little to choose between in the arêtes leading from the summit towards the Hörnli (N.E. ridge) and towards the Col du Lion (S.W. ridge). Both are jagged, serrated ridges, which any experienced climber would willingly avoid if he could find another route. On the northern (Zermatt) side the eastern face affords another route, or any number of routes, since there is hardly a part of it which cannot be traversed! On the southern (Breil) side the ridge alone, generally speaking, can be followed; and when it becomes impracticable, and the climber is forced to bear down to the right or to the left, the work is of the most difficult character.

223 Very few stones fell during the two days I was on the mountain, and none came near us. Others who have followed the same route have not been so fortunate; they may not, perhaps, have taken the same precautions. It is a noteworthy fact, that the lateral moraine of the left bank of the Furggengletscher is scarcely larger than that of the right bank, although the former receives all the débris that falls from the 4000 feet of cliffs which form the eastern side of the Matterhorn, whilst the latter is fed by perfectly insignificant slopes. Neither of these moraines is large. This is strong evidence that stones do _not_ fall to any great extent from the eastern face. The inward dip of the beds retains the detritus in place. Hence the eastern face appears, when one is upon it, to be undergoing more rapid disintegration than the other sides: in reality, the mantle of ruin spares the mountain from farther waste. Upon the southern side, rocks fall as they are rent off; “each day’s work is cleared away” every day; and hence the faces and ridges are left naked, and are exposed to fresh attacks.

224 The snow seen in the engraving facing p. 227, half-an-inch below the summit, and a little to its right.

225 This part was less steeply inclined than the whole of the eastern face.

226 I have no memorandum of the time that it occupied. It must have taken about an hour and a half.

227 The highest points are towards the two ends. In 1865 the northern end was slightly higher than the southern one. In bygone years Carrel and I often suggested to each other that we might one day arrive upon the top, and find ourselves cut off from the very highest point by a notch in the summit-ridge which is seen from the Theodule and from Breil (marked *D* on the outline on p. 85). This notch is very conspicuous from below, but when we were upon the summit it was hardly noticed, and it could be passed without the least difficulty.

228 I have learnt since from J.-A. Carrel that they heard our first cries. They were then upon the south-west ridge, close to the “Cravate,” and _twelve hundred and fifty_ feet below us; or, as the crow flies, at a distance of about one-third of a mile.

229 At our departure the men were confident that the ascent would be made, and took one of the poles out of the tent. I protested that it was tempting Providence; they took the pole, nevertheless.

230 Signor Giordano was naturally disappointed at the result, and wished the men to start again. _They all refused to do so, with the exception of Jean-Antoine._ Upon the 16th of July he set out again with three others, and upon the 17th gained the summit by passing (at first) up the south-west ridge, and (afterwards) by turning over to the Z’Mutt, or north-western side. On the 18th he returned to Breil.

Whilst we were upon the southern end of the summit-ridge, we paid some attention to the portion of the mountain which intervened between ourselves and the Italian guides. It seemed as if there would not be the least chance for them if they should attempt to storm the final peak directly from the end of the “shoulder.” In that direction cliffs fell sheer down from the summit, and we were unable to see beyond a certain distance. There remained the route about which Carrel and I had often talked, namely to ascend directly at first from the end of the “shoulder,” and afterwards to swerve to the left—that is, to the Z’Mutt side—and to complete the ascent from the north-west. When we were upon the summit we laughed at this idea. The part of the mountain that I have described upon p. 278, was not easy, although its inclination was moderate. If that slope were made only ten degrees steeper, its difficulty would be enormously increased. To double its inclination would be to make it impracticable. The slope at the southern end of the summit-ridge, falling towards the north-west, was _much_ steeper than that over which we passed, and we ridiculed the idea that any person should attempt to ascend in that direction, when the northern route was so easy. Nevertheless, the summit was reached by that route by the undaunted Carrel. From knowing the final slope over which he passed, and from the account of Mr. F. C. Grove—who is the only traveller by whom it has been traversed—I do not hesitate to term the ascent of Carrel and Bich in 1865 the most desperate piece of mountain-scrambling upon record. In 1869 I asked Carrel if he had ever done anything more difficult. His reply was, “Man cannot do anything much more difficult than that!” See Appendix *D*.

231 The summit-ridge was much shattered, although not so extensively as the south-west and north-east ridges. The highest rock, in 1865, was a block of micaschist, and the fragment I broke off it not only possesses, in a remarkable degree, the character of the peak, but mimics, in an astonishing manner, the details of its form. (See illustration on page 284.)

232 It is most unusual to see the southern half of the panorama unclouded. A hundred ascents may be made before this will be the case again.

233 The substance of Chapter XX. appeared in a letter in the _Times_, August 8, 1865. A few paragraphs have now been added, and a few corrections have been made. The former will help to make clear that which was obscure in the original account, and the latter are, mostly, unimportant.

234 If the members of the party had been more equally efficient, Croz would have been placed _last_.

235 Described upon pp. 277-8.

236 Not at all an unusual proceeding, even between born mountaineers. I wish to convey the impression that Croz was using all pains, rather than to indicate extreme inability on the part of Mr. Hadow. The insertion of the word “absolutely” makes the passage, perhaps, rather ambiguous. I retain it now, in order to offer the above explanation.

237 At the moment of the accident, Croz, Hadow, and Hudson, were all close together. Between Hudson and Lord F. Douglas the rope was all but taut, and the same between all the others, who were _above_. Croz was standing by the side of a rock which afforded good hold, and if he had been aware, or had suspected, that anything was about to occur, he might and would have gripped it, and would have prevented any mischief. He was taken totally by surprise. Mr. Hadow slipped off his feet on to his back, his feet struck Croz in the small of the back, and knocked him right over, head first. Croz’s axe was out of his reach, yet without it he managed to get his head uppermost before he disappeared from our sight. If it had been in his hand I have no doubt that he would have stopped himself and Mr. Hadow.

Mr. Hadow, at the moment of his slip, was not occupying a bad position. He could have moved either up or down, and could touch with his hand the rock of which I have spoken. Hudson was not so well placed, but he had liberty of motion. The rope was not taut from him to Hadow, and the two men fell ten or twelve feet before the jerk came upon him. Lord F. Douglas was not favourably placed, and could neither move up nor down. Old Peter was firmly planted, and stood just beneath a large rock which he hugged with both arms. I enter into these details to make it more apparent that the position occupied by the party at the moment of the accident was not by any means excessively trying. We were compelled to pass over the exact spot where the slip occurred, and we found—even with shaken nerves—that _it_ was not a difficult place to pass. I have described the _slope generally_ as difficult, and it is so undoubtedly to most persons; but it must be distinctly understood that Mr. Hadow slipped at an easy part.

238 Or, more correctly, we held on as tightly as possible. There was no time to change our position.

239 These ends, I believe, are still attached to the rocks, and mark our line of ascent and descent. I saw one of them in 1873.

240 I paid very little attention to this remarkable phenomenon, and was glad when it disappeared, as it distracted our attention. Under ordinary circumstances I should have felt vexed afterwards at not having observed with greater precision an occurrence so rare and so wonderful. I can add very little about it to that which is said above. The sun was directly at our backs; that is to say, the fog-bow was opposite to the sun. The time was 6.30 P.M. The forms were at once tender and sharp; neutral in tone; were developed gradually, and disappeared suddenly. The mists were light (that is, not dense), and were dissipated in the course of the evening.

It has been suggested that the crosses are incorrectly figured in the accompanying view, and that they were probably formed by the intersection of other circles or ellipses, as shown in the annexed diagram. I think this suggestion is very likely correct; but I have preferred to follow my original memorandum.

In Parry’s _Narrative of an Attempt to reach the North Pole_, 4to, 1828, there is, at pp. 99-100, an account of the occurrence of a phenomenon analogous to the above-mentioned one. “At half-past five P.M. we witnessed a very beautiful natural phenomenon. A broad white fog-bow first appeared opposite to the sun, as was very commonly the case,” etc. I follow Parry in using the term fog-bow.

It may be observed that, upon the descent of the Italian guides (whose expedition is noticed upon p. 282, and again in the Appendix), upon July 17, 1865, the phenomenon commonly termed the Brocken was observed. The following is the account given by the Abbé Amé Gorret in the _Feuille d’Aoste_, October 31, 1865:—“Nous étions sur l’épaule (the ‘shoulder’) quand nous remarquâmes un phénomène qui nous fit plaisir; le nuage était très-dense du côté de Valtornanche, c’était serein en Suisse; nous nous vîmes au milieu d’un cercle aux couleurs de l’arc-en-ciel; ce mirage nous formait à tous une couronne au milieu de laquelle nous voyions notre ombre.” This occurred at about 6.30 to 7 P.M., and the Italians in question were at about the same height as ourselves—namely, 14,000 feet.

241 They had been travelling with, and had been engaged by, Lord F. Douglas, and so considered him their employer, and responsible to them.

242 Transcribed from the original memorandum.

243 Nor did I speak to them afterwards, unless it was absolutely necessary, so long as we were together.

244 A portrait of Franz Andermatten is given in the engraving facing p. 202.

245 To the point marked *Z* on the map.

246 Marked with a cross on the map.

247 A pair of gloves, a belt, and boot that had belonged to him, were found. This, somehow, became publicly known, and gave rise to wild notions, which would not have been entertained had it been also known that the _whole_ of the boots of those who had fallen _were off_, and were lying upon the snow near the bodies.

248 The three ropes have been reduced by photography to the same scale.

249 I was one hundred feet or more from the others whilst they were being tied up, and am unable to throw any light on the matter. Croz and old Peter no doubt tied up the others.

250 This is not the only occasion upon which M. Clemenz (who presided over the inquiry) has failed to give up answers that he has promised. It is greatly to be regretted that he does not feel that the suppression of the truth is equally against the interests of travellers and of the guides. If the men are untrustworthy, the public should be warned of the fact; but if they are blameless, why allow them to remain under unmerited suspicion?

Old Peter Taugwalder is a man who is labouring under an unjust accusation. Notwithstanding repeated denials, even his comrades and neighbours at Zermatt persist in asserting or insinuating that he _cut_ the rope which led from him to Lord F. Douglas. In regard to this infamous charge, I say that he _could_ not do so at the moment of the slip, and that the end of the rope in my possession shows that he did not do so beforehand. There remains, however, the suspicious fact that the rope which broke was the thinnest and weakest one that we had. It is suspicious, because it is unlikely that any of the four men in front would have selected an old and weak rope when there was abundance of new, and much stronger, rope to spare; and, on the other hand, because if Taugwalder thought that an accident was likely to happen, it was to his interest to have the weaker rope where it was placed.

I should rejoice to learn that his answers to the questions which were put to him were satisfactory. Not only was his act at the critical moment wonderful as a feat of strength, but it was admirable in its performance at the right time. I am told that he is now nearly incapable for work—not absolutely mad, but with intellect gone and almost crazy; which is not to be wondered at, whether we regard him as a man who contemplated a scoundrelly meanness, or as an injured man suffering under an unjust accusation.

In respect to young Peter, it is not possible to speak in the same manner. The odious idea that he propounded (which I believe emanated from _him_) he has endeavoured to trade upon, in spite of the fact that his father was paid (for both) in the presence of witnesses. Whatever may be his abilities as a guide, he is not one to whom I would ever trust my life, or afford any countenance.

251 They followed the route laid down upon the map, and on their descent were in great peril from the fall of a _sérac_. The character of the work they undertook may be gathered from a reference to p. 100.

252 This, or a subsequent party, discovered a sleeve. No other traces have been found.

253 See p. 48.

254 See p. 120.

255 Malte-Brun’s _Annales des Voyages_, April 1869.

256 Peter Perrn, the well-known guide, died at Zermatt in the winter of 1873-4.

257 A place on the final peak, about half-way between the “Shoulder” and the summit.

258 We resume here the account of the proceedings of the Italians who started from Breil on the 11th of July 1865. See p. 269.

259 The foregoing particulars were related to me by J.-A. Carrel.

260 The following details are taken from the account of the Abbé Amé Gorret (published in the _Feuille d’Aoste_, Oct. 1865), who was at Breil when the men returned.

261 See Appendix *E*, attempt No. 1.

262 These terms, as well as the others, Great Staircase, Col du Lion, Tête du Lion, Chimney, and so forth, were applied by Carrel and myself to the various points, in consequence of real or supposed resemblances in the rocks to other things. A few of the terms originated with the Author, but they are chiefly due to the inventive genius of J.-A. Carrel.

263 This point is marked by the red letter *E* upon the lower of the two outlines facing p. 44.

264 I have seen icicles more than a hundred feet long hanging from the rocks near the summit of the Matterhorn.

265 The words of the Abbé. I imagine that he meant _comparatively easy_.

266 The pace of a party is ruled by that of its least efficient member.

267 See pp. 83-4 and pp. 90-1.

268 A ridge descending towards the Z’Muttgletscher.

269 Joseph and J.-Pierre Maquignaz alone ascended; the others had had enough and returned. It should be observed that ropes had been fixed, by J.-A. Carrel and others, over _all_ the difficult parts of the mountain as high as the shoulder, _before_ the advent of these persons. This explains the facility with which they moved over ground which had been found very trying in earlier times. The young woman declared that the ascent (as far as she went) was a trifle, or used words to that effect; if she had tried to get to the same height before 1862, she would probably have been of a different opinion.

270 Cette roche granitoïde paraît surtout à la base ouest du pic sous le col du Lion, tandis qu’elle ne paraît pas du tout sur le flanc est, où elle paraît passer au gneiss talqueux.

271 En plusieurs localités des environs, cette zone calcarifère présente des bancs et des lentilles de dolomie, de cargueule, de gypse et de quartzite.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Italic type is marked by underscore (_), boldface by asterisk (*).

The following changes have been made to the text:

page 24, “fire” changed to “fir” page 178, “Cormayeur” changed to “Courmayeur” page 203, “regele” changed to “regale”, “Pernn” changed to “Perrn” page 243, “naturrally” changed to “naturally” page 269, opening quote added before “That” page 294, “crritical” changed to “critical” page 315, period added after “47-9” page 319, period added after “Andermatten” page 321, period added after “Taugwalder”

Variations in accentuation (“chalet”/“châlet”), hyphenation (e.g. “commonplace”/“common-place”, “midday”/“mid-day”) and spelling (“Ortler”/“Orteler”) have not been changed.