CHAPTER XI.

[pg 193]CHAPTER XI.THE FIRST PASSAGE OF THE MOMING PASS—ZINAL TO ZERMATT.“A daring leader is a dangerous thing.”Euripides.On July 10, Croz and I went to Sierre, in the Valais,viâthe Col de Balme, the Col de la Forclaz, and Martigny. The Swiss side of the Forclaz is not creditable to Switzerland. The path from Martigny to the summit has undergone successive improvements in these latter years; but mendicants permanently disfigure it.We passed many tired pedestrians toiling up this oven, persecuted by trains of parasitic children. These children swarm there like maggots in a rotten cheese. They carry baskets of fruit with which to plague the weary tourist. They flit around him like flies; they thrust the fruit in his face; they pester him with their pertinacity. Beware of them!—taste, touch not their fruit. In the eyes of these children, each peach, each grape, is worth a prince’s ransom. It is to no purpose to be angry; it is like flapping wasps—they only buzz the more. Whatever you do, or whatever you say, the end will be the same.“Give me something,”is the alpha and omega of all their addresses. They learn the phrase, it is said, before they are taught the alphabet. It is in all their mouths. From the tiny toddler up to the maiden of sixteen, there is nothing heard but one universal chorus of—“Give me something; will you have the goodness to give me something?”From Sierre we went up the Val d’Anniviers to Zinal, to join our former companions, Moore and Almer. Moore was ambitious to discover a shorter way from Zinal to Zermatt than the two[pg 194]passes which were known.145He had shown to me, upon Dufour’s map, that a direct line, connecting the two places, passed exactly over the depression between the Zinal-Rothhorn and the Schallhorn. He was confident that a passage could be effected over this depression, and was sanguine that it would (in consequence of its directness) prove to be a quicker route than the circuitous ones over the Triftjoch and the Col Durand.He was awaiting us, and we immediately proceeded up the valley, and across the foot of the Zinal glacier to the Arpitetta Alp, where a chalet was supposed to exist in which we might pass the night. We found it at length,146but it was not equal to our expectations. It was not one of those fine timbered chalets, with huge overhanging eaves, covered with pious sentences carved in unintelligible characters. It was a hovel, growing, as it were, out of the hill-side; roofed with rough slabs of slaty stone; without a door or window; surrounded by quagmires of ordure, and dirt of every description.A foul native invited us to enter. The interior was dark; and, when our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we saw that our palace was in plan about 15 by 20 feet; on one side it was scarcely five feet high, and on the other was nearly seven. On this side there was a raised platform, about six feet wide, littered with dirty straw and still dirtier sheepskins. This was the bedroom. The remainder of the width of the apartment was the parlour. The rest was the factory. Cheese was the article which was being fabricated, and the foul native was engaged in its manufacture. He was garnished behind with a regular cowherd’s one-legged stool, which gave him a queer, uncanny look when it was elevated in the air as he bent over into his tub; for the making of his cheese required him to blow into a tub for ten minutes at a[pg 195]time. He then squatted on his stool to gain breath, and took a few whiffs at a short pipe; after which he blew away more vigorously than before. We were told that this procedure was necessary. It appeared to us to be nasty. It accounts, perhaps, for the flavour possessed by certain Swiss cheeses.Big, black, and leaden-coloured clouds rolled up from Zinal, and met in combat on the Moming glacier with others which descended from the Rothhorn. Down came the rain in torrents, and crash went the thunder. The herd-boys hurried under shelter, for the frightened cattle needed no driving, and tore spontaneously down the Alp as if running a steeple-chase. Men, cows, pigs, sheep, and goats forgot their mutual animosities, and rushed to the only refuge on the mountain. The spell was broken which had bound the elements for some weeks past, and thecirquefrom the Weisshorn to Lo Besso was the theatre in which they spent their fury.A sullen morning succeeded an angry night. We were undecided in our council whether to advance or to return down the valley. Good seemed likely to overpower bad; so, at 5.40, we left the chaleten routefor our pass [amidst the most encouraging assurances from all the people on the Alp that we need not distress ourselves about the weather, as it was not possible to get to the point at which we were aiming].147Our course led us at first over ordinary mountain slopes, and then over a flat expanse of glacier. Before this was quitted, it was needful to determine the exact line which was to be taken. We were divided betwixt two opinions. I advocated that a course should be steered due south, and that the upper plateau of the Moming glacier should be attained by making a great detour to our right. This was negatived without a division. Almer declared in favour of making for some rocks to the south-west of the Schallhorn, and attaining the upper plateau of the glacier by mounting them. Croz advised a middle course, up some very[pg 196]steep and broken glacier. Croz’s route seemed likely to turn out to be impracticable, because much step-cutting would be required upon it. Almer’s rocks did not look good; they were, possibly, unassailable. I thought both routes were bad, and declined to vote for either of them. Moore hesitated, Almer gave way, and Croz’s route was adopted.He did not go very far, however, before he found that he had undertaken too much, and after [glancing occasionally round at us, to see what we thought about it, suggested that it might, after all, be wiser to take to the rocks of the Schallhorn]. That is to say, he suggested the abandonment of his own and the adoption of Almer’s route. No one opposed the change of plan, and, in the absence of instructions to the contrary, he proceeded to cut steps across an ice-slope towards the rocks.Let the reader now cast his eye upon themap of the Valley of Zermatt, and he will see that when we quitted the slopes of the Arpitetta Alp, we took a south-easterly course over the Moming glacier. We halted to settle the plan of attack shortly after we got upon the ice. The rocks of the Schallhorn, whose ascent Almer recommended, were then to our south-east. Croz’s proposed route was to the south-west of the rocks, and led up the southern side of a very steep and broken glacier.148The part he intended to traverse was, in a sense, undoubtedly practicable. He gave it up because it would have involved too much step-cutting. But the part of this glacier which intervened between his route and Almer’s rocks was, in the most complete sense of the word, impracticable. It passed over a continuation of the rocks, and was broken in half by them. The upper portion was separated from the lower portion by a long slope of ice that had been built up from the débris of the glacier which had fallen from above. The foot of this slope was surrounded by immense quantities of the larger avalanche blocks. These we cautiously skirted, and when Croz halted they had been left far below, and we were half-way up[pg 197]the side of the great slope which led to the base of the ice-wall above.Across this ice-slope Croz now proceeded to cut. It was executing a flank movement in the face of an enemy by whom we might be attacked at any moment. The peril was obvious. It was a monstrous folly. It was foolhardiness. A retreat should have been sounded.149“I am not ashamed to confess,”wrote Moore in his Journal,“that during the whole time we were crossing this slope my heart was in my mouth, and I never felt relieved from such a load of care as when, after, I suppose, a passage of about twenty minutes, we got on to the rocks and were in safety.... I have never heard a positive oath come from Almer’s mouth, but the language in which he kept up a running commentary, more to himself than to me, as we went along, was stronger than I should have given him credit for using. His prominent feeling seemed to be one ofindignationthat we should be in such a position, and self-reproach at being a party to the proceeding; while the emphatic way in which, at intervals, he exclaimed,‘Quick; be quick,’sufficiently betokened his alarm.”It was not necessary to admonish Croz to be quick. He was fully as alive to the risk as any of the others. He told me afterwards, that this place was the most dangerous he had ever crossed, and that no consideration whatever would tempt him to cross it again. Manfully did he exert himself to escape from the impending destruction. His head, bent down to his work, never turned to the right or to the left. One, two, three, went his axe, and then he stepped on to the spot where he had been cutting. How painfully insecure should we have considered those steps at any other time! But now, we thought only of the rocks in front, and of the hideousséracs, lurching over above us, apparently in the act of falling.[pg 198]We got to the rocks in safety, and if they had been doubly as difficult as they were, we should still have been well content. We sat down and refreshed the inner man; keeping our eyes on the towering pinnacles of ice under which we had passed; but which, now, were almost beneath us. Without a preliminary warning sound, one of the largest—as high as the Monument at London Bridge—fell upon the slope below. The stately mass heeled over as if upon a hinge (holding together until it bent 30 degrees forwards), then it crushed out its base, and, rent into a thousand fragments, plunged vertically down upon the slope that we had crossed! Every atom of our track, that was in its course, was obliterated; all the new snow was swept away, and a broad sheet of smooth, glassy ice, showed the resistless force with which it had fallen.Illustration: Ice-avalanche on the Moming PassICE-AVALANCHE ON THE MOMING PASS.It was inexcusable to follow such a perilous path, but it is easy[pg 199]to understand why it was taken. To have retreated from the place where Croz suggested a change of plan, to have descended below the reach of danger, and to have mounted again by the route which Almer suggested, would have been equivalent to abandoning the excursion; for no one would have passed another night in the chalet on the Arpitetta Alp.“Many,”says Thucydides,“though seeing well the perils ahead, are forced along by fear of dishonour—as the world calls it—so that, vanquished by a mere word, they fall into irremediable calamities.”Such was nearly the case here. No one could say a word in justification of the course which was adopted; all were alive to the danger that was being encountered; yet a grave risk was deliberately—although unwillingly—incurred, in preference to admitting, by withdrawal from an untenable position, that an error of judgment had been committed.After a laborious trudge over many species of snow, and through many varieties of vapour—from the quality of a Scotch mist to that of a London fog—we at length stood on the depression between the Rothhorn and the Schallhorn.150A steep wall of snow was upon the Zinal side of the summit; but what the descent was like on the other side we could not tell, for a billow of snow tossed over its crest by the western winds, suspended o’er Zermatt with motion arrested, resembling an ocean-wave frozen in the act of breaking, cut off the view.151Croz—held hard in by the others, who kept down the Zinal side—opened his shoulders, flogged down the foam, and cut away[pg 200]the cornice to its junction with the summit; then boldly leaped down, and called on us to follow him.Illustration: Summit of the Moming Pass in 1864SUMMIT OF THE MOMING PASS IN 1864.It was well for us now that we had such a man as leader. An inferior or less daring guide would have hesitated to enter upon the[pg 201]descent in a dense mist; and Croz himself would have done right to pause had he been less magnificent inphysique. He acted, rather than said,“Where snow lies fast, there man can go; where ice exists, a way may be cut; it is a question of power; I have the power,—all you have to do is to follow me.”Truly, he did not spare himself, and could he have performed the feats upon the boards of a theatre that he did upon this occasion, he would have brought down the house with thunders of applause. Here is what Moore wrote inhisJournal.[The descent bore a strong resemblance to the Col de Pilatte, but was very much steeper and altogether more difficult, which is saying a good deal. Croz was in his element, and selected his way with marvellous sagacity, while Almer had an equally honourable and, perhaps, more responsible post in the rear, which he kept with his usual steadiness.... One particular passage has impressed itself on my mind as one of the most nervous I have ever made. We had to pass along a crest of ice, a mere knife-edge,—on our left a broad crevasse, whose bottom was lost in blue haze, and on our right, at an angle of 70°, or more, a slope falling to a similar gulf below. Croz, as he went along the edge, chipped small notches in the ice, in which we placed our feet, with the toes well turned out, doing all we knew to preserve our balance. While stepping from one of these precarious footholds to another, I staggered for a moment. I had not really lost my footing; but the agonised tone in which Almer, who was behind me, on seeing me waver, exclaimed,“Slip not, sir!”gave us an even livelier impression than we already had of the insecurity of the position.... One huge chasm, whose upper edge was far above the lower one, could neither be leaped nor turned, and threatened to prove an insuperable barrier. But Croz showed himself equal to the emergency. Held up by the rest of the party, he cut a series of holes for the hands and feet, down and along the almost perpendicular wall of ice forming the upper side of theschrund. Down this slippery staircase we crept, with our faces to the wall, until a[pg 202]point was reached where the width of the chasm was not too great for us to drop across. Before we had done, we got quite accustomed to taking flying leaps over theschrunds.... To make a long story short; after a most desperate and exciting struggle, and as bad a piece of ice-work as it is possible to imagine, we emerged on to the upper plateau of the Hohlicht glacier.]The glimpses which had been caught of the lower part of the Hohlicht glacier were discouraging, so it was now determined to cross over the ridge between it and the Rothhorn glacier. This was not done without great trouble. Again we rose to a height exceeding 12,000 feet. Eventually we took to the track of the despised Triftjoch, and descended by the well-known, but rough, path which leads to that pass; arriving at the Monte Rosa hotel at Zermatt at 7.20P.M.We occupied nearly twelve hours of actual walking in coming from the chalet on the Arpitetta Alp (which was 2½ hours above Zinal), and we consequently found that the Moming pass was not the shortest route from Zinal to Zermatt, although it was the most direct.Two dozen guides—good, bad, and indifferent; French, Swiss, and Italian—can commonly be seen sitting on the wall on the front of the Monte Rosa hotel: waiting on their employers, and looking for employers; watching new arrivals, and speculating on the number of francs which may be extracted from their pockets. TheMessieurs—sometimes strangely and wonderfully dressed—stand about in groups, or lean back in chairs, or lounge on the benches which are placed by the door. They wear extraordinary boots, and still more remarkable head-dresses. Their peeled, blistered, and swollen faces are worth studying. Some, by the exercise of watchfulness and unremitting care, have been fortunate enough to acquire a fine raw sienna complexion. But most of them have not been so happy. They have been scorched on rocks, and roasted on glaciers. Their cheeks—first puffed, then cracked—have exuded a turpentine-like matter, which has coursed down their faces, and[pg 203]has dried in patches like the resin on the trunks of pines. They have removed it, and at the same time have pulled off large flakes of their skin. They have gone from bad to worse—their case has become hopeless—knives and scissors have been called into play; tenderly, and daintily, they have endeavoured to reduce their cheeks to one, uniform hue. It is not to be done. But they have gone on, fascinated, and at last have brought their unhappy countenances to a state of helpless and complete ruin. Their lips are cracked; their cheeks are swollen; their eyes are blood-shot; their noses are peeled and indescribable.Illustration: The club-room of Zermatt, in 1864THE CLUB-ROOM OF ZERMATT, IN 1864.Such are the pleasures of the mountaineer! Scornfully and derisively the last comer compares the sight with his own flaccid face and dainty hands; unconscious that he too, perhaps, will be numbered with those whom he now ridicules.There is a frankness of manner about these strangely-apparelled and queer-faced men, which does not remind one of drawing-room, or city life; and it is good to see—in this club-room of Zermatt—those cold bodies, our too-frigid countrymen,regaletogether when brought into contact; and it is pleasant to witness the hearty welcome given to the new-comers by the host and his excellent wife.152I left this agreeable society to seek letters at the post. They yielded disastrous intelligence. My holiday was brought to an abrupt termination, and I awaited the arrival of Reilly (who was convoying the stores for the attack on the Matterhorn) only to inform him that our arrangements were upset; then travelled home, day and night, as fast as express trains would carry me.[pg 204]CHAPTER XII.THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE GRAND CORNIER.“Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again!. . . Methinks I hearA spirit in your echoes answers me,And bid your tenant welcome to his homeAgain!”S. Knowles.Our career in 1864 had been one of unbroken success, but the great ascent upon which I had set my heart was not attempted, and, until it was accomplished, I was unsatisfied. Other things, too, influenced me to visit the Alps once more. I wished to travel elsewhere, in places where the responsibility of direction would rest with myself alone. It was well to know how far my judgment in the choice of routes could be relied upon.The journey of 1865 was chiefly undertaken, then, to find out to what extent I was capable to select paths over mountainous country. The programme which was drawn up for this journey was rather ambitious, since it included almost all of the great peaks which had not then been ascended; but it was neither lightly undertaken nor hastily executed. All pains were taken to secure success. Information was sought from those who could give it, and the defeats of others were studied, that their errors might be avoided. The results which followed came not so much, perhaps, from luck, as from forethought and careful calculation.For success does not, as a rule, come by chance, and when one fails there is a reason for it. But when any notable, or so-called brilliant thing is done, we are too apt to look upon the success[pg 205]alone, without considering how it was accomplished. Whilst, when men fail, we inquire why they have not succeeded. So failures are oftentimes more instructive than successes, and the disappointments of some become profitable to others.Up to a certain point, the programme was completely and happily carried out. Nothing but success attended our efforts so long as the excursions were executed as they had been planned. Most of them were made upon the very days which had been fixed for them months beforehand; and all were accomplished, comparatively speaking, so easily, that their descriptions must be, in the absence of difficulty and danger, less interesting to the general reader than they would have been if our course had been marked by blunders and want of judgment. Before proceeding to speak of these excursions, it will not be entirely useless to explain the reasons which influenced the selection of the routes which were adopted upon them.In the course of the past five seasons my early practices were revolutionised. My antipathy to snow was overcome, and my predilection for rocks was modified. Like all those who are not mountaineers born, I was, at the first, extremely nervous upon steep snow. The snow seemed bound to slip, and all those who were upon it to go along with it. Snow of a certain quality is undoubtedly liable to slip when it is at a certain inclination.153The exact states which are dangerous, or safe, it is not possible to describe in writing. That is only learnt by experience, and confidence upon snow is not really felt until one has gained experience. Confidence gradually came to me, and as it came so did my partiality for rocks diminish. For it was evident, to use a common expression, that it paid better to travel upon snow than upon rocks. This applies to snow-beds pure and simple, or to snow which is lying over glacier; and in the selection of routes it has, latterly, always been my practice to look for the places where snow slopes, or snow-covered glaciers, reach highest into mountains.154[pg 206]It is comparatively seldom, however, that an ascent of a great mountain can be executed exclusively upon snow and glacier. Ridges peep through which have to be surmounted. In my earlier scramblings I usually took to, or was taken upon, the summits (or arêtes) of the ridges, and a good many mountaineers habitually take to them on principle, as the natural and proper way. According to my experience, it is seldom well to do so when any other course is open. As I have already said, and presently shall repeat more particularly, the crests of all the main ridges of the great peaks of the Alps are shattered and cleft by frost; and it not unfrequently happens that a notch in a ridge, which appears perfectly insignificant from a distance, is found to be an insuperable barrier to farther progress; and a great detour, or a long descent, has to be made to avoid the obstacle. When committed to an arête one is tied, almost always, to a particular course, from which it is difficult to deviate. Much loss of time must result if any serious obstruction occurs; and defeat often follows a temporary check.But it rarely happens that a great alpine peak is seen that is cut off abruptly, in all directions, from the snows and glaciers which surround it. In its gullies snow will cling, although its faces may be too steep for the formation of permanent snow-beds. The merits of these snow-gullies (orcouloirs) have been already pointed out,155and it is hardly necessary to observe, after that which was just now said about snow, that ascents of snow-gullies (with proper precautions) are very much to be preferred to ascents of rocky arêtes.By following the glaciers, the snow-slopes above, and the couloirs rising from them, it is usually possible to get very close to the summits of the great peaks in the Alps. The final climb will, perhaps, necessarily be by an arête. The less of it the better.It occasionally occurs that considerable mountain slopes, or faces, are destitute of snow-gullies. In that case it will, very likely, be best to adhere to the faces (or to the gullies or minor ridges upon them) rather than to take to thegreatridges. Upon a[pg 207]face one can move to the right or to the left with more facility than upon the crest of a ridge; and when a difficulty is arrived at, it is, consequently, less troublesome to circumvent.In selecting the routes which were taken in 1865, I looked, first, for places where glaciers and snow extended highest up into the mountains which were to be ascended, or the ridges which were to be crossed. Next, for gullies filled with snow leading still higher; and finally, from the heads of the gullies we completed the ascents, whenever it was practicable, by faces instead of by arêtes. The ascent of the Grand Cornier (13,022), of the Dent Blanche (14,318), Grandes Jorasses (13,700), Aiguille Verte (13,540), Ruinette (12,727), and the Matterhorn (14,780), were all accomplished in this way; besides the other excursions which will be referred to by and by. The route selected, before the start was made, was in every case strictly followed out.We inspected all of these mountains from neighbouring heights before entering upon their ascents. I explained to the guides the routes I proposed to be taken, and (when the courses were at all complicated) sketched them out on paper to prevent misunderstanding. In some few cases they suggested variations, and in every case the route was well discussed. Theexecutionof the work was done by the guides, and I seldom interfered with, or attempted to assist in it.The 13th of June 1865 I spent in the valley of Lauterbrunnen with the Rev. W. H. Hawker and the guides Christian and Ulrich Lauener; and on the 14th crossed the Petersgrat with Christian Almer and Johann Tännler to Turtman (Tourtemagne) in the Valais. Tännler was then paid off, as Michel Croz and Franz Biener were awaiting me.It was not possible to find two leading guides who worked together more harmoniously than Croz and Almer. Biener’s part was subordinate to theirs, and he was added as a convenience rather than as a necessity. Croz spoke French alone, Almer little else than German. Biener spoke both languages, and was useful on[pg 208]that account; but he seldom went to the front, excepting during the early part of the day, when the work was easy, and he acted throughout more as a porter than as a guide.The importance of having a reserve of power on mountain expeditions cannot be too strongly insisted upon. We always had some in hand, and were never pressed, or overworked, so long as we were together. Come what might, we were ready for it. But by a series of chances, which I shall never cease to regret, I was first obliged to part with Croz, and then to dismiss the others;156and so, deviating from the course that I had deliberately adopted, which was successful in practice because it was sound in principle, became fortuitously a member of an expedition that ended with the catastrophe which brings this book, and brought my scrambles amongst the Alps, to a close.157[pg 209]On June 15 we went, from Turtman to Z’meiden, and thence over the Forcletta pass to Zinal. We diverged from the summit of the pass up some neighbouring heights to inspect the Grand Cornier, and I decided to have nothing to do with its northern side. It seemed quite safe to pronounce it inaccessible from that direction, although it was more than seven miles away.On the 16th we left Zinal at 2.5A.M., having been for a moment greatly surprised by an entry in the hotel-book,158and ascending by the Zinal glacier, and giving the base of our mountain a wide berth in order that it might be better examined, passed gradually right round to its south, before a way up it was seen.159At 8.30 we arrived upon the plateau of the glacier that descends towards the east, between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche, and from this place a route was readily traced. We steered to the north (as shown upon themap) over the glacier, towards the ridge that descends to the east; gained it by mounting snow-slopes, and followed it to the summit, which was arrived at before half-past twelve. From first to last the route was almost entirely over snow.The ridges leading to the north and to the south from the summit of the Grand Cornier, exhibited in a most striking manner the extraordinary effects that may be produced by violent alternations of heat and cold. The southern one was hacked and split into the wildest forms; and the northern one was not less cleft and impracticable, and offered the droll piece of rock-carving which is represented uponpage 211. Some small blocks actually[pg 210]tottered and fell before our eyes, and, starting others in their downward course, grew into a perfect avalanche, which descended with a solemn roar on to the glaciers beneath.Illustration: Part of the Southern ridge of the Grand CornierPART OF THE SOUTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.It is natural that the great ridges should present the wildest forms—not on account of their dimensions, but by reason of their positions. They are exposed to the fiercest heat of the sun, and are seldom in shadow as long as it is above the horizon. They are entirely unprotected, and are attacked by the strongest blasts and by the most intense cold. The most durable rocks are not proof against such assaults. These grand, apparently solid—eternal—mountains, seeming so firm, so immutable, are yet ever changing and crumbling into dust. These shattered ridges are evidence of their sufferings. Let me repeat that every principal ridge of every great peak in the Alps amongst those I have seen has been[pg 211]shattered in this way; and that every summit, amongst the rock-summits upon which I have stood, has been nothing but a piled-up heap of fragments.The minor ridges do not usually present such extraordinary forms as the principal ones. They are less exposed, and they are less broken up; and it is reasonable to assume that their annual degradation is less than that of the summit-ridges.The wear and tear does not cease even in winter, for these great ridges are never completely covered up by snow,160and the sun has still power. The destruction is incessant, and increases as time goes on; for the greater the surfaces which are exposed to the practically inexhaustible powers of sun and frost, the greater ruin will be effected.Illustration: Part of the Northern ridge of the Grand CornierPART OF THE NORTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.The rock-falls which are continually occurring upon all rock mountains (such as are referred to upon pp.29,55) are, of course,[pg 212]caused by these powers. No one doubts it; but one never believes it so thoroughly as when the quarries are seen from which their materials have been hewn; and when the germs, so to speak, of these avalanches have been seen actually starting from above.These falls of rock take place from two causes. First, from the heat of the sun detaching small stones or rocks which have been arrested on ledges or slopes and bound together by snow or ice. I have seen such released many times when the sun has risen high; fall gently at first, gather strength, grow in volume, and at last rush down with a cloud trailing behind, like the dust after an express train. Secondly, from the freezing of the water which trickles, during the day, into the clefts, fissures, and crannies. This agency is naturally most active in the night, and then, or during very cold weather, the greatest falls take place.161When one has continually seen and heard these falls, it is easily understood why the glaciers are laden with moraines. The wonder is, not that they are sometimes so great, but that they are not always greater. Irrespective of lithological considerations, one knows that this débris cannot have been excavatedbythe glaciers. The moraines areborneby glaciers, but they arebornfrom the ridges. They are generated by the sun, and delivered by the frost.“Fire,”it is well said in Plutarch’s life of Camillus,“is the most active thing in nature, and all generation is motion, or at least, with motion; all other parts of matter without warmth lie sluggish and dead, and crave the influence of heat as their life, and when that comes upon them, they immediately acquire some active or passive qualities.”162[pg 213]If the Alps were granted a perfectly invariable temperature, if they were no longer subjected, alternately, to freezing blasts and to scorching heat, they might more correctly be termed“eternal.”They might still continue to decay, but their abasement would be much less rapid.When rocks are covered up by a sheet of glacier they do enjoy an almost invariable temperature. The extremes of summer and winter are unknown to rocks which are so covered up,—a range of a very few degrees is the most that is possible underneath the ice.163There is,then, little or no disintegration from unequal expansion and contraction. Frost,then, does not penetrate into the heart of the rock, and cleave off vast masses. The rocks,then, sustain grinding instead of cleaving. Atoms,then, come away instead of masses. Fissures and overhanging surfaces are bridged, for the ice cannot get at them; and after many centuries of grinding have been sustained, we still find numberless angular surfaces (in thelee-sides) which were fashioned before the ice began to work.The points of difference which are so evident between the operations of heat, cold, and water, and those of glaciers upon rocks, are as follow. The former take advantage of cracks, fissures, joints, and soft places; the latter do not. The former can workunderneathoverhanging masses; the latter cannot. The effects produced by the former continuallyincrease, because they continually expose fresh surfaces by forming new cracks, fissures, and holes. The effects which the latter produce constantlydiminish, because the area of the surfaces operated upon becomes less and less, as they become smoother and flatter.What can one conclude, then, but that sun, frost, and water,[pg 214]have had infinitely more to do than glaciers with the fashioning of mountain-forms and valley-slopes? Who can refuse to believe that powers which are at work everywhere, which have been at work always, which are so incomparably active, capable, and enduring, must have produced greater effects than a solitary power which is always local in its influence, which has worked,comparatively, but for a short time, which is always slow and feeble in its operations, and which constantly diminishes in intensity?Yet there are some who refuse to believe that sun, frost, and water have played an important part in modelling the Alps, and hold it as an article of their faith that the Alpine region“owes its present conformation mainly to the action of its ancient glaciers”!164My reverie was interrupted by Croz observing that it was time to be off. Less than two hours sufficed to take us to the glacier plateau below (where we had left our baggage); three quarters of an hour more placed us upon the depression between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche (Col du Grand Cornier165), and at 6P.M.we arrived at Abricolla. Croz and Biener hankered after milk, and descended to a village lower down the valley; but Almer and I stayed where we were, and passed a chilly night on some planks in a half-burnt chalet.166

“A daring leader is a dangerous thing.”Euripides.

“A daring leader is a dangerous thing.”

Euripides.

On July 10, Croz and I went to Sierre, in the Valais,viâthe Col de Balme, the Col de la Forclaz, and Martigny. The Swiss side of the Forclaz is not creditable to Switzerland. The path from Martigny to the summit has undergone successive improvements in these latter years; but mendicants permanently disfigure it.

We passed many tired pedestrians toiling up this oven, persecuted by trains of parasitic children. These children swarm there like maggots in a rotten cheese. They carry baskets of fruit with which to plague the weary tourist. They flit around him like flies; they thrust the fruit in his face; they pester him with their pertinacity. Beware of them!—taste, touch not their fruit. In the eyes of these children, each peach, each grape, is worth a prince’s ransom. It is to no purpose to be angry; it is like flapping wasps—they only buzz the more. Whatever you do, or whatever you say, the end will be the same.“Give me something,”is the alpha and omega of all their addresses. They learn the phrase, it is said, before they are taught the alphabet. It is in all their mouths. From the tiny toddler up to the maiden of sixteen, there is nothing heard but one universal chorus of—“Give me something; will you have the goodness to give me something?”

From Sierre we went up the Val d’Anniviers to Zinal, to join our former companions, Moore and Almer. Moore was ambitious to discover a shorter way from Zinal to Zermatt than the two[pg 194]passes which were known.145He had shown to me, upon Dufour’s map, that a direct line, connecting the two places, passed exactly over the depression between the Zinal-Rothhorn and the Schallhorn. He was confident that a passage could be effected over this depression, and was sanguine that it would (in consequence of its directness) prove to be a quicker route than the circuitous ones over the Triftjoch and the Col Durand.

He was awaiting us, and we immediately proceeded up the valley, and across the foot of the Zinal glacier to the Arpitetta Alp, where a chalet was supposed to exist in which we might pass the night. We found it at length,146but it was not equal to our expectations. It was not one of those fine timbered chalets, with huge overhanging eaves, covered with pious sentences carved in unintelligible characters. It was a hovel, growing, as it were, out of the hill-side; roofed with rough slabs of slaty stone; without a door or window; surrounded by quagmires of ordure, and dirt of every description.

A foul native invited us to enter. The interior was dark; and, when our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we saw that our palace was in plan about 15 by 20 feet; on one side it was scarcely five feet high, and on the other was nearly seven. On this side there was a raised platform, about six feet wide, littered with dirty straw and still dirtier sheepskins. This was the bedroom. The remainder of the width of the apartment was the parlour. The rest was the factory. Cheese was the article which was being fabricated, and the foul native was engaged in its manufacture. He was garnished behind with a regular cowherd’s one-legged stool, which gave him a queer, uncanny look when it was elevated in the air as he bent over into his tub; for the making of his cheese required him to blow into a tub for ten minutes at a[pg 195]time. He then squatted on his stool to gain breath, and took a few whiffs at a short pipe; after which he blew away more vigorously than before. We were told that this procedure was necessary. It appeared to us to be nasty. It accounts, perhaps, for the flavour possessed by certain Swiss cheeses.

Big, black, and leaden-coloured clouds rolled up from Zinal, and met in combat on the Moming glacier with others which descended from the Rothhorn. Down came the rain in torrents, and crash went the thunder. The herd-boys hurried under shelter, for the frightened cattle needed no driving, and tore spontaneously down the Alp as if running a steeple-chase. Men, cows, pigs, sheep, and goats forgot their mutual animosities, and rushed to the only refuge on the mountain. The spell was broken which had bound the elements for some weeks past, and thecirquefrom the Weisshorn to Lo Besso was the theatre in which they spent their fury.

A sullen morning succeeded an angry night. We were undecided in our council whether to advance or to return down the valley. Good seemed likely to overpower bad; so, at 5.40, we left the chaleten routefor our pass [amidst the most encouraging assurances from all the people on the Alp that we need not distress ourselves about the weather, as it was not possible to get to the point at which we were aiming].147

Our course led us at first over ordinary mountain slopes, and then over a flat expanse of glacier. Before this was quitted, it was needful to determine the exact line which was to be taken. We were divided betwixt two opinions. I advocated that a course should be steered due south, and that the upper plateau of the Moming glacier should be attained by making a great detour to our right. This was negatived without a division. Almer declared in favour of making for some rocks to the south-west of the Schallhorn, and attaining the upper plateau of the glacier by mounting them. Croz advised a middle course, up some very[pg 196]steep and broken glacier. Croz’s route seemed likely to turn out to be impracticable, because much step-cutting would be required upon it. Almer’s rocks did not look good; they were, possibly, unassailable. I thought both routes were bad, and declined to vote for either of them. Moore hesitated, Almer gave way, and Croz’s route was adopted.

He did not go very far, however, before he found that he had undertaken too much, and after [glancing occasionally round at us, to see what we thought about it, suggested that it might, after all, be wiser to take to the rocks of the Schallhorn]. That is to say, he suggested the abandonment of his own and the adoption of Almer’s route. No one opposed the change of plan, and, in the absence of instructions to the contrary, he proceeded to cut steps across an ice-slope towards the rocks.

Let the reader now cast his eye upon themap of the Valley of Zermatt, and he will see that when we quitted the slopes of the Arpitetta Alp, we took a south-easterly course over the Moming glacier. We halted to settle the plan of attack shortly after we got upon the ice. The rocks of the Schallhorn, whose ascent Almer recommended, were then to our south-east. Croz’s proposed route was to the south-west of the rocks, and led up the southern side of a very steep and broken glacier.148The part he intended to traverse was, in a sense, undoubtedly practicable. He gave it up because it would have involved too much step-cutting. But the part of this glacier which intervened between his route and Almer’s rocks was, in the most complete sense of the word, impracticable. It passed over a continuation of the rocks, and was broken in half by them. The upper portion was separated from the lower portion by a long slope of ice that had been built up from the débris of the glacier which had fallen from above. The foot of this slope was surrounded by immense quantities of the larger avalanche blocks. These we cautiously skirted, and when Croz halted they had been left far below, and we were half-way up[pg 197]the side of the great slope which led to the base of the ice-wall above.

Across this ice-slope Croz now proceeded to cut. It was executing a flank movement in the face of an enemy by whom we might be attacked at any moment. The peril was obvious. It was a monstrous folly. It was foolhardiness. A retreat should have been sounded.149

“I am not ashamed to confess,”wrote Moore in his Journal,“that during the whole time we were crossing this slope my heart was in my mouth, and I never felt relieved from such a load of care as when, after, I suppose, a passage of about twenty minutes, we got on to the rocks and were in safety.... I have never heard a positive oath come from Almer’s mouth, but the language in which he kept up a running commentary, more to himself than to me, as we went along, was stronger than I should have given him credit for using. His prominent feeling seemed to be one ofindignationthat we should be in such a position, and self-reproach at being a party to the proceeding; while the emphatic way in which, at intervals, he exclaimed,‘Quick; be quick,’sufficiently betokened his alarm.”

It was not necessary to admonish Croz to be quick. He was fully as alive to the risk as any of the others. He told me afterwards, that this place was the most dangerous he had ever crossed, and that no consideration whatever would tempt him to cross it again. Manfully did he exert himself to escape from the impending destruction. His head, bent down to his work, never turned to the right or to the left. One, two, three, went his axe, and then he stepped on to the spot where he had been cutting. How painfully insecure should we have considered those steps at any other time! But now, we thought only of the rocks in front, and of the hideousséracs, lurching over above us, apparently in the act of falling.

We got to the rocks in safety, and if they had been doubly as difficult as they were, we should still have been well content. We sat down and refreshed the inner man; keeping our eyes on the towering pinnacles of ice under which we had passed; but which, now, were almost beneath us. Without a preliminary warning sound, one of the largest—as high as the Monument at London Bridge—fell upon the slope below. The stately mass heeled over as if upon a hinge (holding together until it bent 30 degrees forwards), then it crushed out its base, and, rent into a thousand fragments, plunged vertically down upon the slope that we had crossed! Every atom of our track, that was in its course, was obliterated; all the new snow was swept away, and a broad sheet of smooth, glassy ice, showed the resistless force with which it had fallen.

Illustration: Ice-avalanche on the Moming PassICE-AVALANCHE ON THE MOMING PASS.

ICE-AVALANCHE ON THE MOMING PASS.

It was inexcusable to follow such a perilous path, but it is easy[pg 199]to understand why it was taken. To have retreated from the place where Croz suggested a change of plan, to have descended below the reach of danger, and to have mounted again by the route which Almer suggested, would have been equivalent to abandoning the excursion; for no one would have passed another night in the chalet on the Arpitetta Alp.“Many,”says Thucydides,“though seeing well the perils ahead, are forced along by fear of dishonour—as the world calls it—so that, vanquished by a mere word, they fall into irremediable calamities.”Such was nearly the case here. No one could say a word in justification of the course which was adopted; all were alive to the danger that was being encountered; yet a grave risk was deliberately—although unwillingly—incurred, in preference to admitting, by withdrawal from an untenable position, that an error of judgment had been committed.

After a laborious trudge over many species of snow, and through many varieties of vapour—from the quality of a Scotch mist to that of a London fog—we at length stood on the depression between the Rothhorn and the Schallhorn.150A steep wall of snow was upon the Zinal side of the summit; but what the descent was like on the other side we could not tell, for a billow of snow tossed over its crest by the western winds, suspended o’er Zermatt with motion arrested, resembling an ocean-wave frozen in the act of breaking, cut off the view.151

Croz—held hard in by the others, who kept down the Zinal side—opened his shoulders, flogged down the foam, and cut away[pg 200]the cornice to its junction with the summit; then boldly leaped down, and called on us to follow him.

Illustration: Summit of the Moming Pass in 1864SUMMIT OF THE MOMING PASS IN 1864.

SUMMIT OF THE MOMING PASS IN 1864.

It was well for us now that we had such a man as leader. An inferior or less daring guide would have hesitated to enter upon the[pg 201]descent in a dense mist; and Croz himself would have done right to pause had he been less magnificent inphysique. He acted, rather than said,“Where snow lies fast, there man can go; where ice exists, a way may be cut; it is a question of power; I have the power,—all you have to do is to follow me.”Truly, he did not spare himself, and could he have performed the feats upon the boards of a theatre that he did upon this occasion, he would have brought down the house with thunders of applause. Here is what Moore wrote inhisJournal.

[The descent bore a strong resemblance to the Col de Pilatte, but was very much steeper and altogether more difficult, which is saying a good deal. Croz was in his element, and selected his way with marvellous sagacity, while Almer had an equally honourable and, perhaps, more responsible post in the rear, which he kept with his usual steadiness.... One particular passage has impressed itself on my mind as one of the most nervous I have ever made. We had to pass along a crest of ice, a mere knife-edge,—on our left a broad crevasse, whose bottom was lost in blue haze, and on our right, at an angle of 70°, or more, a slope falling to a similar gulf below. Croz, as he went along the edge, chipped small notches in the ice, in which we placed our feet, with the toes well turned out, doing all we knew to preserve our balance. While stepping from one of these precarious footholds to another, I staggered for a moment. I had not really lost my footing; but the agonised tone in which Almer, who was behind me, on seeing me waver, exclaimed,“Slip not, sir!”gave us an even livelier impression than we already had of the insecurity of the position.... One huge chasm, whose upper edge was far above the lower one, could neither be leaped nor turned, and threatened to prove an insuperable barrier. But Croz showed himself equal to the emergency. Held up by the rest of the party, he cut a series of holes for the hands and feet, down and along the almost perpendicular wall of ice forming the upper side of theschrund. Down this slippery staircase we crept, with our faces to the wall, until a[pg 202]point was reached where the width of the chasm was not too great for us to drop across. Before we had done, we got quite accustomed to taking flying leaps over theschrunds.... To make a long story short; after a most desperate and exciting struggle, and as bad a piece of ice-work as it is possible to imagine, we emerged on to the upper plateau of the Hohlicht glacier.]

The glimpses which had been caught of the lower part of the Hohlicht glacier were discouraging, so it was now determined to cross over the ridge between it and the Rothhorn glacier. This was not done without great trouble. Again we rose to a height exceeding 12,000 feet. Eventually we took to the track of the despised Triftjoch, and descended by the well-known, but rough, path which leads to that pass; arriving at the Monte Rosa hotel at Zermatt at 7.20P.M.We occupied nearly twelve hours of actual walking in coming from the chalet on the Arpitetta Alp (which was 2½ hours above Zinal), and we consequently found that the Moming pass was not the shortest route from Zinal to Zermatt, although it was the most direct.

Two dozen guides—good, bad, and indifferent; French, Swiss, and Italian—can commonly be seen sitting on the wall on the front of the Monte Rosa hotel: waiting on their employers, and looking for employers; watching new arrivals, and speculating on the number of francs which may be extracted from their pockets. TheMessieurs—sometimes strangely and wonderfully dressed—stand about in groups, or lean back in chairs, or lounge on the benches which are placed by the door. They wear extraordinary boots, and still more remarkable head-dresses. Their peeled, blistered, and swollen faces are worth studying. Some, by the exercise of watchfulness and unremitting care, have been fortunate enough to acquire a fine raw sienna complexion. But most of them have not been so happy. They have been scorched on rocks, and roasted on glaciers. Their cheeks—first puffed, then cracked—have exuded a turpentine-like matter, which has coursed down their faces, and[pg 203]has dried in patches like the resin on the trunks of pines. They have removed it, and at the same time have pulled off large flakes of their skin. They have gone from bad to worse—their case has become hopeless—knives and scissors have been called into play; tenderly, and daintily, they have endeavoured to reduce their cheeks to one, uniform hue. It is not to be done. But they have gone on, fascinated, and at last have brought their unhappy countenances to a state of helpless and complete ruin. Their lips are cracked; their cheeks are swollen; their eyes are blood-shot; their noses are peeled and indescribable.

Illustration: The club-room of Zermatt, in 1864THE CLUB-ROOM OF ZERMATT, IN 1864.

THE CLUB-ROOM OF ZERMATT, IN 1864.

Such are the pleasures of the mountaineer! Scornfully and derisively the last comer compares the sight with his own flaccid face and dainty hands; unconscious that he too, perhaps, will be numbered with those whom he now ridicules.

There is a frankness of manner about these strangely-apparelled and queer-faced men, which does not remind one of drawing-room, or city life; and it is good to see—in this club-room of Zermatt—those cold bodies, our too-frigid countrymen,regaletogether when brought into contact; and it is pleasant to witness the hearty welcome given to the new-comers by the host and his excellent wife.152

I left this agreeable society to seek letters at the post. They yielded disastrous intelligence. My holiday was brought to an abrupt termination, and I awaited the arrival of Reilly (who was convoying the stores for the attack on the Matterhorn) only to inform him that our arrangements were upset; then travelled home, day and night, as fast as express trains would carry me.

[pg 204]CHAPTER XII.THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE GRAND CORNIER.“Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again!. . . Methinks I hearA spirit in your echoes answers me,And bid your tenant welcome to his homeAgain!”S. Knowles.Our career in 1864 had been one of unbroken success, but the great ascent upon which I had set my heart was not attempted, and, until it was accomplished, I was unsatisfied. Other things, too, influenced me to visit the Alps once more. I wished to travel elsewhere, in places where the responsibility of direction would rest with myself alone. It was well to know how far my judgment in the choice of routes could be relied upon.The journey of 1865 was chiefly undertaken, then, to find out to what extent I was capable to select paths over mountainous country. The programme which was drawn up for this journey was rather ambitious, since it included almost all of the great peaks which had not then been ascended; but it was neither lightly undertaken nor hastily executed. All pains were taken to secure success. Information was sought from those who could give it, and the defeats of others were studied, that their errors might be avoided. The results which followed came not so much, perhaps, from luck, as from forethought and careful calculation.For success does not, as a rule, come by chance, and when one fails there is a reason for it. But when any notable, or so-called brilliant thing is done, we are too apt to look upon the success[pg 205]alone, without considering how it was accomplished. Whilst, when men fail, we inquire why they have not succeeded. So failures are oftentimes more instructive than successes, and the disappointments of some become profitable to others.Up to a certain point, the programme was completely and happily carried out. Nothing but success attended our efforts so long as the excursions were executed as they had been planned. Most of them were made upon the very days which had been fixed for them months beforehand; and all were accomplished, comparatively speaking, so easily, that their descriptions must be, in the absence of difficulty and danger, less interesting to the general reader than they would have been if our course had been marked by blunders and want of judgment. Before proceeding to speak of these excursions, it will not be entirely useless to explain the reasons which influenced the selection of the routes which were adopted upon them.In the course of the past five seasons my early practices were revolutionised. My antipathy to snow was overcome, and my predilection for rocks was modified. Like all those who are not mountaineers born, I was, at the first, extremely nervous upon steep snow. The snow seemed bound to slip, and all those who were upon it to go along with it. Snow of a certain quality is undoubtedly liable to slip when it is at a certain inclination.153The exact states which are dangerous, or safe, it is not possible to describe in writing. That is only learnt by experience, and confidence upon snow is not really felt until one has gained experience. Confidence gradually came to me, and as it came so did my partiality for rocks diminish. For it was evident, to use a common expression, that it paid better to travel upon snow than upon rocks. This applies to snow-beds pure and simple, or to snow which is lying over glacier; and in the selection of routes it has, latterly, always been my practice to look for the places where snow slopes, or snow-covered glaciers, reach highest into mountains.154[pg 206]It is comparatively seldom, however, that an ascent of a great mountain can be executed exclusively upon snow and glacier. Ridges peep through which have to be surmounted. In my earlier scramblings I usually took to, or was taken upon, the summits (or arêtes) of the ridges, and a good many mountaineers habitually take to them on principle, as the natural and proper way. According to my experience, it is seldom well to do so when any other course is open. As I have already said, and presently shall repeat more particularly, the crests of all the main ridges of the great peaks of the Alps are shattered and cleft by frost; and it not unfrequently happens that a notch in a ridge, which appears perfectly insignificant from a distance, is found to be an insuperable barrier to farther progress; and a great detour, or a long descent, has to be made to avoid the obstacle. When committed to an arête one is tied, almost always, to a particular course, from which it is difficult to deviate. Much loss of time must result if any serious obstruction occurs; and defeat often follows a temporary check.But it rarely happens that a great alpine peak is seen that is cut off abruptly, in all directions, from the snows and glaciers which surround it. In its gullies snow will cling, although its faces may be too steep for the formation of permanent snow-beds. The merits of these snow-gullies (orcouloirs) have been already pointed out,155and it is hardly necessary to observe, after that which was just now said about snow, that ascents of snow-gullies (with proper precautions) are very much to be preferred to ascents of rocky arêtes.By following the glaciers, the snow-slopes above, and the couloirs rising from them, it is usually possible to get very close to the summits of the great peaks in the Alps. The final climb will, perhaps, necessarily be by an arête. The less of it the better.It occasionally occurs that considerable mountain slopes, or faces, are destitute of snow-gullies. In that case it will, very likely, be best to adhere to the faces (or to the gullies or minor ridges upon them) rather than to take to thegreatridges. Upon a[pg 207]face one can move to the right or to the left with more facility than upon the crest of a ridge; and when a difficulty is arrived at, it is, consequently, less troublesome to circumvent.In selecting the routes which were taken in 1865, I looked, first, for places where glaciers and snow extended highest up into the mountains which were to be ascended, or the ridges which were to be crossed. Next, for gullies filled with snow leading still higher; and finally, from the heads of the gullies we completed the ascents, whenever it was practicable, by faces instead of by arêtes. The ascent of the Grand Cornier (13,022), of the Dent Blanche (14,318), Grandes Jorasses (13,700), Aiguille Verte (13,540), Ruinette (12,727), and the Matterhorn (14,780), were all accomplished in this way; besides the other excursions which will be referred to by and by. The route selected, before the start was made, was in every case strictly followed out.We inspected all of these mountains from neighbouring heights before entering upon their ascents. I explained to the guides the routes I proposed to be taken, and (when the courses were at all complicated) sketched them out on paper to prevent misunderstanding. In some few cases they suggested variations, and in every case the route was well discussed. Theexecutionof the work was done by the guides, and I seldom interfered with, or attempted to assist in it.The 13th of June 1865 I spent in the valley of Lauterbrunnen with the Rev. W. H. Hawker and the guides Christian and Ulrich Lauener; and on the 14th crossed the Petersgrat with Christian Almer and Johann Tännler to Turtman (Tourtemagne) in the Valais. Tännler was then paid off, as Michel Croz and Franz Biener were awaiting me.It was not possible to find two leading guides who worked together more harmoniously than Croz and Almer. Biener’s part was subordinate to theirs, and he was added as a convenience rather than as a necessity. Croz spoke French alone, Almer little else than German. Biener spoke both languages, and was useful on[pg 208]that account; but he seldom went to the front, excepting during the early part of the day, when the work was easy, and he acted throughout more as a porter than as a guide.The importance of having a reserve of power on mountain expeditions cannot be too strongly insisted upon. We always had some in hand, and were never pressed, or overworked, so long as we were together. Come what might, we were ready for it. But by a series of chances, which I shall never cease to regret, I was first obliged to part with Croz, and then to dismiss the others;156and so, deviating from the course that I had deliberately adopted, which was successful in practice because it was sound in principle, became fortuitously a member of an expedition that ended with the catastrophe which brings this book, and brought my scrambles amongst the Alps, to a close.157[pg 209]On June 15 we went, from Turtman to Z’meiden, and thence over the Forcletta pass to Zinal. We diverged from the summit of the pass up some neighbouring heights to inspect the Grand Cornier, and I decided to have nothing to do with its northern side. It seemed quite safe to pronounce it inaccessible from that direction, although it was more than seven miles away.On the 16th we left Zinal at 2.5A.M., having been for a moment greatly surprised by an entry in the hotel-book,158and ascending by the Zinal glacier, and giving the base of our mountain a wide berth in order that it might be better examined, passed gradually right round to its south, before a way up it was seen.159At 8.30 we arrived upon the plateau of the glacier that descends towards the east, between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche, and from this place a route was readily traced. We steered to the north (as shown upon themap) over the glacier, towards the ridge that descends to the east; gained it by mounting snow-slopes, and followed it to the summit, which was arrived at before half-past twelve. From first to last the route was almost entirely over snow.The ridges leading to the north and to the south from the summit of the Grand Cornier, exhibited in a most striking manner the extraordinary effects that may be produced by violent alternations of heat and cold. The southern one was hacked and split into the wildest forms; and the northern one was not less cleft and impracticable, and offered the droll piece of rock-carving which is represented uponpage 211. Some small blocks actually[pg 210]tottered and fell before our eyes, and, starting others in their downward course, grew into a perfect avalanche, which descended with a solemn roar on to the glaciers beneath.Illustration: Part of the Southern ridge of the Grand CornierPART OF THE SOUTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.It is natural that the great ridges should present the wildest forms—not on account of their dimensions, but by reason of their positions. They are exposed to the fiercest heat of the sun, and are seldom in shadow as long as it is above the horizon. They are entirely unprotected, and are attacked by the strongest blasts and by the most intense cold. The most durable rocks are not proof against such assaults. These grand, apparently solid—eternal—mountains, seeming so firm, so immutable, are yet ever changing and crumbling into dust. These shattered ridges are evidence of their sufferings. Let me repeat that every principal ridge of every great peak in the Alps amongst those I have seen has been[pg 211]shattered in this way; and that every summit, amongst the rock-summits upon which I have stood, has been nothing but a piled-up heap of fragments.The minor ridges do not usually present such extraordinary forms as the principal ones. They are less exposed, and they are less broken up; and it is reasonable to assume that their annual degradation is less than that of the summit-ridges.The wear and tear does not cease even in winter, for these great ridges are never completely covered up by snow,160and the sun has still power. The destruction is incessant, and increases as time goes on; for the greater the surfaces which are exposed to the practically inexhaustible powers of sun and frost, the greater ruin will be effected.Illustration: Part of the Northern ridge of the Grand CornierPART OF THE NORTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.The rock-falls which are continually occurring upon all rock mountains (such as are referred to upon pp.29,55) are, of course,[pg 212]caused by these powers. No one doubts it; but one never believes it so thoroughly as when the quarries are seen from which their materials have been hewn; and when the germs, so to speak, of these avalanches have been seen actually starting from above.These falls of rock take place from two causes. First, from the heat of the sun detaching small stones or rocks which have been arrested on ledges or slopes and bound together by snow or ice. I have seen such released many times when the sun has risen high; fall gently at first, gather strength, grow in volume, and at last rush down with a cloud trailing behind, like the dust after an express train. Secondly, from the freezing of the water which trickles, during the day, into the clefts, fissures, and crannies. This agency is naturally most active in the night, and then, or during very cold weather, the greatest falls take place.161When one has continually seen and heard these falls, it is easily understood why the glaciers are laden with moraines. The wonder is, not that they are sometimes so great, but that they are not always greater. Irrespective of lithological considerations, one knows that this débris cannot have been excavatedbythe glaciers. The moraines areborneby glaciers, but they arebornfrom the ridges. They are generated by the sun, and delivered by the frost.“Fire,”it is well said in Plutarch’s life of Camillus,“is the most active thing in nature, and all generation is motion, or at least, with motion; all other parts of matter without warmth lie sluggish and dead, and crave the influence of heat as their life, and when that comes upon them, they immediately acquire some active or passive qualities.”162[pg 213]If the Alps were granted a perfectly invariable temperature, if they were no longer subjected, alternately, to freezing blasts and to scorching heat, they might more correctly be termed“eternal.”They might still continue to decay, but their abasement would be much less rapid.When rocks are covered up by a sheet of glacier they do enjoy an almost invariable temperature. The extremes of summer and winter are unknown to rocks which are so covered up,—a range of a very few degrees is the most that is possible underneath the ice.163There is,then, little or no disintegration from unequal expansion and contraction. Frost,then, does not penetrate into the heart of the rock, and cleave off vast masses. The rocks,then, sustain grinding instead of cleaving. Atoms,then, come away instead of masses. Fissures and overhanging surfaces are bridged, for the ice cannot get at them; and after many centuries of grinding have been sustained, we still find numberless angular surfaces (in thelee-sides) which were fashioned before the ice began to work.The points of difference which are so evident between the operations of heat, cold, and water, and those of glaciers upon rocks, are as follow. The former take advantage of cracks, fissures, joints, and soft places; the latter do not. The former can workunderneathoverhanging masses; the latter cannot. The effects produced by the former continuallyincrease, because they continually expose fresh surfaces by forming new cracks, fissures, and holes. The effects which the latter produce constantlydiminish, because the area of the surfaces operated upon becomes less and less, as they become smoother and flatter.What can one conclude, then, but that sun, frost, and water,[pg 214]have had infinitely more to do than glaciers with the fashioning of mountain-forms and valley-slopes? Who can refuse to believe that powers which are at work everywhere, which have been at work always, which are so incomparably active, capable, and enduring, must have produced greater effects than a solitary power which is always local in its influence, which has worked,comparatively, but for a short time, which is always slow and feeble in its operations, and which constantly diminishes in intensity?Yet there are some who refuse to believe that sun, frost, and water have played an important part in modelling the Alps, and hold it as an article of their faith that the Alpine region“owes its present conformation mainly to the action of its ancient glaciers”!164My reverie was interrupted by Croz observing that it was time to be off. Less than two hours sufficed to take us to the glacier plateau below (where we had left our baggage); three quarters of an hour more placed us upon the depression between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche (Col du Grand Cornier165), and at 6P.M.we arrived at Abricolla. Croz and Biener hankered after milk, and descended to a village lower down the valley; but Almer and I stayed where we were, and passed a chilly night on some planks in a half-burnt chalet.166

“Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again!. . . Methinks I hearA spirit in your echoes answers me,And bid your tenant welcome to his homeAgain!”S. Knowles.

“Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again!

. . . Methinks I hear

A spirit in your echoes answers me,

And bid your tenant welcome to his home

Again!”

S. Knowles.

Our career in 1864 had been one of unbroken success, but the great ascent upon which I had set my heart was not attempted, and, until it was accomplished, I was unsatisfied. Other things, too, influenced me to visit the Alps once more. I wished to travel elsewhere, in places where the responsibility of direction would rest with myself alone. It was well to know how far my judgment in the choice of routes could be relied upon.

The journey of 1865 was chiefly undertaken, then, to find out to what extent I was capable to select paths over mountainous country. The programme which was drawn up for this journey was rather ambitious, since it included almost all of the great peaks which had not then been ascended; but it was neither lightly undertaken nor hastily executed. All pains were taken to secure success. Information was sought from those who could give it, and the defeats of others were studied, that their errors might be avoided. The results which followed came not so much, perhaps, from luck, as from forethought and careful calculation.

For success does not, as a rule, come by chance, and when one fails there is a reason for it. But when any notable, or so-called brilliant thing is done, we are too apt to look upon the success[pg 205]alone, without considering how it was accomplished. Whilst, when men fail, we inquire why they have not succeeded. So failures are oftentimes more instructive than successes, and the disappointments of some become profitable to others.

Up to a certain point, the programme was completely and happily carried out. Nothing but success attended our efforts so long as the excursions were executed as they had been planned. Most of them were made upon the very days which had been fixed for them months beforehand; and all were accomplished, comparatively speaking, so easily, that their descriptions must be, in the absence of difficulty and danger, less interesting to the general reader than they would have been if our course had been marked by blunders and want of judgment. Before proceeding to speak of these excursions, it will not be entirely useless to explain the reasons which influenced the selection of the routes which were adopted upon them.

In the course of the past five seasons my early practices were revolutionised. My antipathy to snow was overcome, and my predilection for rocks was modified. Like all those who are not mountaineers born, I was, at the first, extremely nervous upon steep snow. The snow seemed bound to slip, and all those who were upon it to go along with it. Snow of a certain quality is undoubtedly liable to slip when it is at a certain inclination.153The exact states which are dangerous, or safe, it is not possible to describe in writing. That is only learnt by experience, and confidence upon snow is not really felt until one has gained experience. Confidence gradually came to me, and as it came so did my partiality for rocks diminish. For it was evident, to use a common expression, that it paid better to travel upon snow than upon rocks. This applies to snow-beds pure and simple, or to snow which is lying over glacier; and in the selection of routes it has, latterly, always been my practice to look for the places where snow slopes, or snow-covered glaciers, reach highest into mountains.154

It is comparatively seldom, however, that an ascent of a great mountain can be executed exclusively upon snow and glacier. Ridges peep through which have to be surmounted. In my earlier scramblings I usually took to, or was taken upon, the summits (or arêtes) of the ridges, and a good many mountaineers habitually take to them on principle, as the natural and proper way. According to my experience, it is seldom well to do so when any other course is open. As I have already said, and presently shall repeat more particularly, the crests of all the main ridges of the great peaks of the Alps are shattered and cleft by frost; and it not unfrequently happens that a notch in a ridge, which appears perfectly insignificant from a distance, is found to be an insuperable barrier to farther progress; and a great detour, or a long descent, has to be made to avoid the obstacle. When committed to an arête one is tied, almost always, to a particular course, from which it is difficult to deviate. Much loss of time must result if any serious obstruction occurs; and defeat often follows a temporary check.

But it rarely happens that a great alpine peak is seen that is cut off abruptly, in all directions, from the snows and glaciers which surround it. In its gullies snow will cling, although its faces may be too steep for the formation of permanent snow-beds. The merits of these snow-gullies (orcouloirs) have been already pointed out,155and it is hardly necessary to observe, after that which was just now said about snow, that ascents of snow-gullies (with proper precautions) are very much to be preferred to ascents of rocky arêtes.

By following the glaciers, the snow-slopes above, and the couloirs rising from them, it is usually possible to get very close to the summits of the great peaks in the Alps. The final climb will, perhaps, necessarily be by an arête. The less of it the better.

It occasionally occurs that considerable mountain slopes, or faces, are destitute of snow-gullies. In that case it will, very likely, be best to adhere to the faces (or to the gullies or minor ridges upon them) rather than to take to thegreatridges. Upon a[pg 207]face one can move to the right or to the left with more facility than upon the crest of a ridge; and when a difficulty is arrived at, it is, consequently, less troublesome to circumvent.

In selecting the routes which were taken in 1865, I looked, first, for places where glaciers and snow extended highest up into the mountains which were to be ascended, or the ridges which were to be crossed. Next, for gullies filled with snow leading still higher; and finally, from the heads of the gullies we completed the ascents, whenever it was practicable, by faces instead of by arêtes. The ascent of the Grand Cornier (13,022), of the Dent Blanche (14,318), Grandes Jorasses (13,700), Aiguille Verte (13,540), Ruinette (12,727), and the Matterhorn (14,780), were all accomplished in this way; besides the other excursions which will be referred to by and by. The route selected, before the start was made, was in every case strictly followed out.

We inspected all of these mountains from neighbouring heights before entering upon their ascents. I explained to the guides the routes I proposed to be taken, and (when the courses were at all complicated) sketched them out on paper to prevent misunderstanding. In some few cases they suggested variations, and in every case the route was well discussed. Theexecutionof the work was done by the guides, and I seldom interfered with, or attempted to assist in it.

The 13th of June 1865 I spent in the valley of Lauterbrunnen with the Rev. W. H. Hawker and the guides Christian and Ulrich Lauener; and on the 14th crossed the Petersgrat with Christian Almer and Johann Tännler to Turtman (Tourtemagne) in the Valais. Tännler was then paid off, as Michel Croz and Franz Biener were awaiting me.

It was not possible to find two leading guides who worked together more harmoniously than Croz and Almer. Biener’s part was subordinate to theirs, and he was added as a convenience rather than as a necessity. Croz spoke French alone, Almer little else than German. Biener spoke both languages, and was useful on[pg 208]that account; but he seldom went to the front, excepting during the early part of the day, when the work was easy, and he acted throughout more as a porter than as a guide.

The importance of having a reserve of power on mountain expeditions cannot be too strongly insisted upon. We always had some in hand, and were never pressed, or overworked, so long as we were together. Come what might, we were ready for it. But by a series of chances, which I shall never cease to regret, I was first obliged to part with Croz, and then to dismiss the others;156and so, deviating from the course that I had deliberately adopted, which was successful in practice because it was sound in principle, became fortuitously a member of an expedition that ended with the catastrophe which brings this book, and brought my scrambles amongst the Alps, to a close.157

On June 15 we went, from Turtman to Z’meiden, and thence over the Forcletta pass to Zinal. We diverged from the summit of the pass up some neighbouring heights to inspect the Grand Cornier, and I decided to have nothing to do with its northern side. It seemed quite safe to pronounce it inaccessible from that direction, although it was more than seven miles away.

On the 16th we left Zinal at 2.5A.M., having been for a moment greatly surprised by an entry in the hotel-book,158and ascending by the Zinal glacier, and giving the base of our mountain a wide berth in order that it might be better examined, passed gradually right round to its south, before a way up it was seen.159At 8.30 we arrived upon the plateau of the glacier that descends towards the east, between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche, and from this place a route was readily traced. We steered to the north (as shown upon themap) over the glacier, towards the ridge that descends to the east; gained it by mounting snow-slopes, and followed it to the summit, which was arrived at before half-past twelve. From first to last the route was almost entirely over snow.

The ridges leading to the north and to the south from the summit of the Grand Cornier, exhibited in a most striking manner the extraordinary effects that may be produced by violent alternations of heat and cold. The southern one was hacked and split into the wildest forms; and the northern one was not less cleft and impracticable, and offered the droll piece of rock-carving which is represented uponpage 211. Some small blocks actually[pg 210]tottered and fell before our eyes, and, starting others in their downward course, grew into a perfect avalanche, which descended with a solemn roar on to the glaciers beneath.

Illustration: Part of the Southern ridge of the Grand CornierPART OF THE SOUTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.

PART OF THE SOUTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.

It is natural that the great ridges should present the wildest forms—not on account of their dimensions, but by reason of their positions. They are exposed to the fiercest heat of the sun, and are seldom in shadow as long as it is above the horizon. They are entirely unprotected, and are attacked by the strongest blasts and by the most intense cold. The most durable rocks are not proof against such assaults. These grand, apparently solid—eternal—mountains, seeming so firm, so immutable, are yet ever changing and crumbling into dust. These shattered ridges are evidence of their sufferings. Let me repeat that every principal ridge of every great peak in the Alps amongst those I have seen has been[pg 211]shattered in this way; and that every summit, amongst the rock-summits upon which I have stood, has been nothing but a piled-up heap of fragments.

The minor ridges do not usually present such extraordinary forms as the principal ones. They are less exposed, and they are less broken up; and it is reasonable to assume that their annual degradation is less than that of the summit-ridges.

The wear and tear does not cease even in winter, for these great ridges are never completely covered up by snow,160and the sun has still power. The destruction is incessant, and increases as time goes on; for the greater the surfaces which are exposed to the practically inexhaustible powers of sun and frost, the greater ruin will be effected.

Illustration: Part of the Northern ridge of the Grand CornierPART OF THE NORTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.

PART OF THE NORTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER.

The rock-falls which are continually occurring upon all rock mountains (such as are referred to upon pp.29,55) are, of course,[pg 212]caused by these powers. No one doubts it; but one never believes it so thoroughly as when the quarries are seen from which their materials have been hewn; and when the germs, so to speak, of these avalanches have been seen actually starting from above.

These falls of rock take place from two causes. First, from the heat of the sun detaching small stones or rocks which have been arrested on ledges or slopes and bound together by snow or ice. I have seen such released many times when the sun has risen high; fall gently at first, gather strength, grow in volume, and at last rush down with a cloud trailing behind, like the dust after an express train. Secondly, from the freezing of the water which trickles, during the day, into the clefts, fissures, and crannies. This agency is naturally most active in the night, and then, or during very cold weather, the greatest falls take place.161

When one has continually seen and heard these falls, it is easily understood why the glaciers are laden with moraines. The wonder is, not that they are sometimes so great, but that they are not always greater. Irrespective of lithological considerations, one knows that this débris cannot have been excavatedbythe glaciers. The moraines areborneby glaciers, but they arebornfrom the ridges. They are generated by the sun, and delivered by the frost.“Fire,”it is well said in Plutarch’s life of Camillus,“is the most active thing in nature, and all generation is motion, or at least, with motion; all other parts of matter without warmth lie sluggish and dead, and crave the influence of heat as their life, and when that comes upon them, they immediately acquire some active or passive qualities.”162

If the Alps were granted a perfectly invariable temperature, if they were no longer subjected, alternately, to freezing blasts and to scorching heat, they might more correctly be termed“eternal.”They might still continue to decay, but their abasement would be much less rapid.

When rocks are covered up by a sheet of glacier they do enjoy an almost invariable temperature. The extremes of summer and winter are unknown to rocks which are so covered up,—a range of a very few degrees is the most that is possible underneath the ice.163There is,then, little or no disintegration from unequal expansion and contraction. Frost,then, does not penetrate into the heart of the rock, and cleave off vast masses. The rocks,then, sustain grinding instead of cleaving. Atoms,then, come away instead of masses. Fissures and overhanging surfaces are bridged, for the ice cannot get at them; and after many centuries of grinding have been sustained, we still find numberless angular surfaces (in thelee-sides) which were fashioned before the ice began to work.

The points of difference which are so evident between the operations of heat, cold, and water, and those of glaciers upon rocks, are as follow. The former take advantage of cracks, fissures, joints, and soft places; the latter do not. The former can workunderneathoverhanging masses; the latter cannot. The effects produced by the former continuallyincrease, because they continually expose fresh surfaces by forming new cracks, fissures, and holes. The effects which the latter produce constantlydiminish, because the area of the surfaces operated upon becomes less and less, as they become smoother and flatter.

What can one conclude, then, but that sun, frost, and water,[pg 214]have had infinitely more to do than glaciers with the fashioning of mountain-forms and valley-slopes? Who can refuse to believe that powers which are at work everywhere, which have been at work always, which are so incomparably active, capable, and enduring, must have produced greater effects than a solitary power which is always local in its influence, which has worked,comparatively, but for a short time, which is always slow and feeble in its operations, and which constantly diminishes in intensity?

Yet there are some who refuse to believe that sun, frost, and water have played an important part in modelling the Alps, and hold it as an article of their faith that the Alpine region“owes its present conformation mainly to the action of its ancient glaciers”!164

My reverie was interrupted by Croz observing that it was time to be off. Less than two hours sufficed to take us to the glacier plateau below (where we had left our baggage); three quarters of an hour more placed us upon the depression between the Grand Cornier and the Dent Blanche (Col du Grand Cornier165), and at 6P.M.we arrived at Abricolla. Croz and Biener hankered after milk, and descended to a village lower down the valley; but Almer and I stayed where we were, and passed a chilly night on some planks in a half-burnt chalet.166

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