The next morning, after walking up the valley to examine the Viso, I returned to Abries, and engaged a man from a neighbouring hamlet, an inveterate smoker, and thirsty in proportion, whose pipe never left his mouth except to allow him to drink. We returned up the valley together, and slept in a hut of a shepherd, whose yearly wage was almost as small as that of the herdsman spoken of in Hyperion by Longfellow; and the next morning, in his company, proceeded to the summit of the pa.s.s which I had crossed in 1860. We were baffled in our attempt to get closer to the mountain. A deep notch(29) with precipitous cliffs cut us off from it. The snow-slope, too, which existed in the preceding year on the Piedmontese side of the pa.s.s, was now wanting, and we were unable to descend the rocks which lay beneath. A fortnight afterwards the mountain was ascended for the first time by Messrs. Mathews and Jacomb, with the two Croz's of Chamounix. Their attempt was made from the _southern_ side, and the ascent, which was formerly considered a thing totally impossible, has become one of the most common and favourite excursions of the district.

The night of the 14th of August found me at St. Veran, a village made famous by Neff, but in no other respect remarkable, saving that it is one of the highest in Europe. The poor inn gave the impression of great poverty. There was no meat, no bread, no b.u.t.ter or cheese; almost the only things that could be obtained were eggs. The manners of the natives were primitive. The woman of the inn, without the least sense of impropriety, stayed in the room until I was fairly in bed, and her bill for supper, bed, and breakfast, amounted to one and sevenpence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NATURAL PILLAR NEAR MOLINES.]

In this neighbourhood, and indeed all round about the Viso, the chamois still remain in considerable numbers. They said at St. Veran that six had been seen from the village on the day I was there, and the innkeeper declared that he had seen fifty together in the previous week! I myself saw in this and in the previous season several small companies round about the Viso. It is perhaps as favourable a district as any in the Alps for a sportsman who wishes to hunt the chamois, as the ground over which they wander is by no means of excessive difficulty.

The next day I descended the valley to Ville Vieille, and pa.s.sed near the village of Molines, but on the opposite side of the valley, a remarkable natural pillar, in form not unlike a champagne bottle, about sixty feet high, which had been produced by the action of the weather, and, in all probability, chiefly by rain. These natural pillars are among the most remarkable examples of the potent effects produced by the long-continued action of quiet-working forces. They are found in several other places in the Alps, as well as elsewhere.

The village of Ville Vieille boasts of an inn with the sign of the Elephant; which, in the opinion of local amateurs, is a proof that Hannibal pa.s.sed through the gorge of the Guil. I remember the place, because its bread, being only a month old, was unusually soft, and, for the first time during ten days, it was possible to eat some, without first of all chopping it into small pieces and soaking it in hot water, which produced a slimy paste on the outside, but left a hard untouched kernel.

The same day I crossed the Col Isoard to Briancon. It was the 15th of August, and all the world was _en fete_; sounds of revelry proceeded from the houses of Servieres as I pa.s.sed over the bridge upon which the pyrrhic dance is annually performed,(30) and natives in all degrees of inebriation staggered about the paths. It was late before the lights of the great fortress came into sight; but unchallenged I pa.s.sed through the gates, and once more sought shelter under the roof of the Hotel de l'Ours.

CHAPTER III.

MY FIRST SCRAMBLE ON THE MATTERHORN.

"What power must have been required to shatter and to sweep away the missing parts of this pyramid; for we do not see it surrounded by heaps of fragments; one only sees other peaks-themselves rooted to the ground-whose sides, equally rent, indicate an immense ma.s.s of debris, of which we do not see any trace in the neighbourhood. Doubtless this is that debris which, in the form of pebbles, boulders, and sand, covers our valleys and our plains."

DE SAUSSURE.

Two summits amongst those in the Alps which yet remained virgin had especially excited my admiration. One of these had been attacked numberless times by the best mountaineers without success; the other, surrounded by traditional inaccessibility, was almost untouched. These mountains were the Weisshorn and the Matterhorn.

After visiting the great tunnel of the Alps in 1861, I wandered for ten days in the neighbouring valleys, intending, presently, to attempt the ascent of these two peaks. Rumours were floating about that the former had been conquered, and that the latter was shortly to be attacked, and they were confirmed on arrival at Chatillon, at the entrance of the Val Tournanche. My interest in the Weisshorn consequently abated, but it was raised to the highest pitch on hearing that Professor Tyndall was at Breil, and intending to try to crown his first victory by another and still greater one.

Up to this time my experience with guides had not been fortunate, and I was inclined, improperly, to rate them at a low value. They represented to me pointers out of paths, and large consumers of meat and drink, but little more; and, with the recollection of Mont Pelvoux, I should have greatly preferred the company of a couple of my countrymen to any number of guides. In answer to inquiries at Chatillon, a series of men came forward, whose faces expressed malice, pride, envy, hatred, and roguery of every description, but who seemed to be dest.i.tute of all good qualities.

The arrival of two gentlemen with a guide, who they represented was the embodiment of every virtue, and exactly the man for the Matterhorn, rendered it unnecessary to engage any of the others. My new guide in _physique_ was a combination of Chang and Anak; and although in acquiring him I did not obtain exactly what was wanted, his late employers did exactly what _they_ wanted, for I obtained the responsibility, without knowledge, of paying his back fare, which must have been a relief at once to their minds and to their purses.

When walking up towards Breil,(31) we inquired for another man of all the knowing ones, and they, with one voice, proclaimed that Jean-Antoine Carrel, of the village of Val Tournanche, was the c.o.c.k of his valley. We sought, of course, for Carrel; and found him a well-made, resolute-looking fellow, with a certain defiant air which was rather taking. Yes, he would go. Twenty francs a day, whatever was the result, was his price. I a.s.sented. But I must take his comrade. "Why so?" Oh, it was absolutely impossible to get along without another man. As he said this, an evil countenance came forth out of the darkness and proclaimed itself the comrade. I demurred, the negotiations broke off, and we went up to Breil.

This place will be frequently mentioned in subsequent chapters, and was in full view of the extraordinary peak, the ascent of which we were about to attempt.

It is unnecessary to enter into a minute description of the Matterhorn, after all that has been written about that famous mountain. Those by whom this book is likely to be read will know that that peak is nearly 15,000 feet high, and that it rises abruptly, by a series of cliffs which may properly be termed precipices, a clear 5000 feet above the glaciers which surround its base. They will know too that it was the last great Alpine peak which remained unscaled,-less on account of the difficulty of doing so, than from the terror inspired by its invincible appearance. There seemed to be a _cordon_ drawn around it, up to which one might go, but no farther. Within that invisible line gins and effreets were supposed to exist-the Wandering Jew and the spirits of the d.a.m.ned. The superst.i.tious natives in the surrounding valleys (many of whom still firmly believe it to be not only the highest mountain in the Alps, but in the world) spoke of a ruined city on its summit wherein the spirits dwelt; and if you laughed, they gravely shook their heads; told you to look yourself to see the castles and the walls, and warned one against a rash approach, lest the infuriate demons from their impregnable heights might hurl down vengeance for one's derision. Such were the traditions of the natives.

Stronger minds felt the influence of the wonderful form, and men who ordinarily spoke or wrote like rational beings, when they came under its power seemed to quit their senses, and ranted, and rhapsodised, losing for a time all common forms of speech. Even the sober De Saussure was moved to enthusiasm when he saw the mountain, and-inspired by the spectacle-he antic.i.p.ated the speculations of modern geologists, in the striking sentences which are placed at the head of this chapter.

The Matterhorn looks equally imposing from whatever side it is seen; it never seems commonplace; and in this respect, and in regard to the impression it makes upon spectators, it stands almost alone amongst mountains. It has no rivals in the Alps, and but few in the world.

The seven or eight thousand feet which compose the actual peak have several well-marked ridges and numerous others.(32) The most continuous is that which leads towards the north-east; the summit is at its higher, and the little peak, called the Hornli, is at its lower end. Another one that is well-p.r.o.nounced descends from the summit to the ridge called the Furgen Grat. The slope of the mountain that is between these two ridges will be referred to as the eastern face. A third, somewhat less continuous than the others, descends in a south-westerly direction, and the portion of the mountain that is seen from Breil is confined to that which is comprised between this and the second ridge. This section is not composed, like that between the first and second ridge, of one grand face; but it is broken up into a series of huge precipices, spotted with snow-slopes, and streaked with snow-gullies. The other half of the mountain, facing the Z'Mutt glacier, is not capable of equally simple definition. There are precipices, apparent, but not actual; there are precipices absolutely perpendicular; there are precipices overhanging: there are glaciers, and there are hanging glaciers; there are glaciers which tumble great _seracs_ over greater cliffs, whose debris, subsequently consolidated, becomes glacier again; there are ridges split by the frost, and washed by the rain and melted snow into towers and spires: while, everywhere, there are ceaseless sounds of action, telling that the causes are still in operation which have been at work since the world began; reducing the mighty ma.s.s to atoms, and effecting its degradation.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MATTERHORN FROM THE NORTH-EAST.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MATTERHORN FROM THE SUMMIT OF THE THEODULE Pa.s.s.

(10,899 FEET)]

Most tourists obtain their first view of the mountain either from the valley of Zermatt or from that of Tournanche. From the former direction the base of the mountain is seen at its narrowest, and its ridges and faces seem to be of prodigious steepness. The tourist toils up the valley, looking frequently for the great sight which is to reward his pains, without seeing it (for the mountain is first perceived in that direction about a mile to the north of Zermatt), when, all at once, as he turns a rocky corner of the path, it comes into view; not, however, where it is expected; the face has to be raised up to look at it; it seems overhead.

Although this is the impression, the fact is that the summit of the Matterhorn from this point makes an angle with the eye of less than 16, while the Dom, from the same place, makes a larger angle, but is pa.s.sed by un.o.bserved. So little can dependence be placed on unaided vision. The view of the mountain from Breil, in the Val Tournanche, is not less striking than that on the other side; but, usually, it makes less impression, because the spectator grows accustomed to the sight while coming up or down the valley. From this direction the mountain is seen to be broken up into a series of pyramidal wedge-shaped ma.s.ses; on the other side it is remarkable for the large, unbroken extent of cliffs that it presents, and for the simplicity of its outline. It was natural to suppose that a way would more readily be found to the summit on a side thus broken up than in any other direction. The eastern face, fronting Zermatt, seemed one smooth, inaccessible cliff, from summit to base. The ghastly precipices which face the Z'Mutt glacier forbade any attempt in _that_ direction.

There remained only the side of Val Tournanche; and it will be found that nearly all the earliest attempts to ascend the mountain were made upon the southern side.

The first efforts to ascend the Matterhorn of which I have heard, were made by the guides, or rather by the cha.s.seurs, of Val Tournanche.(33) These attempts were made in the years 1858-9, from the direction of Breil, and the highest point that was attained was perhaps as far as the place which is now called the "Chimney" (cheminee), a height of about 12,650 feet. Those who were concerned in these expeditions were Jean-Antoine Carrel, Jean Jacques Carrel, Victor Carrel, the Abbe Gorret, and Gabrielle Maquignaz. I have been unable to obtain any further details respecting them.

The next attempt was a remarkable one; and of it, too, there is no published account. It was made by the Messrs. Alfred, Charles, and Sandbach Parker, of Liverpool, in July 1860. These gentlemen, _without guides_, endeavoured to storm the citadel by attacking its eastern face(34)-that to which reference was just now made as a smooth, impracticable cliff. Mr. Sandbach Parker informs me that he and his brothers went along the ridge between the Hornli and the peak until they came to the point where the ascending angle is considerably increased.

This place is marked on Dufour's map of Switzerland 3298 metres (10,820 feet). They were then obliged to bear a little to the left to get on to the face of the mountain, and, afterwards, they turned to the right, and ascended about 700 feet farther, keeping as nearly as was practicable to the crest of the ridge, but, occasionally, bearing a little to the left-that is, more on to the face of the mountain. The brothers started from Zermatt, and did not sleep out. Clouds, a high wind, and want of time, were the causes which prevented these daring gentlemen from going farther. Thus, their highest point was under 12,000 feet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MATTERHORN FROM NEAR THE SUMMIT OF THE THEODULE Pa.s.s.]

The third attempt upon the mountain was made towards the end of August 1860, by Mr. Vaughan Hawkins,(35) from the side of the Val Tournanche. A vivid account of his expedition has been published by him in _Vacation Tourists_;(36) and it has been referred to several times by Professor Tyndall in the numerous papers he has contributed to Alpine literature. I will dismiss it, therefore, as briefly as possible.

Mr. Hawkins had inspected the mountain in 1859, with the guide J. J.

Bennen, and he had formed the opinion that the south-west ridge(37) would lead to the summit. He engaged J. Jacques Carrel, who was concerned in the first attempts, and, accompanied by Bennen (and by Professor Tyndall, whom he had invited to take part in the expedition), he started for the gap between the little and the great peak.(38)

[Ill.u.s.tration: J. J. BENNEN (1862).]

Bennen was a guide who was beginning to be talked about. During the chief part of his brief career he was in the service of Wellig, the landlord of the inn on the aeggischhorn, and was hired out by him to tourists. Although his experience was limited, he had acquired a good reputation; and his book of certificates, which is lying before me,(39) shows that he was highly esteemed by his employers. A good-looking man, with courteous, gentlemanly manners, skilful and bold, he might, by this time, have taken a front place amongst guides if he had only been endowed with more prudence. He perished miserably, in the spring of 1864, not far from his home, on a mountain called the Haut de Cry, in the Valais.(40)

Mr. Hawkins' party, led by Bennen, climbed the rocks ab.u.t.ting against the Couloir du Lion, on its south side, and attained the Col du Lion, although not without difficulty. They then followed the south-west ridge, pa.s.sed the place at which the earliest explorers had turned back (the Chimney),(41) and ascended about 300 feet more. Mr. Hawkins and J. J.

Carrel then stopped, but Bennen and Professor Tyndall mounted a few feet higher. They retreated, however, in less than half-an-hour, finding that there was too little time; and, descending to the Col by the same route as they had followed on the ascent, proceeded thence to Breil, down the Couloir instead of by the rocks. The point at which Mr. Hawkins stopped is easily identified from his description. Its height is 12,992 feet above the sea. I think that Bennen and Tyndall could not have ascended more than 50 or 60 feet beyond this in the few minutes they were absent from the others, as they were upon one of the most difficult parts of the mountain.

This party therefore accomplished an advance of about 350 or 400 feet.

Mr. Hawkins did not, as far as I know, make another attempt; and the next was made by the Messrs. Parker, in July 1861. They again started from Zermatt; followed the route they had struck out on the previous year, and got a little higher than before; but they were defeated by want of time, shortly afterwards left Zermatt on account of bad weather, and did not again renew their attempts. Mr. Parker says-"In neither case did we go as high as we could. At the point where we turned we saw our way for a few hundred feet farther; but, beyond that, the difficulties seemed to increase." I am informed that both attempts should be considered as excursions undertaken with the view of ascertaining whether there was any encouragement to make a more deliberate attack on the north-east side.

My guide and I arrived at Breil on the 28th of August 1861, and we found that Professor Tyndall _had_ been there a day or two before, but had done nothing. I had seen the mountain from nearly every direction, and it seemed, even to a novice like myself, far too much for a single day. I intended to sleep out upon it, as high as possible, and to attempt to reach the summit on the following day. We endeavoured to induce another man to accompany us, but without success. Matthias zum Taugwald and other well-known guides were there at the time, but they declined to go on any account. A st.u.r.dy old fellow-Peter Taugwalder by name-said he would go!

His price? "Two hundred francs." "What, whether we ascend or not?"

"Yes-nothing less." The end of the matter was, that all the men who were more or less capable showed a strong disinclination, or positively refused, to go (their disinclination being very much in proportion to their capacity), or else asked a prohibitive price. This, it may be said once for all, was the reason why so many futile attempts were made upon the Matterhorn. One first-rate guide after another was brought up to the mountain, and patted on the back, but all declined the business. The men who went had no heart in the matter, and took the first opportunity to turn back.(42) For they were, with the exception of one man, to whom reference will be made presently, universally impressed with the belief that the summit was entirely inaccessible.

We resolved to go alone, and antic.i.p.ating a cold bivouac, begged the loan of a couple of blankets from the innkeeper. He refused them; giving the curious reason, that we had bought a bottle of brandy at Val Tournanche, and had not bought any from him! No brandy, no blankets, appeared to be his rule. We did not require them that night, as it was pa.s.sed in the highest cow-shed in the valley, which is about an hour nearer to the mountain than is the hotel. The cowherds, worthy fellows, seldom troubled by tourists, hailed our company with delight, and did their best to make us comfortable; brought out their little stores of simple food, and, as we sat with them round the great copper pot which hung over the fire, bade us in husky voice, but with honest intent, to beware of the perils of the haunted cliffs. When night was coming on, we saw, stealing up the hill-side, the forms of Jean-Antoine Carrel and the comrade. "Oh ho!" I said, "you have repented?" "Not at all; you deceive yourself." "Why then have you come here?" "Because we ourselves are going on the mountain to-morrow." "Oh, then it is _not_ necessary to have more than three." "Not for _us_." I admired their pluck, and had a strong inclination to engage the pair; but, finally, decided against it. The comrade turned out to be the J. J. Carrel who had been with Mr. Hawkins, and was nearly related to the other man.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JEAN-ANTOINE CARREL (1869).]

Both were bold mountaineers; but Jean-Antoine was incomparably the better man of the two, and he is the finest rock-climber I have ever seen. He was the only man who persistently refused to accept defeat, and who continued to believe, in spite of all discouragements, that the great mountain was not inaccessible, and that it could be ascended from the side of his native valley.

The night wore away without any excitement, except from the fleas, a party of whom executed a spirited fandango on my cheek, to the sound of music produced on the drum of my ear, by one of their fellows beating with a wisp of hay. The two Carrels crept noiselessly out before daybreak, and went off. We did not start until nearly seven o'clock, and followed them leisurely, leaving all our properties in the cow-shed; sauntered over the gentian-studded slopes which intervene between the shed and the Glacier du Lion, left cows and their pastures behind, traversed the stony wastes, and arrived at the ice. Old, hard beds of snow lay on its right bank (our left hand), and we mounted over them on to the lower portion of the glacier with ease. But, as we ascended, creva.s.ses became numerous, and we were at last brought to a halt by some which were of very large dimensions; and, as our cutting powers were limited, we sought an easier route, and turned, naturally, to the lower rocks of the Tete du Lion, which overlook the glacier on its west. Some good scrambling took us in a short time on to the crest of the ridge which descends towards the south; and thence, up to the level of the Col du Lion, there was a long natural staircase, on which it was seldom necessary to use the hands. We dubbed the place "The Great Staircase." Then the cliffs of the Tete du Lion, which rise above the Couloir, had to be skirted. This part varies considerably in different seasons, and in 1861 we found it difficult; for the fine steady weather of that year had reduced the snow-beds ab.u.t.ting against it to a lower level than usual, and the rocks which were left exposed at the junction of the snow with the cliffs, had few ledges or cracks to which we could hold. But by half-past ten o'clock we stood on the Col, and looked down upon the magnificent basin out of which the Z'Mutt glacier flows. We decided to pa.s.s the night upon the Col, for we were charmed with the capabilities of the place, although it was one where liberties could not be taken. On one side a sheer wall overhung the Tiefenmatten glacier. On the other, steep, gla.s.sy slopes of hard snow descended to the Glacier du Lion, furrowed by water and by falling stones. On the north there was the great peak of the Matterhorn,(43) and on the south the cliffs of the Tete du Lion. Throw a bottle down to the Tiefenmatten-no sound returns for more than a dozen seconds.

* * * "how fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE COL DU LION: LOOKING TOWARDS THE TeTE DU LION.]

But no harm could come from that side. Neither could it from the other.

Nor was it likely that it would from the Tete du Lion, for some jutting ledges conveniently overhung our proposed resting-place. We waited for a while, basked in the sunshine, and watched or listened to the Carrels, who were sometimes seen or heard, high above us, upon the ridge leading towards the summit; and, leaving at mid-day, we descended to the cow-shed, packed up the tent and other properties, and returned to the Col, although heavily laden, before six o'clock. This tent was constructed on a pattern suggested by Mr. Francis Galton, and it was not a success. It looked very pretty when set up in London, but it proved thoroughly useless in the Alps. It was made of light canvas, and opened like a book; had one end closed permanently and the other with flaps; it was supported by two alpenstocks, and had the canvas sides prolonged so as to turn in underneath. Numerous cords were sewn to the lower edges, to which stones were to be attached; but the main fastenings were by a cord which pa.s.sed underneath the ridge and through iron rings screwed into the tops of the alpenstocks, and were secured by pegs. The wind, which playfully careered about the surrounding cliffs, was driven through our gap with the force of a blow-pipe; the flaps of the tent would not keep down, the pegs would not stay in, and it exhibited so marked a desire to go to the top of the Dent Blanche, that we thought it prudent to take it down and to sit upon it.

When night came on we wrapped ourselves in it, and made our camp as comfortable as the circ.u.mstances would allow. The silence was impressive.

No living thing was near our solitary bivouac; the Carrels had turned back and were out of hearing; the stones had ceased to fall, and the trickling water to murmur-