The Ascent Of The Matterhorn Part 20

On February 28, 1864, Mr. P. C. Gosset and Mr. B-- started from the village of Ardon (about mid-way between Sion and Martigny), to make the ascent of the Haut-de-Cry (9688 feet), with the guides J. J. Nance, F.

Rebot, A. Bevard, and J. J. Bennen. They arrived within a few hundred feet of the summit before mid-day, and determined to complete the ascent by following the crest of a ridge leading towards the east. Before this could be done it was necessary to cross some steep snow; and, while pa.s.sing this, an avalanche was unfortunately started. Bennen and Mr. B-- perished; the others happily escaped. The following narrative, from the pen of Mr.

Gosset, ill.u.s.trates, in a very impressive manner, the danger of traversing new-fallen snow at considerable inclinations:-

"We had to go up a steep snow-field, about 800 feet high, as well as I remember. It was about 150 feet broad at the top, and 400 or 500 at the bottom. It was a sort of couloir on a large scale.

During the ascent we sank about one foot deep at every step.

Bennen did not seem to like the look of the snow very much. He asked the local guides whether avalanches ever came down this couloir, to which they answered that our position was perfectly safe. We had mounted on the northern side of the couloir, and having arrived at 150 feet from the top, we began crossing it on a horizontal curve, so as to gain the E. arete. The inflexion or dip of the couloir was slight, not above 25 feet, the inclination near 35. We were walking in the following order:-Bevard, Nance, Bennen, myself, B., and Rebot. Having crossed over about three-quarters of the breadth of the couloir, the two leading men suddenly sank considerably above their waists. Bennen tightened the rope. The snow was too deep to think of getting out of the hole they had made, so they advanced one or two steps, dividing the snow with their bodies. Bennen turned round and told us he was afraid of starting an avalanche; we asked whether it would not be better to return and cross the couloir higher up. To this the three Ardon men opposed themselves; they mistook the proposed precaution for fear, and the two leading men continued their work.

After three or four steps gained in the aforesaid manner, the snow became hard again. Bennen had not moved-he was evidently undecided what he should do; as soon, however, as he saw hard snow again, he advanced and crossed parallel to, but above, the furrow the Ardon men had made. Strange to say, the snow supported him. While he was pa.s.sing I observed that the leader, Bevard, had ten or twelve feet of rope coiled round his shoulder. I of course at once told him to uncoil it and get on the arete, from which he was not more than fifteen feet distant. Bennen then told me to follow. I tried his steps, but sank up to my waist in the very first. So I went through the furrows, holding my elbows close to my body, so as not to touch the sides. This furrow was about twelve feet long, and as the snow was good on the other side, we had all come to the false conclusion that the snow was accidentally softer there than elsewhere. Bennen advanced; he had made but a few steps when we heard a deep, cutting sound. The snow-field split in two about fourteen or fifteen feet above us. The cleft was at first quite narrow, not more than an inch broad. An awful silence ensued; it lasted but a few seconds, and then it was broken by Bennen's voice, 'We are all lost.' His words were slow and solemn, and those who knew him felt what they really meant when spoken by such a man as Bennen. They were his last words. I drove my alpenstock into the snow, and brought the weight of my body to bear on it. I then waited. It was an awful moment of suspense. I turned my head towards Bennen to see whether he had done the same thing. To my astonishment I saw him turn round, face the valley, and stretch out both arms. The snow on which we stood began to move slowly, and I felt the utter uselessness of any alpenstock. I soon sank up to my shoulders, and began descending backwards. From this moment I saw nothing of what had happened to the rest of the party. With a good deal of trouble I succeeded in turning round. The speed of the avalanche increased rapidly, and before long I was covered up with snow. I was suffocating when I suddenly came to the surface again. I was on a wave of the avalanche, and saw it before me as I was carried down. It was the most awful sight I ever saw. The head of the avalanche was already at the spot where we had made our last halt. The head alone was preceded by a thick cloud of snow-dust; the rest of the avalanche was clear. Around me I heard the horrid hissing of the snow, and far before me the thundering of the foremost part of the avalanche. To prevent myself sinking again, I made use of my arms much in the same way as when swimming in a standing position. At last I noticed that I was moving slower; then I saw the pieces of snow in front of me stop at some yards' distance; then the snow straight before me stopped, and I heard on a large scale the same creaking sound that is produced when a heavy cart pa.s.ses over frozen snow in winter. I felt that I also had stopped, and instantly threw up both arms to protect my head in case I should again be covered up. I had stopped, but the snow behind me was still in motion; its pressure on my body was so strong, that I thought I should be crushed to death. This tremendous pressure lasted but a short time; I was covered up by snow coming from behind me. My first impulse was to try and uncover my head-but this I could not do, the avalanche had frozen by pressure the moment it stopped, and I was frozen in. Whilst trying vainly to move my arms, I suddenly became aware that the hands as far as the wrist had the faculty of motion. The conclusion was easy, they must be above the snow. I set to work as well as I could; it was time, for I could not have held out much longer. At last I saw a faint glimmer of light. The crust above my head was getting thinner, but I could not reach it any more with my hands; the idea struck me that I might pierce it with my breath. After several efforts I succeeded in doing so, and felt suddenly a rush of air towards my mouth. I saw the sky again through a little round hole. A dead silence reigned around me; I was so surprised to be still alive, and so persuaded at the first moment that none of my fellow-sufferers had survived, that I did not even think of shouting for them. I then made vain efforts to extricate my arms, but found it impossible; the most I could do was to join the ends of my fingers, but they could not reach the snow any longer. After a few minutes I heard a man shouting; what a relief it was to know that I was not the sole survivor! to know that perhaps he was not frozen in and could come to my a.s.sistance!

I answered; the voice approached, but seemed uncertain where to go, and yet it was now quite near. A sudden exclamation of surprise! Rebot had seen my hands. He cleared my head in an instant, and was about to try and cut me out completely, when I saw a foot above the snow, and so near to me that I could touch it with my arms, although they were not quite free yet. I at once tried to move the foot; it was my poor friend's. A pang of agony shot through me as I saw that the foot did not move. Poor B. had lost sensation, and was perhaps already dead. Rebot did his best: after some time he wished me to help him, so he freed my arms a little more so that I could make use of them. I could do but little, for Rebot had torn the axe from my shoulder as soon as he had cleared my head (I generally carry an axe separate from my alpenstock-the blade tied to the belt, and the handle attached to the left shoulder). Before coming to me Rebot had helped Nance out of the snow; he was lying nearly horizontally, and was not much covered over. Nance found Bevard, who was upright in the snow, but covered up to the head. After about twenty minutes the two last-named guides came up. I was at length taken out; the snow had to be cut with the axe down to my feet before I could be pulled out. A few minutes after one o'clock P.M. we came to my poor friend's face.... I wished the body to be taken out completely, but nothing could induce the three guides to work any longer, from the moment they saw that it was too late to save him. I acknowledge that they were nearly as incapable of doing anything as I was. When I was taken out of the snow the cord had to be cut.

We tried the end going towards Bennen, but could not move it; it went nearly straight down, and showed us that there was the grave of the bravest guide the Valais ever had, and ever will have. The cold had done its work on us; we could stand it no longer, and began the descent."

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

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

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

*C.* NOTE TO CHAPTER VII.

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

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

The Val Tournanche natives who started to facilitate the way up the south-west ridge of the Matterhorn for MM. Giordano and Sella, pitched their tent upon my third platform, at the foot of the Great Tower (12,992 feet), and enjoyed several days of bad weather under its shelter. On the first fine day (13th of July) they began their work, and about midday on the 14th got on to the "shoulder," and arrived at the base of the final peak (the point where Bennen stopped on July 28, 1862). The counsels of the party were then divided. Two-Jean-Antoine Carrel and Joseph Maquignaz-wished to go on; the others were not eager about it. A discussion took place, and the result was they all commenced to descend, and whilst upon the "cravate" (13,524) they heard our cries from the summit.(259) Upon the 15th they went down to Breil and reported their ill-success to M. Giordano (see p. 281). That gentleman was naturally much disappointed, and pressed the men to set out again.(260) Said he, "Until now I have striven for the honour of making the first ascent,-fate has decided against me,-I am beaten. Patience! Now, if I make further sacrifices it will be on your account, for your honour, and for your interests. Will you start again to settle the question, or, at least, to let there be no more uncertainty?" The majority of the men (in fact the whole of them with the exception of Jean-Antoine) refused point-blank to have anything more to do with the mountain. Carrel, however, stepped forward, saying, "As for me, I have not given it up; if you (turning to the Abbe Gorret) or the others will come, I will start again immediately."

"Not I!" said one. "No more for me," cried a second. "If you would give me a thousand francs I would not go back," said a third. The Abbe Gorret alone volunteered. This plucky priest was concerned in the very first attempts upon the mountain,(261) and is an enthusiastic mountaineer.

Carrel and the Abbe would have set out by themselves had not J. B. Bich and J.-A. Meynet (two men in the employ of Favre the innkeeper) come forward at the last moment. M. Giordano also wished to accompany them, but the men knew the nature of the work they had to undertake, and positively declined to be accompanied by an amateur.

These four men left Breil at 6.30 A.M. on July 16, at 1 P.M. arrived at the third tent-platform, and there pa.s.sed the night. At daybreak on the 17th they continued the ascent by the route which had been taken before; pa.s.sed successively the Great Tower, the "crete du coq," the "cravate,"

and the "shoulder,"(262) and at 10 A.M. gained the point at the foot of the final peak from which the explorers had turned back on the 14th.(263) They had then about 800 feet to accomplish, and, says the Abbe, "nous allions entrer en pays inconnu, aucun n'etant jamais alle aussi loin."

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

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

As they were traversing the length of the "shoulder" they witnessed the phenomenon to which I have already adverted at the foot of p. 289.

When Carrel and Bich were near the summit they saw our traces upon the Matterhorngletscher, and suspected that an accident had occurred; they did not, however, hear of the Matterhorn catastrophe until their return to Breil, at 3 P.M. upon the 18th. The details of that sad event were in the mouths of all, and it was not unnaturally supposed, in the absence of correct information, that the accident was a proof that the northern side was frightfully dangerous. The safe return of the four Italians was regarded, on the other hand, as evidence that the Breil route was the best. Those who were interested (either personally or otherwise) in the Val Tournanche made the most of the circ.u.mstances, and trumpeted the praises of the southern route. Some went farther, and inst.i.tuted comparisons between the two routes to the disadvantage of the northern one, and were pleased to term our expedition on the 13-14th of July precipitate, and so forth. Considering the circ.u.mstances which caused us to leave the Val Tournanche on the 12th of July, these remarks were not in the best possible taste, but I have no feeling regarding them. There may be some, however, who may be interested in a comparison of the two routes, and for their sakes I will place the essential points in juxtaposition. We (that is the Taugwalders and myself) were absent from Zermatt 53 hours.

Excluding halts and stoppages of one sort or another, the ascent and descent occupied us 23 hours. Zermatt is 5315 feet above the level of the sea, and the Matterhorn is 14,780; we had therefore to ascend 9465 feet.

As far as the point marked 10,820 feet the way was known, so we had to find the way over only 3960 feet. The members of our party (I now include all) were very unequal in ability, and none of us could for a moment be compared as cragsmen with Jean-Antoine Carrel. The four Italians who started from Breil on the 16th of July were absent during 56 hours, and as far as I can gather from the published account, and from conversation with the men, excluding halts, they took for the ascent and descent 23 hours. The hotel at Breil is 6890 feet above the sea, so they had to ascend 7890 feet. As far as the end of the "shoulder" the way was known to Carrel, and he had to find the way over only about 800 feet. All four men were born mountaineers, good climbers, and they were led by the most expert cragsman I have seen. The weather in each instance was fine. It is seen, therefore, that these four nearly equally matched men took a _longer_ time to ascend 1500 feet _less_ height than ourselves, although we had to find the way over more than four times as much untrodden ground as they. This alone would lead any mountaineer to suppose that their route must have been more difficult than ours.(266) I know the greater part of the ground over which they pa.s.sed, and from my knowledge, and from the account of Mr. Grove, I am sure that their route was not only more difficult, but that it was _much_ more difficult than ours.

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

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

"In August 1867 I ascended the Matterhorn from Breil, taking as guides three mountaineers of the Val Tournanche-J. A. Carrel, J.

Bich, and S. Meynet,-Carrel being the leader. At that time the Matterhorn had not been scaled since the famous expedition of the Italian guides mentioned above.

"Our route was identical with that which they followed in their descent when, as will be seen, they struck out on one part of the mountain a different line from that which they had taken in ascending. After gaining the Col du Lion, we climbed the south-western or Breil _arete_ by the route which has been described in these pages, pa.s.sing the night at the then unfinished hut constructed by the Italian Alpine Club on the 'cravate.'

Starting from the hut at daylight, we reached at an early hour the summit of the 'shoulder,' and then traversed its _arete_ to the final peak of the Matterhorn. The pa.s.sage of this _arete_ was perhaps the most enjoyable part of the whole expedition. The ridge, worn by slow irregular decay into monstrous and rugged battlements, and guarded on each side by tremendous precipices, is grand beyond all description, but does not, strange to say, present any remarkable difficulty to the climber, save that it is exceedingly trying to the head. Great care is of course necessary, but the scramble is by no means of so arduous a nature as entirely to absorb the attention; so that a fine climb, and rock scenery, of grandeur perhaps unparalleled in the Alps, can both be appreciated.

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

"When the Italian guides made their splendid ascent, they traversed the _arete_ of the shoulder to the main peak, pa.s.sed the cleft which has been mentioned (p. 90), clambered on to the tremendous north-western face of the mountain (described by Mr.

Whymper at pp. 277 and 282), and then endeavoured to cross this face so as to get on to the Z'Mutt _arete_.(268) The pa.s.sage of this slope proved a work of great difficulty and danger. I saw it from very near the place which they traversed, and was unable to conceive how any human creatures managed to crawl over rocks so steep and so treacherous. After they had got about half-way across, they found the difficulties of the route and the danger from falling stones so great, that they struck straight up the mountain, in the hope of finding some safer way. They were to a certain extent successful, for they came presently to a small ledge, caused by a sort of fault in the rock, running horizontally across the north-western face of the mountain a little distance below the summit. Traversing this ledge, the Italians found themselves close to the Z'Mutt _arete_, but still separated from it by a barrier, to outflank which it was necessary to descend a perpendicular gully. Carrel and Bich were lowered down this, the other two men remaining at the top to haul up their companions on their return, as otherwise they could not have got up again.

Pa.s.sing on to the Z'Mutt _arete_ without further difficulty, Carrel and Bich climbed by that ridge to the summit of the mountain. In returning, the Italians kept to the ledge for the whole distance across the north-western face, and descended to the place where the _arete_ of the shoulder abuts against the main peak by a sort of rough ridge of rocks between the north-western and southern faces. When I ascended in 1867, we followed this route in the ascent and in the descent. I thought the ledge difficult, in some places decidedly dangerous, and should not care to set foot on it again; but a.s.suredly it neither is so difficult nor so continuously dangerous as those gaunt and pitiless rock-slopes which the Italians crossed in their upward route.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HUT (CABANE) ON THE ZERMATT SIDE OF THE MATTERHORN.

FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY THE AUTHOR.]

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

Mr. Craufurd Grove was the first traveller who ascended the Matterhorn after the accident, and the natives of Val Tournanche were, of course, greatly delighted that his ascent was made upon their side. Some of them, however, were by no means well pleased that J.-A. Carrel was so much regarded. They feared, perhaps, that he would acquire the monopoly of the mountain. Just a month after Mr. Grove's ascent, six Valtournanchians set out to see whether they could not learn the route, and so come in for a share of the good things which were expected to arrive. They were three Maquignaz's, Caesar Carrel (my old guide), J.-B. Carrel, and a daughter of the last named! They left Breil at 5 A.M. on Sept. 12, and at 3 P.M.

arrived at the hut, where they pa.s.sed the night. At 7 A.M. the next day they started again (leaving J.-B. Carrel behind), and proceeded along the "shoulder" to the final peak; pa.s.sed the cleft which had stopped Bennen, and clambered up the comparatively easy rocks on the other side until they arrived at the base of the last precipice, down which we had hurled stones on July 14, 1865. They (young woman and all) were then about 350 feet from the summit! Then, instead of turning to the left, as Carrel and Mr. Grove had done, Joseph and J.-Pierre Maquignaz paid attention to the cliff in front of them, and managed to find a means of pa.s.sing up, by clefts, ledges, and gullies, to the summit. This was a shorter (and it appears to be an easier) route than that taken by Carrel and Grove, and it has been followed by all those who have since then ascended the mountain from the side of Breil.(269) Subsequently, a rope was fixed over the most difficult portions of the final climb.

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CHAPEL AT THE SCHWARZSEE.]

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SUMMIT OF THE MATTERHORN IN 1874 (NORTHERN END).]

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

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

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

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