The Glaciers of the Alps
by John Tyndall · English · Gutenberg #34192 · 870,727 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Glaciers of the Alps
Author: John Tyndall
Release date: November 2, 2010 [eBook #34192]
Most recently updated: January 7, 2021
Language: English
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[Illustration: THE MER DE GLACE
Showing the Cleft Station at Trelaporte, les Echelets, the Tacul, the
Periades and the Grande Jorasse.]
THE
GLACIERS OF THE ALPS.
BEING
A NARRATIVE OF EXCURSIONS AND ASCENTS,
AN ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND PHENOMENA OF GLACIERS,
AND
AN EXPOSITION OF THE PHYSICAL PRINCIPLES
TO WHICH THEY ARE RELATED.
BY JOHN TYNDALL, F.R.S.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
_NEW EDITION._
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY.
1896.
_All rights reserved_
TO
MICHAEL FARADAY,
THIS BOOK
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
1860.
PREFACE.
In the following work I have not attempted to mix Narrative and Science,
believing that the mind once interested in the one, cannot with
satisfaction pass abruptly to the other. The book is therefore divided
into Two Parts: the first chiefly narrative, and the second chiefly
scientific.
In Part I. I have sought to convey some notion of the life of an Alpine
explorer, and of the means by which his knowledge is acquired. In Part
II. an attempt is made to classify such knowledge, and to refer the
observed phenomena to their physical causes.
The Second Part of the work is written with a desire to interest
intelligent persons who may not possess any special scientific culture.
For their sakes I have dwelt more fully on principles than I should have
done in presence of a purely scientific audience. The brief sketch of
the nature of Light and Heat, with which Part II. is commenced, will
not, I trust, prove uninteresting to the reader for whom it is more
especially designed.
Should any obscurity exist as to the meaning of the terms Structure,
Dirt-bands, Regelation, Interference, and others, which occur in Part
I., it will entirely disappear in the perusal of Part II.
Two ascents of Mont Blanc and two of Monte Rosa are recorded; but the
aspects of nature, and other circumstances which attracted my attention,
were so different in the respective cases, that repetition was scarcely
possible.
The numerous interesting articles on glaciers which have been published
during the last eighteen months, and the various lively discussions to
which the subject has given birth, have induced me to make myself better
acquainted than I had previously been with the historic aspect of the
question. In some important cases I have stated, with the utmost
possible brevity, the results of my reading, and thus, I trust,
contributed to the formation of a just estimate of men whose labours in
this field were long anterior to my own.
J. T.
_Royal Institution, June, 1860._
PREFATORY NOTE.
"Glaciers of the Alps" was published nearly six and thirty years ago,
and has been long out of print, its teaching in a condensed form having
been embodied in the little book called "Forms of Water." The two books
are, however, distinct in character; each appears to me to supplement
the other; and as the older work is still frequently asked for, I have,
at the suggestion of my husband's Publishers, consented to the present
reprint, which may be followed later on by a reprint of "Hours of
Exercise."
Before reproducing a book written so long ago, I sought to assure myself
that it contained nothing touching the views of others which my husband
might have wished at the present time to alter or omit. With this object
I asked Lord Kelvin to be good enough to read over for me the pages
which deal with the history of the subject and with discussions in which
he himself took an active part. In kind response he writes:--"... After
carefully going through all the passages relating to those old
differences I could not advise the omission of any of them from the
reprint. There were, no doubt, some keen differences of opinion and
judgement among us, and other friends now gone from us, but I think the
statements on controversial points in this beautiful and interesting
book of your husband's are all thoroughly courteous and considerate of
feelings, and have been felt to be so by those whose views were
contested or criticised in them."
The current spelling of Swiss names has changed considerably since
"Glaciers of the Alps" was written, but, except in the very few cases
where an obvious oversight called for correction, the text has been left
unaltered. Only the Index has been made somewhat fuller than it was.
L. C. T.
_January, 1896._
CONTENTS.
PART I.
Page
1.--Introductory. 1
Visit to Penrhyn; the Cleavage of Slate Rocks; Sedgwick's
theory--its difficulties; Sharpe's observations; Sorby's
experiments; Lecture at the Royal Institution; Glacier
Lamination; arrangement of an expedition to Switzerland
2.--Expedition of 1856: the Oberland. 9
Valley of Lauterbrunnen; Pliability of rocks; the Wengern
Alp; the Jungfrau and Silberhorn; Ice avalanches; Glaciers
formed from them; Scene from the Little Scheideck; the Lower
Grindelwald Glacier; the Heisse Platte--its Avalanches; Ice
Minarets and Blocks; Echoes of the Wetterhorn; analogy with
the Reflection of Light from angular mirrors; the
Reichenbach Cascade; Handeck Fall; the Grimsel; the Unteraar
Glacier; hut of M. Dollfuss; Hotel des Neufchatelois; the
Rhone glacier from the Mayenwand; expedition up the glacier;
Coloured Rings round the sun; crevasses of the _neve_;
extraordinary meteorological phenomenon; Spirit of the
Brocken
3.--The Tyrol. 23
Kaunserthal and the Gebatsch Alp; Senner or Cheesemakers;
Gebatsch Glacier; a night in a cowshed; passage to
Lantaufer; a chamois on the rocks; my Guide; the atmospheric
snow-line; passage of the Stelvio; Colour of fresh snow;
Bormio; the pass recrossed by night; aspect of the
mountains; Meran to Unserfrau; passage of the Hochjoch to
Fend; singular hailstorm; wild glacier region; hidden
crevasses; First Paper presented to the Royal Society
4.--Expedition of 1857: the Lake of Geneva. 33
Blueness of the water; the head of the Lake; appearance of
the Rhone; subsidence of particles; Mirage
5.--Chamouni and the Montanvert. 37
Arrival; Coloured Shadows on the snow; Source of the
Arveiron; fall of the Vault; "Sunrise in the Valley of
Chamouni;" Scratched Rocks; quarters at the Montanvert
6.--The Mer de Glace. 42
Not a _Sea_ but a _River_ of ice; Wave-forms on its surface;
their explanation; Structure and Strata; Glacier Tables;
first view of the Dirt Bands; influence of Illumination in
rendering them visible; the Eye incapable of detecting
differences between intense lights
7. 46
Measurements commenced; the "Cleft Station" at Trelaporte;
Regelation of snow granules; two chamois; view of the Mer de
Glace and its Tributaries; _Seracs_ of the Col du Geant;
Sliding and Viscous theories; Rending of the ice; Striae on
its surface; White Ice-seams
8. 57
Alone upon the glacier; Lakes and Rivulets; parallel between
Glacier and Geological disturbance; splendid rainbow; aspect
of the glacier at the base of the Seracs; visit to the Chief
Guide at Chamouni; Liberties granted
9.--The Jardin. 61
Glacier du Talefre; Jardin divides the neve; Blue Veins near
the summit; surrounding scene; Moraines and Avalanches;
Cascade du Talefre; dangers on approaching it from above
10. 64
Lightning and Rain; Spherical hailstones; an evening among
the crevasses; Dangerous Leap; ice-practice; preparations
for an ascent of Mont Blanc
11.--First Ascent of Mont Blanc (1857). 68
Across the mountain to the Glacier des Bossons; its
crevasses; Ladder left behind; consequent difficulties; the
Grands Mulets; Twinkling and change of Colour of the Stars;
moonlight on the mountains; start with one guide;
difficulties among the crevasses; the Petit Plateau; Seracs
of the Dome du Gouter; bad condition of snow; the Grand
Plateau; Coloured Spectra round the sun; the lost Guides;
the Route missed; dangerous ice-slope; Guide exhausted;
cutting steps; cheerless prospect; the Corridor; the Mur de
la Cote; the Petits Mulets; food and drink disappear;
Physiological experiences on the Calotte; Summit attained;
the Clouds and Mountains; experiment on Sound; colour of the
snow; the descent; a solitary prisoner; second night at the
Grands Mulets; Inflammation of eyes; a blind man among the
crevasses; descent to Chamouni; thunder on Mont Blanc
12. 86
Life at the Montanvert; glacier "Blower;" Cascade of the
Talefre; difficulties in setting out lines; departure from
the Montanvert; my hosts; prospect from the Glacier des
Bois; Edouard Simond
13.--Expedition of 1858. 92
Origin and aim of the expedition; Laminated Structure of the
ice
14.--Passage of the Strahleck. 93
Unpromising weather; appearance of the glacier and of the
adjacent mountains; Transverse Protuberances; Dirt Bands;
Structure; a Slip on a snow slope; the Finsteraarhorn; the
Schreckhorn; extraordinary Atmospheric Effects; Summit of
the Strahleck; Grand Amphitheatre; mutations of the clouds;
descent of the rocks; a Bergschrund; fog in the valley;
descent to the Grimsel
15. 99
Ancient Glaciers in the valley of Hasli; Rounded, Polished,
and Striated Rocks; level of the ancient ice; Groovings on
the Grimsel Pass; glacier of the Rhone; descent of the Rhone
valley; the AEggischhorn; Cloud Iridescences; the Aletsch
glacier; the Maerjelen See; Icebergs; Tributaries of the
Aletsch; Grand glacier-region; crevasses; a chamois deceived
16.--Ascent of the Finsteraarhorn. 104
Character of my Guide; iridescent cloud; evening on the
Faulberg; the Jungfrau and her neighbours; a Mountain Cave;
the Jungfrau before dawn; contemplated visit; the Gruenhorn
Luecke; Magnificent Corridor; sunrise; neve of the Viesch
glacier; halt at the base of the Finsteraarhorn; Spurs and
Couloirs of the mountain; Pyramidal Crest; scene of
Agassiz's observations; a hard climb; discipline of such an
ascent; Boiling Point; Registering Thermometer, its fate;
daring utterance; descent by glissades; the Viesch glacier;
hidden crevasses; a brave and competent guide
17. 119
Subsequent days at the AEggischhorn; Afloat on the Icebergs;
Bedding and Structure; Ancient Moraines of the Aletsch;
Scratched Rocks; passage of the mountains to the end of the
glacier; a wild gorge; arrival at Zermatt; the Riffelberg
18.--First Ascent of Monte Rosa. 122
The ascent new to myself and my guide; directions; Ulrich
Lauener; Ominous Clouds; passage of the Goerner Glacier;
Roches Moutonnees; Avalanche from the Twins; gradual advance
of clouds; bridged chasms; Scene from a cliff; apparent
atmospheric struggle; Sound of the snow; Dangerous Edge;
Overhanging Cornice; staff driven through it; increased
obscurity; Rocky Crest; loss of pocket-book; Summit
attained; Boiling Point; fall of snow; exquisite forms of
the Snow Crystals; a shower of frozen blossoms; the descent;
mode of attachment; Startling Avalanche; Blue Light emitted
from the fissures of the fresh snow; Stifling Heat; return
to the Riffel
19. 133
The Rothe Kumm; pleasant companions; difficult descent;
temperatures of rock, air, and grass; Singular Cavern in the
ice; Structure and Stratification
20.--The Goerner Grat and the Riffelhorn; Magnetic Phenomena. 137
Formation and Dissipation of clouds; Scene from the Goerner
Grat; Magnetism of the Rocks; the Compass and Sun at
variance; ascent of the Riffelhorn; Magnetic effects; places
of most intense action; Scratched and Polished Rocks;
Exfoliation of crust produced by the sliding of ancient
glaciers; Magnetic Polarity; Consequent Points; Bearings
from the Riffelhorn; action on a Distant Needle
21. 145
Fog on the Riffelberg; its dissipation; Sunset from the
Goerner Grat; Cloud-wreaths on the Matterhorn; Streamers of
Flame; grand Interference Phenomenon; investigation of
Structure; the Goernerhorn glacier; Western glacier of Monte
Rosa; the Schwarze, Trifti, and Theodule glaciers; welding
of the Tributaries to parallel Strips; Temptation
22.--Second Ascent of Monte Rosa (1858). 151
A Light Scrip; my Guide lent; a substitute; a party on the
mountain; across the glacier and up the rocks; the guide
expostulates; among the crevasses; the guide halts; left
alone; beauty of the mountain; splendid effects of
Diffraction; Cheer from the summit; on the Kamm; climbers
meet; among the rocks; Alone on the Summit; the Axe slips;
the prospect; the descent; serious accident; a word on
climbing alone
23. 160
The Furgge glacier; thunder and lightning; the Weissthor
given up; excursion by Stalden to Saas; Herr Imseng; the
Mattmark See and Hotel; ascent of a boulder; Snow-storm;
cold quarters; the Monte Moro; the Allalein glacier; a noble
vault; Structure and Dirt-bands; stormy weather; Avalanches
at Saas; the Fee glacier; Frozen dust on the
Mischabelhoerner; Snow, Vapour, and Cloud; curious effect on
the hearing; "a Terrible Hole;" singular group; a Song from
'The Robbers'
24. 168
Need of observations on Alpine Temperature; Balmat's
intention; aid from the Royal Society; Difficulties at
Chamouni in 1858; the Intendant memorialised; his response;
the Seracs revisited; Crevasses and Crumples; bad weather;
thermometers placed at the Jardin; Avalanches of the
Talefre; wondrous sky
25.--Second Ascent of Mont Blanc (1858). 177
Shadows of the Aiguilles; Silver Trees at sunrise; M.
Necker's letter; Birds as Sparks and Stars against the sky;
crevasse bridged; ladder rejected; a hunt for a _pont_;
crevasses crossed; Magnificent Sunset; illuminated clouds;
Storm on the Grands Mulets; a Comet discovered; start by
starlight; the Petit Plateau a reservoir for avalanches;
Balmat's warning; the Grand Plateau at dawn; blue of the
ice; Balmat in danger; Clouds upon the Calotte; the Summit;
wind and snow-dust; Balmat frostbitten; halt on the Calotte;
descent to Chamouni; good conduct of porters
26. 192
Hostility of Chief Guide; Proces Verbal; the British
Association; application to the Sardinian authorities;
President's Letter; Royal Society; Testimonial to Balmat
27.--Winter Expedition to the Mer de Glace, 1859. 195
First defeat and fresh attempt; Geneva to Chamouni; deep
snow; Desolation; slow progress; a horse in the snow; a
struggle; Chamouni on Christmas night; mountains hidden;
Climb to the Montanvert; Snow on the Pines; debris of
avalanches; Breaking of snow; Atmospheric Changes; the
mountains concealed and revealed; colour of the snow; the
Montanvert in Winter; footprints in the snow; wonderful
frost figures; Crystal Curtain; the Mer de Glace in Winter;
the first night; "a rose of dawn;" Crimson Banners of the
Aiguilles; the stakes fixed; a Hurricane on the glacier; the
second night; Wild Snow-storm; a man in a crevasse; calm;
Magnificent Snow Crystals; Sound through the falling snow;
swift descent; Source of the Arveiron; Crystal Cave;
appearance of water; westward from the vault; Majestic
Scene; Farewell
PART II.
1.--Light and Heat. 223
What is Light?--notion of the ancients; requires Time to
pass through Space; Roemer, Bradley, Fizeau; Emission Theory
supported by Newton, opposed by Huyghens; the Wave Theory
established by Young and Fresnel; Theory explained; nature
of Sound; of Music; of Pitch; nature of Light; of Colour;
two sounds may produce silence; two rays of light may
produce darkness; two rays of heat may produce cold; Length
and Number of waves of light; Liquid Waves; Interference;
Diffraction; Colours of Thin Plates; applications of the
foregoing to cloud iridescences, luminous trees, twinkling
of stars, the Spirit of the Brocken, &c.
2.--Radiant Heat. 239
The Sun emits a multitude of Non-luminous Rays; Rays of Heat
differ from rays of Light as one colour differs from
another; the same ray may produce the sensations of light
and heat
3.--Qualities of Heat. 241
Heat a kind of Motion; system of exchanges; Luminous and
Obscure Heat; Absorption by Gases; gases may be transparent
to light, but opaque to heat; Heat selected from luminous
sources; the Atmosphere acts the part of a Ratchet-wheel;
possible heat of a Distant Planet; causes of Cold in the
upper strata of the Earth's Atmosphere
4.--Origin of Glaciers. 248
Application of principles; the Snow-line; its meaning;
waters piled annually in a solid form on the summits of the
hills; the Glaciers furnish the chief means of escape;
superior and inferior snow-line
5. 249
Whiteness of snow; whiteness of ice; Round air-bubbles;
melting and freezing; Conversion of snow into ice by
Pressure
6.--Colour of Water and Ice. 253
Waves of Ether not entangled; they are separated in the
prism; they are differently absorbed; Colour due to this;
Water and Ice blue; water and ice opaque to radiant heat;
Long Waves shivered on the molecules; Experiment; Grotto of
Capri; the Laugs of Iceland
7.--Colours of the Sky. 257
Newton's idea; Goethe's Theory; Clausius and Bruecke;
Suspended Particles; singular effect on a painting explained
by Goethe; Light separated without Absorption; Reflected and
Transmitted light; blueness of milk and juices; the Sun
through London smoke; Experiments; Blue of the Eye; Colours
of Steam; the Lake of Geneva
8.--The Moraines. 263
Glacier loaded along its edges by the ruins of the
mountains; Lateral Moraines; Medial Moraines; their number
_one_ less than the number of Tributaries; Moraines of the
Mer de Glace; successive shrinkings; Glacier Tables
explained; 'Dip' of stones upon the glacier enables us to
draw the Meridian Line; type 'Table;' Sand Cones; moraines
engulfed and disgorged; transparency of ice under the
moraines
9.--Glacier Motion,--Preliminary. 269
Neve and Glacier; First Measurements; Hugi and Agassiz;
Escher's defeat on the Aletsch; Piles fixed across the Aar
glacier by Agassiz in 1841; Professor Forbes invited by M.
Agassiz; Forbes's first observations on the Mer de Glace in
1842; motion of Agassiz's piles measured by M. Wild; Centre
of the glacier moves quickest; State of the Question
10.--Motion of the Mer de Glace. 275
The Theodolite; mode of measurement; first line; Centre
Point not the quickest; second line; former result
confirmed; Law of Motion sought; the glacier moves through a
Sinuous Valley; effect of Flexure; Western half of glacier
moves quickest; Point of Maximum Motion crosses axis;
Eastern half moves quickest; Locus of Point of Maximum
Motion; New Law; Motion of the Geant; motion of the Lechaud;
Squeezing of the Tributaries through the Neck of the valley
at Trelaporte; the Lechaud a Driblet
11.--Ice Wall at the Tacul,--Velocities of Top and Bottom. 289
First attempt by Mr. Hirst; second attempt, stakes fixed at
Top, Bottom, and Centre; dense fog; the stakes lost; process
repeated; Velocities determined
12.--Winter Motion of the Mer de Glace. 294
First line, Above the Montanvert; second line, Below the
Montanvert; Ratio of winter to summer motion
13.--Cause of Glacier Motion,--De Saussure's Theory. 296
First attempt at a Theory by Scheuchzer in 1705;
Charpentier's theory, or the Theory of Dilatation; Agassiz's
theory; Altmann and Gruener; theory of De Saussure, or the
Sliding Theory; in part true; strained interpretation of
this theory
14.--Rendu's Theory. 299
Character of Rendu; his Essay entitled 'Theorie des Glaciers
de la Savoie;' extracts from the essay; he ascribes
"circulation" to natural forces; classifies glaciers;
assigns the cause of the conversion of snow into ice;
notices Veined Structure; "time and affinity;" notices
Regelation; diminution of _glaciers reservoirs_; Remarkable
Passage; announces Swifter Motion of Centre; North British
Review; Discrepancies explained by Rendu; Liquid Motion
ascribed to glacier; all the phenomena of a River reproduced
upon the Mer de Glace; Ratio of Side and Central velocities;
Errors removed
15. 308
Anticipations of Rendu confirmed by Agassiz and Forbes;
analogies with Liquid Motion established by Forbes; his
Measurements in 1842; measurements in 1844 and 1846;
Measurements of Agassiz and Wild in 1842, 1843, 1844, and
1845; Agassiz notices the "migration" of the Point of
Swiftest Motion; true meaning of this observation; Summary
of contributions on this part of the question
16.--Forbes's Theory. 311
Discussions as to its meaning; Facts and Principles;
definition of theory; Some Experiments on the Mer de Glace
to test the Viscosity of the Ice
17.--The Crevasses. 315
Caused by the Motion; Ice Sculpture; Fantastic Figures;
beauty of the crevasses of the highest glaciers; Birth of a
crevasse; Mechanical Origin; line of greatest strain;
Marginal Crevasses; Transverse Crevasses; Longitudinal
Crevasses; Bergschrunds; Influence of Flexure; why the
Convex Sides of glaciers are most crevassed
18. 325
Further considerations on Viscosity; Numerical Test;
formation of crevasses opposed to viscosity
19.--Heat and Work. 328
Connexion of Natural Forces; Equivalence of Heat and Work;
heat produced by Mechanical Action; heat consumed in
producing work; Chemical Attractions; Attraction of
Gravitation; amount of heat which would be produced by the
stoppage of the Earth in its Orbit; amount produced by the
falling of the Earth into the Sun; shifting of Atoms; heat
consumed in Molecular Work; Specific Heat; Latent Heat;
'friability' of ice near its melting point; Rotten Ice and
softened Wax
20. 334
Papers presented to the Royal Society by Professor Forbes in
1846; Capillary Hypothesis of glacier motion; hypothesis
examined
21.--Thomson's Theory. 340
Statement of theory; influence of Pressure on the Melting
Point of Ice; difficulties of theory; Calculation of
requisite Pressure; Actual pressure insufficient
22.--Pressure Theory. 346
Pressure and Tension; possible experiments; Ice may be
moulded into Vases and Statuettes or coiled into Knots; this
no proof of Viscosity; Actual Experiments; a sphere of ice
moulded to a lens; a lens moulded to a cylinder; a lump of
ice moulded to a cup; straight bars of ice bent; ice thus
moulded incapable of being sensibly stretched; when Tension
is substituted for Pressure, analogy with viscous body
breaks down
23.--Regelation. 351
Faraday's first experiments; Freezing together of pieces of
ice at 32 deg.; Freezing in Hot Water; Faraday's recent
experiments; Regelation not due to Pressure nor to Capillary
Attraction; it takes place in vacuo; fracture and
regelation; no viscidity discovered
24.--Crystallization and Internal Liquefaction. 353
How crystals are 'nursed;' Snow-Crystals; Crystal Stars
formed in Water; Arrangement of Atoms of Lake Ice;
dissection of ice by a sunbeam; Liquid Flowers formed in
ice; associated Vacuous Spots; curious sounds; their
explanation; Cohesion of water when free from air; liquid
snaps like a broken spring; Ebullition converted into
Explosion; noise of crepitation; Water-cells in glacier ice;
Vacuous Spots mistaken for Bubbles; not Flattened by
Pressure; experiments; Cause of Regelation
25.--The Moulins. 362
Their character; Depth of Moulin on Grindelwald Glacier;
Explanation the Grand Moulin of the Mer de Glace; Motion of
moulins
26.--Dirt-Bands of the Mer de Glace. 367
Their discovery by Professor Forbes; view of Bands from a
point near the Flegere; Bands as seen from Les Charmoz; Skew
Surface of glacier; aspect of Bands from the Cleft Station;
Origin of bands; tendency to become straight; differences
between observers
27.--Veined Structure of Glaciers. 376
General appearance; Grooves upon the glacier; first
observations; description by M. Guyot; observations of
Professor Forbes; Structure and Stratification; subject
examined; Marginal Structure; Transverse Structure;
Longitudinal Structure; experimental illustrations; the
Structure Complementary to the Crevasses; glaciers of the
Oberland, Valais, and Savoy examined with reference to this
question
28.--The Veined Structure and Differential Motion. 395
Marginal Structure Oblique to sides; Drag towards the
centre; difficulties of theory which ascribes the structure
to Differential Sliding; it persists _across_ the lines of
maximum sliding
29.--The Ripple Theory of the Veined Structure. 398
Ripples in Water supposed to correspond to Glacier
Structure; analysis of theory; observation of the MM. Weber;
water dropping from an oar; stream cleft by an obstacle; Two
Divergent lines of Ripple; Single Line produced by Lateral
Obstacle; Direction of ripples compounded of River's motion
and Wave motion; Structure and Ripples due to different
causes; their positions also different
30.--The Veined Structure and Pressure. 404
Supposed case of pressed prism of glass; Experiments of
Nature; Quartz-pebbles flattened and indented; Pressure
would produce Lamination; Tangential Action
31.--The Veined Structure and the Liquefaction of Ice by Pressure. 408
Influence of pressure on Melting and Boiling points; some
substances swell, others shrink in melting; effects of
pressure different on the two classes of bodies; Theoretic
Anticipation by Mr. James Thomson; Melting point of Ice
lowered by pressure; Internal Liquefaction of a prism of
solid ice by pressure; Liquefaction in Layers; application
to the Veined Structure
32.--White Ice-Seams of the Glacier du Geant. 413
Aspect of Seams; they sweep across the glacier concentric
with Structure; Structure at the base of the Talefre
cascade; Crumples; Scaling off by pressure; Origin of seams
of White Ice
33. 419
Glacier du Geant in a state of Longitudinal Compression;
Measurements which prove that its hinder parts are advancing
upon those in front; Shortening of its Undulations;
Squeezing of white Ice-seams; development of Veined
Structure
Summary 422
Appendix 427
Index 441
ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Mer de Glace.--Showing the Cleft Station at Trelaporte,
the Echelets, the Tacul, the Periades, and the Grand
Jorasse. _Frontispiece_
Fig. Page
1. Ice Minaret 14
2. Diagram of an angular reflector 16
3, 4. Boats' sails inverted by Atmospheric Refraction 35
5. Wave-like forms on the Mer de Glace 43
6. Glacier Table 44
7. Tributaries of the Mer de Glace 53
8. Magnetic Boulder of the Riffelhorn 143
9, 10, 11, 12. Luminous Trees projected against the sky
at sunrise 180, 181
13. Snow on the Pines 201
14, 15. Snow Crystals 214
16. Chasing produced by waves 233
17. Diagram explanatory of Interference 234
18. Interference Spectra, produced by Diffraction _To face_ 235
19. Moraines of the Mer de Glace " 264
20. Typical section of a glacier Table 266
21. Locus of the Point of Maximum Motion 286
22. Inclinations of ice cascade of the Glacier des Bois 313
23. Inclinations of Mer de Glace above l'Angle 314
24. Fantastic Mass of ice 316
25. Diagram explanatory of the mechanical origin of Crevasses 318
26. Diagram showing the line of Greatest Strain 319
27A, B. Section and Plan of a portion of the Lower
Grindelwald Glacier 322
28. Diagram illustrating the crevassing of Convex Sides
of glacier 323
29. Diagram illustrating test of viscosity 326
30, 31, 32, 33. Moulds used in experiments with ice 346-348
34. Liquid Flowers in lake ice 355
35. Dirt-bands of the Mer de Glace, as seen from a
point near the Flegere _To face_ 367
36. Ditto, as seen from les Charmoz " 368
37. Ditto, as seen from the Cleft Station, Trelaporte " 369
38. Plan of Dirt-bands taken from Johnson's 'Physical Atlas' 374
39. Veined Structure on the walls of crevasses 381
40. Figure explanatory of the Marginal Structure 383
41. Plan of part of ice-fall, and of glacier below
it (Glacier of the Rhone) 386
42. Section of ditto 386
43. Figure explanatory of Longitudinal Structure 388
44. Structure and bedding on the Great Aletsch Glacier 391
45, 46. Structure and Stratification on the Furgge glacier 394
47. Diagram illustrating Differential Motion 395
48, 49. Diagrams explanatory of the formation of Ripples 400, 403
50, 51. Appearance of a prism of ice partially liquefied
by Pressure. 410
52, 53. Figures illustrative of compression and liquefaction
of ice. 411
54, 55. Sections of White Ice-seams 414
56, 57. Variations in the Dip of the Veined Structure 414, 415
58. Section of three glacier Crumples 416
59. Wall of a crevasse, with incipient crumpling 416
60. Plan of a Stream on the Glacier du Geant 418
61. Plan of a Seam of White Ice on ditto 418
PART I.
CHIEFLY NARRATIVE.
Ages are your days,
Ye grand expressors of the present tense
And types of permanence;
Firm ensigns of the fatal Being
Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief
That will not bide the seeing.
Hither we bring
Our insect miseries to the rocks,
And the whole flight with pestering wing
Vanish and end their murmuring,
Vanish beside these dedicated blocks.
Emerson
GLACIERS OF THE ALPS.
INTRODUCTORY.
(1.)
In the autumn of 1854 I attended the meeting of the British Association
at Liverpool; and, after it was over, availed myself of my position to
make an excursion into North Wales. Guided by a friend who knew the
country, I became acquainted with its chief beauties, and concluded the
expedition by a visit to Bangor and the neighbouring slate quarries of
Penrhyn.
From my boyhood I had been accustomed to handle slates; had seen them
used as roofing materials, and had worked the usual amount of arithmetic
upon them at school; but now, as I saw the rocks blasted, the broken
masses removed to the sheds surrounding the quarry, and there cloven
into thin plates, a new interest was excited, and I could not help
asking after the cause of this extraordinary property of cleavage. It
sufficed to strike the point of an iron instrument into the edge of a
plate of rock to cause the mass to yield and open, as wood opens in
advance of a wedge driven into it. I walked round the quarry and
observed that the planes of cleavage were everywhere parallel; the rock
was capable of being split in one direction only, and this direction
remained perfectly constant throughout the entire quarry.
[Sidenote: CLEAVAGE OF SLATE ROCKS.]
I was puzzled, and, on expressing my perplexity to my companion, he
suggested that the cleavage was nothing more than the layers in which
the rock had been originally deposited, and which, by some subsequent
disturbance, had been set on end, like the strata of the sandstone rocks
and chalk cliffs of Alum Bay. But though I was too ignorant to combat
this notion successfully, it by no means satisfied me. I did not know
that at the time of my visit this very question of slaty cleavage was
exciting the greatest attention among English geologists, and I quitted
the place with that feeling of intellectual discontent which, however
unpleasant it may be for a time, is very useful as a stimulant, and
perhaps as necessary to the true appreciation of knowledge as a healthy
appetite is to the enjoyment of food.
On inquiry I found that the subject had been treated by three English
writers, Professor Sedgwick, Mr. Daniel Sharpe, and Mr. Sorby. From
Professor Sedgwick I learned that cleavage and stratification were
things totally distinct from each other; that in many cases the strata
could be observed with the cleavage passing through them at a high
angle; and that this was the case throughout vast areas in North Wales
and Cumberland. I read the lucid and important memoir of this eminent
geologist with great interest: it placed the data of the problem before
me, as far as they were then known, and I found myself, to some extent
at least, in a condition to appreciate the value of a theoretic
explanation.
Everybody has heard of the force of gravitation, and of that of
cohesion; but there is a more subtle play of forces exerted by the
molecules of bodies upon each other when these molecules possess
sufficient freedom of action. In virtue of such forces, the ultimate
particles of matter are enabled to build themselves up into those
wondrous edifices which we call crystals. A diamond is a crystal
self-erected from atoms of carbon; an amethyst is a crystal built up
from particles of silica; Iceland spar is a crystal built by particles
of carbonate of lime. By artificial means we can allow the particles of
bodies the free play necessary to their crystallization. Thus a solution
of saltpetre exposed to slow evaporation produces crystals of saltpetre;
alum crystals of great size and beauty may be obtained in a similar
manner; and in the formation of a bit of common sugar-candy there are
agencies at play, the contemplation of which, as mere objects of
thought, is sufficient to make the wisest philosopher bow down in
wonder, and confess himself a child.
[Sidenote: CRYSTALLIZATION THEORY.]
The particles of certain crystalline bodies are found to arrange
themselves in layers, like courses of atomic masonry, and along these
layers such crystals may be easily cloven into the thinnest laminae. Some
crystals possess _one_ such direction in which they may be cloven, some
several; some, on the other hand, may be split with different facility
in different directions. Rock salt may be cloven with equal facility in
three directions at right angles to each other; that is, it may be split
into cubes; calcspar may be cloven in three directions oblique to each
other; that is, into rhomboids. Heavy spar may also be cloven in three
directions, but one cleavage is much more perfect, or more _eminent_ as
it is sometimes called, than the rest. Mica is a crystal which cleaves
very readily in one direction, and it is sufficiently tough to furnish
films of extreme tenuity: finally, any boy, with sufficient skill, who
tries a good crystal of sugar-candy in various directions with the blade
of his penknife, will find that it possesses one direction in
particular, along which, if the blade of the knife be placed and struck,
the crystal will split into plates possessing clean and shining surfaces
of cleavage.
[Sidenote: POLAR FORCES.]
Professor Sedgwick was intimately acquainted with all these facts, and a
great many more, when he investigated the cleavage of slate rocks; and
seeing no other explanation open to him, he ascribed to slaty cleavage a
crystalline origin. He supposed that the particles of slate rock were
acted on, after their deposition, by "polar forces," which so arranged
them as to produce the cleavage. According to this theory, therefore,
Honister Crag and the cliffs of Penrhyn are to be regarded as portions
of enormous crystals; a length of time commensurate with the vastness of
the supposed action being assumed to have elapsed between the deposition
of the rock and its final crystallization.
When, however, we look closely into this bold and beautiful hypothesis,
we find that the only analogy which exists between the physical
structure of slate rocks and of crystals is this single one of cleavage.
Such a coincidence might fairly give rise to the conjecture that both
were due to a common cause; but there is great difficulty in accepting
this as a theoretic truth. When we examine the structure of a slate
rock, we find that the substance is composed of the debris of former
rocks; that it was once a fine mud, composed of particles of _sensible
magnitude_. Is it meant that these particles, each taken as a whole,
were re-arranged after deposition? If so, the force which effected such
an arrangement must be wholly different from that of crystallization,
for the latter is essentially _molecular_. What is this force? Nature,
as far as we know, furnishes none competent, under the conditions, to
produce the effect. Is it meant that the molecules composing these
sensible particles have re-arranged themselves? We find no evidence of
such an action in the individual fragments: the mica is still mica, and
possesses all the properties of mica; and so of the other ingredients of
which the rock is composed. Independent of this, that an aggregate of
heterogeneous mineral fragments should, without any assignable external
cause, so shift its molecules as to produce a plane of cleavage common
to them all, is, in my opinion, an assumption too heavy for any theory
to bear.
Nevertheless, the paper of Professor Sedgwick invested the subject of
slaty cleavage with an interest not to be forgotten, and proved the
stimulus to further inquiry. The structure of slate rocks was more
closely examined; the fossils which they contained were subjected to
rigid scrutiny, and their shapes compared with those of the same species
taken from other rocks. Thus proceeding, the late Mr. Daniel Sharpe
found that the fossils contained in slate rocks are distorted in shape,
being uniformly flattened out in the direction of the planes of
cleavage. Here, then, was a fact of capital importance,--the shells
became the indicators of an action to which the mass containing them had
been subjected; they demonstrated the operation of pressure acting at
right angles to the planes of cleavage.
[Sidenote: MECHANICAL THEORY.]
The more the subject was investigated, the more clearly were the
evidences of pressure made out. Subsequent to Mr. Sharpe, Mr. Sorby
entered upon this field of inquiry. With great skill and patience he
prepared sections of slate rock, which he submitted to microscopic
examination, and his observations showed that the evidences of pressure
could be plainly traced, even in his minute specimens. The subject has
been since ably followed up by Professors Haughton, Harkness, and
others; but to the two gentlemen first mentioned we are, I think,
indebted for the prime facts on which rests the _mechanical theory_ of
slaty cleavage.[A]
[Sidenote: LECTURE AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION.]
The observations just referred to showed the co-existence of the two
phenomena, but they did not prove that pressure and cleavage stood to
each other in the relation of cause and effect. "Can the pressure
produce the cleavage?" was still an open question, and it was one which
mere reasoning, unaided by experiment, was incompetent to answer.
Sharpe despaired of an experimental solution, regarding our means as
inadequate, and our time on earth too short to produce the result. Mr.
Sorby was more hopeful. Submitting mixtures of gypsum and oxide of iron
scales to pressure, he found that the scales set themselves
approximately at right angles to the direction in which the pressure was
applied. The position of the scales resembled that of the plates of mica
which his researches had disclosed to him in slate rock, and he inferred
that the presence of such plates, and of flat or elongated fragments
generally, lying all in the same general direction, was the cause of
slaty cleavage. At the meeting of the British Association at Glasgow, in
1855, I had the pleasure of seeing some of Mr. Sorby's specimens, and,
though the cleavage they exhibited was very rough, still, the tendency
to yield at right angles to the direction in which the pressure had been
applied, appeared sufficiently manifest.
At the time now referred to I was engaged, and had been for a long time
previously, in examining the effects of pressure upon the magnetic
force, and, as far back as 1851, I had noticed that some of the bodies
which I had subjected to pressure exhibited a cleavage of surpassing
beauty and delicacy. The bearing of such facts upon the present question
now forcibly occurred to me. I followed up the observations; visited
slate yards and quarries, observed the exfoliation of rails, the fibres
of iron, the structure of tiles, pottery, and cheese, and had several
practical lessons in the manufacture of puff-paste and other laminated
confectionery. My observations, I thought, pointed to a theory of slaty
cleavage different from any previously given, and which, moreover,
referred a great number of apparently unrelated phenomena to a common
cause. On the 10th of June, 1856, I made them the subject of a Friday
evening's discourse at the Royal Institution.[B]
[Sidenote: ORIGIN OF RESEARCHES.]
Such are the circumstances, apparently remote enough, under which my
connexion with glaciers originated. My friend Professor Huxley was
present at the lecture referred to: he was well acquainted with the work
of Professor Forbes, entitled 'Travels in the Alps,' and he surmised
that the question of slaty cleavage, in its new aspect, might have some
bearing upon the laminated structure of glacier-ice discussed in the
work referred to. He therefore urged me to read the 'Travels,' which I
did with care, and the book made the same impression upon me that it had
produced upon my friend. We were both going to Switzerland that year,
and it required but a slight modification of our plans to arrange a
joint excursion over some of the glaciers of the Oberland, and thus
afford ourselves the means of observing together the veined structure of
the ice.
Had the results of this arrangement been revealed to me beforehand, I
should have paused before entering upon an investigation which required
of me so long a renunciation of my old and more favourite pursuits. But
no man knows when he commences the examination of a physical problem
into what new and complicated mental alliances it may lead him. No
fragment of nature can be studied alone; each part is related to every
other part; and hence it is, that, following up the links of law which
connect phenomena, the physical investigator often finds himself led far
beyond the scope of his original intentions, the danger in this respect
augmenting in direct proportion to the wish of the inquirer to render
his knowledge solid and complete.
[Sidenote: A BOY'S BOOK.]
When the idea of writing this book first occurred to me, it was not my
intention to confine myself to the glaciers alone, but to make the work
a vehicle for the familiar explanation of such general physical
phenomena as had come under my notice. Nor did I intend to address it to
a cultured man of science, but to a youth of average intelligence, and
furnished with the education which England now offers to the young. I
wished indeed to make it a boy's class-book, which should reveal the
mode of life, as well as the scientific objects, of an explorer of the
Alps. The incidents of the past year have caused me to deviate, in some
degree, from this intention, but its traces will be sufficiently
manifest; and this reference to it will, I trust, excuse an occasional
liberty of style and simplicity of treatment which would be out of place
if intended for a reader of riper years.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Mr. Sorby has drawn my attention to an able and interesting paper by
M. Bauer, in Karsten's 'Archiv' for 1846; in which it is announced that
cleavage is a tension of the mass _produced by pressure_. The author
refers to the experiments of Mr. Hopkins as bearing upon the question.
[B] See Appendix.
[Sidenote: THE OBERLAND. 1856.]
EXPEDITION OF 1856.
THE OBERLAND.
(2.)
On the 16th of August, 1856, I received my Alpenstock from the hands of
Dr. Hooker, in the garden of the Pension Ober, at Interlaken. It bore my
name, not marked, however, by the vulgar brands of the country, but by
the solar beams which had been converged upon it by the pocket lens of
my friend. I was the companion of Mr. Huxley, and our first aim was to
cross the Wengern Alp. Light and shadow enriched the crags and green
slopes as we advanced up the valley of Lauterbrunnen, and each occupied
himself with that which most interested him. My companion examined the
drift, I the cleavage, while both of us looked with interest at the
contortions of the strata to our left, and at the shadowy, unsubstantial
aspect of the pines, gleaming through the sunhaze to our right.
[Sidenote: FOLDED ROCKS. 1856.]
What was the physical condition of the rock when it was thus bent and
folded like a pliant mass? Was it necessarily softer than it is at
present? I do not think so. The shock which would crush a railway
carriage, if communicated to it at once, is harmless when distributed
over the interval necessary for the pushing in of the buffer. By
suddenly stopping a cock from which water flows you may burst the
conveyance pipe, while a slow turning of the cock keeps all safe. Might
not a solid rock by ages of pressure be folded as above? It is a
physical axiom that no body is perfectly hard, none perfectly soft, none
perfectly elastic. The hardest body subjected to pressure yields,
however little, and the same body when the pressure is removed cannot
return to its original form. If it did not yield in the slightest degree
it would be perfectly hard; if it could completely return to its
original shape it would be perfectly elastic.
Let a pound weight be placed upon a cube of granite; the cube is
flattened, though in an infinitesimal degree. Let the weight be removed,
the cube _remains_ a little flattened; it cannot quite return to its
primitive condition. Let us call the cube thus flattened No. 1. Starting
with No. 1 as a new mass, let the pound weight be laid upon it; the mass
yields, and on removing the weight it cannot return to the dimensions of
No. 1; we have a more flattened mass, No. 2. Proceeding in this manner,
it is manifest that by a repetition of the process we should produce a
series of masses, each succeeding one more flattened than the former.
This appears to be a necessary consequence of the physical axiom
referred to above.
Now if, instead of removing and replacing the weight in the manner
supposed, we cause it to rest continuously upon the cube, the
flattening, which above was intermittent, will be continuous; no matter
how hard the cube may be, there will be a gradual yielding of its mass
under the pressure. Apply this to squeezed rocks--to those, for example,
which form the base of an obelisk like the Matterhorn; that this base
must yield, seems a certain consequence of the physical constitution of
matter: the conclusion seems inevitable that the mountain is sinking by
its own weight. Let two points be fixed, one near the summit, the other
near the base of the obelisk; next year these points will have
approached each other. Whether the amount of approach in a human
lifetime be measureable we know not; but it seems certain that ages
would leave their impress upon the mass, and render visible to the eye
an action which at present is appreciable by the imagination only.
[Sidenote: THE JUNGFRAU AND SILBERHORN. 1856.]
We halted on the night of the 16th at the Jungfrau Hotel, and next
morning we saw the beams of the rising sun fall upon the peaked snow of
the Silberhorn. Slowly and solemnly the pure white cone appeared to rise
higher and higher into the sunlight, being afterwards mottled with gold
and gloom, as clouds drifted between it and the sun. I descended alone
towards the base of the mountain, making my way through a rugged gorge,
the sides of which were strewn with pine-trees, splintered, broken
across, and torn up by the roots. I finally reached the end of a
glacier, formed by the snow and shattered ice which fall from the
shoulders of the Jungfrau. The view from this place had a savage
magnificence such as I had not previously beheld, and it was not without
some slight feeling of awe that I clambered up the end of the glacier.
It was the first I had actually stood upon. The loneliness of the place
was very impressive, the silence being only broken by fitful gusts of
wind, or by the weird rattle of the debris which fell at intervals from
the melting ice.
[Sidenote: AVALANCHES. 1856.]
Once I noticed what appeared to be the sudden and enormous augmentation
of the waters of a cascade, but the sound soon informed me that the
increase was due to an avalanche which had chosen the track of the
cascade for its rush. Soon afterwards my eyes were fixed upon a white
slope some thousands of feet above me; I saw the ice give way, and,
after a sensible interval, the thunder of another avalanche reached me.
A kind of zigzag channel had been worn on the side of the mountain, and
through this the avalanche rushed, hidden at intervals, and anon
shooting forth, and leaping like a cataract down the precipices. The
sound was sometimes continuous, but sometimes broken into rounded
explosions which seemed to assert a passionate predominance over the
general level of the roar. These avalanches, when they first give way,
usually consist of enormous blocks of ice, which are more and more
shattered as they descend. Partly to the echoes of the first crash, but
mainly, I think, to the shock of the harder masses which preserve their
cohesion, the explosions which occur during the descent of the avalanche
are to be ascribed. Much of the ice is crushed to powder; and thus, when
an avalanche pours cataract-like over a ledge, the heavier masses, being
less influenced by the atmospheric resistance, shoot forward like
descending rockets, leaving the lighter powder in trains behind them.
Such is the material of which a class of the smaller glaciers in the
Alps is composed. They are the products of avalanches, the crushed ice
being recompacted into a solid mass, which exhibits on a smaller scale
most of the characteristics of the large glaciers.
After three hours' absence I reascended to the hotel, breakfasted, and
afterwards returned with Mr. Huxley to the glacier. While we were
engaged upon it the weather suddenly changed; lightning flashed about
the summits of the Jungfrau, and thunder "leaped" among her crags. Heavy
rain fell, but it cleared up afterwards with magical speed, and we
returned to our hotel. Heedless of the forebodings of many prophets of
evil weather we set out for Grindelwald. The scene from the summit of
the Little Scheideck was exceedingly grand. The upper air exhibited a
commotion which we did not experience; clouds were wildly driven against
the flanks of the Eiger, the Jungfrau thundered behind, while in front
of us a magnificent rainbow, fixing one of its arms in the valley of
Grindelwald, and, throwing the other right over the crown of the
Wetterhorn, clasped the mountain in its embrace. Through jagged
apertures in the clouds floods of golden light were poured down the
sides of the mountain. On the slopes were innumerable chalets,
glistening in the sunbeams, herds browsing peacefully and shaking their
mellow bells; while the blackness of the pine-trees, crowded into
woods, or scattered in pleasant clusters over alp and valley, contrasted
forcibly with the lively green of the fields.
[Sidenote: THE HEISSE PLATTE. 1856.]
At Grindelwald, on the 18th, we engaged a strong and competent guide,
named Christian Kaufmann, and proceeded to the Lower Glacier. After a
steep ascent, we gained a point from which we could look down upon the
frozen mass. At first the ice presented an appearance of utter
confusion, but we soon reached a position where the mechanical
conditions of the glacier revealed themselves, and where we might learn,
had we not known it before, that confusion is merely the unknown
intermixture of laws, and becomes order and beauty when we rise to their
comprehension. We reached the so-called Eismeer--Ice Sea. In front of us
was the range of the Viescherhoerner, and a vast snow slope, from which
one branch of the glacier was fed. Near the base of this _neve_, and
surrounded on all sides by ice, lay a brown rock, to which our attention
was directed as a place noted for avalanches; on this rock snow or ice
never rests, and it is hence called the _Heisse Platte_--the Hot Plate.
At the base of the rock, and far below it, the glacier was covered with
clean crushed ice, which had fallen from a crown of frozen cliffs
encircling the brow of the rock. One obelisk in particular signalised
itself from all others by its exceeding grace and beauty. Its general
surface was dazzling white, but from its clefts and fissures issued a
delicate blue light, which deepened in hue from the edges inwards. It
stood upon a pedestal of its own substance, and seemed as accurately
fixed as if rule and plummet had been employed in its erection. Fig. 1
represents this beautiful minaret of ice.
[Sidenote: ICE MINARET. 1856.]
[Illustration: Fig. 1. Ice Minaret.]
While we were in sight of the Heisse Platte, a dozen avalanches rushed
downwards from its summit. In most cases we were informed of the descent
of an avalanche by the sound, but sometimes the white mass was seen
gliding down the rock, and scattering its _smoke_ in the air, long
before the sound reached us. It is difficult to reconcile the
insignificant appearance presented by avalanches, when seen from a
distance, with the volume of sound which they generate; but on this day
we saw sufficient to account for the noise. One block of solid ice which
we found below the Heisse Platte measured 7 feet 6 inches in length, 5
feet 8 inches in height, and 4 feet 6 inches in depth. A second mass was
10 feet long, 8 feet high, and 6 feet wide. It contained therefore 480
cubic feet of ice, which had been cast to a distance of nearly 1000
yards down the glacier. The shock of such hard and ponderous projectiles
against rocks and ice, reinforced by the echoes from the surrounding
mountains, will appear sufficient to account for the peals by which
their descent is accompanied.
[Sidenote: ECHOES OF THE WETTERHORN. 1856.]
A second day, in company with Dr. Hooker, completed the examination of
this glacier in 1856; after which I parted from my friends, Mr. Huxley
intending to rejoin me at the Grimsel. On the morning of the 20th of
August I strapped on my knapsack and ascended the green slopes from
Grindelwald towards the Great Scheideck. Before reaching the summit I
frequently heard the wonderful echoes of the Wetterhorn. Some travellers
were in advance of me, and to amuse them an alpine horn was blown. The
direct sound was cut off from me by a hill, but the echoes talked down
to me from the mountain walls. The sonorous waves arrived after one,
two, three, and more reflections, diminishing gradually in intensity,
but increasing in softness, as if in its wanderings from crag to crag
the sound had undergone a kind of sifting process, leaving all its
grossness behind, and returning in delightful flute notes to the ear.
Let us investigate this point a little. If two looking-glasses be placed
perfectly parallel to each other, with a lighted candle between them, an
infinite series of images of the candle will be seen at both sides, the
images diminishing in brightness the further they recede. But if the
looking-glasses, instead of being parallel, enclose an angle, a limited
number of images only will be seen. The smaller the angle which the
reflectors make with each other, or, in other words, the nearer they
approach parallelism, the greater will be the number of images observed.
To find the number of images the following is the rule:--Divide 360, or
the number of degrees in a circle, by the number of degrees in the angle
enclosed by the two mirrors, the quotient will be _one more_ than the
number of images; or, counting the object itself, the quotient is always
equal to the number of images plus the object. In Fig. 2 I have given
the number and position of the images produced by two mirrors placed at
an angle of 45 deg. A B and B C mark the edges of the mirrors, and 0
represents the candle, which, for the sake of simplicity, I have placed
midway between them. Fix one point of a pair of compasses at B, and with
the distance B 0 sweep a circle:--_all the images will be ranged upon
the circumference of this circle_. The number of images found by the
foregoing rule is 7, and their positions are marked in the figure by the
numbers 1, 2, 3, &c.
[Illustration: Fig. 2. Diagram of an angular reflector.]
[Sidenote: ECHOES EXPLAINED. 1856.]
Suppose the _ear_ to occupy the place of the eye, and that _a sounding
body_ occupies the place of the luminous one, we should then have just
as many _echoes_ as we had _images_ in the former case. These echoes
would diminish in loudness just as the images of the candle diminish in
brightness. At each reflection a portion both of sound and light is
lost; hence the oftener light is reflected the dimmer it becomes, and
the oftener sound is reflected the fainter it is.
Now the cliffs of the Wetterhorn are so many rough angular reflectors of
the sound: some of them send it back directly to the listener, and we
have a first echo; some of them send it on to others from which it is
again reflected, forming a second echo. Thus, by repeated reflection,
successive echoes are sent to the ear, until, at length, they become so
faint as to be inaudible. The sound, as it diminishes in intensity,
appears to come from greater and greater distances, as if it were
receding into the mountain solitudes; the final echoes being
inexpressibly soft and pure.
[Sidenote: REICHENBACH AND HANDECK. 1856.]
After crossing the Scheideck I descended to Meyringen, visiting the
Reichenbach waterfall on my way. A peculiarity of the descending water
here is, that it is broken up in one of the basins into nodular masses,
each of which in falling leaves the light foaming mass which surrounds
it as a train in the air behind; the effect exactly resembles that of
the avalanches of the Jungfrau, in which the more solid blocks of ice
shoot forward in advance of the lighter debris, which is held back by
the friction of the air.
Next day I ascended the valley of Hasli, and observed upon the rocks and
mountains the action of ancient glaciers which once filled the valley to
the height of more than a thousand feet above its present level. I
paused, of course, at the waterfall of Handeck, and stood for a time
upon the wooden bridge which spans the river at its top. The Aar comes
gambolling down to the bridge from its parent glacier, takes one short
jump upon a projecting ledge, boils up into foam, and then leaps into a
chasm, from the bottom of which its roar ascends through the gloom. A
rivulet named the Aarlenbach joins the Aar from the left in the very
jaws of the chasm: falling, at first, upon a projection at some depth
below the edge, and, rebounding from this, it darts at the Aar, and both
plunge together like a pair of fighting demons to the bottom of the
gorge. The foam of the Aarlenbach is white, that of the Aar is yellow,
and this enables the observer to trace the passage of the one cataract
_through_ the other. As I stood upon the bridge the sun shone brightly
upon the spray and foam; my shadow was oblique to the river, and hence a
symmetrical rainbow could not be formed in the spray, but one half of a
lovely bow, with its base in the chasm, leaned over against the opposite
rocks, the colours advancing and retreating as the spray shifted its
position. I had been watching the water intently for some time, when a
little Swiss boy, who stood beside me, observed, in his trenchant
German, "There plunge stones ever downwards." The stones were palpable
enough, carried down by the cataract, and sometimes completely breaking
loose from it, but I did not see them until my attention was withdrawn
from the water.
[Sidenote: HUT OF M. DOLLFUSS. 1856.]
On my arrival at the Grimsel I found Mr. Huxley already there, and,
after a few minutes' conversation, we decided to spend a night in a hut
built by M. Dollfuss in 1846, beside the Unteraar glacier, about 2000
feet above the Hospice. We hoped thus to be able to examine the glacier
to its origin on the following day. Two days' food and some blankets
were sent up from the Hospice, and, accompanied by our guide, we
proceeded to the glacier.
[Sidenote: HOTEL DES NEUFCHATELOIS. 1856.]
Having climbed a great terminal moraine, and tramped for a considerable
time amid loose shingle and boulders, we came upon the ice. The finest
specimens of "tables" which I have ever seen are to be found upon this
glacier--huge masses of clean granite poised on pedestals of ice. Here
are also "dirt-cones" of the largest size, and numerous shafts, the
forsaken passages of ancient "moulins," some filled with water, others
simply with deep blue light. I reserve the description and explanation
of both cones and moulins for another place. The surfaces of some of the
small pools were sprinkled lightly over with snow, which the water
underneath was unable to melt; a coating of snow granules was thus
formed, flexible as chain armour, but so close that the air could not
escape through it. Some bubbles which had risen through the water had
lifted the coating here and there into little rounded domes, which, by
gentle pressure, could be shifted hither and thither, and several of
them collected into one. We reached the hut, the floor of which appeared
to be of the original mountain slab; there was a space for cooking
walled off from the sleeping-room, half of which was raised above the
floor, and contained a quantity of old hay. The number 2404 metres, the
height, I suppose, of the place above the sea, was painted on the
door, behind which were also the names of several well-known
observers--Agassiz, Forbes, Desor, Dollfuss, Ramsay, and others--cut in
the wood. A loft contained a number of instruments for boring, a
surveyor's chain, ropes, and other matters. After dinner I made my way
alone towards the junction of the Finsteraar and Lauteraar glaciers,
which unite at the Abschwung to form the trunk stream of the Unteraar
glacier. Upon the great central moraine which runs between the branches
were perched enormous masses of rock, and, under the overhanging ledge
of one of these, M. Agassiz had his _Hotel des Neufchatelois_. The rock
is still there, bearing traces of names now nearly obliterated by the
weather, while the fragments around also bear inscriptions. There in the
wilderness, in the gray light of evening, these blurred and faded
evidences of human activity wore an aspect of sadness. It was a temple
of science now in ruins, and I a solitary pilgrim to the desecrated
blocks. As the day declined, rain began to fall, and I turned my face
towards my new home; where in due time we betook ourselves to our hay,
and waited hopefully for the morning.
But our hopes were doomed to disappointment. A vast quantity of snow
fell during the night, and, when we arose, we found the glacier covered,
and the air thick with the descending flakes. We waited, hoping that it
might clear up, but noon arrived and passed without improvement; our
fire-wood was exhausted, the weather intensely cold, and, according to
the men's opinion, hopelessly bad; they opposed the idea of ascending
further, and we had therefore no alternative but to pack up and move
downwards. What was snow at the higher elevations changed to rain lower
down, and drenched us completely before we reached the Grimsel. But
though thus partially foiled in our design, this visit taught us much
regarding the structure and general phenomena of the glacier.
[Sidenote: THE RHONE GLACIER. 1856.]
The morning of the 24th was clear and calm: we rose with the sun,
refreshed and strong, and crossed the Grimsel pass at an early hour. The
view from the summit of the pass was lovely in the extreme; the sky a
deep blue, the surrounding summits all enamelled with the newly-fallen
snow, which gleamed with dazzling whiteness in the sunlight. It was
Sunday, and the scene was itself a Sabbath, with no sound to disturb its
perfect rest. In a lake which we passed the mountains were mirrored
without distortion, for there was no motion of the air to ruffle its
surface. From the summit of the Mayenwand we looked down upon the Rhone
glacier, and a noble object it seemed,--I hardly know a finer of its
kind in the Alps. Forcing itself through the narrow gorge which holds
the ice cascade in its jaws, and where it is greatly riven and
dislocated, it spreads out in the valley below in such a manner as
clearly to reveal to the mind's eye the nature of the forces to which it
is subjected. Longfellow's figure is quite correct; the glacier
resembles a vast gauntlet, of which the gorge represents the wrist;
while the lower glacier, cleft by its fissures into finger-like ridges,
is typified by the hand.
Furnishing ourselves with provisions at the adjacent inn, we devoted
some hours to the examination of the lower portion of the glacier. The
dirt upon its surface was arranged in grooves as fine as if produced by
the passage of a rake, while the laminated structure of the deeper ice
always corresponded to the superficial grooving. We found several
shafts, some empty, some filled with water. At one place our attention
was attracted by a singular noise, evidently produced by the forcing of
air and water through passages in the body of the glacier; the sound
rose and fell for several minutes, like a kind of intermittent snore,
reminding one of Hugi's hypothesis that the glacier was alive.
[Sidenote: RINGS AROUND THE SUN. 1856.]
We afterwards climbed to a point from which the whole glacier was
visible to us from its origin to its end. Adjacent to us rose the mighty
mass of the Finsteraarhorn, the monarch of the Oberland. The Galenstock
was also at hand, while round about the _neve_ of the glacier a mountain
wall projected its jagged outline against the sky. At a distance was the
grand cone of the Weisshorn, then, and I believe still, unscaled;[A]
further to the left the magnificent peaks of the Mischabel; while
between them, in savage isolation, stood the obelisk of the Matterhorn.
Near us was the chain of the Furca, all covered with shining snow, while
overhead the dark blue of the firmament so influenced the general scene
as to inspire a sentiment of wonder approaching to awe. We descended to
the glacier, and proceeded towards its source. As we advanced an unusual
light fell upon the mountains, and looking upwards we saw a series of
coloured rings, drawn like a vivid circular rainbow quite round the sun.
Between the orb and us spread a thin veil of cloud on which the circles
were painted; the western side of the veil soon melted away, and with it
the colours, but the eastern half remained a quarter of an hour longer,
and then in its turn disappeared. The crevasses became more frequent and
dangerous as we ascended. They were usually furnished with overhanging
eaves of snow, from which long icicles depended, and to tread on which
might be fatal. We were near the source of the glacier, but the time
necessary to reach it was nevertheless indefinite, so great was the
entanglement of fissures. We followed one huge chasm for some hundreds
of yards, hoping to cross it; but after half an hour's fruitless effort
we found ourselves baffled and forced to retrace our steps.
[Sidenote: SPIRIT OF THE BROCKEN. 1856.]
The sun was sloping to the west, and we thought it wise to return; so
down the glacier we went, mingling our footsteps with the tracks of
chamois, while the frightened marmots piped incessantly from the rocks.
We reached the land once more, and halted for a time to look upon the
scene within view. The marvellous blueness of the sky in the earlier
part of the day indicated that the air was charged, almost to
saturation, with transparent aqueous vapour. As the sun sank the shadow
of the Finsteraarhorn was cast through the adjacent atmosphere, which,
thus deprived of the direct rays, curdled up into visible fog. The
condensed vapour moved slowly along the flanks of the mountain, and
poured itself cataract-like into the valley of the Rhone. Here it met
the sun again, which reduced it once more to the invisible state. Thus,
though there was an incessant supply from the generator behind, the fog
made no progress; as in the case of the moving glacier, the end of the
cloud-river remained stationary where consumption was equal to supply.
Proceeding along the mountain to the Furca, we found the valley at the
further side of the pass also filled with fog, which rose, like a wall,
high above the region of actual shadow. Once on turning a corner an
exclamation of surprise burst simultaneously from my companion and
myself. Before each of us and against the wall of fog, stood a spectral
image of a man, of colossal dimensions; dark as a whole, but bounded by
a coloured outline. We stretched forth our arms; the spectres did the
same. We raised our alpenstocks; the spectres also flourished their
batons. All our actions were imitated by these fringed and gigantic
shades. We had, in fact, _the Spirit of the Brocken_ before us in
perfection.
At the time here referred to I had had but little experience of alpine
phenomena. I had been through the Oberland in 1850, but was then too
ignorant to learn much from my excursion. Hence the novelty of this
day's experience may have rendered it impressive: still even now I think
there was an intrinsic grandeur in its phenomena which entitles the day
to rank with the most remarkable that I have spent among the Alps. At
the Furca, to my great regret, the joint ramblings of my friend and
myself ended; I parted from him on the mountain side, and watched him
descending, till the gray of evening finally hid him from my view.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] The Weisshorn was first scaled, by Tyndall, in 1861.--L. C. T.
[Sidenote: THE TYROL. 1856.]
THE TYROL.
(3.)
My subsequent destination was Vienna; but I wished to associate with my
journey thither a visit to some of the glaciers of the Tyrol. At
Landeck, on the 29th of August, I learned that the nearest glacier was
that adjacent to the Gebatsch Alp, at the head of the Kaunserthal; and
on the following morning I was on my way towards this valley. I sought
to obtain a guide at Kaltebrunnen, but failed; and afterwards walked to
the little hamlet of Feuchten, where I put up at a very lonely inn. My
host, I believe, had never seen an Englishman, but he had heard of such,
and remarked to me in his patois with emphasis, "_Die Englaender sind die
kuehnsten Leute in dieser Welt._" Through his mediation I secured a
chamois-hunter, named Johann Auer, to be my guide, and next morning I
started with this man up the valley. The sun, as we ascended, smote the
earth and us with great power; high mountains flanked us on either side,
while in front of us, closing the view, was the mass of the Weisskugel,
covered with snow. At three o'clock we came in sight of the glacier,
and soon afterwards I made the acquaintance of the _Senner_ or
cheesemakers of the Gebatsch Alp.
[Sidenote: THE GEBATSCH ALP. 1856.]
The chief of these was a fine tall fellow, with free, frank countenance,
which, however, had a dash of the mountain wildness in it. His feet were
bare, he wore breeches, and fragments of stockings partially covered his
legs, leaving a black zone between the upper rim of the sock and the
breeches. His feet and face were of the same swarthy hue; still he was
handsome, and in a measure pleasant to look upon. He asked me what he
could cook for me, and I requested some bread and milk; the former was a
month old, the latter was fresh and delicious, and on these I fared
sumptuously. I went to the glacier afterwards with my guide, and
remained upon the ice until twilight, when we returned, guided by no
path, but passing amid crags grasped by the gnarled roots of the pine,
through green dells, and over bilberry knolls of exquisite colouring. My
guide kept in advance of me singing a Tyrolese melody, and his song and
the surrounding scene revived and realised all the impressions of my
boyhood regarding the Tyrol.
Milking was over when we returned to the chalet, which now contained
four men exclusive of myself and my guide. A fire of pine logs was made
upon a platform of stone, elevated three feet above the floor; there was
no chimney, as the smoke found ample vent through the holes and fissures
in the sides and roof. The men were all intensely sunburnt, the
legitimate brown deepening into black with beard and dirt. The chief
senner prepared supper, breaking eggs into a dish, and using his black
fingers to empty the shell when the albumen was refractory. A fine erect
figure he was as he stood in the glowing light of the fire. All the men
were smoking, and now and then a brand was taken from the fire to light
a renewed pipe, and a ruddy glare flung thereby over the wild
countenance of the smoker. In one corner of the chalet, and raised high
above the ground, was a large bed, covered with clothes of the most
dubious black-brown hue; at one end was a little water-wheel turned by a
brook, which communicated motion to a churndash which made the butter.
The beams and rafters were covered with cheeses, drying in the warm
smoke. The senner, at my request, showed me his storeroom, and explained
to me the process of making cheese, its interest to me consisting in its
bearing upon the question of slaty cleavage. Three gigantic masses of
butter were in the room, and I amused my host by calling them
butter-glaciers. Soon afterwards a bit of cotton was stuck in a lump of
grease, which was placed in a lantern, and the wick ignited; the
chamois-hunter took it, and led the way to our resting-place, I having
previously declined a good-natured invitation to sleep in the big black
bed already referred to.
[Sidenote: AN ALPINE CHALET. 1856.]
There was a cowhouse near the chalet, and above it, raised on pillars of
pine, and approached by a ladder, was a loft, which contained a quantity
of dry hay: this my guide shook to soften the lumps, and erected an
eminence for my head. I lay down, drawing my plaid over me, but Auer
affirmed that this would not be a sufficient protection against the
cold; he therefore piled hay upon me to the shoulders, and proposed
covering up my head also. This, however, I declined, though the biting
coldness of the air, which sometimes blew in upon us, afterwards proved
to me the wisdom of the suggestion. Having set me right, my
chamois-hunter prepared a place for himself, and soon his heavy
breathing informed me that he was in a state of bliss which I could only
envy. One by one the stars crossed the apertures in the roof. Once the
Pleiades hung above me like a cluster of gems; I tried to admire them,
but there was no fervour in my admiration. Sometimes I dozed, but
always as this was about to deepen into positive sleep it was rudely
broken by the clamour of a group of pigs which occupied the ground-floor
of our dwelling. The object of each individual of the group was to
secure for himself the maximum amount of heat, and hence the outside
members were incessantly trying to become inside ones. It was the
struggle of radical and conservative among the pachyderms, the politics
being determined by the accident of position.
[Sidenote: THE GEBATSCH GLACIER. 1856.]
I rose at five o'clock on the 1st of September, and after a breakfast of
black bread and milk ascended the glacier as far as practicable. We once
quitted it, crossed a promontory, and descended upon one of its
branches, which was flanked by some fine old moraines. We here came upon
a group of seven marmots, which with yells of terror scattered
themselves among the rocks. The points of the glacier beyond my reach I
examined through a telescope; along the faces of the sections the lines
of stratification were clearly shown; and in many places where the mass
showed manifest signs of lateral pressure, I thought I could observe the
cleavage passing though the strata. The point, however, was too
important to rest upon an observation made from such a distance, and I
therefore abstained from mentioning it subsequently. I examined the
fissures and the veining, and noticed how the latter became most perfect
in places where the pressure was greatest. The effect of _oblique_
pressure was also finely shown: at one place the thrust of the
descending glacier was opposed by the resistance offered by the side of
the valley, the direction of the force being oblique to the side; the
consequence was a structure nearly parallel to the valley, and
consequently oblique to the thrust which I believe to be its cause.
[Sidenote: A CHAMOIS ON THE ROCKS. 1856.]
After five hours' examination we returned to our chalet, where we
refreshed ourselves, put our things in order, and faced a nameless
"Joch," or pass; our aim being to cross the mountains into the valley of
Lantaufer, and reach Graun that evening. After a rough ascent over the
alp we came to the dead crag, where the weather had broken up the
mountains into ruinous heaps of rock and shingle. We reached the end of
a glacier, the ice of which was covered by sloppy snow, and at some
distance up it came upon an islet of stones and debris, where we paused
to rest ourselves. My guide, as usual, ranged over the summits with his
telescope, and at length exclaimed, "I see a chamois." The creature
stood upon a cliff some hundreds of yards to our left, and seemed to
watch our movements. It was a most graceful animal, and its life and
beauty stood out in forcible antithesis to the surrounding savagery and
death.
On the steep slopes of the glacier I was assisted by the hand of my
guide. In fact, on this day I deemed places dangerous, and dreaded them
as such, which subsequent practice enabled me to regard with perfect
indifference; so much does what we call courage depend upon habit, or on
the fact of knowing that we have really nothing to fear. Doubtless there
are times when a climber has to make up his mind for very unpleasant
possibilities, and even gather calmness from the contemplation of the
worst; but in most cases I should say that his courage is derived from
the latent feeling that the chances of safety are immensely in his
favour.
[Sidenote: PASSAGE OF A JOCH. 1856.]
After a tough struggle we reached the narrow row of crags which form the
crest of the pass, and looked into the world of mountain and cloud on
the other side. The scene was one of stern grandeur--the misty lights
and deep cloud-glooms being so disposed as to augment the impression of
vastness which the scene conveyed. The breeze at the summit was
exceedingly keen, but it gave our muscles tone, and we sprang swiftly
downward through the yielding debris which here overlies the mountain,
and in which we sometimes sank to the knees. Lower down we came once
more upon the ice. The glacier had at one place melted away from its
bounding cliff, which rose vertically to our right, while a wall of ice
60 or 80 feet high was on our left. Between the two was a narrow
passage, the floor of which was snow, which I knew to be hollow beneath:
my companion, however, was in advance of me, and he being the heavier
man, where he trod I followed without hesitation. On turning an angle of
the rock I noticed an expression of concern upon his countenance, and he
muttered audibly, "I did not expect this." The snow-floor had, in fact,
given way, and exposed to view a clear green lake, one boundary of which
was a sheer precipice of rock, and the other the aforesaid wall of ice;
the latter, however, curved a little at its base, so as to form a short
steep slope which overhung the water. My guide first tried the slope
alone; biting the ice with his shoe-nails, and holding on by the spike
of his baton, he reached the other side. He then returned, and,
divesting myself of all superfluous clothes, as a preparation for the
plunge which I fully expected, I also passed in safety. Probably the
consciousness that I had water to fall into instead of pure space,
enabled me to get across without anxiety or mischance; but had I, like
my guide, been unable to swim, my feelings would have been far
different.
This accomplished, we went swiftly down the valley, and the more I saw
of my guide the more I liked him. He might, if he wished, have made his
day's journey shorter by stopping before he reached Graun, but he would
not do so. Every word he said to me regarding distances was true, and
there was not the slightest desire shown to magnify his own labour. I
learnt by mere accident that the day's work had cut up his feet, but his
cheerfulness and energy did not bate a jot till he had landed me in the
Black Eagle at Graun. Next morning he came to my room, and said that he
felt sufficiently refreshed to return home. I paid him what I owed him,
when he took my hand, and, silently bending down his head, kissed it;
then, standing erect, he stretched forth his right hand, which I grasped
firmly in mine, and bade him farewell; and thus I parted from Johann
Auer, my brave and truthful chamois-hunter.
On the following day I met Dr. Frankland in the Finstermuntz pass, and
that night we bivouacked together at Mals. Heavy rain fell throughout
the night, but it came from a region high above that of liquidity. It
was first snow, which, as it descended through the warmer strata of the
atmosphere, was reduced to water. Overhead, in the air, might be traced
a surface, below which the precipitate was liquid, above which it was
solid; and this surface, intersecting the mountains which surround Mals,
marked upon them a beautifully-defined _snow-line_, below which the
pines were dark and the pastures green, but above which pines and
pastures and crags were covered with the freshly-fallen snow.
[Sidenote: THE STELVIO. 1856.]
[Sidenote: COLOUR OF FRESH SNOW. 1856.]
On the 2nd of September we crossed the Stelvio. The brown cone of the
well-known Madatschspitze was clear, but the higher summits were
clouded, and the fragments of sunshine which reached the lower world
wandered like gleams of fluorescent light over the glaciers. Near the
snow-line the partial melting of the snow had rendered it coarsely
granular, but as we ascended it became finer, and the light emitted from
its cracks and cavities a pure and deep blue. When a staff was driven
into the snow low down the mountain, the colour of the light in the
orifice was scarcely sensibly blue, but higher up this increased in a
wonderful degree, and at the summit the effect was marvellous. I struck
my staff into the snow, and turned it round and round; the surrounding
snow cracked repeatedly, and flashes of blue light issued from the
fissures. The fragments of snow that adhered to the staff were, by
contrast, of a beautiful pink yellow, so that, on moving the staff with
such fragments attached to it up and down, it was difficult to resist
the impression that a pink flame was ascending and descending in the
hole. As we went down the other side of the pass, the effect became more
and more feeble, until, near the snow-line, it almost wholly
disappeared.
We remained that night at the baths of Bormio, but the following
afternoon being fine we wished to avail ourselves of the fair weather to
witness the scene from the summit of the pass. Twilight came on before
we reached Santa Maria, but a gorgeous orange overspread the western
horizon, from which we hoped to derive sufficient light. It was a little
too late when we reached the top, but still the scene was magnificent. A
multitude of mountains raised their crowns towards heaven, while above
all rose the snow-white cone of the Ortler. Far into the valley the
giant stretched his granite limbs, until they were hid from us by
darkness. As this deepened, the heavens became more and more crowded
with stars, which blazed like gems over the heads of the mountains. At
times the silence was perfect, unbroken save by the crackling of the
frozen snow beneath our own feet; while at other times a breeze would
swoop down upon us, keen and hostile, scattering the snow from the roofs
of the wooden galleries in frozen powder over us. Long after night had
set in, a ghastly gleam rested upon the summit of the Ortler, while the
peaks in front deepened to a dusky neutral tint, the more distant ones
being lost in gloom. We descended at a swift pace to Trafoi, which we
reached before 11 P.M.
[Sidenote: SINGULAR HAILSTORM. 1856.]
Meran was our next resting-place, whence we turned through the
Schnalzerthal to Unserfrau, and thence over the Hochjoch to Fend. From
a religious procession we took a guide, who, though partly intoxicated,
did his duty well. Before reaching the summit of the pass we were
assailed by a violent hailstorm, each hailstone being a frozen cone with
a rounded end. Had not their motion through the air something to do with
the shape of these hailstones? The theory of meteorites now generally
accepted is that they are small planetary bodies drawn to the earth by
gravity, and brought to incandescence by friction against the earth's
atmosphere. Such a body moving through the atmosphere must have
condensed hot air in front of it, and rarefied cool air behind it; and
the same is true to a small extent of a hailstone. This distribution of
temperature must, I imagine, have some influence on the shape of the
stone. Possibly also the stratified appearance of some hailstones may be
connected with this action.[A]
[Sidenote: THE HOCHJOCH AND FEND. 1856.]
The hail ceased and the heights above us cleared as we ascended. At the
top of the pass we found ourselves on the verge of a great _neve_, which
lay between two ranges of summits, sloping down to the base of each
range from a high and rounded centre: a wilder glacier scene I have
scarcely witnessed. Wishing to obtain a more perfect view of the region,
I diverged from the track followed by Dr. Frankland and the guide, and
climbed a ridge of snow about half a mile to the right of them. A
glorious expanse was before me, stretching itself in vast undulations,
and heaping itself here and there into mountainous cones, white and
pure, with the deep blue heaven behind them. Here I had my first
experience of hidden crevasses, and to my extreme astonishment once
found myself in the jaws of a fissure of whose existence I had not the
slightest notice. Such accidents have often occurred to me since, but
the impression made by the first is likely to remain the strongest. It
was dark when we reached the wretched Wirthshaus at Fend, where, badly
fed, badly lodged, and disturbed by the noise of innumerable rats, we
spent the night. Thus ended my brief glacier expedition of 1856; and on
the observations then made, and on subsequent experiments, was founded a
paper presented to the Royal Society by Mr. Huxley and myself.[B]
FOOTNOTES:
[A] I take the following account of a grander storm of the above
character from Hooker's 'Himalayan Journals,' vol. ii. p. 405.
"On the 20th (March, 1849) we had a change in the weather: a violent
storm from the south-west occurred at noon, with hail of a strange form,
the stones being sections of hollow spheres, half an inch across and
upwards, formed of cones with truncated apices and convex bases: these
cones were aggregated together with their bases outwards. The large
masses were followed by a shower of the separate conical pieces, and
that by heavy rain. On the mountains this storm was most severe: the
stones lay at Darjeeling for seven days, congealed into masses of ice
several feet long and a foot thick in sheltered places: at Purneah,
fifty miles south, stones one and two inches across fell, probably as
whole spheres."
[B] 'Phil. Trans.' 1857, pp. 327-346.--L. C. T.
[Sidenote: THE LAKE OF GENEVA. 1857.]
EXPEDITION OF 1857.
THE LAKE OF GENEVA.
(4.)
The time occupied in the observations of 1856 embraced about five whole
days; and though these days were laborious and instructive, still so
short a time proved to be wholly incommensurate with the claims of so
wide a problem. During the subsequent experimental treatment of the
subject, I had often occasion to feel the incompleteness of my
knowledge, and hence arose the desire to make a second expedition to the
Alps, for the purpose of expanding, fortifying, or, if necessary,
correcting first impressions.
On Thursday, the 9th of July, 1857, I found myself upon the Lake of
Geneva, proceeding towards Vevey. I had long wished to see the waters of
this renowned inland sea, the colour of which is perhaps more
interesting to the man of science than to the poets who have sung about
it. Long ago its depth of blue excited attention, but no systematic
examination of the subject has, so far as I know, been attempted. It may
be that the lake simply exhibits the colour of pure water. Ice is blue,
and it is reasonable to suppose that the liquid obtained from the fusion
of ice is of the same colour; but still the question presses--"Is the
blue of the Lake of Geneva to be entirely accounted for in this way?"
The attempts which have been made to explain it otherwise show that at
least a doubt exists as to the sufficiency of the above explanation.
[Sidenote: BLUENESS OF THE WATER. 1857.]
It is only in its deeper portions that the colour of the lake is
properly seen. Where the bottom comes into view the pure effect of the
water is disturbed; but where the water is deep the colour is deep:
between Rolle and Nyon for example, the blue is superb. Where the blue
was deepest, however, it gave me the impression of turbidity rather than
of deep transparency. At the upper portion of the lake the water through
which the steamer passed was of a blue green. Wishing to see the place
where the Rhone enters the lake, I walked on the morning of the 10th
from Villeneuve to Novelle, and thence through the woods to the river
side. Proceeding along an embankment, raised to defend the adjacent land
from the incursions of the river, an hour brought me to the place where
it empties itself into the lake. The contrast between the two waters was
very great: the river was almost white with the finely divided matter
which it held in suspension; while the lake at some distance was of a
deep ultramarine.
The lake in fact forms a reservoir where the particles held in
suspension by the river have time to subside, and its waters to become
pure. The subsidence of course takes place most copiously at the head of
the lake; and here the deposit continues to form new land, adding year
by year to the thousands of acres which it has already left behind it,
and invading more and more the space occupied by the water. Innumerable
plates of mica spangled the fine sand which the river brought down, and
these, mixing with the water, and flashing like minute mirrors as the
sun's rays fell upon them, gave the otherwise muddy stream a silvery
appearance. Had I an opportunity I would make the following
experiments:--
(_a_.) Compare the colour of the light transmitted by a column of the
lake water fifteen feet long with that transmitted by a second column,
of the same length, derived from the melting of freshly fallen mountain
snow.
(_b_.) Compare in the same manner the colour of the ordinary water of
the lake with that of the same water after careful distillation.
(_c_.) Strictly examine whether the light transmitted by the ordinary
water contains an excess of red over that transmitted by the distilled
water: this latter point, as will be seen farther on, is one of peculiar
interest.
The length is fixed at fifteen feet, because I have found this length
extremely efficient in similar experiments.
[Illustration: Fig. 3, 4. Boats' sails inverted by Atmospheric
Refraction.]
[Sidenote: ATMOSPHERIC REFRACTION. 1857.]
On returning to the pier at Villeneuve, a peculiar flickering motion was
manifest upon the surface of the distant portions of the lake, and I
soon noticed that the coast line was inverted by atmospheric refraction.
It required a long distance to produce the effect: no trace of it was
seen about the Castle of Chillon, but at Vevey and beyond it, the whole
coast was clearly inverted; and the houses on the margin of the lake
were also imaged to a certain height. Two boats at a considerable
distance presented the appearance sketched in Figs. 3 and 4; the hull of
each, except a small portion at the end, was invisible, but the sails
seemed lifted up high in the air, with their inverted images below; as
the boats drew nearer the hulls appeared inverted, the apparent height
of the vessel above the surface of the lake being thereby nearly
doubled, while the sails and higher objects, in these cases, were
almost completely cut away. When viewed through a telescope the sensible
horizon of the lake presented a billowy tumultuous appearance, fragments
being incessantly detached from it and suspended in the air.
[Sidenote: MIRAGE. 1857.]
The explanation of this effect is the same as that of the mirage of the
desert, which may be found in almost any book on physics, and which so
tantalized the French soldiers in Egypt. They often mistook this aerial
inversion for the reflection from a lake, and on trial found hot and
sterile sand at the place where they expected refreshing waters. The
effect was shown by Monge, one of the learned men who accompanied the
expedition, to be due to the total reflection of very oblique rays at
the upper surface of the layer of rarefied air which was nearest to the
heated earth. A sandy plain, in the early part of the day, is peculiarly
favourable for the production of such effects; and on the extensive flat
strand which stretches between Mont St. Michel and the coast adjacent to
Avranches in Normandy, I have noticed Mont Tombeline reflected as if
glass instead of sand surrounded it and formed its mirror.
[Sidenote: CHAMOUNI AND THE MONTANVERT. 1857.]
CHAMOUNI AND THE MONTANVERT.
(5.)
On the evening of the 12th of July I reached Chamouni; the weather was
not quite clear, but it was promising; white cumuli had floated round
Mont Blanc during the day, but these diminished more and more, and the
light of the setting sun was of that lingering rosy hue which bodes good
weather. Two parallel beams of a purple tinge were drawn by the shadows
of the adjacent peaks, straight across the Glacier des Bossons, and the
Glacier des Pelerins was also steeped for a time in the same purple
light. Once when the surrounding red illumination was strong, the
shadows of the Grands Mulets falling upon the adjacent snow appeared of
a vivid green.
This green belonged to the class of _subjective_ colours, or colours
produced by contrast, about which a volume might be written. The eye
received the impression of green, but the colour was not external to the
eye. Place a red wafer on white paper, and look at it intently, it will
be surrounded in a little time by a green fringe: move the wafer bodily
away, and the entire space which it occupied upon the paper will appear
green. A body may have its proper colour entirely masked in this way.
Let a red wafer be attached to a piece of red glass, and from a
moderately illuminated position let the sky be regarded through the
glass; the wafer will appear of a vivid green. If a strong beam of light
be sent through a red glass and caused to fall upon a screen, which at
the same time is moderately illuminated by a separate source of white
light, an opaque body placed in the path of the beam will cast a green
shadow upon the screen which may be seen by several hundred persons at
once. If a blue glass be used, the shadow will be yellow, which is the
complementary colour to blue.
[Sidenote: COLOURED SHADOWS. 1857.]
When we suddenly pass from open sunlight to a moderately illuminated
room, it appears dark at first, but after a little time the eye regains
the power of seeing objects distinctly. Thus one effect of light upon
the eye is to render it less sensitive, and light of any particular
colour falling upon the eye blunts its appreciation of that colour. Let
us apply this to the shadow upon the screen. This shadow is moderately
illuminated by a jet of white light; but the space surrounding it is
red, the effect of which upon the eye is to blind it in some degree to
the perception of red. Hence, when the feeble white light of the shadow
reaches the eye, the red component of this light is, as it were,
abstracted from it, and the eye sees the residual colour, which is
green. A similar explanation applies to the shadows of the Grands
Mulets.
On the 13th of July I was joined by my friend Mr. Thomas Hirst, and on
the 14th we examined together the end of the Mer de Glace. In former
times the whole volume of the Arveiron escaped from beneath the ice at
the end of the glacier, forming a fine arch at its place of issue. This
year a fraction only of the water thus found egress; the greater portion
of it escaping laterally from the glacier at the summit of the rocks
called _Les Mottets_, down which it tumbled in a fine cascade. The vault
at the end of the glacier was nevertheless respectable, and rather
tempting to a traveller in search of information regarding the structure
of the ice. Perhaps, however, Nature meant to give me a friendly warning
at the outset, for, while speculating as to the wisdom of entering the
cavern, it suddenly gave way, and, with a crash which rivalled thunder,
the roof strewed itself in ruins upon the floor.
[Sidenote: SUNRISE AT CHAMOUNI. 1857.]
Many years ago I had read with delight Coleridge's poem entitled
'Sunrise in the Valley of Chamouni,' and to witness in all perfection
the scene described by the poet, I waited at Chamouni a day longer than
was otherwise necessary. On the morning of Wednesday, the 15th of July,
I rose before the sun; Mont Blanc and his wondrous staff of Aiguilles
were without a cloud; eastward the sky was of a pale orange which
gradually shaded off to a kind of rosy violet, and this again blended by
imperceptible degrees with the deep zenithal blue. The morning star was
still shining to the right, and the moon also turned a pale face towards
the rising day. The valley was full of music; from the adjacent woods
issued a gush of song, while the sound of the Arve formed a suitable
bass to the shriller melody of the birds. The mountain rose for a time
cold and grand, with no apparent stain upon his snows. Suddenly the
sunbeams struck his crown and converted it into a boss of gold. For some
time it remained the only gilded summit in view, holding communion with
the dawn while all the others waited in silence. These, in the order of
their heights, came afterwards, relaxing, as the sunbeams struck each in
succession, into a blush and smile.
[Sidenote: GLACIER DES BOIS. 1857.]
On the same day we had our luggage transported to the Montanvert, while
we clambered along the lateral moraine of the glacier to the Chapeau.
The rocks alongside the glacier were beautifully scratched and polished,
and I paid particular attention to them, for the purpose of furnishing
myself with a key to ancient glacier action. The scene to my right was
one of the most wonderful I had ever witnessed. Along the entire slope
of the Glacier des Bois, the ice was cleft and riven into the most
striking and fantastic forms. It had not yet suffered much from the
wasting influence of the summer weather, but its towers and minarets
sprang from the general mass with clean chiselled outlines. Some stood
erect, others leaned, while the white debris, strewn here and there over
the glacier, showed where the wintry edifices had fallen, breaking
themselves to pieces, and grinding the masses on which they fell to
powder. Some of them gave way during our inspection of the place, and
shook the valley with the reverberated noise of their fall. I
endeavoured to get near them, but failed; the chasms at the margin of
the glacier were too dangerous, and the stones resting upon the heights
too loosely poised to render persistence in the attempt excusable.
We subsequently crossed the glacier to the Montanvert, and I formally
took up my position there. The rooms of the hotel were separated from
each other by wooden partitions merely, and thus the noise of early
risers in one room was plainly heard in the next. For the sake of quiet,
therefore, I had my bed placed in the _chateau_ next door,--a little
octagonal building erected by some kind and sentimental Frenchman, and
dedicated "_a la Nature_." My host at first demurred, thinking the place
not "_propre_," but I insisted, and he acquiesced. True the stone floor
was dark with moisture, and on the walls a glistening was here and there
observable, which suggested rheumatism, and other penalties, but I had
had no experience of rheumatism, and trusted to the strength which
mountain air and exercise were sure to give me, for power to resist its
attacks. Moreover, to dispel some of the humidity, it was agreed that a
large pine fire should be made there on necessary occasions.
[Sidenote: QUARTERS AT THE MONTANVERT. 1857.]
Though singularly favoured on the whole, still our residence at the
Montanvert was sufficiently long to give us specimens of all kinds of
weather; and thus my chateau derived an interest from the mutations of
external nature. Sometimes no breath disturbed the perfect serenity of
the night, and the moon, set in a black-blue sky, turned a face of
almost supernatural brightness to the mountains, while in her absence
the thick-strewn stars alone flashed and twinkled through the
transparent air. Sometimes dull dank fog choked the valley, and heavy
rain plashed upon the stones outside. On two or three occasions we were
favoured by a thunderstorm, every peal of which broke into a hundred
echoes, while the seams of lightning which ran through the heavens
produced a wonderful intermittence of gloom and glare. And as I sat
within, musing on the experiences of the day, with my pine logs
crackling, and the ruddy fire-light gleaming over the walls, and lending
animation to the visages sketched upon them with charcoal by the guides,
I felt that my position was in every way worthy of a student of nature.
THE MER DE GLACE.
(6.)
[Sidenote: A RIVER OF ICE. 1857.]
The name "Mer de Glace" has doubtless led many who have never seen this
glacier to a totally erroneous conception of its character. Misled
probably by this term, a distinguished writer, for example, defines a
glacier to be a sheet of ice spread out upon the slope of a mountain;
whereas the Mer de Glace is indeed a _river_, and not a _sea_ of ice.
But certain forms upon its surface, often noticed and described, and
which I saw for the first time from the window of our hotel on the
morning of the 16th of July, suggest at once the origin of the name. The
glacier here has the appearance of a sea which, after it had been tossed
by a storm, had suddenly stiffened into rest. The ridges upon its
surface accurately resemble waves in shape, and this singular appearance
is produced in the following way:--
Some distance above the Montanvert--opposite to the Echelets--the
glacier, in passing down an incline, is rent by deep fissures, between
each two of which a ridge of ice intervenes. At first the edges of these
ridges are sharp and angular, but they are soon sculptured off by the
action of the sun. The bearing of the Mer de Glace being approximately
north and south, the sun at mid-day shines down the glacier, or rather
very obliquely across it; and the consequence is, that the fronts of the
ridges, which look downward, remain in shadow all the day, while the
backs of the ridges, which look up the glacier, meet the direct stroke
of the solar rays. The ridges thus acted upon have their hindmost angles
wasted off and converted into slopes which represent the _back_ of a
wave, while the opposite sides of the ridges, which are protected from
the sun, preserve their steepness, and represent the _front_ of the
wave. Fig. 5 will render my meaning at once plain.
[Sidenote: FROZEN WAVES. 1857.]
[Illustration: Fig. 5. Wave-like forms on the Mer de Glace.]
The dotted lines are intended to represent three of the ridges into
which the glacier is divided, with their interposed fissures; the dots
representing the boundaries of the ridges when the glacier is first
broken. The parallel shading lines represent the direction of the sun's
rays, which, falling obliquely upon the ridges, waste away the
right-hand corners, and finally produce wave-like forms.
We spent a day or two in making the general acquaintance of the glacier.
On the 16th we ascended till we came to the rim of the Talefre basin,
from which we had a good view of the glacier system of the region. The
laminated structure of the ice was a point which particularly interested
me; and as I saw the exposed sections of the _neve_, counted the lines
of stratification, and compared these with the lines upon the ends of
the secondary glaciers, I felt the absolute necessity either of
connecting the veined _structure_ with the _strata_ by a continuous
chain of observations, or of proving by ocular evidence that they were
totally distinct from each other. I was well acquainted with the
literature of the subject, but nothing that I had read was sufficient to
prove what I required. Strictly speaking, nothing that had been written
upon the subject rose above the domain of _opinion_, while I felt that
without absolute _demonstration_ the question would never be set at
rest.
[Illustration: Fig. 6. Glacier Table.]
[Sidenote: GLACIER TABLES. 1857.]
On this day we saw some fine glacier tables; flat masses of rock, raised
high upon columns of ice: Fig. 6 is a sketch of one of the finest of
them. Some of them fell from their pedestals while we were near them,
and the clean ice-surfaces which they left behind sparkled with minute
stars as the small bubbles of air ruptured the film of water by which
they were overspread. I also noticed that "petit bruit de crepitation,"
to which M. Agassiz alludes, and which he refers to the rupture of the
ice by the expansion of the air-bubbles contained within it. When I
first read Agassiz's account of it, I thought it might be produced by
the rupture of the minute air-bubbles which incessantly escape from the
glacier. This, doubtless, produces an effect, but there is something in
the character of the sound to be referred, I think, to a less obvious
cause, which I shall notice further on.
[Sidenote: FIRST SIGHT OF THE DIRT-BANDS. 1857.]
At six P.M. this day I reached the Montanvert; and the same evening,
wrapping my plaid around me, I wandered up towards Charmoz, and from its
heights observed, as they had been observed fifteen years previously by
Professor Forbes, the _dirt-bands_ of the Mer de Glace. They were
different from any I had previously seen, and I felt a strong desire to
trace them to their origin. Content, however, with the performance of
the day, and feeling healthily tired by it, I lay down upon the bilberry
bushes and fell asleep. It was dark when I awoke, and I experienced some
difficulty and risk in getting down from the petty eminence referred to.
The illumination of the glacier, as remarked by Professor Forbes, has
great influence upon the appearance of the bands; they are best seen in
a subdued light, and I think for the following reasons:--
The dirt-bands are seen simply because they send less light to the eye
than the cleaner portions of the glacier which lie between them; two
surfaces, differently illuminated, are presented to the eye, and it is
found that this difference is more observable when the light is that of
evening than when it is that of noon.
It is only within certain limits that the eye is able to perceive
differences of intensity in different lights; beyond a certain
intensity, if I may use the expression, light ceases to be light, and
becomes mere pain. The naked eye can detect no difference in brightness
between the electric light and the lime light, although, when we come
to strict measurement, the former may possess many times the intensity
of the latter. It follows from this that we might reduce the ordinary
electric light to a fraction of its intensity, without any perceptible
change of brightness to the naked eye which looks at it. But if we
reduce the lime light in the same proportion the effect would be very
different. This light lies much nearer to the limit at which the eye can
appreciate differences of brightness, and its reduction might bring it
quite within this limit, and make it sensibly dimmer than before. Hence
we see that when two sources of intense light are presented to the eye,
by reducing both the lights in the same proportion, the _difference_
between them may become more perceptible.
[Sidenote: BANDS SEEN BEST BY TWILIGHT. 1857.]
Now the dirt-bands and the spaces between them resemble, in some
measure, the two lights above mentioned. By the full glare of noon both
are so strongly illuminated that the difference which the eye perceives
is very small; as the evening advances the light of both is lowered in
the same proportion, but the differential effect upon the eye is thereby
augmented, and the bands are consequently more clearly seen.
(7.)
On Friday, the 17th of July, we commenced our measurements. Through the
kindness of Sir Roderick Murchison, I found myself in the possession of
an excellent five-inch theodolite, an instrument with the use of which
both my friend Hirst and myself were perfectly familiar. We worked in
concert for a few days to familiarize our assistant with the mode of
proceeding, but afterwards it was my custom to simply determine the
position where a measurement was to be made, and to leave the execution
of it entirely to Mr. Hirst and our guide.
On the 20th of July I made a long excursion up the glacier, examining
the moraines, the crevasses, the structure, the moulins, and the
disintegration of the surface. I was accompanied by a boy named Edouard
Balmat,[A] and found him so good an iceman that I was induced to take
him with me on the following day also.
[Sidenote: THE CLEFT STATION. 1857.]
Looking upwards from the Montanvert to the left of the Aiguille de
Charmoz, a singular gap is observed in the rocky mountain wall, in the
centre of which stands a detached column of granite. Both cleft and
pillar are shown in the frontispiece, to the right. The eminence to the
left of this gap is signalised by Professor Forbes as one of the best
stations from which to view the Mer de Glace, and this point, which I
shall refer to hereafter as the _Cleft Station_, it was now my desire to
attain. From the Montanvert side a steep gully leads to the cleft; up
this couloir we proposed to try the ascent. At a considerable height
above the Mer de Glace, and closely hugging the base of the Aiguille de
Charmoz, is the small Glacier de Tendue, shown in the frontispiece, and
from which a steep slope stretches down to the Mer de Glace. This Tendue
is the most _talkative_ glacier I have ever known; the clatter of the
small stones which fall from it is incessant. Huge masses of granite
also frequently fall upon the glacier from the cliffs above it, and,
being slowly borne downwards by the moving ice, are at length seen
toppling above the terminal face of the glacier. The ice which supports
them being gradually melted, they are at length undermined, and sent
bounding down the slope with peal and rattle, according as the masses
among which they move are large or small. The space beneath the glacier
is cumbered with blocks thus sent down; some of them of enormous size.
[Sidenote: ROUGH ASCENT. 1857.]
The danger arising from this intermittent cannonade, though in reality
small, has caused the guides to swerve from the path which formerly led
across the slope to the promontory of Trelaporte. I say "small,"
because, even should a rock choose the precise moment at which a
traveller is passing to leap down, the boulders at hand are so large and
so capable of bearing a shock that the least presence of mind would be
sufficient to place him in safety. But presence of mind is not to be
calculated on under such circumstances, and hence the guides were right
to abandon the path.
Reaching the mouth of our gully after a rough ascent, we took to the
snow, instead of climbing the adjacent rocks. It was moist and soft, in
fact in a condition altogether favourable for the "regelation" of its
granules. As the foot pressed upon it the particles became cemented
together. A portion of the pressure was transmitted laterally, which
produced attachments beyond the boundary of the foot; thus as the latter
sank, it pressed upon a surface which became continually wider and more
rigid, and at length sufficiently strong to bear the entire weight of
the body; the pressed snow formed in fact a virtual _camel's foot_,
which soon placed a limit to the sinking. It is this same principle of
regelation which enables men to cross snow bridges in safety. By gentle
cautious pressure the loose granules of the substance are cemented into
a continuous mass, all sudden shocks which might cause the frozen
surfaces to snap asunder being avoided. In this way an arch of snow
fifteen or twenty inches in thickness may be rendered so firm that a
man will cross it, although it may span a chasm one hundred feet in
depth.
As we ascended, the incline became very steep, and once or twice we
diverged from the snow to the adjacent rocks; these were disintegrated,
and the slightest disturbance was sufficient to bring them down; some
fell, and from one of them I found it a little difficult to escape; for
it grazed my leg, inflicting a slight wound as it passed. Just before
reaching the cleft at which we aimed, the snow for a short distance was
exceedingly steep, but we surmounted it; and I sat for a time beside the
granite pillar, pleased to find that I could permit my legs to dangle
over a precipice without prejudice to my head.
[Sidenote: CHAMOIS ON THE MOUNTAINS. 1857.]
While we remained here a chamois made its appearance upon the rocks
above us. Deeming itself too near, it climbed higher, and then turned
round to watch us. It was soon joined by a second, and the two formed a
very pretty picture: their attitudes frequently changed, but they were
always graceful; with head erect and horns curved back, a light limb
thrown forward upon a ledge of rock, looking towards us with wild and
earnest gaze, each seemed a type of freedom and agility. Turning now to
the left, we attacked the granite tower, from which we purposed to scan
the glacier, and were soon upon its top. My companion was greatly
pleased--he was "tres-content" to have reached the place--he felt
assured that many old guides would have retreated from that ugly gully,
with its shifting shingle and debris, and his elation reached its climax
in the declaration that, if I resolved to ascend Mont Blanc without a
guide, he was willing to accompany me.
[Sidenote: SCENE FROM THE STATION. 1857.]
From the position which we had attained, the prospect was exceedingly
fine, both of the glaciers and of the mountains. Beside us was the
Aiguille de Charmoz, piercing with its spikes of granite the clear air.
To my mind it is one of the finest of the Aiguilles, noble in mass, with
its summits singularly cleft and splintered. In some atmospheric
colourings it has the exact appearance of a mountain of cast copper, and
the manner in which some of its highest pinnacles are bent, suggesting
the idea of ductility, gives strength to the illusion that the mass is
metallic. At the opposite side of the glacier was the Aiguille Verte,
with a cloud poised upon its point: it has long been the ambition of
climbers to scale this peak, and on this day it was attempted by a young
French count with a long retinue of guides. He had not fair play, for
before we quitted our position we heard the rumble of thunder upon the
mountain, which indicated the presence of a foe more terrible than the
avalanches themselves. Higher to the right, and also at the opposite
side of the glacier, rose the Aiguille du Moine; and beyond was the
basin of the Talefre, the ice cascade issuing from which appeared, from
our position, like the foam of a waterfall. Then came the Aiguille de
Lechaud, the Petite Jorasse, the Grande Jorasse, and the Mont Tacul; all
of which form a cradle for the Glacier de Lechaud. Mont Mallet, the
Periades, and the Aiguille Noire, came next, and then the singular
obelisk of the Aiguille du Geant, from which a serrated edge of cliff
descends to the summit of the "Col."
[Sidenote: SERACS OF THE COL DU GEANT. 1857.]
Over the slopes of the Col du Geant was spread a coverlet of shining
snow, at some places apparently as smooth as polished marble, at others
broken so as to form precipices, on the pale blue faces of which the
horizontal lines of bedding were beautifully drawn. As the eye
approaches the line which stretches from the Rognon to the Aiguille
Noire, the repose of the _neve_ becomes more and more disturbed. Vast
chasms are formed, which however are still merely indicative of the
trouble in advance. If the glacier were lifted off we should probably
see that the line just referred to would lie along the summit of a
steep gorge; over this summit the glacier is pushed, and has its back
periodically broken, thus forming vast transverse ridges which follow
each other in succession down the slope. At the summit these ridges are
often cleft by fissures transverse to them, thus forming detached towers
of ice of the most picturesque and imposing character.[B] These towers
often fall; and while some are caught upon the platforms of the cascade,
others struggle with the slow energy of a behemoth through the debris
which opposes them, reach the edges of the precipices which rise in
succession along the fall, leap over, and, amid ice-smoke and
thunder-peals, fight their way downwards.
[Sidenote: GLACIER MOTION. 1857.]
A great number of secondary glaciers were in sight hanging on the steep
slopes of the mountains, and from them streams sped downwards, falling
over the rocks, and filling the valley with a low rich music. In front
of me, for example, was the Glacier du Moine, and I could not help
feeling as I looked at it, that the arguments drawn from the deportment
of such glaciers against the "sliding theory," and which are still
repeated in works upon the Alps, militate just as strongly against the
"viscous theory." "How," demands the antagonist of the sliding theory,
"can a secondary glacier exist upon so steep a slope? why does it not
slide down as an avalanche?" "But how," the person addressed may retort,
"can a mass which you assume to be viscous exist under similar
conditions? If it be viscous, what prevents it from rolling down?" The
sliding theory assumes the lubrication of the bed of the glacier, but on
this cold height the quantity melted is too small to lubricate the bed,
and hence the slow motion of these glaciers. Thus a sliding-theory man
might reason, and, if the external deportment of secondary glaciers were
to decide the question, De Saussure might perhaps have the best of the
argument.
And with regard to the current idea, originated by M. de Charpentier,
and adopted by Professor Forbes, that if a glacier slides it must slide
as an avalanche, it may be simply retorted that, in part, _it does so_;
but if it be asserted that an _accelerated motion_ is the necessary
motion of an avalanche, the statement needs qualification. An avalanche
on passing through a rough couloir soon attains a uniform velocity--its
motion being accelerated only up to the point when the sum of the
resistances acting upon it is equal to the force drawing it downwards.
These resistances are furnished by the numberless asperities which the
mass encounters, and which incessantly check its descent, and render an
accumulation of motion impossible. The motion of a man walking down
stairs may be on the whole uniform, but it is really made up of an
aggregate of small motions, each of which is accelerated; and it is easy
to conceive how a glacier moving over an uneven bed, when released from
one opposing obstacle will be checked by another, and its motion thus
rendered sensibly uniform.
[Sidenote: MORAINES. 1857.]
[Sidenote: TRIBUTARIES OF THE MER DE GLACE. 1857.]
[Illustration: Fig. 7. Tributaries of the Mer de Glace.]
From the Aiguille du Geant and Les Periades a glacier descended, which
was separated by the promontory of La Noire from the glacier proceeding
from the Col du Geant. A small moraine was formed between them, which is
marked _a_ upon the diagram, Fig. 7. The great mass of the glacier
descending from the Col du Geant came next, and this was bounded on the
side nearest to Trelaporte by a small moraine _b_, the origin of which I
could not see, its upper portion being shut out by a mountain
promontory. Between the moraine _b_ and the actual side of the valley
was another little glacier, derived from some of the lateral
tributaries. It was, however, between the moraines _a_ and _b_ that the
great mass of the Glacier du Geant really lay. At the promontory of the
Tacul the lateral moraines of the Glacier des Periades and of the
Glacier de Lechaud united to form the medial moraine _c_ of the Mer de
Glace. Carrying the eye across the Lechaud, we had the moraine _d_
formed by the union of the lateral moraines of the Lechaud and Talefre;
further to the left was the moraine _e_, which came from the Jardin, and
beyond it was the second lateral moraine of the Talefre. The Mer de
Glace is formed by the confluence of the whole of the glaciers here
named; being forced at Trelaporte through a passage, the width of which
appears considerably less than that of the single tributary, the Glacier
du Geant.
In the ice near Trelaporte the blue veins of the glacier are beautifully
shown; but they vary in distinctness according to the manner in which
they are looked at. When regarded obliquely their colour is not so
pronounced as when the vision plunges deeply into them. The weathered
ice of the surface near Trelaporte could be cloven with great facility;
I could with ease obtain plates of it a quarter of an inch thick, and
possessing two square feet of surface. On the 28th of July I followed
the veins several times from side to side across the Geant portion of
the Mer de Glace; starting from one side, and walking along the veins,
my route was directed obliquely downwards towards the axis of the
tributary. At the axis I was forced to turn, in order to keep along the
veins, and now ascended along a line which formed nearly the same angle
with the axis at the other side. Thus the veins led me as it were along
the two sides of a triangle, the vertex of which was near the centre of
the glacier. The vertex was, however, in reality rounded off, and the
figure rather resembled a hyperbola, which tended to coincidence with
its asymptotes. This observation corroborates those of Professor Forbes
with regard to the position of the veins, and, like him, I found that at
the centre the veining, whose normal direction would be transverse to
the glacier, was contorted and confused.
[Sidenote: WASTING OF ICE. 1857.]
Near the side of the Glacier du Geant, above the promontory of
Trelaporte, the ice is rent in a remarkable manner. Looking upwards from
the lower portions of the glacier, a series of vertical walls, rising
apparently one above the other, face the observer. I clambered up among
these singular terraces, and now recognise, both from my sketch and
memory, that their peculiar forms are due to the same action as that
which has given their shape to the "billows" of the Mer de Glace. A
series of profound crevasses is first formed. The Glacier du Geant
deviates 14 deg. from the meridian line, and hence the sun shines nearly
down it during the middle portion of each day. The backs of the ridges
between the crevasses are thus rounded off, one boundary of each fissure
is destroyed, or at least becomes a mere steep declivity, while the
other boundary being shaded from the sun preserves its verticality; and
thus a very curious series of precipices is formed.
Through all this dislocation, the little moraine on which I have placed
the letter _b_ in the sketch maintains its right to existence, and under
it the laminated structure of this portion of the glacier appears to
reach its most perfect development. The moraine was generally a mere
dirt track, but one or two immense blocks of granite were perched upon
it. I examined the ice underneath one of these, being desirous of seeing
whether the pressure resulting from its enormous weight would produce a
veining, but the result was not satisfactory. Veins were certainly to be
seen in directions different from the normal ones, but whether they were
due to the bending of the latter, or were directly owing to the pressure
of the block, I could not say. The sides of a stream which had cut a
deep gorge in the clean ice of the Glacier du Geant afforded a fine
opportunity of observing the structure. It was very remarkable--highly
significant indeed in a theoretic point of view. Two long and
remarkably deep blue veins traversed the bottom of the stream, and
bending upwards at a place where the rivulet curved, drew themselves
like a pair of parallel lines upon the clean white ice. But the general
structure was of a totally different character; it did not consist of
long bars, but approximated to the lenticular form, and was, moreover,
of a washy paleness, which scarcely exceeded in depth of colouring the
whitish ice around.
[Sidenote: GROOVES ON THE SURFACE. 1857.]
To the investigator of the structure nothing can be finer than the
appearance of the glacier from one of the ice terraces cut in the
Glacier du Geant by its passage round Trelaporte. As far as the vision
extended the dirt upon the surface of the ice was arranged in striae.
These striae were not always straight lines, nor were they unbroken
curves. Within slight limits the various parts into which a glacier is
cut up by its crevasses enjoy a kind of independent motion. The grooves,
for example, on two ridges which have been separated by a small fissure,
may one day have their striae perfect continuations of each other, but in
a short time this identity of direction may be destroyed by a difference
of motion between the ridges. Thus it is that the grooves upon the
surface above Trelaporte are bent hither and thither, a crack or seam
always marking the point where their continuity is ruptured. This
bending occurs, however, within limits sufficiently small to enable the
striae to preserve the same general direction.
[Sidenote: SEAMS OF WHITE ICE. 1857.]
My attention had often been attracted this day by projecting masses of
what at first appeared to be pure white snow, rising in seams above the
general surface of the glacier. On examination, however, I found them to
be compact ice, filled with innumerable air-cells, and so resistant as
to maintain itself in some places at a height of four feet above the
general level. When amongst the ridges they appeared discontinuous and
confused, being scattered apparently at random over the glacier; but
when viewed from a sufficient distance, the detached parts showed
themselves to belong to a system of white seams which swept quite across
the Glacier du Geant, in a direction concentric with the structure.
Unable to account for these singular seams, I climbed up among the
tributary glaciers on the Rognon side of the Glacier du Geant, and
remained there until the sun sank behind the neighbouring peaks, and the
fading light warned me that it was time to return.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] "Le petit Balmat" my host always called him.
[B] To such towers the name _Seracs_ is applied. In the chalets of
Savoy, after the richer curd has been precipitated by rennet, a stronger
acid is used to throw down what remains; an inferior kind of cheese
called _Serac_ is thus formed, the shape and colour of which have
suggested the application of the term to the cubical masses of ice.
(8.)
Early on the following day I was again upon the ice. I first confined
myself to the right side of the Glacier du Geant, and found that the
veins of white ice which I had noticed on the previous day were
exclusively confined to this glacier, or to the space between the
moraines _a_ and _b_ (Fig. 7), bending up so that the moraine _a_
between the Glacier du Geant and the Glacier des Periades was tangent to
them. At a good distance up the glacier I encountered a considerable
stream rushing across it almost from side to side. I followed the
rivulet, examining the sections which it exposed. At a certain point
three other streams united, and formed at their place of confluence a
small green lake. From this a rivulet rushed, which was joined by the
stream whose track I had pursued, and at this place of junction a second
green lake was formed, from which flowed a stream equal in volume to the
sum of all the tributaries. It entered a crevasse, and took the bottom
of the fissure for its bed. Standing at the entrance of the chasm, a low
muffled thunder resounding through the valley attracted my attention. I
followed the crevasse, which deepened and narrowed, and, by the blue
light of the ice, could see the stream gambolling along its bottom, and
flashing as it jumped over the ledges which it encountered in its way.
The fissure at length came to an end: placing a foot on each side of it,
and withholding the stronger light from my eyes, I looked down between
its shining walls, and saw the stream plunge into a shaft which carried
it to the bottom of the glacier.
Slowly, and in zigzag fashion, as the crevasses demanded, I continued to
ascend, sometimes climbing vast humps of ice from which good views of
the surrounding glacier were obtained; sometimes hidden in the hollows
between the humps, in which also green glacier tarns were often formed,
very lonely and very beautiful.
[Sidenote: A LAKE SET FREE. 1857.]
While standing beside one of these, and watching the moving clouds which
it faithfully mirrored, I heard the sound of what appeared to be a
descending avalanche, but the time of its continuance surprised me.
Looking through my opera-glass in the direction of the sound, I saw
issuing from the end of a secondary glacier on the Tacul side a torrent
of what appeared to me to be stones and mud. I could see the stones and
finer debris jumping down the declivities, and shaping themselves into
singular cascades. The noise continued for a quarter of an hour, after
which the torrent rapidly diminished, until, at length, the ordinary
little stream due to the melting of the glacier alone remained. A
subglacial lake had burst its boundary, and carried along with it in its
rush downwards the debris which it met with in its course.
[Sidenote: IMPRESSIVE SCENE. 1857.]
In some places I found the crevasses difficult, the ice being split in a
very singular manner. Vast plates of it not more than a foot in
thickness were sometimes detached from the sides of the crevasses, and
stood alone. I was now approaching the base of the _seracs_, and the
glacier around me still retained a portion of the turbulence of the
cascade. I halted at times amid the ruin and confusion, and examined
with my glass the cascade itself. It was a wild and wonderful scene,
suggesting throes of spasmodic energy, though, in reality, all its
dislocation had been _slowly_ and _gradually_ produced. True, the
stratified blocks which here and there cumbered the terraces suggested
_debacles_, but these were local and partial, and did not affect
the general question. There is scarcely a case of geological
disturbance which could not be matched with its analogue upon the
glaciers,--contortions, faults, fissures, joints, and dislocations,--but
in the case of the ice we can prove the effects to be due to
slowly-acting causes; how reasonable is it then to ascribe to the
operation of similar causes, which have had an incomparably longer time
to work, many geological effects which at first sight might suggest
sudden convulsion!
Wandering slowly upwards, successive points of attraction drawing me
almost unconsciously on, I found myself as the day was declining deep in
the entanglements of the ice. A shower commenced, and a splendid rainbow
threw an oblique arch across the glacier. I was quite alone; the scene
was exceedingly impressive, and the possibility of difficulties on which
I had not calculated intervening between me and the lower glacier, gave
a tinge of anxiety to my position. I turned towards home; crossed some
bosses of ice and rounded others; I followed the tracks of streams which
were very irregular on this portion of the glacier, bending hither and
thither, rushing through deep-cut channels, falling in cascades and
expanding here and there to deep green lakes; they often plunged into
the depths of the ice, flowed under it with hollow gurgle, and
reappeared at some distant point. I threaded my way cautiously amid
systems of crevasses, scattering with my axe, to secure a footing, the
rotten ice of the sharper crests, which fell with a ringing sound into
the chasms at either side. Strange subglacial noises were sometimes
heard, as if caverns existed underneath, into which blocks of ice fell
at intervals, transmitting the shock of their fall with a dull boom to
the surface of the glacier. By the steady surmounting of difficulties
one after another, I at length placed them all behind me, and afterwards
hastened swiftly along the glacier to my mountain home.
[Sidenote: CHAMOUNI RULES. 1857.]
On the 30th incessant rain confined us to indoor work; on the 31st we
determined the velocity with which the glacier is forced through the
entrance of the trunk valley at Trelaporte, and also the motion of the
Grand Moulin. We also determined both the velocity and the width of the
Glacier du Geant. The 1st of August was spent by me at the cascade of
the Talefre, examining the structure, crumpling, and scaling off of the
ice. Finding that the rules at Chamouni put an unpleasant limit to my
demands on my guide Simond, I visited the Guide Chef on the 2nd of
August, and explained to him the object of my expedition, pointing out
the inconvenience which a rigid application of the rules made for
tourists would impose upon me. He had then the good sense to acknowledge
the reasonableness of my remarks, and to grant me the liberty I
requested. The 3rd of August was employed in determining the velocity
and width of the Glacier de Lechaud, and in observations on the
lamination of the glacier.
[Sidenote: THE JARDIN. 1857.]
THE JARDIN.
(9.)
[Sidenote: A RESERVOIR OF ICE. 1857.]
On the 4th of August, with a view of commencing a series of observations
on the inclinations of the Mer de Glace and its tributaries, we had our
theodolite transported to the _Jardin_, which, as is well known, lies
like an island in the middle of the Glacier du Talefre. We reached the
place by the usual route, and found some tourists reposing on the soft
green sward which covers the lower portion, and to which, and the
flowers which spangle it, the place owes its name. Towards the summit of
the Jardin, a rock jutted forward, apparently the very apex of the
place, or at least hiding by its prominence everything that might exist
behind it; leaving our guide with the instrument, we aimed at this, and
soon left the grass and flowers behind us. Stepping amid broken
fragments of rock, along slopes of granite, with fat felspar crystals
which gave the boots a hold, and crossing at intervals patches of snow,
which continued still to challenge the summer heat, I at length found
myself upon the peak referred to; and, although it was not the highest,
the unimpeded view which it commanded induced me to get astride it. The
Jardin was completely encircled by the ice of the glacier, and this was
held in a mountain basin, which was bounded all round by a grand and
cliffy rim. The outline of the dark brown crags--a deeply serrated and
irregular line--was forcibly drawn against the blue heaven, and still
more strongly against some white and fleecy clouds which lay here and
there behind it; while detached spears and pillars of rock, sculptured
by frost and lightning, stood like a kind of defaced statuary along the
ridge. All round the basin the snow reared itself like a buttress
against the precipitous cliffs, being streaked and fluted by the descent
of blocks from the summits. This mighty tub is the collector of one of
the tributaries of the Mer de Glace. According to Professor Forbes, its
greatest diameter is 4200 yards, and out of it the half-formed ice is
squeezed through a precipitous gorge about 700 yards wide, forming there
the ice cascade of the Talefre. Bounded on one side by the Grande
Jorasse, and on the other by Mont Mallet, the principal tributary of the
Glacier de Lechaud lay white and pure upon the mountain slope. Round
further to the right we had the vast plateau whence the Glacier du Geant
is fed, fenced on the left by the Aiguille du Geant and the Aiguille
Noire, and on the right by the Monts Maudits and Mont Blanc. The scene
was a truly majestic one. The mighty Aiguilles piercing the sea of air,
the soft white clouds floating here and there behind them; the shining
snow with its striped faults and precipices; the deep blue firmament
overhead; the peals of avalanches and the sound of water;--all conspired
to render the scene glorious, and our enjoyment of it deep.
A voice from above hailed me as I moved from my perch; it was my friend,
who had found a lodgment upon the edge of a rock which was quite
detached from the Jardin, being the first to lift its head in opposition
to the descending _neve_. Making a detour round a steep concave slope of
the glacier, I reached the flat summit of the rock. The end of a ridge
of ice abutted against it, which was split and bent by the pressure so
as to form a kind of arch. I cut steps in the ice, and ascended until I
got beneath the azure roof. Innumerable little rills of pellucid water
descended from it. Some came straight down, clear for a time, and
apparently motionless, rapidly tapering at first, and more slowly
afterwards, until, at the point of maximum contraction, they resolved
themselves into strings of liquid pearls which pattered against the ice
floor underneath. Others again, owing to the directions of the little
streamlets of which they were constituted, formed spiral figures of
great beauty: one liquid vein wound itself round another, forming a
spiral protuberance, and owing to the centrifugal motion thus imparted,
the vein, at its place of rupture, scattered itself laterally in little
liquid spherules.[A] Even at this great elevation the structure of the
ice was fairly developed, not with the sharpness to be observed lower
down, but still perfectly decided. Blue bands crossed the ridge of ice
to which I have referred, at right angles to the direction of the
pressure.
[Sidenote: MORAINES OF THE TALEFRE. 1857.]
I descended, and found my friend beneath an overhanging rock.
Immediately afterwards a peal like that of thunder shook the air, and
right in front of us an avalanche darted down the brown cliffs, then
along a steep slope of snow which reared itself against the mountain
wall, carrying with it the debris of the rocks over which it passed,
until it finally lay a mass of sullied rubbish at the base of the
incline: the whole surface of the Talefre is thus soiled. Another peal
was heard immediately afterwards, but the avalanche which caused it was
hidden from us by a rocky promontory. From this same promontory the
greater portion of the medial moraine which descends the cascade of the
Talefre is derived, forming at first a gracefully winding curve, and
afterwards stretching straight to the summit of the fall. In the chasms
of the cascade its boulders are engulfed, but the lost moraine is
restored below the fall, as if disgorged by the ice which had swallowed
it. From the extremity of the Jardin itself a mere driblet of a moraine
proceeds, running parallel to the former, and like it disappearing at
the summit of the cascade.
[Sidenote: AMONG THE CREVASSES. 1857.]
We afterwards descended towards the cascade, but long before this is
attained the most experienced iceman would find himself in difficulty.
Transverse crevasses are formed, which follow each other so speedily as
to leave between them mere narrow ridges of ice, along which we moved
cautiously, jumping the adjacent fissures, or getting round them, as the
case demanded. As we approached the jaws of the gorge, the ridges
dwindled to mere plates and wedges, which being bent and broken by the
lateral pressure, added to the confusion, and warned us not to advance.
The position was in some measure an exciting one. Our guide had never
been here before; we were far from the beaten track, and the riven
glacier wore an aspect of treacherous hostility. As at the base of the
_seracs_, a subterranean noise sometimes announced the falling of
ice-blocks into hollows underneath, the existence of which the resonant
concussion of the fallen mass alone revealed. There was thus a dash of
awe mingled with our thoughts; a stirring up of the feelings which
troubled the coolness of the intellect. We finally swerved to the right,
and by a process the reverse of straightforward reached the Couvercle.
Nightfall found us at the threshold of our hotel.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] The recent hydraulic researches of Professor Magnus furnish some
beautiful illustrations of this action.
(10.)
[Sidenote: ROUND HAILSTONES. 1857.]
[Sidenote: A DANGEROUS LEAP. 1857.]
On the 5th we were engaged for some time in an important measurement at
the Tacul. We afterwards ascended towards the _seracs_, and determined
the inclinations of the Glacier du Geant downwards. Dense cloud-masses
gathered round the points of the Aiguilles, and the thunder bellowed at
intervals from the summit of Mont Blanc. As we descended the Mer de
Glace the valley in front of us was filled with a cloud of pitchy
darkness. Suddenly from side to side this field of gloom was riven by a
bar of lightning of intolerable splendour; it was followed by a peal of
commensurate grandeur, the echoes of which leaped from cliff to cliff
long after the first sound had died away. The discharge seemed to unlock
the clouds above us, for they showered their liquid spheres down upon us
with a momentum like that of swan-shot: all the way home we were
battered by this pellet-like rain. On the 6th the rain continued with
scarcely any pause; on the 7th I was engaged all day upon the Glacier du
Geant; on the morning of the 8th heavy hail had fallen there, the stones
being perfect spheres; the rounded rain-drops had solidified during
their descent without sensible change of form. When this hail was
squeezed together, it exactly resembled a mass of oolitic limestone
which I had picked up in 1853 near Blankenburg in the Hartz. Mr. Hirst
and myself were engaged together this day taking the inclinations: he
struck his theodolite at the Angle, and went home accompanied by Simond,
and the evening being extremely serene, I pursued my way down the centre
of the glacier towards the Echelets. The crevasses as I advanced became
more deep and frequent, the ridges of ice between them becoming
gradually narrower. They were very fine, their downward faces being
clear cut, perfectly vertical, and in many cases beautifully veined.
Vast plates of ice moreover often stood out midway between the walls of
the chasms, as if cloven from the glacier and afterwards set on edge.
The place was certainly one calculated to test the skill and nerve of an
iceman; and as the day drooped, and the shadow in the valley deepened, a
feeling approaching to awe took possession of me. My route was an
exaggerated zigzag; right and left amid the chasms wherever a hope of
progress opened; and here I made the experience which I have often
repeated since, and laid to heart as regards intellectual work also,
that enormous difficulties may be overcome when they are attacked in
earnest. Sometimes I found myself so hedged in by fissures that escape
seemed absolutely impossible; but close and resolute examination so
often revealed a means of exit, that I felt in all its force the brave
verity of the remark of Mirabeau, that the word "impossible" is a mere
blockhead of a word. It finally became necessary to reach the shore, but
I found this a work of extreme difficulty. At length, however, it became
pretty evident that, if I could cross a certain crevasse, my retreat
would be secured. The width of the fissure seemed to be fairly within
jumping distance, and if I could have calculated on a safe purchase for
my foot I should have thought little of the spring; but the ice on the
edge from which I was to leap was loose and insecure, and hence a kind
of nervous thrill shot through me as I made the bound. The opposite side
was fairly reached, but an involuntary tremor shook me all over after I
felt myself secure. I reached the edge of the glacier without further
serious difficulty, and soon after found myself steeped in the creature
comforts of our hotel.
On Monday, August 10th, I had the great pleasure of being joined by my
friend Huxley; and though the weather was very unpromising, we started
together up the glacier, he being desirous to learn something of its
general features, and, if possible, to reach the Jardin. We reached the
Couvercle, and squeezed ourselves through the Egralets; but here the
rain whizzed past us, and dense fog settled upon the cascade of the
Talefre, obscuring all its parts. We met Mr. Galton, the African
traveller, returning from an attempt upon the Jardin; and learning that
his guides had lost their way in the fog, we deemed it prudent to
return.
The foregoing brief notes will have informed the reader that at the
period of Mr. Huxley's arrival I was not without due training upon the
ice; I may also remark, that on the 25th of July I reached the summit
of the Col du Geant, accompanied by the boy Balmat, and returned to the
Montanvert on the same day. My health was perfect, and incessant
practice had taught me the art of dealing with the difficulties of the
ice. From the time of my arrival at the Montanvert the thought of
ascending Mont Blanc, and thus expanding my knowledge of the glaciers,
had often occurred to me, and I think I was justified in feeling that
the discipline which both my friend Hirst and myself had undergone ought
to enable us to accomplish the journey in a much more modest way than
ordinary. I thought a single guide sufficient for this purpose, and I
was strengthened in this opinion by the fact that Simond, who was a man
of the strictest prudence, and who at first declared four guides to be
necessary, had lowered his demand first to two, and was now evidently
willing to try the ascent with us alone.
[Sidenote: PREPARATIONS FOR A CLIMB. 1857.]
On mentioning the thing to Mr. Huxley he at once resolved to accompany
us. On the 11th of August the weather was exceedingly fine, though the
snow which had fallen during the previous days lay thick upon the
glacier. At noon we were all together at the Tacul, and the subject of
attempting Mont Blanc was mooted and discussed. My opinion was that it
would be better to wait until the fresh snow which loaded the mountain
had disappeared; but the weather was so exquisite that my friends
thought it best to take advantage of it. We accordingly entered into an
agreement with our guide, and immediately descended to make preparations
for commencing the expedition on the following morning.
FIRST ASCENT OF MONT BLANC, 1857.
(11.)
[Sidenote: SCENE FROM THE CHARMOZ. 1857.]
On Wednesday, the 12th of August, we rose early, after a very brief rest
on my part. Simond had proposed to go down to Chamouni, and commence the
ascent in the usual way, but we preferred crossing the mountains from
the Montanvert, straight to the Glacier des Bossons. At eight o'clock we
started, accompanied by two porters who were to carry our provisions to
the Grands Mulets. Slowly and silently we climbed the hill-side towards
Charmoz. We soon passed the limits of grass and rhododendrons, and
reached the slabs of gneiss which overspread the summit of the ridge,
lying one upon the other like coin upon the table of a money-changer.
From the highest-point I turned to have a last look at the Mer de Glace;
and through a pair of very dark spectacles I could see with perfect
distinctness the looped dirt-bands of the glacier, which to the naked
eye are scarcely discernible except by twilight. Flanking our track to
the left rose a series of mighty Aiguilles--the Aiguille de Charmoz,
with its bent and rifted pinnacles; the Aiguille du Grepon, the Aiguille
de Blaitiere, the Aiguille du Midi, all piercing the heavens with their
sharp pyramidal summits. Far in front of us rose the grand snow-cone of
the Dome du Gouter, while, through a forest of dark pines which gathered
like a cloud at the foot of the mountain, gleamed the white minarets of
the Glacier des Bossons. Below us lay the Valley of Chamouni, beyond
which were the Brevent and the chain of the Aiguilles Rouges; behind us
was the granite obelisk of the Aiguille du Dru, while close at hand
science found a corporeal form in a pyramid of stones used as a
trigonometrical station by Professor Forbes. Sound is known to travel
better up hill than down, because the pulses transmitted from a denser
medium to a rarer, suffer less loss of intensity than when the
transmission is in the opposite direction; and now the mellow voice of
the Arve came swinging upwards from the heavier air of the valley to the
lighter air of the hills in rich deep cadences.
[Sidenote: PASSAGE TO THE PIERRE A L'ECHELLE. 1857.]
The way for a time was excessively rough, our route being overspread
with the fragments of peaks which had once reared themselves to our
left, but which frost and lightning had shaken to pieces, and poured in
granite avalanches down the mountain. We were sometimes among huge
angular boulders, and sometimes amid lighter shingle, which gave way at
every step, thus forcing us to shift our footing incessantly. Escaping
from these, we crossed the succession of secondary glaciers which lie at
the feet of the Aiguilles, and having secured firewood found ourselves
after some hours of hard work at the Pierre a l'Echelle. Here we were
furnished with leggings of coarse woollen cloth to keep out the snow;
they were tied under the knees and quite tightly again over the insteps,
so that the legs were effectually protected. We had some refreshment,
possessed ourselves of the ladder, and entered upon the glacier.
[Sidenote: LADDER LEFT BEHIND. 1857.]
[Sidenote: DIFFICULT CREVASSES. 1857.]
The ice was excessively fissured: we crossed crevasses and crept round
slippery ridges, cutting steps in the ice wherever climbing was
necessary. This rendered our progress very slow. Once, with the
intention of lending a helping hand, I stepped forward upon a block of
granite which happened to be poised like a rocking stone upon the ice,
though I did not know it; it treacherously turned under me; I fell, but
my hands were in instant requisition, and I escaped with a bruise, from
which, however, the blood oozed angrily. We found the ladder necessary
in crossing some of the chasms, the iron spikes at its end being firmly
driven into the ice at one side, while the other end rested on the
opposite side of the fissure. The middle portion of the glacier was not
difficult. Mounds of ice rose beside us right and left, which were
sometimes split into high towers and gaunt-looking pyramids, while the
space between was unbroken. Twenty minutes' walking brought us again to
a fissured portion of the glacier, and here our porter left the ladder
on the ice behind him. For some time I was not aware of this, but we
were soon fronted by a chasm to pass which we were in consequence
compelled to make a long and dangerous circuit amid crests of crumbling
ice. This accomplished, we hoped that no repetition of the process would
occur, but we speedily came to a second fissure, where it was necessary
to step from a projecting end of ice to a mass of soft snow which
overhung the opposite side. Simond could reach this snow with his
long-handled axe; he beat it down to give it rigidity, but it was
exceedingly tender, and as he worked at it he continued to express his
fears that it would not bear us. I was the lightest of the party, and
therefore tested the passage, first; being partially lifted by Simond on
the end of his axe, I crossed the fissure, obtained some anchorage at
the other side, and helped the others over. We afterwards ascended until
another chasm, deeper and wider than any we had hitherto encountered,
arrested us. We walked alongside of it in search of a snow bridge, which
we at length found, but the keystone of the arch had unfortunately given
way, leaving projecting eaves of snow at both sides, between which we
could look into the gulf, till the gloom of its deeper portions cut the
vision short. Both sides of the crevasse were sounded, but no sure
footing was obtained; the snow was beaten and carefully trodden down as
near to the edge as possible, but it finally broke away from the foot
and fell into the chasm. One of our porters was short-legged and a bad
iceman; the other was a daring fellow, and he now threw the knapsack
from his shoulders, came to the edge of the crevasse, looked into it,
but drew back again. After a pause he repeated the act, testing the snow
with his feet and staff. I looked at the man as he stood beside the
chasm manifestly undecided as to whether he should take the step upon
which his life would hang, and thought it advisable to put a stop to
such perilous play. I accordingly interposed, the man withdrew from the
crevasse, and he and Simond descended to fetch the ladder. While they
were away Huxley sat down upon the ice, with an expression of fatigue
stamped upon his countenance: the spirit and the muscles were evidently
at war, and the resolute will mixed itself strangely with the sense of
peril and feeling of exhaustion. He had been only two days with us, and,
though his strength is great, he had had no opportunity of hardening
himself by previous exercise upon the ice for the task which he had
undertaken. The ladder now arrived, and we crossed the crevasse. I was
intentionally the last of the party, Huxley being immediately in front
of me. The determination of the man disguised his real condition from
everybody but myself, but I saw that the exhausting journey over the
boulders and debris had been too much for his London limbs. Converting
my waterproof haversack into a cushion, I made him sit down upon it at
intervals, and by thus breaking the steep ascent into short stages we
reached the cabin of the Grands Mulets together. Here I spread a rug on
the boards, and placing my bag for a pillow, he lay down, and after an
hour's profound sleep he rose refreshed and well; but still he thought
it wise not to attempt the ascent farther. Our porters left us: a baton
was stretched across the room over the stove, and our wet socks and
leggings were thrown across it to dry; our boots were placed around the
fire, and we set about preparing our evening meal. A pan was placed upon
the fire, and filled with snow, which in due time melted and boiled; I
ground some chocolate and placed it in the pan, and afterwards ladled
the beverage into the vessels we possessed, which consisted of two
earthen dishes and the metal cases of our brandy flasks. After supper
Simond went out to inspect the glacier, and was observed by Huxley, as
twilight fell, in a state of deep contemplation beside a crevasse.
[Sidenote: STAR TWINKLING. 1857.]
Gradually the stars appeared, but as yet no moon. Before lying down we
went out to look at the firmament, and noticed, what I suppose has been
observed to some extent by everybody, that the stars near the horizon
twinkled busily, while those near the zenith shone with a steady light.
One large star in particular excited our admiration; it flashed
intensely, and changed colour incessantly, sometimes blushing like a
ruby, and again gleaming like an emerald. A determinate colour would
sometimes remain constant for a sensible time, but usually the flashes
followed each other in very quick succession. Three planks were now
placed across the room near the stove, and upon these, with their rugs
folded round them, Huxley and Hirst stretched themselves, while I
nestled on the boards at the most distant end of the room. We rose at
eleven o'clock, renewed the fire and warmed ourselves, after which we
lay down again. I at length observed a patch of pale light upon the
wooden wall of the cabin, which had entered through a hole in the end of
the edifice, and rising found that it was past one o'clock. The
cloudless moon was shining over the wastes of snow, and the scene
outside was at once wild, grand, and beautiful.
[Sidenote: START FROM THE GRANDS MULETS. 1857.]
Breakfast was soon prepared, though not without difficulty; we had no
candles, they had been forgotten; but I fortunately possessed a box of
wax matches, of which Huxley took charge, patiently igniting them in
succession, and thus giving us a tolerably continuous light. We had
some tea, which had been made at the Montanvert, and carried to the
Grands Mulets in a bottle. My memory of that tea is not pleasant; it had
been left a whole night in contact with its leaves, and smacked strongly
of tannin. The snow-water, moreover, with which we diluted it was not
pure, but left a black residuum at the bottom of the dishes in which the
beverage was served. The few provisions deemed necessary being placed in
Simond's knapsack, at twenty minutes past two o'clock we scrambled down
the rocks, leaving Huxley behind us.
The snow was hardened by the night's frost, and we were cheered by the
hope of being able to accomplish the ascent with comparatively little
labour. We were environed by an atmosphere of perfect purity; the larger
stars hung like gems above us, and the moon, about half full, shone with
wondrous radiance in the dark firmament. One star in particular, which
lay eastward from the moon, suddenly made its appearance above one of
the Aiguilles, and burned there with unspeakable splendour. We turned
once towards the Mulets, and saw Huxley's form projected against the sky
as he stood upon a pinnacle of rock; he gave us a last wave of the hand
and descended, while we receded from him into the solitudes.
The evening previous our guide had examined the glacier for some
distance, his progress having been arrested by a crevasse. Beside this
we soon halted: it was spanned at one place by a bridge of snow, which
was of too light a structure to permit of Simond's testing it alone; we
therefore paused while our guide uncoiled a rope and tied us all
together. The moment was to me a peculiarly solemn one. Our little party
seemed so lonely and so small amid the silence and the vastness of the
surrounding scene. We were about to try our strength under unknown
conditions, and as the various possibilities of the enterprise crowded
on the imagination, a sense of responsibility for a moment oppressed
me. But as I looked aloft and saw the glory of the heavens, my heart
lightened, and I remarked cheerily to Hirst that Nature seemed to smile
upon our work. "Yes," he replied, in a calm and earnest voice, "and, God
willing, we shall accomplish it."
[Sidenote: A WRONG TURN. 1857.]
A pale light now overspread the eastern sky, which increased, as we
ascended, to a daffodil tinge; this afterwards heightened to orange,
deepening at one extremity into red, and fading at the other into a pure
ethereal hue to which it would be difficult to assign a special name.
Higher up the sky was violet, and this changed by insensible degrees
into the darkling blue of the zenith, which had to thank the light of
moon and stars alone for its existence. We wound steadily for a time
through valleys of ice, climbed white and slippery slopes, crossed a
number of crevasses, and after some time found ourselves beside a chasm
of great depth and width, which extended right and left as far as we
could see. We turned to the left, and marched along its edge in search
of a _pont_; but matters became gradually worse: other crevasses joined
on to the first one, and the further we proceeded the more riven and
dislocated the ice became. At length we reached a place where further
advance was impossible. Simond in his difficulty complained of the want
of light, and wished us to wait for the advancing day; I, on the
contrary, thought that we had light enough and ought to make use of it.
Here the thought occurred to me that Simond, having been only once
before to the top of the mountain, might not be quite clear about the
route; the glacier, however, changes within certain limits from year to
year, so that a general knowledge was all that could be expected, and we
trusted to our own muscles to make good any mistake in the way of
guidance. We now turned and retraced our steps along the edges of chasms
where the ice was disintegrated and insecure, and succeeded at length
in finding a bridge which bore us across the crevasse. This error caused
us the loss of an hour, and after walking for this time we could cast a
stone from the point we had attained to the place whence we had been
compelled to return.
[Sidenote: SERACS OF THE DOME DU GOUTER. 1857.]
Our way now lay along the face of a steep incline of snow, which was cut
by the fissure we had just passed, in a direction parallel to our route.
On the heights to our right, loose ice-crags seemed to totter, and we
passed two tracks over which the frozen blocks had rushed some short
time previously. We were glad to get out of the range of these terrible
projectiles, and still more so to escape the vicinity of that ugly
crevasse. To be killed in the open air would be a luxury, compared with
having the life squeezed out of one in the horrible gloom of these
chasms. The blush of the coming day became more and more intense; still
the sun himself did not appear, being hidden from us by the peaks of the
Aiguille du Midi, which were drawn clear and sharp against the
brightening sky. Right under this Aiguille were heaps of snow smoothly
rounded and constituting a portion of the sources whence the Glacier du
Geant is fed; these, as the day advanced, bloomed with a rosy light. We
reached the Petit Plateau, which we found covered with the remains of
ice avalanches; above us upon the crest of the mountain rose three
mighty bastions, divided from each other by deep vertical rents, with
clean smooth walls, across which the lines of annual bedding were drawn
like courses of masonry. From these, which incessantly renew themselves,
and from the loose and broken ice-crags near them, the boulders amid
which we now threaded our way had been discharged. When they fall their
descent must be sublime.
[Sidenote: THE LOST GUIDES. 1857.]
The snow had been gradually getting deeper, and the ascent more
wearisome, but superadded to this at the Petit Plateau was the
uncertainty of the footing between the blocks of ice. In many places
the space was merely covered by a thin crust, which, when trod upon,
instantly yielded, and we sank with a shock sometimes to the hips. Our
way next lay up a steep incline to the Grand Plateau, the depth and
tenderness of the snow augmenting as we ascended. We had not yet seen
the sun, but, as we attained the brow which forms the entrance to the
Grand Plateau, he hung his disk upon a spike of rock to our left, and,
surrounded by a glory of interference spectra of the most gorgeous
colours, blazed down upon us. On the Grand Plateau we halted and had our
frugal refreshment. At some distance to our left was the crevasse into
which Dr. Hamel's three guides were precipitated by an avalanche in
1820; they are still entombed in the ice, and some future explorer may
perhaps see them disgorged lower down, fresh and undecayed. They can
hardly reach the surface until they pass the snow-line of the glacier,
for above this line the quantity of snow that annually falls being in
excess of the quantity melted, the tendency would be to make the
ice-covering above them thicker. But it is also possible that the waste
of the ice underneath may have brought the bodies to the bed of the
glacier, where their very bones may have been ground to mud by an agency
which the hardest rocks cannot withstand.
[Sidenote: THE GUIDE TIRED. 1857.]
[Sidenote: A PERILOUS SLOPE. 1857.]
As the sun poured his light upon the Plateau the little snow-facets
sparkled brilliantly, sometimes with a pure white light, and at others
with prismatic colours. Contrasted with the white spaces above and
around us were the dark mountains on the opposite side of the valley of
Chamouni, around which fantastic masses of cloud were beginning to build
themselves. Mont Buet, with its cone of snow, looked small, and the
Brevent altogether mean; the limestone bastions of the Fys, however,
still presented a front of gloom and grandeur. We traversed the Grand
Plateau, and at length reached the base of an extremely steep incline
which stretched upwards towards the Corridor. Here, as if produced by a
fault, consequent upon the sinking of the ice in front, rose a vertical
precipice, from the coping of which vast stalactites of ice depended.
Previous to reaching this place I had noticed a haggard expression upon
the countenance of our guide, which was now intensified by the prospect
of the ascent before him. Hitherto he had always been in front, which
was certainly the most fatiguing position. I felt that I must now take
the lead, so I spoke cheerily to the man and placed him behind me.
Marking a number of points upon the slope as resting places, I went
swiftly from one to the other. The surface of the snow had been
partially melted by the sun and then refrozen, thus forming a
superficial crust, which bore the weight up to a certain point, and then
suddenly gave way, permitting the leg to sink to above the knee. The
shock consequent on this, and the subsequent effort necessary to
extricate the leg, were extremely fatiguing. My motion was complained of
as too quick, and my tracks as imperfect; I moderated the former, and,
to render my footholes broad and sure, I stamped upon the frozen crust,
and twisted my legs in the soft mass underneath,--a terribly exhausting
process. I thus led the way to the base of the Rochers Rouges, up to
which the fault already referred to had prolonged itself as a crevasse,
which was roofed at one place by a most dangerous-looking snow-bridge.
Simond came to the front; I drew his attention to the state of the snow,
and proposed climbing the Rochers Rouges; but, with a promptness unusual
with him, he replied that this was impossible; the bridge was our only
means of passing, and we must try it. We grasped our ropes, and dug our
feet firmly into the snow to check the man's descent if the _pont_ gave
way, but to our astonishment it bore him, and bore us safely after him.
The slope which we had now to ascend had the snow swept from its
surface, and was therefore firm ice. It was most dangerously steep, and,
its termination being the fretted coping of the precipice to which I
have referred, if we slid downwards we should shoot over this and be
dashed to pieces upon the ice below.[A] Simond, who had come to the
front to cross the crevasse, was now engaged in cutting steps, which he
made deep and large, so that they might serve us on our return. But the
listless strokes of his axe proclaimed his exhaustion; so I took the
implement out of his hands, and changed places with him. Step after step
was hewn, but the top of the Corridor appeared ever to recede from us.
Hirst was behind unoccupied, and could thus turn his thoughts to the
peril of our position: he _felt_ the angle on which we hung, and saw the
edge of the precipice, to which less than a quarter of a minute's slide
would carry us, and for the first time during the journey he grew giddy.
A cigar which he lighted for the purpose tranquilized him.
[Sidenote: WILL AND MUSCLE. 1857.]
I hewed sixty steps upon this slope, and each step had cost a minute, by
Hirst's watch. The Mur de la Cote was still before us, and on this the
guide-books informed us two or three hundred steps were sometimes found
necessary. If sixty steps cost an hour, what would be the cost of two
hundred? The question was disheartening in the extreme, for the time at
which we had calculated on reaching the summit was already passed, while
the chief difficulties remained unconquered. Having hewn our way along
the harder ice we reached snow. I again resorted to stamping to secure a
footing, and while thus engaged became, for the first time, aware of the
drain of force to which I was subjecting myself. The thought of being
absolutely exhausted had never occurred to me, and from first to last I
had taken no care to husband my strength. I always calculated that the
_will_ would serve me even should the muscles fail, but I now found that
mechanical laws rule man in the long run; that no effort of will, no
power of spirit, can draw beyond a certain limit upon muscular force.
The soul, it is true, can stir the body to action, but its function is
to excite and apply force, and not to create it.
While stamping forward through the frozen crust I was compelled to pause
at short intervals; then would set out again apparently fresh, to find,
however, in a few minutes that my strength was gone, and that I required
to rest once more. In this way I gained the summit of the Corridor, when
Hirst came to the front, and I felt some relief in stepping slowly after
him, making use of the holes into which his feet had sunk. He thus led
the way to the base of the Mur de la Cote, the thought of which had so
long cast a gloom upon us; here we left our rope behind us, and while
pausing I asked Simond whether he did not feel a desire to go to the
summit--"_Bien sur_," was his reply, "_mais!_" Our guide's mind was so
constituted that the "_mais_" seemed essential to its peace. I stretched
my hand towards him, and said, "Simond, we must do it." One thing alone
I felt could defeat us: the usual time of the ascent had been more than
doubled, the day was already far spent, and if the ascent would throw
our subsequent descent into night it could not be contemplated.
[Sidenote: A DOZE ON THE CALOTTE. 1857.]
We now faced the Mur, which was by no means so bad as we had expected.
Driving the iron claws of our boots into the scars made by the axe, and
the spikes of our batons into the slope above our feet, we ascended
steadily until the summit was attained, and the top of the mountain rose
clearly above us. We congratulated ourselves upon this; but Simond,
probably fearing that our joy might become too full, remarked, "_Mais le
sommet est encore bien loin!_" It was, alas! too true. The snow became
soft again, and our weary limbs sank in it as before. Our guide went on
in front, audibly muttering his doubts as to our ability to reach the
top, and at length he threw himself upon the snow, and exclaimed, "_Il
faut y renoncer!_" Hirst now undertook the task of rekindling the
guide's enthusiasm, after which Simond rose, exclaiming, "_Ah! comme ca
me fait mal aux genoux_," and went forward. Two rocks break through the
snow between the summit of the Mur and the top of the mountain; the
first is called the Petits Mulets, and the highest the Derniers Rochers.
At the former of these we paused to rest, and finished our scanty store
of wine and provisions. We had not a bit of bread nor a drop of wine
left; our brandy flasks were also nearly exhausted, and thus we had to
contemplate the journey to the summit, and the subsequent descent to the
Grands Mulets, without the slightest prospect of physical refreshment.
The almost total loss of two nights' sleep, with two days' toil
superadded, made me long for a few minutes' doze, so I stretched myself
upon a composite couch of snow and granite, and immediately fell asleep.
My friend, however, soon aroused me. "You quite frighten me," he said;
"I have listened for some minutes, and have not heard you breathe once."
I had, in reality, been taking deep draughts of the mountain air, but so
silently as not to be heard.
I now filled our empty wine-bottle with snow and placed it in the
sunshine, that we might have a little water on our return. We then rose;
it was half-past two o'clock; we had been upwards of twelve hours
climbing, and I calculated that, whether we reached the summit or not,
we could at all events work _towards_ it for another hour. To the sense
of fatigue previously experienced, a new phenomenon was now added--the
beating of the heart. We were incessantly pulled up by this, which
sometimes became so intense as to suggest danger. I counted the number
of paces which we were able to accomplish without resting, and found
that at the end of every twenty, sometimes at the end of fifteen, we
were compelled to pause. At each pause my heart throbbed audibly, as I
leaned upon my staff, and the subsidence of this action was always the
signal for further advance. My breathing was quick, but light and
unimpeded. I endeavoured to ascertain whether the hip-joint, on account
of the diminished atmospheric pressure, became loosened, so as to throw
the weight of the leg upon the surrounding ligaments, but could not be
certain about it. I also sought a little aid and encouragement from
philosophy, endeavouring to remember what great things had been done by
the accumulation of small quantities, and I urged upon myself that the
present was a case in point, and that the summation of distances twenty
paces each must finally place us at the top. Still the question of time
left the matter long in doubt, and until we had passed the Derniers
Rochers we worked on with the stern indifference of men who were doing
their duty, and did not look to consequences. Here, however, a gleam of
hope began to brighten our souls; the summit became visibly nearer,
Simond showed more alacrity; at length success became certain, and at
half-past three P.M. my friend and I clasped hands upon the top.
[Sidenote: THE SUMMIT ATTAINED. 1857.]
The summit of the mountain is an elongated ridge, which has been
compared to the back of an ass. It was perfectly manifest that we were
dominant over all other mountains; as far as the eye could range Mont
Blanc had no competitor. The summits which had looked down upon us in
the morning were now far beneath us. The Dome du Gouter, which had held
its threatening _seracs_ above us so long, was now at our feet. The
Aiguille du Midi, Mont Blanc du Tacul, and the Monts Maudits, the
Talefre with its surrounding peaks, the Grand Jorasse, Mont Mallet, and
the Aiguille du Geant, with our own familiar glaciers, were all below
us. And as our eye ranged over the broad shoulders of the mountain, over
ice hills and valleys, plateaux and far-stretching slopes of snow, the
conception of its magnitude grew upon us, and impressed us more and
more.
[Sidenote: CLOUDS FROM THE SUMMIT. 1857.]
The clouds were very grand--grander indeed than anything I had ever
before seen. Some of them seemed to hold thunder in their breasts, they
were so dense and dark; others, with their faces turned sunward, shone
with the dazzling whiteness of the mountain snow; while others again
built themselves into forms resembling gigantic elm trees, loaded with
foliage. Towards the horizon the luxury of colour added itself to the
magnificent alternations of light and shade. Clear spaces of amber and
ethereal green embraced the red and purple cumuli, and seemed to form
the cradle in which they swung. Closer at hand squally mists, suddenly
engendered, were driven hither and thither by local winds; while the
clouds at a distance lay "like angels sleeping on the wing," with
scarcely visible motion. Mingling with the clouds, and sometimes rising
above them, were the highest mountain heads, and as our eyes wandered
from peak to peak, onwards to the remote horizon, space itself seemed
more vast from the manner in which the objects which it held were
distributed.
[Sidenote: INTENSITY OF SOUND. 1857.]
I wished to repeat the remarkable experiment of De Saussure upon sound,
and for this purpose had requested Simond to bring a pistol from
Chamouni; but in the multitude of his cares he forgot it, and in lieu of
it my host at the Montanvert had placed in two tin tubes, of the same
size and shape, the same amount of gunpowder, securely closing the tubes
afterwards, and furnishing each of them with a small lateral aperture.
We now planted one of them upon the snow, and bringing a strip of amadou
into communication with the touchhole, ignited its most distant end: it
failed; we tried again, and were successful, the explosion tearing
asunder the little case which contained the powder. The sound was
certainly not so great as I should have expected from an equal quantity
of powder at the sea level.[B]
The snow upon the summit was indurated, but of an exceedingly fine
grain, and the beautiful effect already referred to as noticed upon the
Stelvio was strikingly manifest. The hole made by driving the baton into
the snow was filled with a delicate blue light; and, by management, its
complementary pinky yellow could also be produced. Even the iron spike
at the end of the baton made a hole sufficiently deep to exhibit the
blue colour, which certainly depends on the size and arrangement of the
snow crystals. The firmament above us was without a cloud, and of a
darkness almost equal to that which surrounded the moon at 2 A.M. Still,
though the sun was shining, a breeze, whose tooth had been sharpened by
its passage over the snow-fields, searched us through and through. The
day was also waning, and, urged by the warnings of our ever prudent
guide, we at length began the descent.
[Sidenote: AN UNEXPECTED GLISSADE. 1857.]
Gravity was now in our favour, but gravity could not entirely spare our
wearied limbs, and where we sank in the snow we found our downward
progress very trying. I suffered from thirst, but after we had divided
the liquefied snow at the Petits Mulets amongst us we had nothing to
drink. I crammed the clean snow into my mouth, but the process of
melting was slow and tantalizing to a parched throat, while the chill
was painful to the teeth. We marched along the Corridor, and crossed
cautiously the perilous slope on which we had cut steps in the morning,
breathing more freely after we had cleared the ice-precipice before
described. Along the base of this precipice we now wound, diverging from
our morning's track, in order to get surer footing in the snow; it was
like flour, and while descending to the Grand Plateau we sometimes sank
in it nearly to the waist. When I endeavoured to squeeze it, so as to
fill my flask, it at first refused to cling together, behaving like so
much salt; the heat of the hand, however, soon rendered it a little
moist, and capable of being pressed into compact masses. The sun met us
here with extraordinary power; the heat relaxed my muscles, but when
fairly immersed in the shadow of the Dome du Gouter, the coolness
restored my strength, which augmented as the evening advanced. Simond
insisted on the necessity of haste, to save us from the perils of
darkness. "_On peut perir_" was his repeated admonition, and he was
quite right. We reached the region of _ponts_, more weary, but, in
compensation, more callous, than we had been in the morning, and moved
over the soft snow of the bridges as if we had been walking upon eggs.
The valley of Chamouni was filled with brown-red clouds, which crept
towards us up the mountain; the air around and above us was, however,
clear, and the chastened light told us that day was departing. Once as
we hung upon a steep slope, where the snow was exceedingly soft, Hirst
omitted to make his footing sure; the soft mass gave way, and he fell,
uttering a startled shout as he went down the declivity. I was attached
to him, and, fixing my feet suddenly in the snow, endeavoured to check
his fall, but I seemed a mere feather in opposition to the force with
which he descended.[C] I fell, and went down after him; and we carried
quite an avalanche of snow along with us, in which we were almost
completely hidden at the bottom of the slope. All further dangers,
however, were soon past, and we went at a headlong speed to the base of
the Grands Mulets; the sound of our batons against the rocks calling
Huxley forth. A position more desolate than his had been can hardly be
imagined. For seventeen hours he had been there. He had expected us at
two o'clock in the afternoon; the hours came and passed, and till seven
in the evening he had looked for us. "To the end of my life," he said,
"I shall never forget the sound of those batons." It was his turn now to
nurse me, which he did, repaying my previous care of him with high
interest. We were all soon stretched, and, in spite of cold and hard
boards, I slept at intervals; but the night, on the whole, was a weary
one, and we rose next morning with muscles more tired than when we lay
down.
[Sidenote: BLIND AMID THE CREVASSES. 1857.]
_Friday, 14th August._--Hirst was almost blind this morning; and our
guide's eyes were also greatly inflamed. We gathered our things
together, and bade the Grands Mulets farewell. It had frozen hard during
the night, and this, on the steeper slopes, rendered the footing very
insecure. Simond, moreover, appeared to be a little bewildered, and I
sometimes preceded him in cutting the steps, while Hirst moved among the
crevasses like a blind man; one of us keeping near him, so that he might
feel for the actual places where our feet had rested, and place his own
in the same position. It cost us three hours to cross from the Grands
Mulets to the Pierre a l'Echelle, where we discarded our leggings, had a
mouthful of food, and a brief rest. Once upon the safe earth Simond's
powers seemed to be restored, and he led us swiftly downwards to the
little auberge beside the Cascade du Tard, where we had some excellent
lemonade, equally choice cognac, fresh strawberries and cream. How sweet
they were, and how beautiful we thought the peasant girl who served
them! Our guide kept a little hotel, at which we halted, and found it
clean and comfortable. We were, in fact, totally unfit to go elsewhere.
My coat was torn, holes were kicked through my boots, and I was
altogether ragged and shabby. A warm bath before dinner refreshed all
mightily. Dense clouds now lowered upon Mont Blanc, and we had not been
an hour at Chamouni when the breaking up of the weather was announced by
a thunder-peal. We had accomplished our journey just in time.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Those acquainted with the mountain will at once recognise the grave
error here committed. In fact on starting from the Grands Mulets we had
crossed the glacier too far, and throughout were much too close to the
Dome du Gouter.
[B] I fired the second case in a field in Hampshire, and, as far as my
memory enabled me to make the comparison, found its sound considerably
_denser_, if I may use the expression. In 1859 I had a pistol fired at
the summit of Mont Blanc: its sound was sensibly feebler and _shorter_
than in the valley; it resembled somewhat the discharge of a cork from a
champagne bottle, though much louder, but it could not be at all
compared to the sound of a common cracker.
[C] I believe that I could stop him now (1860).
(12.)
[Sidenote: HAPPY EVENINGS. 1857.]
After our return we spent every available hour upon the ice, working at
questions which shall be treated under their proper heads, each day's
work being wound up by an evening of perfect enjoyment. Roast mutton and
fried potatoes were our incessant fare, for which, after a little
longing for a change at first, we contracted a final and permanent love.
As the year advanced, moreover, and the grass sprouted with augmented
vigour on the slopes of the Montanvert, the mutton, as predicted by our
host, became more tender and juicy. We had also some capital Sallenches
beer, cold as the glacier water, but effervescent as champagne. Such
were our food and drink. After dinner we gathered round the pine-fire,
and I can hardly think it possible for three men to be more happy than
we then were. It was not the goodness of the conversation, nor any high
intellectual element, which gave the charm to our gatherings; the
gladness grew naturally out of our own perfect health, and out of the
circumstances of our position. Every fibre seemed a repository of latent
joy, which the slightest stimulus sufficed to bring into conscious
action.
[Sidenote: A GLACIER "BLOWER." 1857.]
On the 17th I penetrated with Simond through thick gloom to the Tacul;
on the 18th we set stakes at the same place: on the same day, while
crossing the medial moraine of the Talefre, a little below the cascade,
a singular noise attracted my attention; it seemed at first as if a
snake were hissing about my feet. On changing my position the sound
suddenly ceased, but it soon recommenced. There was some snow upon the
glacier, which I removed, and placed my ear close to the ice, but it was
difficult to fix on the precise spot from which the sound issued. I cut
away the disintegrated portion of the surface, and at length discovered
a minute crack, from which a stream of air issued, which I could feel as
a cold blast against my hand. While cutting away the surface further, I
stopped the little "blower." A marmot screamed near me, and while I
paused to look at the creature scampering up the crags, the sound
commenced again, changing its note variously--hissing like a snake,
singing like a kettle, and sometimes chirruping intermittently like a
bird. On passing my fingers to and fro over the crack, I obtained a
succession of audible puffs; the current was sufficiently strong to blow
away the corner of a gauze veil held over the fissure. Still the crack
was not wide enough to permit of the entrance of my finger nail; and to
issue with such force from so minute a rent the air must have been under
considerable pressure. The origin of the blower was in all probability
the following:--When the ice is recompacted after having descended a
cascade, it is next to certain that chambers of air will be here and
there enclosed, which, being powerfully squeezed afterwards, will issue
in the manner described whenever a crack in the ice furnishes it with a
means of escape. In my experiments on flowing mud, for example, the air
entrapped in the mass while descending from the sluice into the trough,
bursts in bubbles from the surface at a short distance downwards.
[Sidenote: A DIFFICULT LINE. 1857.]
I afterwards examined the Talefre cascade from summit to base, with
reference to the structure, until at the close of the day thickening
clouds warned me off. I went down the glacier at a trot, guided by the
boulders capped with little cairns which marked the route. The track
which I had pursued for the last five weeks amid the crevasses near
l'Angle was this day barely passable. The glacier had changed, my work
was drawing to a close, and, as I looked at the objects which had now
become so familiar to me, I felt that, though not viscous, the ice did
not lack the quality of "adhesiveness," and I felt a little sad at the
thought of bidding it so soon farewell.
At some distance below the Montanvert the Mer de Glace is riven from
side to side by transverse crevasses: these fissures indicate that the
glacier where they occur is in a state of longitudinal strain which
produces transverse fracture. I wished to ascertain the amount of
stretching which the glacier here demanded, and which the ice was not
able to give; and for this purpose desired to compare the velocity of a
line set out across the fissured portion with that of a second line
staked out across the ice before it had become thus fissured. A previous
inspection of the glacier through the telescope of our theodolite
induced us to fix on a place which, though much riven, still did not
exclude the hope of our being able to reach the other side. Each of us
was, as usual, armed with his own axe; and carrying with us suitable
stakes, my guide and myself entered upon this portion of the glacier on
the morning of the 19th of August.
[Sidenote: "NOUS NOUS TROUVERONS PERDUS!" 1857.]
I was surprised on entering to find some veins of white ice, which from
their position and aspect appeared to be derived from the Glacier du
Geant; but to these I shall subsequently refer. Our work was extremely
difficult; we penetrated to some distance along one line, but were
finally forced back, and compelled to try another. Right and left of us
were profound fissures, and once a cone of ice forty feet high leaned
quite over our track. In front of us was a second leaning mass borne by
a mere stalk, and so topheavy that one wondered why the slight pedestal
on which it rested did not suddenly crack across. We worked slowly
forwards, and soon found ourselves in the shadow of the topheavy mass
above referred to; and from which I escaped with a wounded hand, caused
by over-haste. Simond surmounted the next ridge and exclaimed, "_Nous
nous trouverons perdus!_" I reached his side, and on looking round the
place saw that there was no footing for man. The glacier here, as shown
in the frontispiece, was cut up into thin wedges, separated from each
other by profound chasms, and the wedges were so broken across as to
render creeping along their edges quite impossible. Thus brought to a
stand, I fixed a stake at the point where we were forced to halt, and
retreated along edges of detestable granular ice, which fell in showers
into the crevasses when struck by the axe. At one place an exceedingly
deep fissure was at our left, which was joined, at a sharp angle, by
another at our right, and we were compelled to cross at the place of
intersection: to do this we had to trust ourselves to a projecting knob
of that vile rotten ice which I had learned to fear since my experience
of it on the Col du Geant. We finally escaped, and set out our line at
another place, where the glacier, though badly cut, was not impassable.
[Sidenote: FAREWELL TO THE MONTANVERT. 1857.]
On the 20th we made a series of final measurements at the Tacul, and
determined the motion of two lines which we had set out the previous
day. On the 21st we quitted the Montanvert; I had been there from the
15th of July, and the longer I remained the better I liked the
establishment and the people connected with it. It was then managed by
Joseph Tairraz and Jules Charlet, both of whom showed us every
attention. In 1858 and 1859 I had occasion to revisit the establishment,
which was then managed by Jules and his brother, and found in it the
same good qualities. During my winter expedition of 1859 I also found
the same readiness to assist me in every possible way; honest Jules
expressing his willingness to ascend through the snow to the auberge if
I thought his presence would in any degree contribute to my comfort.
We crossed the glacier, and descended by the Chapeau to the Cascade des
Bois, the inclination of which and of the lower portion of the glacier
we then determined. The day was magnificent. Looking upwards, the
Aiguilles de Charmoz and du Dru rose right and left like sentinels of
the valley, while in front of us the ice descended the steep, a
bewildering mass of crags and chasms. At the other side was the
pine-clad slope of the Montanvert. Further on the Aiguille du Midi threw
its granite pyramid between us and Mont Blanc; on the Dome du Gouter the
_seracs_ of the mountain were to be seen, while issuing as if from a
cleft in the mountain side the Glacier des Bossons thrust through the
black pines its snowy tongue. Below us was the beautiful valley of
Chamouni itself, through which the Arve and Arveiron rushed like
enlivening spirits. We finally examined a grand old moraine produced by
a Mer de Glace of other ages, when the ice quite crossed the valley of
Chamouni and abutted against the opposite mountain-wall.
[Sidenote: EDOUARD SIMOND. 1857.]
Simond had proved himself a very valuable assistant; he was intelligent
and perfectly trustworthy; and though the peculiar nature of my work
sometimes caused me to attempt things against which his prudence
protested, he lacked neither strength nor courage. On reaching Chamouni
and adding up our accounts, I found that I had not sufficient cash to
pay him; money was waiting for me at the post-office in Geneva, and
thither it was arranged that my friend Hirst should proceed next
morning, while I was to await the arrival of the money at Chamouni. My
guide heard of this arrangement, and divined its cause: he came to me,
and in the most affectionate manner begged of me to accept from him the
loan of 500 francs. Though I did not need the loan, the mode in which it
was offered to me augmented the kindly feelings which I had long
entertained towards Simond, and I may add that my intercourse with him
since has served only to confirm my first estimate of his worthiness.
EXPEDITION OF 1858.
(13.)
[Sidenote: DOUBTS REGARDING STRUCTURE. 1858.]
I had confined myself during the summer of 1857 to the Mer de Glace and
its tributaries, desirous to make my knowledge accurate rather than
extensive. I had made the acquaintance of all accessible parts of the
glacier, and spared no pains to master both the details and the meaning
of the laminated structure of the ice, but I found no fact upon which I
could take my stand and say to an advocate of an opposing theory, "This
is unassailable." In experimental science we have usually the power of
changing the conditions at pleasure; if Nature does not reply to a
q
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