A Tramp Abroad — Volume 06

by Mark Twain

  The prediction cut curiously close to the truth; forty-one years afterthe catastrophe, the remains were cast forth at the foot of the glacier.

  I find an interesting account of the matter in the HISTOIRE DU MONTBLANC, by Stephen d'Arve. I will condense this account, as follows:

  On the 12th of August, 1861, at the hour of the close of mass, a guidearrived out of breath at the mairie of Chamonix, and bearing on hisshoulders a very lugubrious burden. It was a sack filled with humanremains which he had gathered from the orifice of a crevice in theGlacier des Bossons. He conjectured that these were remains of thevictims of the catastrophe of 1820, and a minute inquest, immediatelyinstituted by the local authorities, soon demonstrated the correctnessof his supposition. The contents of the sack were spread upon a longtable, and officially inventoried, as follows:

  Portions of three human skulls. Several tufts of black and blonde hair.A human jaw, furnished with fine white teeth. A forearm and hand, allthe fingers of the latter intact. The flesh was white and fresh,and both the arm and hand preserved a degree of flexibility in thearticulations.

  The ring-finger had suffered a slight abrasion, and the stain of theblood was still visible and unchanged after forty-one years. A leftfoot, the flesh white and fresh.

  Along with these fragments were portions of waistcoats, hats, hobnailedshoes, and other clothing; a wing of a pigeon, with black feathers; afragment of an alpenstock; a tin lantern; and lastly, a boiled leg ofmutton, the only flesh among all the remains that exhaled an unpleasantodor. The guide said that the mutton had no odor when he took it fromthe glacier; an hour's exposure to the sun had already begun the work ofdecomposition upon it.

  Persons were called for, to identify these poor pathetic relics, and atouching scene ensued. Two men were still living who had witnessed thegrim catastrophe of nearly half a century before--Marie Couttet (savedby his baton) and Julien Davouassoux (saved by the barometer). Theseaged men entered and approached the table. Davouassoux, more than eightyyears old, contemplated the mournful remains mutely and with a vacanteye, for his intelligence and his memory were torpid with age; butCouttet's faculties were still perfect at seventy-two, and he exhibitedstrong emotion. He said:

  "Pierre Balmat was fair; he wore a straw hat. This bit of skull, withthe tuft of blond hair, was his; this is his hat. Pierre Carrier wasvery dark; this skull was his, and this felt hat. This is Balmat'shand, I remember it so well!" and the old man bent down and kissed itreverently, then closed his fingers upon it in an affectionate grasp,crying out, "I could never have dared to believe that before quittingthis world it would be granted me to press once more the hand of one ofthose brave comrades, the hand of my good friend Balmat."

  There is something weirdly pathetic about the picture of thatwhite-haired veteran greeting with his loving handshake this friendwho had been dead forty years. When these hands had met last, they werealike in the softness and freshness of youth; now, one was brown andwrinkled and horny with age, while the other was still as young and fairand blemishless as if those forty years had come and gone in a singlemoment, leaving no mark of their passage. Time had gone on, in the onecase; it had stood still in the other. A man who has not seen a friendfor a generation, keeps him in mind always as he saw him last, and issomehow surprised, and is also shocked, to see the aging change theyears have wrought when he sees him again. Marie Couttet's experience,in finding his friend's hand unaltered from the image of it which hehad carried in his memory for forty years, is an experience which standsalone in the history of man, perhaps.

  Couttet identified other relics:

  "This hat belonged to Auguste Tairraz. He carried the cage of pigeonswhich we proposed to set free upon the summit. Here is the wing of oneof those pigeons. And here is the fragment of my broken baton; it was bygrace of that baton that my life was saved. Who could have told me thatI should one day have the satisfaction to look again upon this bit ofwood that supported me above the grave that swallowed up my unfortunatecompanions!"

  No portions of the body of Tairraz, other than a piece of the skull,had been found. A diligent search was made, but without result. However,another search was instituted a year later, and this had better success.Many fragments of clothing which had belonged to the lost guides werediscovered; also, part of a lantern, and a green veil with blood-stainson it. But the interesting feature was this:

  One of the searchers came suddenly upon a sleeved arm projecting froma crevice in the ice-wall, with the hand outstretched as if offeringgreeting! "The nails of this white hand were still rosy, and the poseof the extended fingers seemed to express an eloquent welcome to thelong-lost light of day."

  The hand and arm were alone; there was no trunk. After being removedfrom the ice the flesh-tints quickly faded out and the rosy nails tookon the alabaster hue of death. This was the third RIGHT hand found;therefore, all three of the lost men were accounted for, beyond cavil orquestion.

  Dr. Hamel was the Russian gentleman of the party which made the ascentat the time of the famous disaster. He left Chamonix as soon as heconveniently could after the descent; and as he had shown a chillyindifference about the calamity, and offered neither sympathy norassistance to the widows and orphans, he carried with him the cordialexecrations of the whole community. Four months before the first remainswere found, a Chamonix guide named Balmat--a relative of one of the lostmen--was in London, and one day encountered a hale old gentleman in theBritish Museum, who said:

  "I overheard your name. Are you from Chamonix, Monsieur Balmat?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Haven't they found the bodies of my three guides, yet? I am Dr. Hamel."

  "Alas, no, monsieur."

  "Well, you'll find them, sooner or later."

  "Yes, it is the opinion of Dr. Forbes and Mr. Tyndall, that the glacierwill sooner or later restore to us the remains of the unfortunatevictims."

  "Without a doubt, without a doubt. And it will be a great thing forChamonix, in the matter of attracting tourists. You can get up a museumwith those remains that will draw!"

  This savage idea has not improved the odor of Dr. Hamel's name inChamonix by any means. But after all, the man was sound on human nature.His idea was conveyed to the public officials of Chamonix, and theygravely discussed it around the official council-table. They were onlyprevented from carrying it into execution by the determined oppositionof the friends and descendants of the lost guides, who insisted ongiving the remains Christian burial, and succeeded in their purpose.

  A close watch had to be kept upon all the poor remnants and fragments,to prevent embezzlement. A few accessory odds and ends were sold. Ragsand scraps of the coarse clothing were parted with at the rate equal toabout twenty dollars a yard; a piece of a lantern and one or two othertrifles brought nearly their weight in gold; and an Englishman offered apound sterling for a single breeches-button.

  CHAPTER XLI

  [The Fearful Disaster of 1865]

  One of the most memorable of all the Alpine catastrophes was that ofJuly, 1865, on the Matterhorn--already slightly referred to, a fewpages back. The details of it are scarcely known in America. To the vastmajority of readers they are not known at all. Mr. Whymper's account isthe only authentic one. I will import the chief portion of it into thisbook, partly because of its intrinsic interest, and partly because itgives such a vivid idea of what the perilous pastime of Alp-climbingis. This was Mr. Whymper's NINTH attempt during a series of years, tovanquish that steep and stubborn pillar or rock; it succeeded, the othereight were failures. No man had ever accomplished the ascent before,though the attempts had been numerous.

  MR. WHYMPER'S NARRATIVE We started from Zermatt on the 13th of July, athalf past five, on a brilliant and perfectly cloudless morning. We wereeight in number--Croz (guide), old Peter Taugwalder (guide) and histwo sons; Lord F. Douglas, Mr. Hadow, Rev. Mr. Hudson, and I. To insuresteady motion, one tourist and one native walked together. The youngestTaugwalder fell to my share. The wine-bags also fell to my lot to carry,and through
out the day, after each drink, I replenished them secretlywith water, so that at the next halt they were found fuller than before!This was considered a good omen, and little short of miraculous.

  On the first day we did not intend to ascend to any great height, and wemounted, accordingly, very leisurely. Before twelve o'clock we had founda good position for the tent, at a height of eleven thousand feet. Wepassed the remaining hours of daylight--some basking in the sunshine,some sketching, some collecting; Hudson made tea, I coffee, and atlength we retired, each one to his blanket bag.

  We assembled together before dawn on the 14th and started directlyit was light enough to move. One of the young Taugwalders returned toZermatt. In a few minutes we turned the rib which had intercepted theview of the eastern face from our tent platform. The whole of thisgreat slope was now revealed, rising for three thousand feet like a hugenatural staircase. Some parts were more, and others were less easy, butwe were not once brought to a halt by any serious impediment, for whenan obstruction was met in front it could always be turned to the rightor to the left. For the greater part of the way there was no occasion,indeed, for the rope, and sometimes Hudson led, sometimes myself. Atsix-twenty we had attained a height of twelve thousand eight hundredfeet, and halted for half an hour; we then continued the ascent withouta break until nine-fifty-five, when we stopped for fifty minutes, at aheight of fourteen thousand feet.

  We had now arrived at the foot of that part which, seen from theRiffelberg, seems perpendicular or overhanging. We could no longercontinue on the eastern side. For a little distance we ascended by snowupon the ARETE--that is, the ridge--then turned over to the right, ornorthern side. The work became difficult, and required caution. In someplaces there was little to hold; the general slope of the mountain wasLESS than forty degrees, and snow had accumulated in, and had filledup, the interstices of the rock-face, leaving only occasional fragmentsprojecting here and there. These were at times covered with a thin filmof ice. It was a place which any fair mountaineer might pass in safety.We bore away nearly horizontally for about four hundred feet, thenascended directly toward the summit for about sixty feet, then doubledback to the ridge which descends toward Zermatt. A long stride rounda rather awkward corner brought us to snow once more. That last doubtvanished! The Matterhorn was ours! Nothing but two hundred feet of easysnow remained to be surmounted.

  The higher we rose, the more intense became the excitement. The slopeeased off, at length we could be detached, and Croz and I, dashed away,ran a neck-and-neck race, which ended in a dead heat. At 1:40 P.M., theworld was at our feet, and the Matterhorn was conquered!

  The others arrived. Croz now took the tent-pole, and planted it in thehighest snow. "Yes," we said, "there is the flag-staff, but where is theflag?" "Here it is," he answered, pulling off his blouse and fixing itto the stick. It made a poor flag, and there was no wind to floatit out, yet it was seen all around. They saw it at Zermatt--at theRiffel--in the Val Tournanche... .

  We remained on the summit for one hour--

  One crowded hour of glorious life.

  It passed away too quickly, and we began to prepare for the descent.

  Hudson and I consulted as to the best and safest arrangement of theparty. We agreed that it was best for Croz to go first, and Hadowsecond; Hudson, who was almost equal to a guide in sureness of foot,wished to be third; Lord Douglas was placed next, and old Peter, thestrongest of the remainder, after him. I suggested to Hudson that weshould attach a rope to the rocks on our arrival at the difficult bit,and hold it as we descended, as an additional protection. He approvedthe idea, but it was not definitely decided that it should be done. Theparty was being arranged in the above order while I was sketching thesummit, and they had finished, and were waiting for me to be tied inline, when some one remembered that our names had not been left in abottle. They requested me to write them down, and moved off while it wasbeing done.

  A few minutes afterward I tied myself to young Peter, ran down after theothers, and caught them just as they were commencing the descent of thedifficult part. Great care was being taken. Only one man was moving at atime; when he was firmly planted the next advanced, and so on. They hadnot, however, attached the additional rope to rocks, and nothing wassaid about it. The suggestion was not made for my own sake, and I am notsure that it ever occurred to me again. For some little distance we twofollowed the others, detached from them, and should have continued sohad not Lord Douglas asked me, about 3 P.M., to tie on to old Peter, ashe feared, he said, that Taugwalder would not be able to hold his groundif a slip occurred.

  A few minutes later, a sharp-eyed lad ran into the Monte Rosa Hotel, atZermatt, saying that he had seen an avalanche fall from the summit ofthe Matterhorn onto the Matterhorn glacier. The boy was reproved fortelling idle stories; he was right, nevertheless, and this was what hesaw.

  Michel Croz had laid aside his ax, and in order to give Mr. Hadowgreater security, was absolutely taking hold of his legs, and puttinghis feet, one by one, into their proper positions. As far as I know, noone was actually descending. I cannot speak with certainty, because thetwo leading men were partially hidden from my sight by an interveningmass of rock, but it is my belief, from the movements of theirshoulders, that Croz, having done as I said, was in the act of turninground to go down a step or two himself; at this moment Mr. Hadowslipped, fell against him, and knocked him over. I heard one startledexclamation from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downward;in another moment Hudson was dragged from his steps, and Lord Douglasimmediately after him. All this was the work of a moment. Immediately weheard Croz's exclamation, old Peter and I planted ourselves as firmly asthe rocks would permit; the rope was taut between us, and the jerk cameon us both as on one man. We held; but the rope broke midway betweenTaugwalder and Lord Francis Douglas. For a few seconds we saw ourunfortunate companions sliding downward on their backs, and spreadingout their hands, endeavoring to save themselves. They passed from oursight uninjured, disappeared one by one, and fell from the precipice toprecipice onto the Matterhorn glacier below, a distance of nearlyfour thousand feet in height. From the moment the rope broke it wasimpossible to help them. So perished our comrades!

  For more than two hours afterward I thought almost every moment that thenext would be my last; for the Taugwalders, utterly unnerved, were notonly incapable of giving assistance, but were in such a state that aslip might have been expected from them at any moment. After a time wewere able to do that which should have been done at first, and fixedrope to firm rocks, in addition to being tied together. These ropes werecut from time to time, and were left behind. Even with their assurancethe men were afraid to proceed, and several times old Peter turned,with ashy face and faltering limbs, and said, with terrible emphasis, "ICANNOT!"

  About 6 P.M., we arrived at the snow upon the ridge descending towardZermatt, and all peril was over. We frequently looked, but in vain, fortraces of our unfortunate companions; we bent over the ridge and criedto them, but no sound returned. Convinced at last that they were neitherwithin sight nor hearing, we ceased from our useless efforts; and, toocast down for speech, silently gathered up our things, and the littleeffects of those who were lost, and then completed the descent. Suchis Mr. Whymper's graphic and thrilling narrative. Zermatt gossipdarkly hints that the elder Taugwalder cut the rope, when the accidentoccurred, in order to preserve himself from being dragged into theabyss; but Mr. Whymper says that the ends of the rope showed no evidenceof cutting, but only of breaking. He adds that if Taugwalder had had thedisposition to cut the rope, he would not have had time to do it, theaccident was so sudden and unexpected.

  Lord Douglas' body has never been found. It probably lodged upon someinaccessible shelf in the face of the mighty precipice. Lord Douglas wasa youth of nineteen. The three other victims fell nearly four thousandfeet, and their bodies lay together upon the glacier when found byMr. Whymper and the other searchers the next morning. Their graves arebeside the little church in Zermatt.

  CHAPTER XLII
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  [Chillon has a Nice, Roomy Dungeon]

  Switzerland is simply a large, humpy, solid rock, with a thin skin ofgrass stretched over it. Consequently, they do not dig graves, theyblast them out with powder and fuse. They cannot afford to have largegraveyards, the grass skin is too circumscribed and too valuable. It isall required for the support of the living.

  The graveyard in Zermatt occupies only about one-eighth of an acre.The graves are sunk in the living rock, and are very permanent; butoccupation of them is only temporary; the occupant can only stay tillhis grave is needed by a later subject, he is removed, then, for they donot bury one body on top of another. As I understand it, a family ownsa grave, just as it owns a house. A man dies and leaves his house to hisson--and at the same time, this dead father succeeds to his own father'sgrave. He moves out of the house and into the grave, and his predecessormoves out of the grave and into the cellar of the chapel. I saw a blackbox lying in the churchyard, with skull and cross-bones painted on it,and was told that this was used in transferring remains to the cellar.

  In that cellar the bones and skulls of several hundred of formercitizens were compactly corded up. They made a pile eighteen feet long,seven feet high, and eight feet wide. I was told that in some of thereceptacles of this kind in the Swiss villages, the skulls were allmarked, and if a man wished to find the skulls of his ancestors forseveral generations back, he could do it by these marks, preserved inthe family records.