The Val Tournanche is one of the most charming valleys in the Italian Alps; it is a paradise to an artist, and if the space at my command were greater, I would willingly linger over its groves of chestnuts, its bright trickling rills and its roaring torrents, its upland unsuspected valleys and its noble cliffs. The path rises steeply from Chatillon, but it is well shaded, and the heat of the summer sun is tempered by cool air and spray which comes off the ice-cold streams.[71] One sees from the path, at several places on the right bank of the valley, groups of arches which have been built high up against the faces of the cliffs. Guide-books repeat—on whose authority I know not—that they are the remains of a Roman aqueduct. They have the Roman boldness of conception, but the work has not the usual Roman solidity. The arches have always seemed to me to be the remains of an unfinished work, and I learn from Jean-Antoine Carrel that there are other groups of arches, which are not seen from the path, all having the same appearance. It may be questioned whether those seen near the village of Antey are Roman. Some of them are semicircular, whilst others are distinctly pointed. [Here] is one of the latter, which might pass for fourteenth-century work, or later;—a two-centred arch, with mean voussoirs, and the masonry in rough courses. These arches are well worth the attention of an archæologist, but some difficulty will be found in approaching them closely.
We sauntered up the valley, and got to Breil when all were asleep. A halo round the moon promised watery weather, and we were not disappointed, for, on the next day (August 1), rain fell heavily, and when the clouds lifted for a time, we saw that new snow lay thickly over everything higher than 9000 feet. J.-A. Carrel was ready and waiting (as I had determined to give the bold cragsman another chance); and he did not need to say that the Matterhorn would be impracticable for several days after all this new snow, even if the weather were to arrange itself at once. Our first day together was accordingly spent upon a neighbouring summit, the Cimes Blanches; a degraded mountain, well known for its fine panoramic view. It was little that we saw; for, in every direction except to the south, writhing masses of heavy clouds obscured everything; and to the south our view was intercepted by a peak higher than the Cimes Blanches, named the Grand Tournalin.[72] But we got some innocent pleasure out of watching the gambolings of a number of goats, who became fast friends after we had given them some salt; in fact, too fast, and caused us no little annoyance when we were descending. “Carrel,” I said, as a number of stones whizzed by which they had dislodged, “this must be put a stop to.” “Diable!” he grunted, “it is very well to talk, but how will you do it?” I said that I would try; and, sitting down, poured a little brandy into the hollow of my hand, and allured the nearest goat with deceitful gestures. It was one who had gobbled up the paper in which the salt had been carried—an animal of enterprising character—and it advanced fearlessly and licked up the brandy. I shall not easily forget its surprise. It stopped short, and coughed, and looked at me as much as to say, “Oh, you cheat!” and spat and ran away; stopping now and then to cough and spit again. We were not troubled any more by those goats.
More snow fell during the night, and our attempt on the Matterhorn was postponed indefinitely. As there was nothing to [pg 94]be done at Breil, I determined to make the tour of the mountain, and commenced by inventing a pass from Breil to Zermatt,[73] in place of the hackneyed Théodule. Any one who looks at the map will see that the latter pass makes a considerable détour to the east, and, apparently, goes out of the way. I thought that it was possible to strike out a shorter route, both in distance and in time, and we set out on the 3rd of August, to carry out the idea. We followed the Théodule path for some time, but quitted it when it bore away to the east, and kept straight on until we struck the moraine of the Mont Cervin glacier. Our track still continued in a straight line up the centre of the glacier to the foot of a tooth of rock, which juts prominently out of the ridge (Furggengrat) connecting the Matterhorn with the Théodulehorn. The head of the glacier was connected with this little peak by a steep bank of snow; but we were able to go straight up, and struck the Col at its lowest point, a little to the right (that is to say, to the east) of the above-mentioned peak. On the north there was a snow-slope corresponding to that on the other side. Half-an-hour took us to its base. We then bore away over the nearly level plateau of the Furggengletscher, making a straight track to the Hörnli, from whence we descended to Zermatt by one of the well-known paths. This pass has been dubbed the Breuiljoch by the Swiss surveyors. It is a few feet higher than the Théodule, and it may be recommended to those who are familiar with that pass, as it gives equally fine views, and is accessible at all times. But it will never be frequented like the Théodule, as the snow-slope at its summit, at certain times, will require the use of the axe. It took us six hours and a quarter to go from one place to the other, which was an hour longer than we would have occupied by the Théodule, although the distance in miles is less.
It is stated in one of the MS. note-books of the late Principal J. D. Forbes, that this depression, now called the Breuiljoch, was formerly the pass between the Val Tournanche and Zermatt, and that it was abandoned for the Théodule in consequence of changes [pg 95]in the glaciers.[74] The authority for the statement was not given. I presume it was from local tradition, but I readily credit it; for, before the time that the glaciers had shrunk to so great an extent, the steep snow-slopes above mentioned, in all probability, did not exist; and, most likely, the glaciers led by very gentle gradients up to the summit; in which case the route would have formed the natural highway between the two places. It is far from impossible, if the glaciers continue to diminish at their present rapid rate,[75] that the Théodule itself, the easiest and the most frequented of all the higher Alpine passes, may, in the course of a few years, become somewhat difficult; and if this should be the case, the prosperity of Zermatt will probably suffer.[76]
Carrel and I wandered out again in the afternoon, and went, first of all, to a favourite spot with tourists near the end of the Gorner glacier (or, properly speaking, the Boden glacier), to a little verdant flat—studded with Euphrasia officinalis—the delight of swarms of bees, who gather there the honey which afterwards appears at the table d’hôte.
WATER-WORN ROCKS IN THE GORGE BELOW THE GORNER GLACIER.
On our right the glacier-torrent thundered down the valley [pg 97]through a gorge with precipitous sides, not easily approached; for the turf at the top was slippery, and the rocks had everywhere been rounded by the glacier,—which formerly extended far away. This gorge seems to have been made chiefly by the torrent, and to have been excavated subsequently to the retreat of the glacier. It seems so because not merely upon its walls are there the marks of running water, but even upon the rounded rocks at the top of its walls, at a height of seventy or eighty feet above the present level of the torrent, there are some of those queer concavities which rapid streams alone are known to produce on rocks.
STRIATIONS PRODUCED BY GLACIER-ACTION (AT GRINDELWALD).