"The situation was sufficiently serious. The rocks could not be let go for a moment, and the blood was spirting out of more than twenty cuts. The most serious ones were in the head, and I vainly tried to close them with one hand, whilst holding on with the other. It was useless; the blood jerked out in blinding jets at each pulsation. At last, in a moment of inspiration, I kicked out a big lump of snow, and stuck it as a plaster on my head. The idea was a happy one, and the flow of blood diminished. Then, scrambling up, I got, not a moment too soon, to a place of safety, and fainted away. The sun was setting when consciousness returned, and it was pitch dark before the Great Staircase was descended; but, by a combination of luck and care, the whole 4900 feet of descent to Breuil was accomplished without a slip, or once missing the way. I slunk past the cabin of the cowherds, who were talking and laughing inside, utterly ashamed of the state to which I had been brought by my imbecility, and entered the inn stealthily, wishing to escape to my room unnoticed. But Favre met me in the passage, demanded 'Who is it?' screamed with fright when he got a light, and aroused the household. Two dozen heads then held solemn council over mine, with more talk than action. The natives were unanimous in recommending that hot wine mixed with salt should be rubbed into the cuts; I protested, but they insisted. It was all the doctoring they received. Whether their rapid healing was to be attributed to that simple remedy or to a good state of health is a question. They closed up remarkably quickly, and in a few days I was able to move again."
In 1863 Mr Whymper once more returned to the attack, but still without success. In 1864 he was unable to visit the neighbourhood of the Matterhorn, but in 1865 he made his eighth and last attempt on the Breuil, or Italian side.
The time had now come when Mr Whymper became convinced that it was an error to think the Italian side the easier. It certainly looked far less steep than the north, or Zermatt side, but on mountains quality counts for far more than quantity; and though the ledges above Breuil might sometimes be broader than those on the Swiss side, and the general slope of the mountain appear at a distance to be gentler, yet the rock had an unpleasant outward dip, giving sloping, precarious hold for hand or foot, and every now and then there were abrupt walls of rock which it was hardly possible to ascend, and out of the question to descend without fixing ropes or chains.
The Guides' Wall, Zermatt.
Now the Swiss side of the great peak differs greatly from its Italian face. The slope is really less steep, and the ledges, if narrow, slope inward, and are good to step on or grasp. Mr Whymper had noticed that large patches of snow lay on the mountain all the summer, which they could not do if the north face was a precipice. He determined, therefore, to make his next attempt on that side. He had, in 1865, intended to climb with Michel Croz, but some misunderstanding had arisen, and Croz, believing that he was free, had engaged himself to another traveller. His letter, "the last one he wrote to me," says Mr Whymper, is "an interesting souvenir of a brave and upright man." The following is an extract from it:
"enfin, Monsieur, je regrette beaucoup d'être engagè avec votre compatriote et de ne pouvoir vous accompagner dans vos conquetes mais dès qu'on a donnè sa parole on doit la tenir et être homme.
"Ainsi, prenez patience pour cette campagne et esperons que plus tard nous nous retrouverons.
"En attendant recevez les humbles salutations de votre tout devoué.