John Tyndall to Sarah Faraday   24 December 1859

Geneva | Christmas eve, 1859.

My dear Mrs Faraday

I have just dined, feel exceedingly well, and cannot I think adopt a better plan to convert the whole dinner into nutriment than the plan of writing to you. I take the opinion of the celebrated Hufeland¹ on this point, and he affirms that there is nothing better than the company of pleasant friends for promoting health and digestion. I am here at Geneva -- I succeeded in crossing the channel on Thursday night² -- the commotion had almost entirely subsided and nobody that I saw was ill. From Calais half way to Paris we had a good carriage, we then changed, and I found myself with five others, and three footwarmers in the same small compartment. The smell was like the cabin of a badly ventilated ship: but the travellers like so many toads seemed to revel in the noisome atmosphere. They would not open a chink nor let a breath of fresh air into the carriage, and so we were compelled to partake of each others carbonic acid again and again. Having arrived at Paris I drove straight to the Lyons station, and being determined to get rid of the diabolical footwarmers at least I took a second class to Macon. Further than this it was not possible to go. So I had to content myself with the space from London to Macon unbroken by a night’s delay. At Macon I slept -- and so soundly! The boots almost shook my door off its hinges before he could wake me this morning. The streets of Paris were in a dreadful state of puddle from the melted snow -- for 50 miles beyond Paris there was but little snow upon the ground -- here and there along the fringes of the river the ice was piled in long barriers, but the country generally was free from it. At Macon however the whole land lay in the stern clasp of winter; between Macon and Geneva for some short distance the covering of snow again lightened but near Geneva and around the town all is thickly covered. The chain of the Jura shining white is quite majestic. I have paid my fare in the diligence to Sallenches, but I was informed to my comfort that there was no communication with Chamouni, and that it was very doubtful whether the snow would permit my reaching it. My informant did not know what a good pair of legs can do when all other modes of convayance fail. I journeyed part of the way with a Frenchman, or a Swiss whose language was French. He had a theory of England which did not please me -- England was sinking must sink in accordance with the law of things -- she had developed all that she could develop, and must now go down hill. France was now to rise, but when I pushed him as to the powers of development which France possessed and we did not possess he was a little put out. These old Continental shavers imagine that England is like a gouty old man, rich and comfortable, but with a vitality which is fast dying out. I should very much like to have my antagonist with me for half a day upon the glaciers, just to give him a taste of the vanishing vitality of England.

I have seen nobody at Geneva, but to night I purpose calling at the house of Mr DelaRive. I hope Mr Faraday is better; previous to leaving I saw Dr Bence Jones and his opinion was that Mr Faraday would soon be well -- I sincerely trust that nature may do her work of renovation even quicker than Dr Jones anticipates.

Tomorrow morning (Xmas morning) I start for Sallenches; and shall try and get a sledge from there to Chamouni -- There my trouble really commences: but if I can only see across the Mer de Glace, and if the guides at Chamouni be neither cowardly or lazy I hope to get my work done -- At all events I shall try and having done my part should I even fail. I shall return content.

A merry Christmas to you and very many of them -- I shall make myself as merry as it is possible to be in the interior of a diligence. -- good bye

Ever Yours sincerely | John Tyndall