To Thomas Archer Hirst   Wednesday night

Paris, Wednesday night

My dear Tom

When I left London I purposed writing to you from Switzerland or the Tyrol, but the resolution faded before other demands. To save my purpose from total shipwreck I sit down on the last night of my journey,¹ with the rumble of the Paris omnibuses in my ears, and the day’s traffic in Paris intellect in my brain, to write to you. I am weary and muddy and hence cannot offer you the fare you merit, but still I know that any stupid lines will not be altogether unacceptable to you. I have not written, but on the mountains and in the warm sheltered valleys of the Tyrol I have thought of Anna and yourself. I thought of Anna at Meran² while looking at the vineyards laughing in the sunshine, and wished both of you at my side. The thought of you came with all the greater force because Meran is resorted to by patients suffering from chest ailments both for the mildness of its air, and for the purpose of feeding on the ripe grapes in due season. In company with Huxley I visited many of the glaciers of Switzerland, and afterwards alone and in company with Frankland I clambered over the icehills of the Tyrol. While in a church at Innsbruck my friend Hooker his wife and a couple of friends made their appearance: I attached myself to their party, journeyed with them through many delightful scenes, reached Vienna along with them, remained there for 9 days, and lived through the meeting of the German Naturforscher:³ and now we⁴ are all housed together at the Hotel des Étrangers in the Rue Vivienne. We had in general glorious weather during our journey in Switzerland. We managed, that is Huxley and myself to combine a little work with our excursion. The subject of glaciers is one that has engaged the attention of a great number of men. In England the views of James Forbes of Edinburgh appear to be almost universally accepted. He has written on the structure of the ice, which is very curious, and proposed a theory to account for this structure.⁵ Both Huxley and myself imagine that precisely the same principle which I have applied to the explanation of slaty cleavage applies also to the structure of glacial ice. We spent some days upon the Grindelwald glacier. In a hut 8000 feet above the level of the sea we lay one night wrapped up in hay in order to be able start early next morning and reach the origin of the Aar glacier: we were beaten down again by a snow storm. On the glacier of the Rhone⁶ we had a glorious day. Soon after entering the Tyrol I engaged a chamois hunter⁷ for my guide. The first night we passed together in a cow house on the Gebatsch alp: A kind of cockloft supported by pillars of pine was raised above the lower floor, and on this a litter of hay was placed. My chamois hunter shook up the mass to break its nodules and render it soft. I lay down with my plaid wrapped about me. He told me my feet would be cold before morning and to prevent this piled hay upon me up to the hips. He proposed to continue the operation until my head also should be covered but this I declined; nevertheless the bitter air of the morning, for we lay beside a glacier, told me that there was good sense in his suggestion. He next prepared a place for himself and his heavy breathing soon spoke to me of a state of blessedness which I could only envy. Sleep kept away from me during the night and I had a melancholy satisfaction in watching the keen eyed stars travelling across the aperture in the roof above me. Once as I opened my eyes the Pleiades were there twinkling in beauty. I watched them as they moved away, and sought to admire them, but an hour’s sleep would have been worth a dozen constellations. Next day my daring guide led me over the glacier, and across a mountain 10000 feet in height; that day was one of the greatest toil, and perhaps of the greatest risk that I ever passed. My guide was almost as much cut up as myself, and he doubted his ability to return to his home without devoting a day to the recovery of his strength. I have spoken of risk. The clefts and chasms of the glaciers are in some places terrific, and you have sometimes to cross a knife edge for a distance of 10 or 15 yards, with about ten inches in width to walk upon and a chasm 60 feet deep yawning like the jaws of a ferocious whale on the right hand and on the left. Huxley was once within a hair’s bredth of falling into a gulf of unknown depth, for neither of us could see the bottom of it. Some of the shafts in the ice are undoubtedly 400 feet deep at least. This I found by calculation. I think my greatest peril was occasioned by a small chasm which had been wholly bridged over and hidden by soft snow. My right leg went right into it, but with the purchase of the other I pushed myself vigorously forward and thus threw myself to the opposite side of the fissure. I have a good mind to make a small book of my journal;⁸ I think it might be made instructive and would help perhaps to pay the expenses of my two months journey.

In Vienna I made many acquaintances and had every reason to be gratified by the cordial welcome and good treatment we received. I met Plücker there. He was polite and cold, and I reconciled myself to the fact. I saw him afterwards at Ettingshausen and I thought he seemed to relent as Ettinghausen and myself conversed together. I was induced to make a communication on the ice structure,⁹ and among the audience I could see the smiling countenance of our good friend Gerling,¹⁰ as if he seemed content with his old pupil. Here in Paris also I have met with much civility and kindness, so that I return to London with good health and good feeling towards mankind in general. And now Tom let me hear from you soon. I long to hear about Anna; give my best love to her. Her feelings towards me would be of a very curious nature if I told her all the experiences I have had during the last 3 weeks. God bless you and her is the prayer of your

affectionate | John

RS MS JT/H/470–1

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