Chamouni, Montanvert | 18 Jul 1857
My dear Mr. Faraday,
I think I may fairly allow myself the rest and luxury of writing to you this morning for I have had a week’s hard work as far as limbs and arms are concerned. I reached Paris just in time to learn that the youthful wife1 of a young friend of mine,2 whom you once saw (before he was married) at my lodgings in Islington,3 was in her coffin. I accompanied my smitten friend to the cemetery of Montmartre,4 and there accident caused it to fall my lot to shake ashes to ashes, earth to earth, dust to dust.5 I thought it would never do to leave my friend amid scenes which would incessantly revive the memory of his loss and so persuaded him to come with me. He is now here, and we are working hard together.
At Paris I saw Mr. Biot and he desired me to say to you that he was as happy as man can be. He received me with great kindness. Pouillet6 and Chevreul7 I also saw, and they were very cordial. <1 word missing>8 introduced me afterwards to M. Becquerel,9 but I found him hard and not cordial. I must crave your forgiveness for asking you to write to Dumas,10 for when it came to the point I could not render to myself a sufficient reason why I should call upon him; I therefore did not do so. I spent a couple of days in Geneva:11 Those I knew were all in the country, but De la Rive found me out at my hotel and I spent one delightful afternoon at his country house. He is a fine genial loveable man. From Geneva to Chamouni12 was a day's journey. The weather was glorious: as we passed Mont Blanc13 a patch of reddish light was thrown upon the mountain snow from some clouds which floated in the west. Around this patch a subjective green glory spread itself to some distance: it was very curious and very beautiful. I stayed 3 days at Chamouni, and rose one morning to see the sun rise on Mont Blanc. My bedroom opened into a corridor from one end of which the east was visible, and the other commanded a view of Mont Blanc and of the west. The east sky was of an amber hue, fading insensibly into a rosy violet, which again blended with the deep blue of the zenith.14 The morning star was glistening between east and west, and not far from it the moon turned her pale face towards the rising day. The mountain rose chaste, and cold, and white, as the unsoiled snow could make him. I walked to the other end of the corridor and looked eastward, hoping to see the sun lift his disk above the mountains, wholly forgetful for the moment that if I waited until he appeared, it would be sunrise not only for Mont Blanc, but for the whole valley. People do very absurd things thus unconsciously. I walked to the other end of the corridor, and saw the highest summits smitten by the sunbeams. Peak after peak then lost its severity and melted into a golden smile. It was a glorious scene. I watched it till the morning star was quenched and the moon became invisible, and then being very tired went to bed again!
On last Wednesday I had all my things carried up to the Montanvert.15 There is a kind of hotel erected here which possesses three bed rooms. They are divided from each other by partitions of wood, and the noise of the tramping visitors would render sleep in my case an impossibility. I have therefore chosen a little temple as my habitation which was erected many years ago by an Englishman named Blaire,16 and dedicated by him ‘a la Nature’. Its floor is of stones which are rather wet, its walls of the same material and in the same condition; They have put a bed into it, and given me a goatskin to keep my feet from the flags; and I contrive to drive away a little of the moisture by a pine fire. I never felt more like a philosopher than when I sit there alone at night, listening to the wind moaning over the glacier, and to the distant rumble of the stones upon the moraines17 as they tumble into the crevasses. Hitherto I have chiefly occupied myself with observing the motion, and obtaining a general notion of the glacier. I have seen Balmat18 and he informs me that Forbes is on his way over, so that I expect to have the pleasure of seeing him soon. From what I have thus far seen the divergence between us is likely to become wider. But the question is merely shaping itself in my brain, and I can only hope that after a little time it will take definite form. The weather thus far has been so good that I have been every day upon the ice. I am very strong and sometimes admonished by my guide19 for making use of my strength in jumping the crevasses. I regret that I did not bring a pair of Nichols prisms20 with me: but I shall have plenty to occupy me without them. With kindest remembrances to Mrs. Faraday and Miss Barnard
Believe me always | Most sincerely Yours | John Tyndall
Would you have the goodness to ask Anderson to put the enclosed21 into envelopes, with the addresses and post them for me? If he would send me my letters once a week until I write to him he would oblige me
RI MS JT/1/TYP/12/4074–6
Faraday Correspondence, 5:3320
Typed Transcript Only
the youthful wife: Anna Hirst, died on 1 July 1857.
of a young friend of mine: Thomas Hirst.
my lodgings in Islington: Hirst had written in his journal on 21 January 1854 after attending a Faraday lecture with Tyndall: ‘As John and I were sitting writing, after tea this evening, Faraday himself paid us a brief visit. I had not before sought to be formally introduced to him, and I am glad of it. Such introductions are always most satisfactory when they are unforced, and occur in the natural course of things’ (Brock & MacLeod, Hirst Journals, p. 1108).
cemetery of Montmartre: officially known as Cimitière du Nord, a Paris cemetery opened in 1825.
ashes to ashes, earth to earth, dust to dust: from the Anglican Common Book of Prayer, under ‘The Order for the Burial of the Dead’: ‘FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ’.
Pouillet: Claude Pouillet (1790–1868), a French physicist and author of Élémens de physique expérimentale et de météorologie, 4 vols (París: Béchet Jeune, 1827–30) (CDSB).
Chevreul: Michel Eugène Chevreul (1786–1889), a French chemist who received the Copley Medal from the RS in 1857 ‘For his researches in organic chemistry, particularly on the composition of the fats, and for his researches on the contrast of coulours’ (CDSB).
<1 word missing>: Tyndall was probably introduced by Despretz. He wrote in his journal on 6 July 1857: ‘Introduced by M. Despretz to M. Pouillet made also the acquaintance of M. Chevreul; both of them were kind and cordial. Afterwards introduced to M. Becquerel: found him hard and not cordial’ (Journal, JT/2/13c/949).
M. Becquerel: either Antoine-César Becquerel (1788–1878), a French physicist who studied electricity; or his son Alexandre-Edmond Becquerel (1820–91), a French physicist who studied electricity and magnetism, and discovered the photovoltaic effect (CDSB).
Dumas: Jean-Baptiste Dumas (1800–84), a French chemist who received the RS Copley Medal in 1843 ‘For his late valuable researches in organic chemistry, particularly those contained in a series of memoirs on chemical types and the doctrine of substitution, and also for his elaborate investigations of the atomic weights of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen and other elements’ (CDSB).
Geneva: see letter 1293, n. 3.
Chamouni: see letter 1353, n. 9.
Mont Blanc: see letter 1353, n. 6.
zenith: the point of the sky directly overhead (OED).
Montanvert: a lookout point on the mountainside, overlooking the Mer de Glace, a large glacier on the north side of Mont Blanc.
Blaire: an Englishman who erected a house (or ‘temple’) in the Alps. According to Tyndall, Blaire’s structure was inscribed with ‘a la Nature’. However, he may be confusing two different huts, for in J. D. Forbes’ Travels through the Alps of Savoy (see letter 1306, n. 8), Forbes refers to a cabin ‘built by an Englishman named Blair’ and a ‘small solid stone house… built at the expense of M. Deportes’ with the inscription ‘A la Nature’, as two different structures (p. 73).
moraines: a mound, ridge, or other feature consisting of debris that has been carried and deposited by a glacier or ice sheet, usually at its sides or extremity (OED).
Balmat: Auguste Balmat.
my guide: possibly Edouard Simond.
Nichols prisms: probably referring to the Nicol prism, used to produce a polarized beam of light, invented by William Nicol (1770–1851) in 1828 (ODNB).
the enclosed: not identified, but most likely outgoing letters from Tyndall.
Please cite as “Tyndall1415,” in Ɛpsilon: The John Tyndall Collection accessed on