To Joseph Dalton Hooker   3rd, Sep, 1857

Queenwood near Stockbridge Hants. | 3rd, Sep, 1857.

My dear Hooker

For the last fortnight almost daily the thought of writing to you has occurred to me. Huxley wrote to you from the Montanvert,¹ and I at that time entertained the righteous determination of sending you a note in hot pursuit of his; for indeed I felt, though I had no official indication of the fact, that I ought to congratulate you on the entrance into this world of a little being² whom at some future day I hope to number among my playfellows. I hope Mrs Hooker³ is quite strong again, and that she will continue strong to tend and support these little sprouts of humanity which are now shooting round her. I spent a glorious time upon the Mer de Glace,⁴ glorious chiefly on account of the revolution it wrought in this body of mine, it has pushed me years backward [1 word illeg] the grave, and given to me to taste in the autumn of my life the joy and vigour of its spring. When I left Chamouni⁵ I was tanned to the hue of a North American Indian. The traces of this still remain, and my muscles have undergone such a thorough renovation that although I have been 8 days in England I feel as yet no diminution of their strength. From 10 to 12 hours each day were spent upon the ice, and I loved the work so well that twilight has sometimes come to puzzle me amid the crevasses. I usually wandered alone, furnished with a hatchet, to which I ought to feel grateful, for it has hewn me out of many difficulties. I have been up the Col de Géant⁶ with a little boy⁷ as my companion; neither of us knew any thing of the route, and as a natural consequence we had a taste of peril. A difference of two minutes in point of time would have placed us in the midst of an avalanche of ice blocks. In fact we had to recede when we heard them coming, and some of them smote the ice within 20 yards of us. On returning from the summit I fell into a crevasse, but helped myself like a cat and escaped without a broken bone. Huxley⁸ told you of our attempt on Mont Blanc.⁹ That was the hardest day’s work I ever went through: heavy snow had fallen three days before; near the Grands Mulets,¹⁰ this was frozen hard and we congratulated ourselves in the moonlight after we had started that we were likely to perform the journey without much labour or peril. This delusion soon vanished, for we had to walk usually up to the knees and in some cases up to the hips. It was terrible toil, and the last slope of the mountain added an effect which is very rare with me; the beating of the heart. We used to walk forward until the beating reached a certain degree of intensity, then pause, leaning on our batons, the subsidence of the heart action being the signal for further progress. It required but 15 or 20 paces to bring it on again, and the ascent was accomplished by adding lengths of this magnitude together. On returning we had one little accident, which had it occurred elsewhere might have been attended with disagreeable consequences. The footing of my friend¹¹ gave way as we descended a steep slope. He went down like an avalanche: I was tied to him and tried to check him, but my footing yielded, I fell and went down after him. The shock against him at the bottom was by no means agreeable, and we were both almost quite covered up by the quantity of snow which we brought down. We were upwards of 17 hours in accomplishing the journey from the Grands Mulets and back: this is usually accomplished in nine or ten. Huxley during this time was a prisoner at the Mulets: he expected us at three o’clock; and as he saw the hours of the afternoon pass and the twilight fall without any news of us, he began to entertain gloomy surmises regarding our fate.

With regard to the glaciers I have collected a good many observations: but my power over the thing was only really commencing when I was obliged to leave. In a case of the kind one is a long time learning what it is that is really required, and up to this point the observations and measurements are more or less loose and at random. However I have learned a great deal, and am now endeavouring to throw the observations into an organic shape. I shall soon return to town, and hope shortly afterwards to enjoy, the light of your countenance. Just enclose this¹² to Mrs Hooker and remember me to her most kindly—It may amuse her for five minutes.

Ever Yours | John Tyndall

RI MS JT/1/TYP/8/2549–50

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