Edited by:
Massimo Martini
To summarise Abbot Amé Gorret's life in a few lines is absolutely impossible: there is the risk of privileging certain aspects, leaving out others that are no less significant. But since we must begin with one of them, I would like to emphasise first of all how he was one of the greatest exponents of that 19th century phenomenon, typically Valdostan, of the union between the clergy and mountaineering.
A native of Valtournenche (1836), he spent his childhood in the Cheneil basin: in what is still today a corner of almost uncontaminated nature. At the time, however, it was a highly productive area from an agro-pastoral point of view, while tourism was not even imagined. Like many young men from his village, he embraced a career in the Church, but never stifled that inner fire that drove him to tackle climbs that until then had been considered impossible. Let us recall the first ascent of the Lion's Head (1857) with Jean-Antoine Carrel, during an initial assault on the walls of the [[Matterhorn]]. Then, in 1865, he was the driving force behind the conquest of the Italian side of the same mountain, in response to the Englishman Whymper's first ascent two days earlier, but tackled from the Swiss side.
We could go on and on, enumerating various first ascents and many other climbs of which he left us precise accounts (to which we refer you) that appeared in the bulletins of the Alpine Clubs of Italy, France and Switzerland and are now collected in some commemorative publications. His expertise in mountaineering earned him the nomination as an Honorary Member of the CAI.
Having quoted the written accounts of his exploits allows us to link up with another aspect of Abbé Gorret's complex personality, that of his great capacity as a writer, never boring and here and there witty if not biting. A refined pen, in short, that stands out among his contemporaries, most of whom tended to be rhetorical and verbose. To fully appreciate his talent, it is of course necessary to know French, the language in which he expressed himself, as did all the Valle d'Aosta inhabitants of his time. Let us cite just two titles: Guide de la Vallée d'Aoste par l'Abbé Gorret et le Baron Bich (Turin, 1876), a precious volume that can still be avidly read today to gain an insight into what was the Valle d'Aosta at the end of the century: its communication routes, its infrastructures an 'incontournable' text for a history of tourism in this part of the Alps; Victor-Emmanuel sur les Alpes (Turin, 1878) in which the passion for hunting and the affection of the then recently deceased King of Italy for the Aosta Valley and its inhabitants are recalled.
The Bear of the Mountain (l'Ours de la Montagne) is not only the famous pseudonym under which Abbé Gorret signed his writings, but is also the symbol of that side of his personality that more than any other has contributed to his fame. All his biographers have been able to count on innumerable particularly tasty anecdotes to enrich their texts: the Grand Gorret (so called because of his size) was a person of indomitable and non-conformist spirit in a historical period that hardly tolerated such attitudes. If on the one hand we smile today at the story of his sensational drinking of wine or how he promised to always 'wear' the cassock, in fact wearing it, but in his rucksack, on the other hand we have to keep in mind the social situation of the time, when whimsical behaviour caused a scandal and his status as a priest (then as now) only amplified the extent of it. We should not be surprised, therefore, that a man, who now appears so brilliant to us, caused quite a few worries to his superiors in his day, both in the Aosta Valley and in France, where he was a mountain parish priest. His past acquaintance with King Victor Emmanuel, the friendship of Queen Margaret, and that of all the finest names in Italian mountaineering did not prevent him from being 'confined' in the rectory of Saint-Jacques, the last cluster of poor houses at the top of the Val d'Ayas, at the foot of Monte Rosa. He remained there for 21 years, ever more indomitable in spirit but ever more declining in physique, faithful to his duties as pastor and educator of the people entrusted to him, with whom he shared the poverty that the subsidy assigned to him by the queen only partly alleviated.
In 1905, he had to abandon his post and retire to the priory of Saint-Pierre, the retirement home for elderly and sick priests, where he shared his last days with other illustrious priests from Valle d'Aosta, such as Abbé Ménabréaz and Abbé Cerlogne.
He died on 4 November 1907, just a few months after having climbed the Petit St Bernard for the last time, a place that was rich in memories for him, and having descended it on foot, accompanied by the inseparable alpenstock, a gift from 'his' Queen Margaret.
We can only invite the reader to explore this singular figure of a man, priest and mountaineer, son of the mountain and, like it, tough and angular. We recommend reading his writings, which exude love for one's land and pride in one's culture, as well as the memories written about him by contemporaries such as Lino Vaccari, Francesco Pastronchi, Henry Ferrand and Abbé Joseph-Marie Henry.