THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. TH JULY, 1823. ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS. ON THE MOUNTAINS OF SWITZERLAND. THE annual increase in the number of English Travellers with their families at this season of the year, through Switzerland, has induced me to offer to public attention some observations which, I trust, may be found not altogether uninteresting, at least to the inquiring members of such parties; they are chiefly adopted from a philosophical work of Mr. Picot. Excursions from home will always be attended with cheerfulness and profitable pleasure, when they are accompanied with a spirit of inquiry into customs of Foreign nations, and productions of different countries. An increased love to mankind is then contracted towards those whom we did not know, and an enlarged and grateful sense of duty to the beneficence of creation is drawn forth from the heart, where it would otherwise have remained either for ever dormant, or at least operated only in the limited knowledge of domestic associations. of this chain, which are all calcareous. They have been evidently detached from the Alps, although many are found to be not less distant than fifty leagues from them, and are incontestible monuments of a great physical revolution which at some antient period seems to have overturned the globe. The calcareous stone of Jura is compact, in general of a yellowish brown colour; its beds are interchanged with banks of marne or argille, containing beautiful quarries of marble, asphaltus, gypsum, salt, and sulphureous waters, a great number of petrifactions, and many sorts of fossils. Iron mines are abundant; and in the valleys are frequently discovered banks of bouille ligneuse, which owe their origin to whole forests or woods, which appear to have experienced an enormous pressure, and to have been buried at the termination of some grand catastrophe. Jura is crossed by a small number of strait passes, which it is easy to defend, as those of Geneva, l'Ecluse, d'Esclées, &c. It encircles a great number of natural grottoes, where the snow is retained during the whole year; it is covered with pasture less verdant and less prolific than those of the Alps, but still very profitable to their proprietors, and capable of feeding numerous flocks, and carpeted with an infinity of all pine plants. The brown bear who formerly inhahited these parts has become very rare, and now never shews himself but in the most uncultivated and less inhabited valleys. THERE are two principal chains of Mountains in Switzerland; that of Jura, which extends from West to the North, and forms those boundaries of the country; and that of the Alps, which surround it at the South and East, and which penetrate to its centre; these two chains approach each other in many of their points, and are separated by an immense valley, or rather by plains interspersed with hills which cover the whole Canton of Geneva, and a part of those of Vaud, Friburg, &c. The chain of Jura, nearest to the Alps, presents its most elevated points and blunted summits, which are 1 or 2,000 feet higher than the rest of the chain; on the declivities of this same side there are innumerable fragments or blocks of greis greis gary or granite, wholly foreign to the rocks The Alps extend in length from 200 to 250 leagues, and in breadth from 50 to 80, from the Mediterranean and Provence to the frontiers of Huncrossing Switzerland, wherein and in the neighbouring countries they 4 On the Mountains of Switzerland. they attain their greatest elevation, and produce their most extensive masses, taking different names or epithets according to the countries through which they pass. The Romans in former times, and the French in our days, have constructed several routes, and those over the Simplon and Mount Cenis are of the latest date, and most general service. The Alps form one of the principal chains of mountains of the globe, and the most lofty of any in Europe; for, passing the less considerable chains, Mount Perdu, which is the highest summit of the Pyrenees, does not exceed 10,578 feet above the Mediterranean Sea; Velino, in the Appenines, does not rise beyond 7,668 feet; Etna 10,000; the Peak of Lomintz, the most eminent of the Carpacs, 8,100: whilst the Finster Aarhorn, in the Helvetic Alps, attains 13,234 feet; Mount Rose, in the Pennine Alps, 14,580; and Mount Blanc 14,700 feet; these latter mountains are within 5,000 feet of the Cimboraco, in Peru, above the city of Quito, which is considered as one of the greatest giants of all the earth. The Alps of Switzerland are covered with perpetual snow, especially those whose suinmits exceed 8,000 or 8,200 feet of elevation; for it is generally remarked of the whole surface of the globe, that heat diminishes in proportion as we rise above the level of the seas, and that we finally attain a height where constant winter reigns. This height varies, and follows the latitude of different countries; it is 14,760 feet over the Equator, and gradually abates towards the poles to 80° of latitude, a point at which it is confounded with the surface of the earth, at the sea side. The moment of the day, which is found to be the coldest upon the Alps, is commonly, as in the plain, that of sun rise; so the moment of the greatest heat is that at two hours after noon; but the difference of the temperature between these two points of time is much less considerable at the greatest elevations than at the borders of the sea. De Saussure has observed, that at the Col du Giant, at 10,578 feet above the sea, it was scarcely one-third of that at Geneva; whence it may be concluded, that if we can be raised to 6 or 7,000 toises above the sea, we [July, may find the temperature of the air to be almost the same both day and night, in summer and winter. The influence of the heat upon the evaporation in the air of mountains is almost triple that which is exercised in the plain; it is to the great rarity of the air in the Alps, and to the energy with which it accelerates evaporation, that we should ascribe the exhaustion and uneasiness which many persons experience in ascending the highest mountains; their respiration is constrained, and they are obliged to stop frequently for rest. Where the clouds are seen to drag along the mountains and to veil their summits, rain may be expected, and when that has continued a long time, snow will fall in the middle regions of the Alps, before the rain entirely ceases, and the weather becomes serene and settled. The pastures of the Alps generally consist of two or three stations to which the cattle are led in succession, in the spring, summer, and autumn, and each of which has its particular season; in the meadows, below the hills, and in the plain. In almost every inclosure there is a barn, with stables for the reception of hay gathered in during the summer, and where, during the winter, cattle are housed from the neighbouring villages, or those at the distance of a league or more; the view of all these rustic buildings affords great animation to the rural scenery of the verdure of Switzerland. In these Alps there are 400 Glaciers, which, according to Ebel, occupy a surface of more than 130 square leagues, each of which are from one to seven leagues in length, half a league, at least, in breadth, and from one to six hundred feet in depth. "Such are," says this writer, "the inexhaustible reservoirs from which the greatest and chief rivers of Europe are supplied." The Glaciers are formed in the highest valleys of mountains, where the snows accumulate during nine months of the year, rolling in grand masses from the adjoining summits, and heap upon each other in numerous beds of many hundred feet of condension. These masses being too great to be dissolved during the summer, present, at the return of winter, the appearance of a mass of congealed snows; they thus increase every year till 1623.] On the Mountains of Switzerland. till they are extended into the lower vallies, where a greater degree of heat stops their advance. The Glaciers sometimes diminish during many following years, that is to say, the inferior part of them, which spreads into the fertile meadows of the valleys, loses by the melting of the summer such a quantity of ice, that it leaves a portion of the soil which it occupies. In other years; the Glaciers advance dif ferently, and descend further into the cultivated vallies; there is nothing regular in their march, this depends on the temperature of the air, and abundance of the snows. It is usually in the spring that this increase of the Glaciers is made, for during the winter they remain at rest like vegetation, but in the summer thin fissures are most frequently opened, and this operation is accompanied with a noise like that of thunder, and with terrific shakes, that make the neighbouring mountains tremble. Where these kind of detonations are heard, and that many times during the day, a change in the atmosphere is expected; these fissures vary from day to day, and render the Glaciers dangerous to travellers, The sudden changes of the atmosphere sometimes produce these fissures in the Glaciers; currents of cold air, which bring with them particles of ice, and disperse them to a distance as a drift of snow. The Glaciers are often covered with fragments of stones and rocks, brought thither by avalanches, or fallings from the adjoining summits. Usually these fragments are by small degrees cast towards the base and upon the sides of the Glacier, where they form enormous walls, 100 feet in height, to which the name of Moraines has been given. The vaults of ice which are observable at the foot of the Glaciers, and whence a torrent sometime issues, are always formed in the place where all the waters meet which spring from the melting of the ice; they take their rise in the spring, and acquire in the summer, dimensions which often attain 50 to 100 feet on every side. The water is white, and adheres to the numerous particles of rock which it carries down with it, and which are extremely attenuated by this friction. Sebastian Munster, in his description of Switzerland about 300 years since, speaking of the Glaciers, says, page 341, Solent Venatores, &c. "The 5 hunters have a custom of suspending The inhabitants of the Alpine val- (To be continued.) Mr. URBAN, Newlyn Vicarage, Truro, July 5. WHILST your Reviewer accepts my best thanks for his flattering attention to my little book, (see Part I. page 540,) he will allow me to observe that, in his critique, there are some positions which seem to want support, and some remarks which, on due consideration, his candour, I think, will induce him to retract. 1 6 Polwhele's Essays on Marriage, &c. With respect to Marriage, is it the opinion of the Reviewer, that "the connexion between the man and the woman should only subsist so long as the efforts of both are essential to the rearing of their children?" Surely not. But such might be inferred from "the fine arguinent of Lord Kaimes," as stated by the Critic. And Professor Millar's "illustrations" are to me obscure. Dr. Beattie's admirable essay on "the Attachments of Kindred" would set all right. In the volume of "Dissertations" now before me, I had forgotten the essay "on Kindred;" and very lately opened to it, by mere accident. Of Roman Adulteries we have, doubtless, abundant proof. But I have drawn a line of evident distinction between ancient Rome, and Rome in the days of Horace, and of Juvenal, and Martial, and Seneca. For the metaphysics of the Essay on Taste, it does not appear to ine that the Reviewer and myself essentially disagree. Taste (as he most happily expresses it) is in landscape, "a knowledge of fine scenes, and assimilation to them. But this assimilation cannot exist without feeling and fancy. My little volume is truly a "farrago libelli," where next rises into notice"the Deserted Village-school." The first edition of this poem was published at Edinburgh, under the direction of Sir Walter Scott, who considered it as a counterpart to Shenstone's "Schoolmistress," not as, in any respect, a copy. The stanzas, in both poems, are Spenserian. But the subject of the Deserted School" is perfectly new, from the first stanza to the last. The Stanzas most resembling Shenstone (though from the sentiment very distant from imitation) shall, by your leave, be submitted to your readers. 66 I must first, however, revert to the critique, where in my "Traditions and Recollections," the Reviewer thinks I have treated too leniently the character of Dr. Wolcot: but it was the character of Dr. W. in earlier life. Dreadful is it to consider, that as he grew older, he became more and more licentious. So that the term "flagitiousness" is by no means inapplicable; and he was indeed (as I have represented him in the last chapter of my "Recollections") a hoary sinner. Yet I cannot conceive that, for this reason, I ought to withhold from Wolcot [July the praise which is due to talent; or to stifle all my youthful recollections, whilst I remember his unwearied attentions to my father in illness-attentions which, under Providence, prolonged a life so dear to me! Nor do I fear contamination, whilst I turn over those unpublished Poems of Wolcot, which I happen to possess; especially that pathetic epistle from Queen Matilda to her brother George III. and that fine Christmas Hymn or Carol, which we should be willing to derive from Christian feeling. Let me now, Mr. Urban, beg your pardon for thus detaining you. And let me intreat your Reviewer to take in good part what I have ventured to intimate or suggest to him; again assuring him, that I sincerely thank him for his good opinion of me, and that I am gratified by those expressions of approbation which far outweigh the exceptions he may have made to some passages in my writings. In allusion to "the Schoolmistress," it is asked: "Ah! whither in a store of knowledge rich, Ah, whither exiled that far-dreaded Dame, Whose learning stamp'd the credit of a witch (Such is its fate too oft) on honest fame? Where now that rod which, with unerring aim, Would idler strait in distant corner smite... Those ruthless twigs announcing sin and shame, Which kindling ire would sway with tenfold might, [alas! to light? When little struggling bums were brought, High-spectacled her reverential nose, When late I peep'd amidst her pigmy throng, [ing woes, Small thought had she, in sooth, of gatherBut humm'd, as in the days when life was 1823.] Polwhele's Deserted Village School. "And see where now, like locusts o'er the Of unreiterated sounds' a shout! Hark! in the winds new acclamations swell! spell 7 My task was tedious, and my mistress stern! Nor did I, skill'd my interest to discern, Yet reason fructifies each forward wight, Soon ripening into men the new-born race, Ne birch, ne ferula, was e'er design'd His brogues let down (for modest eye too E flourished in the Charles I. and was, according to Wood, "a pithy and sententious preacher, exquisite orator, and an eminent poet."* On the effusions of his muse he bestowed little care. Many of his poetical pieces remain scattered in the manuscript collections of that period, and the few pieces known were posthumously printed in such popular miscellanies as Parnassus Mingle with lawny lords, and prattle- Dr. Biceps, 1656, and Wit Restor'd, 1658. * * * * The following pieces were taken from an old manuscript volume to engraft in Ellis's Specimens, vol. III. p. 173. * Ath. Oxon. by Bliss, vol. III. col. 151. † The following admired lines were in the same collection, and appear much in the stile of our author. To his Mistres. I'le tell you whence the rose did first grow On |