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We are reluctantly compelled to join with Mr Simond, who follows the most approved modern authors, in questioning the authenticity of a portion of the story of Tell. A son of the famous Haller published a tract in 1760, in which he proved that the part of the story, which relates to the apple, was an imitation of a similar legend in Saxo Grammaticus, a Danish historian of the twelfth century. Haller's book was publicly burned by a decree of the exasperated people of the Waldstætten, and is now with difficulty to be found. It appears that a similar event is related to have happened in Switzerland itself a century earlier, and the whole account belongs rather to the region of mythology than that of history.

In the course of his work, Mr Simond carries us twice to Hofwyl and the famous establishment of Mr Von Fellenberg, (for being a German, we see no particular reason for always qualifying him with a de.*). Our author is abundantly able to do justice to this topic, having made it the subject of particular attention, and having written the ample account of it, contained in the sixty-fourth number of the Edinburgh Review. We must confess that, with regard to this school, there has been sin both within the Trojan walls and with out.

Mr Von Fellenberg, with the enthusiasm pardonable in a man who has devoted his time and fortune to a great object—whose heart is wedded to it-and whose reputation is pledged on the result-is disposed somewhat to magnify his calling.

His establishment consists, we presume our readers know, of a school for the higher classes, a poor school, and an agricultural establishment or seminary of improved farming. In the high school, there were in 1818 eighty boys of the best families in Europe, and Mr Von Fellenberg avowed it to be his object not only to make them wise, but good ; and by thus sending out a tide of virtuous young men into the higher classes of society, Mr Von Fellenberg thinks he shall regenerate Europe. But the very proposition, without a moment wasted in comparing the enormous disproportion of the means controlled and the result proposed, carries its own confutation. The Rhone, and the Rhine, and the Danube, and the other great rivers which spring out of the

* The French writers often call him M. Fellembourg. Having observed the uncertainty of Mr Simond's orthography in some proper names, (as writing Wehrli sometimes Vehrly and sometimes Vehrli

, but never quite right) we were about to say that the French are remarkable for mutilating proper names. A very respectable English magazine, however, for June, is before us, where repeated mention is made of the American Poem • Yamaden,' and of Dr Seybright's Satistical Annals.

New Series, No. 12. 46

glaciers of the Alps, within sight of Mr Von Fellenberg's observatory, have been pouring a stream of snow water into the ocean, since the world began, and still it is salt. Certainly if all the schools in the world turned out good boys, the promise for humanity, on the most favorable doctrine, could be no better than it is by nature. Children without sin become corrupt; and seventh form boys and senior sophisters are not to be educated into a more permanent purity than that of new born babes. It is evidently trying to disadvantage an experiment, which, under the best auspices, has failed. But, on the other hand, Mr Von Fellenberg is not to be derided. His establishments, it is true will not regenerate Europe ; nay, not even the smallest canton in his own Switzerland; and though his eighty rich young men and forty poor ones go out into society pure as rain drops, they will be lost like drops in the great ocean of the European population, which will continue to be actuated by passions and interests, beyond the control of his thirty instructers. But his operations, as far as they go, are most deserving of praise. Of an ancient family and good fortune, he has given all up to forming the characters of the young, bettering the condition of the poor, assuaging the hardships and directing the labors of the peasantry, and his money and influence are certainly better employed than in laying out pleasure grounds, shooting grouse, fighting duels, or fitting out huge pipes of wine to circumnavigate the world.

The lovers of sentiment will be shocked to hear Mr Simond say that Clarens is a dirty village, less prettily situated than any in the neighborhood, and chosen by Rousseau for no better reason, than a well sounding name ; otherwise he would have chosen the beautiful village of Moutreux, hard by. Not a gentleman's house could we see, fit to lodge the Baron d'Etange, unless it were the chateau de Chatelard, a good deal above it.' Here, however, we are constrained to differ from Mr Siniond, and think the village as good as its inhabitants, whom all the eloquence of Rousseau, himself vulgar in grain, has not written into gentlemen and ladies. We are not disposed to make uncharitable comparisons between the morals of his heroes and heroines, and those of the haut ton at Paris and London; but we cannot but think St Preux and his mistress exceeding sorry people, and wonder they have been admitted into good company. It would be arrogant in us to dispute the fidelity with which Rousseau drew from life. We cannot help thinking in fact there is a little more fidelity than he or his admirers admit; and that he painted only from the pretty gross associations of his own experience.

In describing Gibbon's house at Lausanne, Mr Simond, if we mistake not, has omitted a circumstance that struck us as the most singular about it. We refer to small bits of tin, on which are painted, in black letters, certain striking phrases and remarkable quotations, and which are nailed up on the walls of the rooms, and of the passages and the posts of the piazza.

Gibbon,' says our author, “has not left here a pleasing remembrance of himself

. Whimsically particular about his hours, very selfish, disgusting in his appearance, an English traveller published an account of him and his mode of life, absurd and rather offensive. Yet a gross mistake he had committed was so gratifying to Gibbon, that he forgave all the rest, he said that the historian rode on horseback every morning :' a thing rendered impossible by the personal infirmity under which he labored.

Mr Simond's remarks on Madame de Stäel are highly interesting; he appears to us to have done good justice to her character in some contested particulars.* He gives us among others, the following pretty anecdote. While at Coppet an anecdote told us by an intimate friend of the family (M. de Bonstetten) recurred to me. He was then twenty five or six years old; and walking about the grounds, as we were then doing, he was struck with a switch behind a tree. Turning round he observed the little rogue laughing; mamma wants me, cried she, to learn to use my left hand, and I was making a beginning.'

She stood,' continues Mr Simond, in great awe of her mother, and was very familiar with her father, as well as dotingly fond of him. One day, after dinner, as the former rose first and left the room, the little girl, till then on her good behavior, all at once seizing her napkin, threw it across the table, in a fit of mad spirits, at her father's head; then ran round to him, and hanging about his neck allowed him no opportunity for reproof.'— Mr Necker was no one would have guessed it from his writings full of humor, and apt to see things in a ludicrous point of view. He did not hold forth as Madame de Stäel was wont to do. He was even rather silent, but made sly remarks and sharp repartees. He wrote several witty plays, as M. de Bonstetten, who saw them, assured me; but when appointed a minister of state, thinking it against the bienséance of the situation to publish any thing but a compte rendu or grave works of morality, and afraid of being drawn into temptation, he burned his plays.'

* We have scarce thought it worth while, in making our extracts from Mr Simond's work, to quarrel with a few inaccuracies which we have noticed. The following may, however, be mentioned as an inconstancy of remark somewhat curious. Page 287, Mr S. remarks, “it is a common aphorism, and a wise one as all aphorisms are,' &c. in a paragraph relating to Madame de Stäel. Page 341, speaking again of Madame de Stäel, we find the phrase,' a living contradiction of the witty, but false aphorism,' &c. We might easily grant that a false aphorism, can be witty, but wise, as all aphorisms, the first extract are alleged to be.

Mr Simond's visit to Chamouni is highly engaging, and in fact we know of nothing in the world more likely to be attractive, in the hands of an intelligent traveller, than the various phenomena that present themselves on the summits of the Alps. There are two appearances in those regions, to each of which Mr Simond alludes, but without favoring us, that we have observed, with an explanation. One of these is the moving of the glaciers in a mass. An accurate idea of this phenomenon can scarcely be had, except by ocular inspection : a satisfactory explanation of it we have never seen. The portion of the Alpine ridge, at the foot of which the vale of Chamouni is situated, consists of several lofty and pointed elevations of granite called needles; of which the highest, but the least pointed, is Mont Blanc. Between these several summits or needles, there are of course vast chasms, which would be called vallies, were there any vegetation on their sides. Instead of vegetation the summits of the needles, when not too pointed, and the sides of these clefts or chasms are covered with snow. In the summer season, the intense heat of the sun melts, in the day time, a portion of these snows, though the water thus formed, immediately settling into the mass of eternal snow beneath, is converted into ice. By this process, the snow in these chasms is gradually converted into ice, and the glacier is formed. Every summer, although a part of the volume of the glacier melts and flows down, and goes off in various rivers, an addition is made to the glacier, by the melting of new snows and by the congelation of the water thus formed, till the chasm between two adjacent needles is in part or wholly filled up by the mass. Now this mass of ice thus imbedded in its rocky matrice, frozen down to its rough basis by gradual congelation, often miles in length, and hundreds of feet in width and depth, and of course enormously heavy, is satisfactorily ascertained to move or travel forward in a mass. Travellers and geologists briefly answer that it is detruded by its own weight. In some cases, however, as in the glacier of Montanvert, which is at once the largest and most apparently in motion, the declivity on which it moves is very inconsiderable ; not great enough to give the body of ice motion, even were there no resistance. But when we consider the enormous resistance, which must arise from the manner in which this prodigious mass, some miles long and hundreds of feet deep and high, was gradually frozen into its bed, we shall be led to examine carefully this hypothesis, before we adopt it. The chief agent in producig this motion appears to be the new ice formed at the higher part of the glacier by the melting of the snows; which, instead of accumulating on the top, as we should be prepared to expect, forms at the bottom, dislodges, and heaves up the old ice. By the constant repetition of this process the mass of the glaciers becomes cleft with frightsul transverse fissures; and by the time it reaches the outlet of the chasm, in which it has been formed, is broken into chaotic masses, and presents an aspect of primeval desolation. The other appearance, of which a satisfactory explanation is yet wanted, is that of the moraines, as they are called. This is a sort of shore or bank of rocks and fragments of rocks, which the glacier brings down from the mountain, and which are heaped up in a regular row on either side of the glacier, like the sea-wreck on the beach after a high tide. The glacier of Montanvert, just above Chamouni, which is justly called the sea of ice, presents this appearance in its most imposing form. There are, on one side of the glacier, two and even three parallel moraines, running each five or six miles (for this mighty glacier is so long) along the edge of the sea of ice, with an interval between them. This appearance may have been produced by the glacier having in a warm or rainy summer melted very much, and left its line of wreck high on the side of the valley. Less copious thaws, after a long lapse of years, may have formed a second and third range; giving the whole the appearance of rude and ruinous walls, dividing the glacier into parallel portions. It is easy to see, however, that there are considerable difficulties in this explanation, which, as we cannot removo them, we will not consume time in stating. Nothing can give a more lively idea of desolation, than these moraines. They are partly composed of enormous and shapeless blocks

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