3
T
THE BOOKS OF OUR YOUTH
I-THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON
BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER

HE story of the family
that built a house in a
tree: such is the mem-
ory which most people
retain of The Swiss
Family Robinson, while
to the same, Robinson
Crusoe recalls a desert island, Friday,
and a footprint on the sand. There is
nothing extraordinary about a house or
a footprint on the sand; but a house built.
in a tree is as fascinating in its sugges-
tion as a Spanish castle, and a footprint
on the sand of a desert island is as ter-
rible as a voice in an empty tomb. The
one spells Romance, the other Realism.
Therefore is it futile to discuss the com-
parative merits of the two books. The
first was narrated to the young; the sec-
ond was written for the old: the former,
at an epoch when many of the young
were becoming sceptical; the latter, at a
period when some of the old were still
credulous.
K
Robinson Crusoe has suffered the fate
of Horace, a fate even less dignified,
since it is held unworthy of the school-
room. It is termed a classic by lexicog-
raphers and authoritative critics. It is
much sought after in its earliest editions
by bibliophiles and by them guarded like
a treasure. But, as reading matter, it is
reserved. for children of a tender age-
that age for which everything is debased.
to words of one syllable. The Swiss
Family Robinson, on the other hand, still
holds the audience for which it was writ-
ten, but without realising the author's
purpose; for the "benefits of intelligence,
industry and a well-ordered mind" are
uninteresting if indisputable facts to the
average boy of to-day, so that his pos-
sible appreciation of noble precepts and
the beneficence of Providence palls be-
fore a lively enjoyment of the spirited ad-
ventures in which the book abounds.
Here rises the inevitable question.
Why is it that Robinson Crusoe, a piece
of fiction written primarily for adults,
appeals so strongly to young children, to
younger children, in fact, than its suc-
cessor? That this appeal is at least a
century old is evidenced by Sir Walter
Scott in his edition of Defoe:
There is hardly an elf so devoid of imagina-
tion as not to have supposed for himself a soli-
tary island in which he could act "Robinson
Crusoe," were it but in a corner of the nur-
sery.
But this does not answer the question.
"It happened one day, going toward my
boat," says Crusoe, "I was exceedingly
surprised with the print of a man's naked
foot on the shore. I stood like one
thunderstruck, or as if I had seen an
apparition. I slept none that night."
In the religion of childhood there are
two great realities, fear and the mother;
and it depends largely on the mother
which shall be the greater.
But no
mother in the world can save her little
one from fear. She can save him from
the thing feared, but from fear itself
nothing can save him. To him, tiny
egoist, blended of sublime self-satisfac-
tion and blind dependence on others, the
world of his narrow vision is an island-
a desert island by night, when its shore.
discloses many a dreadful footprint and
apparitions that not even a mother can
explain away. May not this be the secret
of childhood's sympathy with the lonely
mariner?
•
The day arrives when a child outgrows
fear or rather makes a great show of
having done so; when he not only pa-
rades his disbelief of Santa Claus but
pities or despises the faithful. To him,
Jack of the Beanstalk becomes silly be-
cause his beanstalk is incredible and
Prince Charming, an effeminate milksop
because he is forever making love to some
Princess. In short, legendary heroes,
giants and fairies and their marvellous
deeds appear too improbable to invite.
imitation, while the symbolism behind
them-tops and marbles are the symbols
of these first days of adolescence! It is at
this point that Robinson Crusoe begins to
lose its hold on the imagination, not in
140.
THE BOOKMAN
this case because Crusoe is unreal or be-
cause his adventures are impossible, but
because he is too cheerless a figure to
serve as a model. Boys are only happy
when they can identify themselves with
their heroes or envy them, and very rare
are the boys that lead an isolated life and
fewer are they that wish to do so. But
that is not all. The small child battles
with his own fears. The big boy must
inspire awe in others. He must be one
of a company of boys, the leader or po-
tential leader of it, for it is the joy of
wresting victory from his peers or the
hope of doing so that is the breath in his
nostrils. If at this stage he craves any
kind of reading, The Swiss Family Rob-
inson satisfies the want; for it celebrates
conspicuously the good-natured rivalry
of four healthy boys.
That this is the side of the book which
attracts more especially the youthful mind
cannot be doubted, and though its author
intended it to be the means to an end
rather than the end itself, all credit is due
him for his excellent choice of means.
Since his object was the instruction of
his four sons, it may be argued that it
was to give each a rôle to play that he in-
troduced the same number of boys in his
story. This is as self-evident as the
identity of the father of the boys with the
narrator himself, but the following will
show that it was not his only reason.
When Ernest, the more reticent of the
lads, appeared to wish to be left alone on
a newly discovered islet "like a real
Robinson Crusoe," his father reproved
him thus: "Thank God, my boy, that
He has not gratified your wish..
God created man for society, and al-
though the entertaining story of Robin-
son Crusoe is embellished with poetic
fancies, quite delightful to read, yet his
lonely position must have been full of
sadness. We can look upon ourselves as
a whole family of real Robinsons, but
far better off, because we have each other
for companions." The beginning of
which sounds solemn enough, but allow-
ance should be made for the fact that the
speaker was a Swiss pastor who in spite
of his frequent genuflections and thanks-
givings embarrassing, no doubt, to a
public which indulges itself but one day
seven-was
was own cousin to common
in seven
sense, a friend of Canary sack, and as
much comrade as father to his children.
II
And who
who was this admirable man
whose understanding could convert the
serious business of life into a kind of
game and its hardships into the knocks
and bruises common to all boyish sports?
Until recently he was more or less gen-
erally assumed to be Professor Johann
Rudolf Wyss of Zurich; for such was the
name which appeared on the title page of
The Swiss Family Robinson, when it was
first published in 1812. But in a later
edition, tucked away in a preface, came
this admission: "All that is original, in-
structive and best in this book is due to
my father." This was the Rev. Johann
David Wyss of Berne. Whether one of
his sons was less scrupulous in life than
in fiction is a matter for latter-day school-
men to decide. If the Zurich professor
set matters aright in a whisper, so to
speak, let him not be judged too harshly,
not at least if he was the original of
Ernest, whose services received less
praise than they deserved. On the other
hand, the pastor's proneness to self-
effacement or his paternal pride may ac-
count for the original suppression of his
name. Information regarding him is
very meagre. It is known that he was
born in 1743 and became a military chap-
lain in 1766. That he was a fair linguist
with some knowledge of science is appar-
ent in his story. The date of his death is
less certain; if in 1818, as some authori-
ties have it, it is difficult to see why any
confusion regarding the authorship of his
work should have occurred except
through his intention or assent. There
is no question that the MS. was of his
own writing, or that it was revised by
Professor Wyss before its publication by
Orell, Füszli and Company, of Zurich.
A second volume was issued by the same
firm in 1813.
The above is only one of a number of
popular_errors regarding The Swiss
Family Robinson. To this day the gen-
eral impression of the English-speaking
world is that it was written in French.
A sidelong glance at the following
will correct this misconception: Der
Schweizerische Robinson, Oder der
THE BOOKS OF OUR YOUTH
Schiffbruchige Schweizerprediger und
Seine Familie. Ein Lehrreiches Buch
für Kinder und Kinderfreunde zu Stadt
und Land.
But now comes another phase in the
career of this story, which may excuse
the common belief. Undaunted by the
German title, the Baroness de Montolieu
boldly plunged into the book, yielded her-
self to its spell and in 1813 presented to
the French, Le Robinson Suisse in two
volumes. So enchanted was she by the
story or its success that she advised its
continuation. Finding that Professor
Wyss was unwilling to do the work him-
self, but willing to entrust it to her dis-
cretion, she brought out the new adven-
tures in 1824. Two years later the Swiss
publishers issued a four-volume edition.
in German, incorporating the additions.
of Madame de Montolieu. There were
other French versions, notably the one in
1837 by Mme. Elise Voïart, with an
eulogistic preface by Charles Nodier.
The earlier edition, however, has re-
mained the more popular and is of
greater interest to the English reader,
since it was the German edition which
included its supplementary chapters
that Mrs. H. B. Paull used for her
translation of 1868-the version best
known to the Anglo-American public of
to-day.
Had not Captain Woodes Rogers
chronicled the story of Alexander Sel-
kirk, Daniel Defoe could not have written
Robinson Crusoe, and but for Robinson
Crusoe there would have been no Swiss
Family Robinson. But it is equally true
that the immediate inspiration of the lat-
ter was the account of a Russian sea-
captain who found-mark the coinci-
dence-a Swiss pastor and his family
stranded on an island near New Guinea.
Here we have a striking example of the
domination of the mystic three in their
full triform potency: Scott, Englishman
and Russian each contributing his share
to a story compiled by a Swiss, his son,
and a Frenchwoman, and reduced per-
force through two languages to a third
that it may be enjoyed in its fulness by
the children of the first tools of the arch-
conspirators. All of which is expected
to prove nothing more than the fact that
The Swiss Family Robinson has had
141
quite as adventurous a career as the
Swiss family, Robinson.
III
But while this may be interesting to the
lover of literary byways, it is of little mo-
ment to the boy of to-day, who takes no
heed of title pages but jumps gaily into
the tub-boat to accompany his friends
from their shipwreck to the land of the
unknown. Nor is it of much consequence
to the boy of yesterday, who, grown to
man's estate, is curious to revisit the
house in the tree. As for him, if, on re-
turning not long ago to the lake and
mountains of his childhood, he found in
their place a duckpond and a few hills
no higher than the office-building in
which he toils; if, upon this tragic dis-
covery, he was unable to smile, let him
remain on the wreck and hug his illu-
sions. And yet the house has stood the
test of time supremely well, and for some
strange reason the tree that holds it seems
for a mangrove more colossal than ever,
higher if anything than the redwoods of
California.
If, however, the man is of average
courage or no sentiment, he too may fol-
low the adventurers ashore, and will find
to his astonishment that his memory has
tricked him in countless ways; that the
memorable house, for example, is not all-
important, being but one of a series of
homes built by these good people who
are as indefatigable as ants and quite as
willing to measure their strength with
the Titans. He will wonder that he could
ever have forgotten the name Falkon-
hurst (Falcon's Nest) and the earlier
Zeltheim (Tent Home). He will find
himself wandering inland to the farm at
Wood Grange; and upon returning to
the shore, will experience anew the thrill
of discovering the great salt cavern and
the pride of converting it into Rock
Castle, a comfortable haven in the rainy
season. He will long for a lariat that he
too many capture a monkey or a jackal as
companions for Nip and Hunter. He
will laugh good-naturedly at Ernest,
whose invaluable book-knoweldge is only
surpassed by his willingness to leave its
application to others. He will live over
again the days when he envied Fritz
breaking Lightfoot, the captive onager;
142
THE BOOKMAN
or little Frank putting Grumbler, the
tame buffalo, through its paces; or Jack
coursing upon his ostrich, Whirlwind.
He will hope to find some new pond or
river that he may have the honour of de-
termining its name, and if he be a good
American with a proper respect for the
sacred cause of natural history, he will
agree with the pastor's wife that the bay
at which the first landing was made
should be called Deliverance Bay, and
not, as the impetuous Fritz suggested,
Oyster Bay. For he will have smiled
already-sometimes three times to the
page-over the flora and fauna of this
incomparable isle. In truth by diligence
and valour its waters, woods and plains
can be made to yield up whatever may be
lacking to the needs of man in the hold
of the doomed ship.
If he is a cynic he will sneer at the
providential foresight of the ship-owners
and at the courtesy of Neptune who
seems bent on making amends for his
recent roughness. And yet the manners
of Neptune are hardly as exemplary as
the contents of the craft which is a
floating farmyard, department store, and
arsenal combined. Cows and musical
boxes, pinnaces and console tables, are
to be found for the seeking. The powder
magazine established from its store is as
inexhaustible as the purse of Fortunatus.
The salvos of ten years are as a pinch of
snuff.
But if the vessel is an emporium of the
sea, surely the island is a stationary ark;
but not the ark of Noah, for it contains
creatures undreamed of in the patriarch's
time. Buffon alone could have conceived
so heterogeneous an assemblage. Here
the grizzly bear drives the duck-billed
platypus from the succulent sugar-cane;
the boa seeks the bird-of-paradise in the
wild-potato patch, and the lion shakes the
ruffed grouse from its perch on the
cocoanut palm, while the elephant,
munching truffles, watches the Greenland
whale as it pursues landward shoals of
herring that must fall a victim to salmon
or flamingo or the net of the watchful
Swiss pastor.
The pastor's net or his gun, it must be
confessed, seal as a rule the fate of all
edible creatures, but with good reason,
for his eyes are as keen as those of
Fritz's trained eagle, and his patience is
infinite. But whether it is herring, wild
boar or cassava that he brings home, the
mother of the family welcomes it to her
larder, though sometimes with the raised
brows of a conservative housewife.
There is no question, however, about the
enthusiasm with which she greets her re-
sourceful husband and industrious sons,
nor about the cheerfulness and skill with
which she can prepare a meal and serve
it up hot, bountiful and delicious in less
time than it takes to tell it. Not even
Dickens has given us so many glimpses.
of the savoury board, nor has he tempted
the palate with so varied an assortment
of victuals.
Page after page of such incidents in
which the impossible seems to merge into
the commonplace may point to dry read-
ing, but such is not the case. Each day
in the lives of these kindly folk has its
vexed problems as well as its innocent
pastimes; but it is always as a family, a
truly sympathetic little group, that they
accept both. Their courageous, almost
joyous way of grappling with difficulties,
their perseverance in the face of disaster
and disappointment, and their gentle un-
questioning faith are full of tender in-
spiration. Situations which should prove
ridiculous are charming through their
very ingenuousness, and details which
should weary by repetition form in reality
a background of substantial and satisfy-
ing homeliness. There is no sham about
these simple people, however absurd may
be the scene of their adventures. But
whether for this reason or for that-real
reasons being so imperceptible-The
Swiss Family Robinson appeals, as it
must, to every manly boy and every man
who has been a real boy, both will agree
that none could have expressed their
feelings better than Mr. Howells when he
remarked in that quiet little way of his:
"This is one of the dearest old books in
the world."
Hubbard
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