The Swiss Family Robinson

Preface

The following work has for its main purpose to be of use to children and the friends of children. For the first however, it is not all children for which it can pretend to be adapted, but only such as are able to mix some reflection with their reading, as already possess certain general ideas on the subjects of natural history and geography; in a word, such as have acquired that portion of instruction which is given from the age of eight to fourteen years in most of the primary schools in the large towns, and even in the villages.

For the second, I do not by the friends of children particularly understand that class of individuals who are engaged in philosophical researches, theories, and experiments on the subject of education; but such fathers, teachers, and others, who delight to employ their attention on the youthful mind; who observe with pleasure the actions and discourses of children; who reflect naturally and without any preconcerted system upon their faculties, dispositions, and characters; who find themselves prompted to infuse useful knowledge into them through the medium of conversation; and who will not regard with disdain a simple and well intended essay towards their improvement, merely because it pretends to no novelty of theorems, and is not founded upon the basis of a long series of scientifical and metaphysical propositions.

Prefaces are not intended for the perusal of children; but the friends of children will perhaps be gratified to find in this some account of the origin and object of the present work. In such a detail they will perhaps find motives for indulgence, if not for approbation, and will proceed to the work itself with less severity of analysis and criticism.

It is now nearly twenty years since the writer of the following sheets began to throw together the hints of his work in detached parcels. The purpose he had in view was to amuse, to instruct, and to fashion the character of four sons borne to him by an exemplary mother: in doing this, he conceived the idea of faithfully portraying these four children in correspondence with the germs of character he already remarked in them. He made them act and speak, exactly as they were accustomed to act and speak in the ordinary train of their lives; with this difference only, that he often strengthened and made more prominent whatever of excellence or of frailty he found in them, representing them rather such as he might suppose them to become at a period of greater maturity, than such as they were at the moment of writing; entertaining the idea, that by this means he should render their faults the more displeasing to them, and alarm them the more with the consequences that might result, and that he might render sound judgement and integrity more lovely in their eyes. The portrait of the mother was drawn with all that earnest esteem and affection which she inspired in her husband, and which she well deserved. On the one side he was anxious to paint his family just as it was, and on the other he thought that the book so constructed could not be without utility to children of the softer sex; as in delineating his wife he should present to them a model of the power given to the female sex over the happiness of their families, both as wives and mothers. Various motives prevented him from introducing girls in his uninhabited island. The first was, that he had himself no girls, and that introducing them would have spoiled the integrity of his painting: several other motives may easily be conceived.

It appeared to his apprehension, that a book not less useful than entertaining might be formed, by transporting in fancy a single family from the civilized world, and placing it in the midst of savage nature. Such a family would necessarily derive great advantage from the knowledge they had acquired of the inventions and contrivances of European society. To give children an interest in the studies they pursue, it is necessary to excite their curiosity, and to give them a wish to learn. The lessons of morality and science that are interspersed will then be read with pleasure, and devoured with avidity. Scarcely anything appeared better calculated for such a purpose, than a strange and untried scene of action, and a multitude of small incidents of a striking nature, but entirely within the reach of their early capacities to understand.

There is no book that has been more universally read and approved, for the opening of the infant mind, than The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Every child is impressed with the conception of this solitary and forlorn individual, existing with no aids but those of his own industry, and carrying on, single-handed, the tremendous battle which man, wherever he lives alone, must have to fight with nature. Robinson Crusoe shows us human nature in its origin and in its weakness, and proves to us what reflection and labour are capable of effecting in the most trying and perilous situations. Here we are feelingly taught, how inestimably the social state, whether in its domestic or its national form, together with the arts and inventions that accompany it, conduces to the well-being of every individual of whom it is composed.

The persuasion of this truth determined the author to give his little family fiction the form under which it now appears, and to entitle it The Family Robinson Crusoe. It has however in many respects a different object from that of the original work; purposing, as it does, to instruct its young readers in various sciences, particularly that of natural history, and especially the natural history of distant countries and climates. Some things this book has in common with its model: the shipwreck, the desert island, and the resources drawn by the hero from the wreck of his unfortunate vessel. In other points the present work is entirely different; for example, in painting the family scene, in developing the different characters of the members that compose it, and in the perpetual attention given by the father to instruct his children in different sciences and arts, and to forward and mature their moral and intellectual natures. His own children were especially delighted at finding themselves brought forward as the personages of this imaginary history, and transported to the scene of a distant ocean.

The sheets now laid before the public were originally destined to remain unknown beyond the circle of the family for which they were composed; but one of the personages, who is brought forward as a child in the course of this narrative, having felt in his own person the deep interest and lively pleasure which the story excited, and recollecting how many lasting advantages he had himself derived from the use of this book, could not refrain from ultimately resolving to render the benefit of it more general, and has voluntarily undertaken the labour of giving to it the form in which it now appears. The very name of Robinson Crusoe, which it bears, will awaken the curiosity of the young reader; and it is therefore confidently hoped that these new Adventures will be graciously received by those for whose instruction they are destined.

It only remains for the editor to declare that he lays no claim to the merit of any one incident in the story; he has merely taken the liberty to make some corrections in the style, and to endeavour to dispose and connect the scattered fragments into a regular story. His acquaintance with natural history is unfortunately very limited, nor has he had leisure to make such researches as would have been requisite to verify all the facts here brought forward. He has equally to confess his incompetence with respect to several of the arts that are here put into action; he has therefore been obliged to refer himself on these two points to the judgement of the author, and to adopt his descriptions as he found them; he is at least well assured that the writer had recourse to the best authorities, and was extensively acquainted with those books of voyages and travels which are in the highest esteem. Notwithstanding which, it may however have happened, that in the twenty years which have elapsed since this work was written, many new discoveries may have been made, and many juster principles and conclusions have been established. It is therefore to be desired, that such parents and teachers as shall put this book into the hands of the children under their care, or shall read it with them, would have the goodness to correct its errors, and supply such omissions as they may discover. In reality, it is very rarely, and perhaps never, proper that children should read by themselves; few indeed are the individuals in those tender years that are not either too indolent, too lively, or too capricious to employ themselves usefully upon this species of occupation.

In the following Introduction will be found a brief detail of what may be supposed respecting the manner in which the accompanying narrative has been brought before the public.

Introduction

It is well known that a Swiss, Counsellor Horner of Zurich, sailed some years ago round the world on board a Russian vessel, the Podesta, commanded by Captain Kreusenstern. They discovered a number of islands, and one among the rest of a considerable size and great fertility, situate to the southwest of Java, near the coast of Papua or New Guinea, hitherto unknown to navigators, and which appeared to them worthy to be examined. They landed accordingly; and to the great surprise of the crew, but particularly of Mr. Horner, they found this island, which they had conceived to be uninhabited, already in the possession of a European family, who met them on the bank, and saluted them in German. The family consisted of a father, a mother, and four sons of a robust and active appearance, who willingly communicated to Mr. Horner the history of their adventures.

The father had been a pastor or clergyman of West Switzerland, who having lost his fortune in the Revolution of 1798, and reflecting on the family he had to bring up, resolved to become a voluntary exile, and to seek in other climates the means of support. He sailed accordingly with his wife and children, four sons, from twelve to five years of age, for England, where he accepted an appointment of missionary to Otaheite; not that he had any desire to take up his abode in that island, but that he had conceived the plan of passing from thence to Port Jackson, and domiciliating himself there as a free settler. He possessed a considerable knowledge of agriculture, and, with the aid of his sons, he hoped to gain for himself there that advantageous establishment, which his own country, convulsed with the horrors of war, denied him. He turned all that yet remained to him into money, and then vested his little property in seeds of various sorts and a few cattle, as a farming stock. The family took their passage accordingly, satisfied with this consolation that they should still remain together, and sailed with favourable winds till they came in sight of New Guinea. Here they were attacked by a most destructive and unrelenting tempest; and it is in this crisis of their adventures that the Swiss Pastor, or Family Robinson Crusoe, begins the journal, which he liberally consigned to the care of Mr. Horner, who carried it with him into Switzerland; and from the manuscript, thus brought over from one of the remotest parts of the earth, the following narrative has been faithfully printed.

Part I

… Already the tempest had continued six terrible days, and far from subsiding on the seventh, its fury seemed to increase. We had wandered so materially from the right track, and were so forcibly driven toward the southeast, that not a creature on board knew where we were. The ship’s company were exhausted by constant labour and watching, and the courage which had hitherto sustained them now began to fail. The masts had been shivered to pieces and cast into the sea; several leaks appeared, and the ship began to fill. The sailors forbore from swearing, and were now employed in prayers, or in making the absurdest vows as the condition of their release from danger. Each recommended his soul to God, but at the same moment thought of contriving the best means for preserving his life. My children, said I to my four boys who clung to me in terrible alarm, God can save us, for nothing is impossible to him; but if he sees fit that we should not be saved, we must not murmur at his decree, but rely that what he does is most for our good; that we shall be near him in heaven, and united through eternity. Death may be well supported when it does not separate those who love.

My excellent wife wiped the tears which were falling on her cheeks, and from this moment became more tranquil; she encouraged the youngest children, who were leaning on her knees; while I, who owed them an example of firmness, was scarcely able to resist the grief which assailed my heart at the thought of what would most likely be the fate of beings so tenderly beloved. We all fell on our knees, and supplicated the God of mercy to protect us; and the emotion and the fervour of the innocent creatures are a convincing proof, that even in childhood, devotion may be felt and understood, and that its effects, tranquillity and consolation, may be no less certainly experienced.

Fritz, my eldest son, implored in a loud voice that God would deign to save his dear parents and his brothers, generously unmindful of himself: they got up with a state of mind so improved, that they seemed forgetful of the impending danger. I myself began to feel my confidence in Providence increase as I beheld the affecting group. Heaven will surely have pity on them, thought I, and will save their parents to guard their tender years!

At this moment a cry of Land, land, was heard through the roaring of the waves, and instantly the vessel struck against a rock with so violent a motion as to drive everyone from his place; a tremendous cracking succeeded, as if the ship was going to pieces; the sea rushed in, in all directions; we perceived that the vessel had grounded and could not long hold together. The captain in a mournful voice called out that all was lost, and bade the men lose not a moment in putting out the boats. The sounds fell on my heart like a blow from a dagger: We are lost! I exclaimed; and the children broke out into piercing cries. I then recollected myself, and endeavoured to be more composed; and addressing them again, I exhorted them to courage, by observing that the water had not yet reached us, that the ship was near land, and that Providence would assist the brave. Keep where you are, added I, while I go and examine what is best to be done.

I left my family, and went on the deck. A wave instantly threw me down and wetted me to the skin; another followed, and then another. I sustained myself as steadily as I could; and when I could look around, a scene of terrific and complete disaster met my eyes: the ship was shattered on all sides, and split in two on one side. The ship’s company crowded into the boats till they could contain not one man more, and the last who entered were now cutting the ropes to move off. I called to them with entreaties and prayers to stop and receive us also, but in vain; for the roaring of the sea prevented my being heard, and the waves, which rose to the height of mountains, would have made it impossible for a boat to return. All hope therefore from this source was extinguished, for the boats and all they contained were driving out of sight. My best consolation now was to observe that the sea could not enter the ship above a certain height. The stern, under which was the cabin that enclosed all that was dear to me on earth, had been driven to a considerable height between two rocks, where it appeared immoveably fixed; at the same time in the distance southward I descried through clouds and rain, several nooks of land, which, however rude and savage in appearance, were the object of every hope I could form in this distressing moment.

Sunk and desolate from the loss of every chance for human aid, it was yet my duty to make every effort to appear serene before my family. Courage, dear ones, cried I, on entering their cabin, all is not yet lost. I will not conceal from you that the ship is aground: but we are at least in greater safety than we should be if she were beating upon the rocks: our cabin is above water; and should the sea be more calm tomorrow, we may yet find means to reach the land in safety.

What I had just said, appeased the fears of all; for they had the habit of confiding in my assurances. They now therefore began to feel the advantage of the ship’s remaining still; for its motion had cruelly annoyed them by jostling them one against another, and sometimes against the vessel. My wife, however, more accustomed than the children to read my inmost thoughts, perceived the anxiety which devoured me. I made her a sign which conveyed an idea of the hopelessness of our situation, and I had the consolation to see that she was resolved to support the trial with resignation. Let us take some nourishment, said she: our courage will strengthen with our bodies; we shall perhaps need this comfort to support a long and melancholy night.

Soon after the evening set in: the tempest and the waves continued their fury; the planks and beams of the vessel separated in many parts with a horrible crash. It seemed impossible for the boats, or any one of the persons they contained, to escape the raging of the storm.

Papa, cried my youngest boy, six years old, will not God assist us soon?

Hold your tongue, replied his eldest brother. Do you not know that it is our duty not to prescribe to God, but to wait for his assistance with patience and humility?

Well spoken, my boy, said I; but you should not have reproved your brother so sharply. The eldest instantly ran and kissed the innocent little creature.

In the meanwhile, their mother had prepared our meal, and the four boys partook of it with an appetite to which their parents were strangers. They afterwards went to bed, and in a short time, in spite of the tempest, they were snoring soundly. Fritz, the eldest, sat up with us. I have been examining, said he after a long silence, how it may be possible to save ourselves. If we had only some instruments for swimming, some bladders or cork jackets for my mother and my brothers, you and I, father, would soon contrive to swim to land.

That is a good thought, said I: we will see if we can bring it to bear this very night, for fear of the worst.

Fritz and I immediately looked about for some small empty tubs or casks, or tin canisters, heavy enough to keep one of our children in a state of equilibrium on the surface of the water; these we fastened two and two together with handkerchiefs or towels, leaving about a foot distance between them; attaching this sort of swimming-jacket under the arms of each child; my wife, at the same time, preparing one for herself. We all provided ourselves with knives, some string, some turfs, and other necessaries which could be put into the pocket, proceeding upon the hope, that if the ship should go to pieces in the night, we should either be able to swim to land or be driven thither by the waves.

Fritz, who had been up the whole of the preceding night, and was fatigued with his new and laborious occupation, now lay down near his brothers, and was soon asleep; but their mother and I, too full of anxiety to close our eyes, kept watch, listening to every sound that seemed to threaten a further change in our situation. We passed this terrible night in prayer, in agonizing apprehensions, and in forming various resolutions as to what we should next attempt. We hailed with joy the first gleam of light which shot through a small opening of the window. The raging of the winds had begun to abate, the sky was become serene, and with hope swelling in my bosom, I beheld the sun already tinging the horizon: thus revived, I hastily summoned my wife and the boys to the deck, that they might partake of the scene. The children asked with much surprise why we were there alone and what had become of the ship’s company. I answered that they were gone away in the boats. Next followed, Why did they not take us with them? How are we to do without their assistance? How shall we know where we are?

Dearest children, said I, a Being more powerful than man has helped us to the present moment, and will, no doubt, continue to help us, if we do not abandon ourselves to a fruitless complaining and despair. Observe our companions, in whom we had so much confidence, have deserted us without mercy, and that Divine Providence has given us protection! But, my dear ones, we must now trust to our own exertions. Let us be willing to help ourselves, and we shall obtain support from Heaven. Let us never forget this useful maxim, and let each labour according to his strength. Now let us see what in our situation it is best to set about next.

Fritz advised that we should all throw ourselves into the sea, while it was calm, and swim to land. Ah! that may be well enough for you, said Ernest, for you can swim; but we others should soon be drowned. Would it not be better to make a float of rafts, and get to land all together upon it?

Vastly well, answered I, if we had the means for contriving such a float, and if, after all, it were not a dangerous sort of conveyance. Come along, my boys, let each go a different way about the ship, and see what he can do to be useful, and what he can find to enable us to get away.

They now all sprang from me with eager looks to do what I had desired. I, on my part, lost no time in examining what we had to depend upon in regard to provisions and fresh water, the principles of life; my wife and the youngest boy visited all the animals, whom they found in a pitiable condition, and nearly perishing with hunger and thirst. Fritz repaired to the ammunition chamber, Ernest to the carpenter’s cabin, and Jack to the apartment of the captain; but scarcely had he opened the door, when two large dogs sprung joyfully upon him, and saluted him with such rude affection, that, finding himself nearly thrown down, he roared for assistance as if they had been killing him. Hunger, however, had rendered the animals so gentle, that they licked his hands and face, uttering all the time a low sort of groan, and continued their caresses till he was almost suffocated. Poor Jack exerted all his strength in aiming blows at them to drive them away: at last he began to sympathize in their joyful movements, and put himself upon another footing; got upon his legs; and gently taking the largest dog by the ears, he sprang upon his back, and with great gravity presented himself thus mounted before me as I came out of the ship’s hold. I could not refrain from laughing, and I praised his courage: but I added a little exhortation to be cautious, and not go too far with animals of this species, who in a state of hunger might be dangerous.