The Swiss Family Robinson

“But now we must hurry. We can have a longer talk about mechanics on land.”

In the midst of constructing a craft to carry the Robinsons and their supplies to land, Ernest stops to inquire about the physics of leverage. Similar scenes play out throughout the novel, a clear indication of Wyss’s purpose. He seeks not to create dramatic tension so much as to provide an educational experience for the reader. While Robinson eventually urges his son to action, he cannot refrain from a cursory explanation of the mechanics of force and resistance.

“It tasted good and was probably produced by seawater evaporating in the sun.” 

While harvesting oysters, Ernest discovers a wealth of salt lying in the crevices between the rocks. He immediately recognizes it and understands why it’s there. Robinson seems to have imparted a great deal of knowledge to his sons, even before their shipwreck. Not content to give all the knowledge to his narrator, Wyss makes the Robinson boys miniature encyclopedias as well.

“‘When you have many tasks to choose from, always choose the one that gives the clearest advantage,’ I answered. ‘Saving a human life is higher calling than comforting a few animals who have plenty of food.’” 

When Robinson suggests searching for surviving members of the ship’s crew, Fritz resists the idea, arguing that the crew abandoned the Robinsons to a sinking ship, so the family owes them no moral debt. In one of his patented ethical discourses, Robinson lectures his oldest son on the imperative of valuing human life. The novel consistently gives its narrator the moral high ground which tends to paint him in two dimensions.

“‘If it is God’s will that we be alone here,’ said my wife, ‘let us rejoice that we are all together.’” 

After finding no trace of the ship’s crew or any other inhabitants, the Robinsons realize they are alone. They have no one but themselves to depend on for survival. In a remarkable show of either steely courage (or complete naiveté, no one panics or ponders their possible mortality. Granted, Elizabeth frets over her husband’s and son’s absence when they venture to the shipwreck for supplies, but those fears dissipate immediately upon their return. On the contrary, the Robinsons are eternal optimists, placing their faith utterly in God and their own resourcefulness. 

“My wife was delighted; the sugar would be good for cooking, and with the new dishes we could eat more like civilized beings.”

The island is the gift that never stops giving. Everything a family could want—except for a fresh food market—is there for the taking. The Robinsons adapt quickly to their new surroundings, but not without a few creature comforts: beds, all manner of food and appropriate seasonings, and both a winter and summer home. The island’s resources dovetails perfectly with the family’s survival skills, granting them the opportunity to mold an idyllic life out of the raw material laid before them.

“Perhaps leaving them alone ashore the only way to teach them this, but I could not be easy about the risk.” 

Circumstances demand hard choices, and when Robinson and Fritz return to the shipwreck for additional supplies, Robinson worries about the safety of his family. Much of the narrative is a moral dilemma. Robinson consistently leaves his family, particularly his three eldest sons, in harm’s way. Sometimes he has no choice, but other times, he sees it as necessary for their emotional and spiritual growth. Robinson is no helicopter parent, and his sons are the better for it.

“What we do not understand, let us accept and trust as His will. Animals maintain a balance in nature by preying on each other.” 

Robinson is a naturalist with a scientific eye for classification, and he is also a man of religious faith. It’s tempting to see these two qualities as conflicting, but the 18th century European mind had room for both. In a single statement, Robinson captures the essence of each quality: the blind acceptance of faith and the dispassionate understanding of science.

“‘Our Creator made this beautiful tree for us. Its leafy shade is all we need,’ I said. ‘We will honor Him here.’”

Catholic priest Patrick Peyton coined the phrase, “The family that prays together, stays together.” Robinson never misses a chance to guide the family in prayer, whether on the beach moments after landing or on any given Sunday when they would otherwise be in Church. In fact, Robinson views the entire island as one big, leafy cathedral, improvising Mass under the boughs of their new home.

“‘Great job, Ernest!’ I said. ‘See what can achieve when you stay at work? For now, at least, you are cleared of the charge of laziness.’” 

Laziness is one of Robinson’s big pet peeves. He sees it as a character flaw and a moral flaw. He frets about it privately and expresses his frustration to his son openly. When Ernest takes the initiative, wades into the water, and kills a large salmon, his father is ecstatic, thinking his son has learned a valuable life lesson. By clearing him of the “charge” of laziness, he equates it with a crime, a petty one perhaps, but a crime nonetheless. 

“Excitement may bring a boy happiness, but duty brings a man satisfaction.” 

When Robinson and Ernest return from their private walkabout, Fritz expresses jealousy at their adventure while his time with the family tends to be far more routine. Robinson assuages his son’s envy by praising him for keeping the family safe in his absence. By distinguishing between the temporary thrill of adventure and the more permanent fulfillment of responsibility, he instills in his eldest son a lesson in maturity in the event he should have to take his father’s place.

“The sledge’s clatter woke my wife, though, and when she looked outside, she was mortified. ‘We’ve overslept!’ she exclaimed.” 

The entire Robinson clan adheres to a strict work ethic, and if that means rising with the dawn every morning to begin their routine, so be it. While any family in these circumstances might be forgiven for sleeping in occasionally, Elizabeth will not hear of it. In keeping with the novel’s purpose of moral instruction, the characters recoil at human failings, no matter how minor.

“Rest easy, dear. I will not introduce a filthy habit into our family.” 

When Elizabeth fears her husband may be trying to “grate” tobacco into snuff, she objects. Robinson assures her he has no such ideas in mind, but along with his reassurance comes a moral judgment. This is entirely in keeping with his puritanical worldview. Laziness is the Devil’s playground and tobacco is filthy. That said, the entire family partakes in the wine they recover from the ship and the mead they brew.

“In the evening, I said to my sons, ‘I want all of you to practice running, leaping, wrestling, and climbing. These will make you strong, active men.’”

After assembling the pinnace, the Robinsons enjoy a welcome day of rest. Not wanting his sons to get too accustomed to leisure, however, he invents a series of athletic contests to keep them active, and the boys jump at the chance to compete with each other. These scenes do not age well. It’s hard to imagine such a parental demand today being met with such cooperation.

“‘I want to tame him and teach him to talk, Father,’ he said.”

In their bid to tame as many of the island’s creatures as they can, Fritz captures a young bird, hoping to domesticate it. Robinson allows his son to take a young, “shrieking” bird from the safety of its nest under the rationale that the taming process will make Fritz more “humane.” It’s another example of the Robinsons’ attitude of dominating their environment rather than coexisting with it.

“As it fell, I glanced up at him, surprised at such a display of temper.” 

Ernest, sensitive to the charge of laziness, climbs a tree in search of coconuts. When he comes up empty, his brothers lightly mock his mistake, and he responds by angrily slicing some leaves off the tree. Of all his sons, Ernest concerns Robinson most. Whether it’s a lack of initiative or his temper, Robinson fears for Ernest’s character development, although by today’s standards, Ernest’s flaws seem relatively minor. In order to maintain his purpose of moral education, Ernest’s flaws must be dealt with and corrected. By the end of the novel, he chooses to remain on the island, a clear sign that Robinson’s corrective measures were successful.

“We had no time to loaf, and we were near each other and our animals. I remember the time most fondly.”

Not surprisingly, Robinson’s fondest memory is when the family is busy. It fills him with moral satisfaction that his wife and sons always have duties to perform, averting the temptation of idleness. The business of survival is no time for relaxing on the beach, and Robinson never allows his family to lapse into a vacation mindset.

“Here was an animal that naturalists said could not be tamed, yet thanks to the wisdom of the American Indian, I watched my

 youngest son lead her about the camp.”

The Robinsons capture an onager, a species of wild donkey, but find it difficult to tame. Robinson tries a technique he credits to the American Indian, mounting it and biting its ear. A human database of information, Robinson never fails to give credit where credit is due. Whether citing the wisdom of indigenous peoples or the native flora of “foreign countries,” he sources his knowledge with the consistency of a student research paper.

“I wasn’t sure what use we would find for them, but my intention was to waste nothing.” 

After harpooning an eight-foot sturgeon and harvesting its eggs for caviar, Robinson keeps the “egg bladders” for future use. While their killing seems uncomfortably pervasive and arbitrary, Robinson attempts to use all parts of the animal. In that sense, the Robinsons, like many native populations who rely on animals for sustenance, are true conservationists.

“This animal-management business was a helpful distraction from the boredom of our long confinement.” 

For the first time since their shipwreck a year prior, Robinson suggests that boredom is a problem, ironic since their entire first year is filled with hunting, building, salvaging, planting, and animal taming. Readers might conclude that there is little time for boredom. This is the industrious Robinson clan, however, and any moment of inactivity is cause for concern.

“‘I’m twice as proud of you, Franz,’ said my wife, ‘because you treat him so gently. Your kindness has bred kindness.’”

At times, the morality of the Robinsons is contradictory. They often kill excessively, and they feel no remorse about using a native species for their own purposes. At the same time, their religious faith urges benevolence. When Franz rides a young bull-calf without the harsh use of a riding crop, his mother praises his gentle approach, even suggesting that his kindness will have a ripple effect. In these moments, the Robinsons attain a level of humanity.

“I could not deny such enthusiasm, so I agreed that Franz and my wife could come along.” 

While Robinson loves his wife and praises her resourcefulness, there is little doubt that her wishes are subservient to his. Routinely left behind to care for Franz while Robinson and the elder sons do the dangerous work, she is finally allowed to tag along on the next adventure, but only after her husband grants permission. Gender lines clearly exist in this era, and while Elizabeth ventures her opinions and expresses displeasure from time to time, accompanying the men on dangerous adventures is a line that Robinson seldom allows her to cross.

“I heard the rooster’s crow before we came in sight of the cottage, and I felt a sudden rush of homesickness.” 

Not only do the Robinsons never seek or even discuss rescue, they rarely reminisce about their pre-island life. It’s remarkable that, for a family with two adolescent children, they don’t bemoan their challenging circumstances. In keeping with Wyss’s intent, the lesson here is to never complain, thank God for your good fortune, and keep busy; so it’s even more startling when a rooster’s crow triggers in Robinson a host of memories, not the least of which is missing the company of friends. In typical Robinson fashion, however, he dismisses these feelings as soon as they come up and gets back to the task at hand.

“In case any of you have somehow forgotten, you’re stuck here with no one to depend on but your family. You can’t afford to quarrel—we all need each other.” 

In one of the rare moments of domestic conflict, a practical joke goes too far and tempers flare. Robinson is compelled to intervene and remind his sons of their situation. In a more contemporary, realistic telling of this story, arguments like this would likely be more frequent, but Wyss prefers to keep the familial waters calm, painting an ideal portrait of a loving and cooperative family.