Littrarp OuppirmEnt.
LONDON : MAY 30, 1885.
BOOKS.
TWO REVOLUTIONARY FIGURES.*
THERE is perhaps no more interesting period in all history than that of the great French Revolution, and of the years immediately preceding it. Certainly, there is none in which the French people present themselves so picturesquely to the imagination ; and any book, be it historical or biographical, a novel or a memoirs, that deals with this time, is sure of being widely read. Most certainly, therefore, the book that lies before us to-day, has a quite peculiar charm, in that, penned sixty years ago, at a time therefore when the events therein recorded were fresher in all memories than now, it has, nevertheless, through a series of accidents, not seen the light until to-day. It is the biographical sketch of one Johann Casper Schweitzer, and of Magdalene his wife, and was written by Magdalene's cousin, David Hess, whose life in turn is now told to us by Herr Berchtold, the editor of the present volume. Herr Berchtold is very enthusiastic in his admiration of Hess and the Schweitzers,—on the whole an excellent thing perhaps in an editor ; and not unnaturally, perhaps, he a little over-rates the value of his work—or rather, he does not apprehend fully from what side it is likely to be most interesting to the modern reader. Those who really hope to find in Hess's " Character-Picture " a profound contribution to the history of the Revolution will certainly be disappointed. Nor will readers probably see in Schweitzer and his wife the extraordinary and original individualities discovered in them by Herr Berchtold. The fact is that they are interesting rather because they are so exactly like their better-known contemporaries, than because they differ from them. We have met their prototypes again and again, and every renewed meeting makes us realise the better the men and women of that curious Rousseau period, for it was Rousseau's Contrat Social, not Voltaire's wit, that paved the way for the Revolution. We all know the Rousseau-reading, philanthropically-inclined sentimentalist, who, de gaite de cceur, walked straight into the whirlpool of the Revolution, never dreaming, until drawn into the vortex, that Voltaire's beau tapage was at hand, but who, being in, often enough, with the same gaiety and a strong sense of the melodramatic aspect of the situation, walked firmly to the scaffold. We all know, too, the femme sensible who wept over the sorrows of Heldse, who tried to bringnp her children on the model of Emile, who talked glibly about "l'jgalite parmi les hom2nes," and who was supremely astonished when the menu peuple began to take her theories seriously and put them into practice. These types are familiar to every student of France in the eighteenth century; and because they belong to these types, not because they are different, Schweitzer and his wife are so interesting, and we so welcome their cousin's long-unprinted memoir.
Johann Casper, although not a " citoyen de Geneve," was a born Swiss, a native of Zurich. The date of his birth is 1754; but of his early years little is known beyond the fact that after his own mother's death his father married a sister of the celebrated Lavater, and that Lavater, when the elder Schweitzer died, looked after the lad. Johann Casper inherited, not only a very considerable fortune,—subsequently much augmented by various legacies,—but also an important business. This business was entirely managed by an old book-keeper, Diggelmann, a most sympathetic representative of the "faithful-servant" type that has gone out of date with many another excellent old institution. Schweitzer was, therefore, at liberty to indulge all his various dreams and fancies. Now, this incorrigible dreamer and enthusiast—Schwiirmer, the Germans would call him, using that expressive, but untranslatable term—was absorbed now in some great educational scheme, now in some immense commercial affair that was to bring in millions, to be devoted by their possessor to the improvement of mankind,—was now a fiery Jacobin and Revolutionist, and now engaged in a conspiracy to release Louis XVI. And in the midst of these conflicting occu pations, he found time to write atrocious verses, to commence countless political and philosophical works, and to collect materials (never to be used), for a great "History of Civilisa tion," the work that was to have justified his existence.
The name of this dreamer's wife is not altogether unknown to Goethe students ; for it is recorded that during his first Swiss journey, in 1775, Goethe met her at Lavater's, and was so struck by her that he commissioned Fiissli to paint her portrait for him, while he in turn sent her a copy of the " Beatrice Cenci " picture. It was to be expected that so erratic a couple as the Schweitzers, whose main principle was that each must be " free as the air," would not be content with the narrow-minded provincial life of Zurich, and that they would and must in time gravitate towards Paris. Characteristically enough, the two,, together with the extraordinary child Robette, whom they had adopted, migrated thither on the eve of the Revolution. The faithful Diggelmann was left to look after the Zurich house of business, while Schweitzer attempted to start in the French capital another of his huge concerns, that was to realise millions. Rich, generous, pleasant, remarkably well-read, with a charming wife who could hold her own with the best in the aesthetic jargon of the day, Schweitzer's house soon became a centre of attraction. In his salon we find not only the shameless speculators Jeauneret, Piquet, and a host of others, whose one object was to please the naïve and unsuspecting Swiss, but also such men as Mirabeau, Lafayette, Dumouriez, Fabre d'Eglantiue, Barnave, Champfort, Bernardin do St. Pierre, Gallizin, Anacharsis Cloots, and such women as Miele do Petitelionais, the Princesse de Bourbon, and Mary Wollstonecraft.
It is a matter for profound regret that the writer of the memoir lets us see so little of this strange company. One would like to know how such men as the corrupt Mirabean and incorruptible Cloots, men like Champfort and St. Pierre, Fabre d'Eglantine, and Barnave, got on together. Above all, we should like to know what all these people thought of Mary Wollstonecraft. But save for one short account of Mirabeau, and in the notes in reference to Mary Wollstonecraft, all are dismissed with the bare mention of their honoured or dishonoured names. We regret this the more that the one descrip tion given of Mary by Magdalene is so interesting. For the sake of a few more extracts like this we could well have spared some of the author's reflections. If we may judge from this letter, Magdalene, who liked to pose as a sort of tenth Muse, was not without a certain jealousy of the great Englishwoman, tempered by sincere admiration. We cannot refrain from quoting the passage entire :—
"J'aimais Marie Wolletonecraft [writes Magdalene]. Elle avait des moments delicieux. J'aurai voulu pouvoir l'aimer avec constance, mais elle reponssait par son intolerance tontes lea femmes qui ne voulaient pas titre sons ea subordination. Aveo sea domestiques, avec lea subalternes, at tons les malbeureux, elle keit dunce comma nn ange. Elle serait dune aensibilite exquise, sans see sans trop massifs, qui prennent trop convent le dessus. J'ai passe une soiree avec elle It la campagne. Les nuances des couleurs de !'horizon etaient d'ane beaute ravissante et poetiqne. Marie se trouvait assise avec le B. de W. sons an arbre due par les rayons du soleilconohant. Jo fug vie-a•vis d'eux, at si traneportee que je lai die : Venez Marie, venez amante de la nature, voir ce magnifique spectacle, ce change. ment de teintes de tontes eepeces !' Mais quel fat mon atonement de voir Marie indifferente an point qu'elle ne detacha pas les yeux de celai par lequel elle &sit dans ce moment captivie. J'avone que son delire erotique St un effet ei desagreable sur moi que toutes mes jonissances s'evanouirent Pas moins Marie, it c6t6 de see faiblessee, eat un des area lea plus distingues dane le monde feminin. Son ame renferme do grands deeseine, male la riohesee de see idees use son physique."
As for Mirabeau, he seems from the first to have been intimate with the Schweitzers. We are told that he always called Schweitzer " mon maitre ;" but, adds the biographer, "in return, he always got money whenever he wanted it, which was often the case." Indeed, so great was Schweitzer's faith in the Tribune, that on those occasions when he wanted money the confiding Swiss handed him the keys of his private cash-box, and "let the Count take what he liked." It is but fair to say that when the Count at last paid off his debts, Mirabeau gave his friend a whole handful' of billets. Schweitzer hurriedly glanced at them, found over 20,000 francs, and asked what it meant ; for the Swiss had never kept any account of the cash Mirabean had taken.
But there was r..tetal, more attractive even than gold, in Schweitzer's he-asehold, and that was Magdalene. Not the least of her el.arms was that Mirabean found in her the first, and ne maintained, the only woman, who had resisted his all-conquering ugliness. So impressed was he by this conduct that, on
one occasion, he was found kneeling before a picture of the little Swiss woman, an incident made use of by Madame Frescarode in her historical novel, Les Victimes de l'Intrigne et l'Heroisme dans le Malheur.
Soon the Revolution itself had begun. Carried away by the universal enthusiasm, we first find Schweitzer composing some of his miserable odes and hymns in honour of Liberty, working at the Montmartre fortifications, haranguing the people, becoming a Jacobin and a sansculotte. But Schweitzer's sansculottism, like his hymns, was of the mildest kind ; and, as was to be expected, lie soon withdrew from the Ultras. It is interesting to note that, although the Schweitzers remained in Paris during the whole of the Reign of Terror,—from August 10th till after the fall of Robespierre,— and that he was implicated in an attempt to rescue the King, they do not seem to have been molested in any way. This may, to some extent, have been due to the fact that Magdalene had wheedled Robespierre into extending to them his protection. Still, it is remarkable that while so many of their old friends died on the scaffold, these two should have escaped even arrest. It was during this time that Magdalene developed all the real good in her nature. We find her indefatigable in visiting her friends in prison, in procuring their freedom, in showing all who come to her, kindness and helpfulness. But there is a good deal of the old Magdalene, the poseuse, in her midnight visit to the Place de Greve to count the steps to the guillotine, in order that she might not falter should her own turn come.
After the fall of Robespierre, Schweitzer became a member of the " Agency " deputed to conduct the commercial undertakings of the French Government in America, and to collect the sums advanced by France during the War of Independence. In order to conduct these affairs, and also with the hope of making a large private fortune—the fact that he had already lost three or four fortunes not at all discouraging him—Schweitzer and Magdalene set sail for America. But the miserable old ship in which they sailed was stopped by a terrific storm. For four long weeks they were tempest-test ; and at last, when Magdalene was quite broken-down, they reached, not America, but Brest, where she had to bo put on shore. Her husband, who had spent his time writing verses, continued his journey alone. Arrived in America, it is much the same story over again. Schweitzer, while making great plans for the founding of a new colony—a model S tate, where there should be " universal toleration, community of goods, and woman's suffrage "—let himself be shamefully robbed by his partner, one Swan. The description of this cold-blooded villain, and of his equally villainous wife and daughters, is among the best things in the volume. At last, after six years, Schweitzer, robbed of his last farthing, had to borrow a small sum of money to carry him back to Europe. The years of his absence had been sad enough for poor Magdalene, whose one sole bright episode had been a visit from the faithful old Diggelmann, who had come to give her the little fortune he had earned during these years, but that Magdalene was too honest to accept.
The remaining span of life of the husband and wife are one long sad record of disappointment, suffering, and disillusion. The reader cannot help being glad when the end comes, and the generous, crack-brained dreamer, worn-out and old before his time,-finds his rest. His character is best summed-up by himself in his own epitaph, written many years before his death, —"Fror am Sonnenstrahl, sucht am Mond sick die Hdnde zu tviirmen" ("He shivered in the sun's rays, and tried to warm his hands in the moonbeams "). He died in 1811 ; his wife followed in 1814. Her last years were spent in Zurich with the cousin who has written the history of those two lives, whose commencement seemed so propitious and whose end was so sad. As for Magdalene, she outlived all her friends, and the husband she had loved so well. Almost her last words were a prayer that "le portrait de Gaspard" (she had forgotten her native German) might not be taken out of her hands.
Previous page
