MADAME DE MONTOLIEU--DR. TISSOT
To us, as we look backwards, Gibbon in Lausanne society figures as
a Triton among the minnows, but to his contemporaries he probably
seemed less important. He certainly did to his contemporaries in
London. Boswell, as we all know, considered him the intellectual
inferior of Dr. Johnson; and there is the story of the Duke of St.
Albans accepting a presentation copy of his 'Decline and Fall of the
Roman Empire' with the genial remark, 'Hallo! Another two d----d
thick volumes! Always scribble, scribble, scribble, eh, Mr. Gibbon!'
No one in Lausanne took quite such a Philistine tone as that, but
it is doubtful whether even Lausanne would have voted him a higher
position than that of _Primus inter pares_. Lausanne, after all, had
its native notables, and was too near to its celebrities to see them
in their true perspective. It had, among others, Madame de Montolieu.
She was a beauty as well as a woman of letters, and Gibbon himself
admired her in both capacities. He wrote to Lord Sheffield that
there was 'danger' for him, and he was in danger of making himself
ridiculous if of nothing worse. The story is told that he fell
upon his knees to make a declaration of love to Madame Montolieu,
and being too fat to rise without assistance, had to be helped to
his feet by a domestic servant summoned for the purpose. He bore
no malice, however, but even persuaded the lady to publish a novel
which she had written 'to amuse an aged relative,' offering, when she
objected, to attest his belief in its merits by printing it under his
own signature.
The novel in question was 'Caroline de Lichtfield,' which has passed
through many editions--the first in 1786 and the last in 1846--and
been translated into English. Its enthusiastic reception launched
its author upon a career. Her collected works, including a French
translation of 'The Swiss Family Robinson,' fill 105 volumes; and a
host of imitators arose. 'Well! are they still turning out novels at
Lausanne?' was one of the questions that Napoleon asked the Council
of the Helvetian Republic; and Louis Bridel, brother of the more
famous Doyen Bridel, writing in 1787, drew a graphic picture of the
Lausanne ladies, all with one accord engaged in literary toil:
'The romance of "Caroline," and the renown which it has brought its
author, has caused such a ferment in our feminine heads that, jealous
of the reputation of one of their number, they cover an incredible
quantity of paper with ink. They pass their days in writing novels;
their toilette tables are no longer covered with chiffons, but with
sheets of notepaper; and, if one unfolds a curlpaper, one is sure
to find that it is a fragment of a love-letter, or of a romantic
description.'
Madame de Charrière, a rival craftswoman of whom we shall have to
speak, the author of 'Lettres de Lausanne,' did not like Madame de
Montolieu. She called her a 'provincial coquette,' and ridiculed
her 'pretentions,' maintaining that, though her countrymen were
attracted by her charms, 'the English who boarded with her stepfather
considered her a disgustingly dirty and untidy person.' But Gibbon,
who was not only English but a man of taste, thought otherwise, as we
have seen; and his judgment may be accepted as the less prejudiced of
the two. And Madame de Montolieu's literary success, at any rate, is
not to be disputed. She lived to be an octogenarian, and retained
her popularity until the last.[4] She and her only child, dying
simultaneously, were buried in the same grave, on which may be read
the inscription, 'Here I am, O Lord, with the son whom Thou hast
given me!'
Dr. Tissot, whom we have already met on the Terrace at Lausanne, is
another celebrity of the period who merits further mention. He and
Gibbon once danced a minuet together at an evening party--a penalty
imposed upon them in a game of 'forfeits.' They thus, says Tissot's
German biographer, Eynard, 'revived the innocent pleasures of Arcadia
of old'; but the great physician, is less famous for the way in which
he took his pleasures than for the way in which he did his work.
Tronchin of Geneva had been the medical attendant of the cosmopolitan
aristocracy, had anticipated Rousseau in exhorting mothers to nurse
their own children, and had ventured, with a rude hand, to open the
windows of the Palace of Versailles. Tissot of Lausanne aspired to
be the medical adviser of the common people. 'While,' he wrote, 'we
are attending the most brilliant portion of humanity in the cities,
the most useful members of society are perishing miserably in the
country villages.'
Obviously, he could not do much personally to cure the ailments of a
scattered rural population; but he did what he might to help them by
writing popular manuals of hygiene. Some of his advice is not even
now out of date. He denounced the vice of overfeeding the delicate:
'The more one loves an invalid, the more one tries to make him eat;
and that is to kill him with kindness.' He also spoke vigorous words
against excessive tea-drinking:
'These teapots full of hot water which I find on people's tables
remind me of the box of Pandora from which all evils issued--but with
this difference, that they do not even leave hope behind, but, being
a cause of hypochondria, disseminate melancholy and despair.'
These excellent pamphlets brought Tissot fame and the friendship of
the great. Joseph II. offered him a medical chair at the University
of Padua, which he occupied for two years. He was offered, but did
not accept, the posts of physician at the Courts of Hanover and
Poland. The Prince of Wurtemberg--he whom Rousseau addressed in the
famous letter beginning 'If I had had the misfortune to be born a
Prince'--settled at Lausanne in order to be near him; and many
interesting people sought his advice by correspondence. In particular
a certain young gunner wrote from Ajaccio to ask what his uncle, an
Archdeacon, had better take for the gout. The orthography is curious:
'S'il asseie de remuer les genoux, des douleurs égus lui font cesser
son accion.' The signature is 'BUONAPARTE, _Officier au régiment de
la Fère_.'
[Illustration: LAUSANNE FROM THE SIGNAL]
FOOTNOTE:
[4] She sheltered Madame de Genlis in her flight from the Revolution.