IDEOLOGY AND STRUCTURE IN ROBINSON CRUSOE:

DEFOE'S RESOLUTION OF THE TRADE-MORALITY CONFLICT

by

JAMES 0. FOSTER

B.A., Willamette University, 1970

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 ABSTRACT

It has been said that Defoe's writings embody an unresolvable

s p l i t between a Puritan morality and an e s s e n t i a l l y c a p i t a l i s t economic

interest. Defoe i s either a Puritan, i n some cases, w r i t i n g works

with heavy moral and religious overtones; or he i s a c a p i t a l i s t , d i s -

regarding the virtues of a Puritan morality i n the pursuit of economic

gain. This s p l i t between trade and r e l i g i o n becomes a central c r i t i c a l

issue i n his f i r s t novel, Robinson Crusoe. There are sections of the

novel i n which Crusoe meditates upon r e l i g i o n , v i r t u e , God's providence,

his own place i n the divine scheme, or i n which he r e f l e c t s on his past

l i f e of s i n and adventure. There are other sections i n the book i n

which the excitement of the narrative i s generated through a focus on an

action-economics pattern. Thus, the reader becomes involved i n Crusoe's

various s u r v i v a l projects, his explorations of the island wilderness, even

in his early trading ventures. The l a t t e r , of course, are a n t i t h e t i c a l

to the religious point of view maintained throughout the novel.

The s p l i t i n Crusoe's character, and the concomitant s p l i t

in the structure of his "autobiography," can be resolved by looking

at Defoe's i d e o l o g i c a l background as i t relates to the themes and

structure of Robinson Crusoe. Defoe's r e l i g i o n i s a form of Puritanism;

he comes from a Presbyterian household. Therefore, his ideas on

economics tend to be m o r a l i s t i c and conservative; he i s a m e r c a n t i l i s t ,

not a c a p i t a l i s t . In Crusoe, the main character's "capitalistic"

 ii

schemes for getting quickly ahead i n the world are j u s t l y punished by

Providence. Providence, i n this sense, i s the hand of God operating

as a force for moral and economic order i n human a f f a i r s .

Through a careful structuring of his narrative, Defoe indicates

his own moral and thematic intentions. There i s a r e l i g i o u s pattern

in Robinson Crusoe which manifests i t s e l f through s p i r i t u a l emblemism

( i . e . , events can be read for their s p i r i t u a l s i g n i f i c a n c e ) , traces

of allegory, the actions of Providence i n Crusoe's l i f e , Crusoe's own

series of moral r e f l e c t i o n s , and a structure based on the conventional

patterns of the seventeenth century s p i r i t u a l autobiography. In the

l a t t e r , the conversion scene i s always the central dramatic event, and

i n Crusoe, the conversion stands squarely at the center of the novel;

i t i s the scene central to Crusoe's own development as he evolves from

a " c a p i t a l i s t " to a moral and r e l i g i o u s man. In a l l , the religious

pattern gives the reader a perspective on Crusoe's economics; rather than

being a c a p i t a l i s t and disrupting the status quo, Crusoe learns to create

order and s t a b i l i t y on.his island through an application of the p r i n c i p l e s

of reason and f a i t h . Thus, the religious and economic patterns work

together throughout the novel; they are not a n t i t h e t i c a l .

One other basic pattern i n Robinson Crusoe i s that of Crusoe's

growth to moral wisdom and r a t i o n a l knowledge. Crusoe evolves through

three stages, from an early "brute" stage (Crusoe as c a p i t a l i s t ) , through

reason, and f i n a l l y to f a i t h . Again, Defoe's intention i s to show that

reason and f a i t h should operate to control impulsive behavior and

action. Thus, this pattern blends with the r e l i g i o u s pattern i n the

book, but i t also indicates Defoe's knowledge of the seventeenth-

century natural law philosophers. Basing himself firmly on philosophical

 iii

d e f i n i t i o n s of man and nature Cas found i n Grotius, Hobbes, and especially

Locke), Defoe structures his text i n order to show Crusoe's growth

into f a i t h and r a t i o n a l i t y . The result i s , of course, that Crusoe

becomes an example of the "good" eighteenth-century' Englishman,

able to control h i s actions through reason and morality, and thus

he becomes a force for moral order and s o c i a l s t a b i l i t y throughout the

l a s t part of the book.

Robinson Crusoe, then, can be seen as a text structured to

indicate a resolution of the c o n f l i c t between trade and morality.

Defoe reduces and s i m p l i f i e s a complex ideology—made up of elements

of Puritanism, conservative economic theory, natural law p h i l o s o p h y —

for purposes of f i c t i o n a l presentation. It i s this model, reduced and

s i m p l i f i e d , that the reader must understand i n order to f u l l y comprehend

Defoe's moral and economic intentions i n Robinson Crusoe and, f i n a l l y ,

to see the book as i t resolves the trade-morality c o n f l i c t .

 iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER , Page

I. Introduction 1

II. Religion and Economics i n Robinson Crusoe 17

1. Introduction 17

2. The Religious Theme 21

3. The Economic Theme 49

4. Structure 75

III. Philosophy and Knowledge i n Robinson Crusoe 82

1. Introduction 82

2. The State of Nature and the Early Growth

of Robinson Crusoe 86

3. Possessive Individualism and the Pattern

of Growth i n Robinson Crusoe 112

4. Structure and D i a l e c t i c s 130

IV. Conclusion: Theme and Technique 145

NOTES 156

BIBLIOGRAPHY 166
 CHAPTER I

Introduction

Daniel Defoe's f i r s t novel, Robinson Crusoe, was published i n

A p r i l , 1719, and attained an immediate and widespread popularity. The

book went through seven editions before i t s author's death i n 1731, and

has gone through perhaps two hundred more editions since then. Defoe

himself wrote two sequels to The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, The

Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe which appeared several months

after the f i r s t volume, and i n 1720, Serious Reflections during the

L i f e and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Neither of these

sequels, however, achieved the popularity of the f i r s t book, and they

have since gone largely unnoticed apart from the occasional critic

who w i l l f i n d examples i n them to bolster h i s interpretation of

the s t i l l popular Adventures of Robinson Crusoe.

The differences between the two l a t e r books, however, provide

an i n t e r e s t i n g departure f o r our own interpretation of Robinson Crusoe

(Part I ) , since they indicate a schizophrenic s p l i t i n Crusoe's

character that w i l l lead us into one of the central c r i t i c a l issues

in Defoe studies. In the second volume of Crusoe's adventures, narrative

emphasis i s placed on an economic and adventure pattern; Crusoe leaves

a secure position i n England to t r a v e l throughout the world, trading

and observing the general state of mankind. The t h i r d volume presents,

 2

as the t i t l e indicates, a pattern of meditation and r e f l e c t i o n ; a f t e r

a long l i f e of adventure and t r a v e l , Crusoe presents his findings and

theories on man, morality, and r e l i g i o n . Thus, there would appear

to be a s p l i t i n Crusoe's character; one Crusoe i s the active

participant i n an economic world, the other i s a passive meditator

who i s characterized by t r a n q u i l and oftentimes "melancholy" thoughts.

Although this difference between the two characterizations may not

at f i r s t seem drastic—may i n fact appear to be n e g l i g i b l e — t h e

implications i t carries for the rest of Defoe's f i c t i o n , and for his

writing i n general, are far-reaching indeed.

Throughout the canon of Defoe's work there appears to be a

continual s h i f t i n g of i n t e r e s t between trade and r e l i g i o u s morality.

Certain writings of Defoe's are fraught with an almost Puritan

morality, from a r t i c l e s i n his Review condemning the English stage

and players as lewd and immoral to his larger moralizing pieces such

as Religious Courtship and The Family Instructor. At the same time,

Defoe can note i n the closing pages of his Review that "Writing on

Trade was the Whore I r e a l l y doated upon.""'" The problem i s that

certain trading i n t e r e s t s are bound to c o n f l i c t with a moral v i s i o n ,

and this two-fold interest of Defoe's i n trade and morality leads, as

some c r i t i c s have pointed out, to certain paradoxes i n his writings.

In fact, this "paradox school" of Defoe c r i t i c s sees what amounts

to a diametric opposition i n Defoe's own mind between economics and

religion. Thus, Rudolf Stamm, one c r i t i c of this school, argues

that Defoe's entire l i f e i s a compromise between trade and religion,

and finds him to be a pseudo-Puritan; that i s , Defoe, i n both his

 3

actions and h i s writings, attempts to f o o l himself into believing he

i s Puritan. Thus Defoe's novels are more i n t e r e s t i n g for t h e i r

2

secular themes, since the moral viewpoint i s merely a put-on.

Hans Anderson, i n "The Paradox of Trade and Morality i n Defoe,"

argues that Defoe i s able to resolve the c o n f l i c t between public

virtue and private vice by compartmentalizing his trading concerns

in one part of his mind and i s o l a t i n g that from the more Puritan,

moral compartment. Defoe i s able to hold to firm Christian moral

commitments while he can argue, apparently immorally, for certain

trading projects which h i s Puritan nature should n a t u r a l l y condemn.

Anderson notes that Defoe, i n certain writings, could condone

slavery as economically b e n e f i c i a l , yet i n other pieces react to

i t from a humanitarian and moral point of view, p r e c i s e l y because

3

of this compartmentalizing process which characterized h i s thought.

Both these t h e o r i e s — o f Defoe as compromiser and Defoe as

schizophrenic—have been refuted by Maximillian Novak i n h i s two major

c r i t i c a l works on Defoe: Defoe and the Nature of Man and Economics

and the F i c t i o n of Daniel Defoe. B r i e f l y , Novak argues that a

doctrine of necessity i s central to Defoe's economic thought. Defoe

could condemn the economic v i c e , but i n many instances, the vices

themselves were necessary for human s u r v i v a l . In speaking of Defoe's

f i c t i o n a l characters, f o r example, Novak states:

None of them f a l l into necessity through v i c e ; therefore
they cannot be charged with g u i l t for their early crimes.
But these acts shade into innumerable s o c i a l s i n s . It
i s usually of these l a t e r and more flagrant breaches of
morality that Defoe allowed h i s characters to be punished,
not f o r crimes committed i n accordance with the laws of
nature.4
 4

Necessity breeds the v i c e , and Novak suggests that this doctrine

i s subsumed under the law of nature presented i n seventeenth century

philosophy. In Economics and the F i c t i o n of Daniel Defoe, Novak

argues that Defoe i s not a bourgeois c a p i t a l i s t — n o t therefore a

person sunk i n economic v i c e — b u t rather he i s a Puritan and a

conservative ( i . e . , mercantilist) i n matters of trade.^ Thus

Defoe i s enough of a r e a l i s t to understand that man i s driven by

necessity or self-preservation into' vice, but he i s also perhaps

i d e a l i s t i c enough to believe that man can eventually come to control

his v i c e s , perhaps even to eradicate them. Defoe, then, i s not a

pseudo-Puritan, as Stamm believes, nor i s he a schizophrenic, as

Anderson postulates.

One question i n this c r i t i c a l d i a l e c t i c has only been touched

upon, however, and that i s the problem of resolving the trade-

morality paradox with direct reference to Defoe's f i c t i o n , and

more precisely to Robinson Crusoe. Crusoe's possible trade-morality

schizophrenia presents a peculiar problem, since i f there i s such

a paradox operative throughout the novel, then this book—along with

i t s main c h a r a c t e r — i s s p l i t irrevocably and irrecoverably down the

middle. Defoe's novel—which we w i l l assume contains some sort of

aesthetic or s t r u c t u r a l p a t t e r n — i s fragmented, the pattern destroyed,

as the trade theme e f f e c t i v e l y cancels out the moral v i s i o n and the

morality blankets the trade. Perhaps I am overstating the case, but

the point i s an important one. It i s important because, i n the

l a s t twenty years or so, several theories have been advanced which

attempt to j u s t i f y or explain the structure and meaning of Robinson

 5

Crusoe. Maximillian Novak, for example, sees Defoe's book as a

tract supporting mercantilism and i l l u s t r a t i n g certain theories of

economics and labor. To Ian Watt, i n h i s The Rise of the Novel,

Crusoe embodies the new economic i n d i v i d u a l i s t — a man sprung forth

from the womb of the C a l v i n i s t church and taught a doctrine of

e t h i c a l and economic individualism.^ Arnold Kettle claims Robinson

Crusoe as proof of his theory of the novel's inception during the

g
bourgeois revolution at the end of the seventeenth century.

The problem i s : these economic interpretations contradict one

another. To Novak, Defoe i s a c o n s e r v a t i v e — a m e r c a n t i l i s t — a n d thus

there i s an economic moral to Robinson Crusoe; don't be a c a p i t a l i s t .

To Watt and Kettle, Defoe i s bourgeois and a c a p i t a l i s t , and Crusoe

i s therefore a l a i s s e z - f a i r e i n d i v i d u a l i s t . In this case, there i s

r e a l l y no moral to the story, rather i t simply i l l u s t r a t e s the economic

temper of the times. If these contradictions aren't enough, there

i s another group of c r i t i c s who argue that Crusoe i s a novel only

marginally about economics. To George Starr, J. Paul Hunter, and

Edwin Benjamin, Robinson Crusoe i s r e a l l y a book about Puritanism,

embodying an e s s e n t i a l l y r e l i g i o u s v i s i o n of l i f e . Thus, Starr argues

that the structure and meaning of Defoe's novel p a r a l l e l the con-

ventional patterns and themes of the seventeenth century s p i r i t u a l

autobiographies, while Hunter and Benjamin attempt to prove that

Robinson Crusoe i s r e a l l y a r e l i g i o u s allegory, patterned after works

l i k e Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. I f , therefore, one reads a l l

of these c r i t i c s on Robinson Crusoe and considers their opinions

to be a l l of equal v a l i d i t y , then there would seem to be a s p l i t i n

 6

the structure and theme of the novel; i t i s a tract on economics

or i t i s a book which embodies a r e l i g i o u s and moral v i s i o n . Our

problem here i s how to put these two views of the novel together;

to see the book, i n other words, as a single, s i g n i f i c a n t l y

structured unit which incorporates both the r e l i g i o u s theme and

the economic.

One major weakness i n the majority of these various i n t e r -

pretations of Robinson Crusoe i s that each of them tends to under-

cut or ignore one theme while advancing the other to a position of

ultimate and absolute importance—a position which w i l l usually not

be supported through a close examination of a l l of the elements of the

text. The objective of this paper w i l l be to show that Defoe i s

writing a novel which i n fact integrates the two themes of r e l i g i o n

and economics—morality and t r a d e — i n t o a pattern which then i l l u s t r a t e s

a cohesion of moral v i s i o n and material gain. Rather than seeing

the book as exhibiting a s p l i t between a fundamentally secular, economic

theme, and a moral, r e l i g i o u s one, the two themes work together through-

out the text. The thesis, then, i s simply t h i s : there i s no paradox

between r e l i g i o n and economics i n Robinson Crusoe and a close reading

of the whole of Part I of Crusoe's Adventures should prove this

statement. In thus attempting to put the novel back together'—to show

the fusion of trade and m o r a l i t y — o u r method must be roundabout; that

i s , working from the general to the p a r t i c u l a r . In this case, we

must f i r s t define the climate of opinion i n which Defoe worked. The

construction of this " i d e o l o g i c a l model" w i l l lead to a close reading

of Robinson Crusoe, keeping i n mind a l l the while that Defoe i s

 7

simplifying and reducing the major ideas i n this model for the

purposes of f i c t i o n a l presentation. Our focus w i l l f i r s t be on

r e l i g i o n and economics i n eighteenth-century England, and then on the

philosophy of the period, and i n each case, our purpose w i l l be to

see how these ideas are exemplified and i l l u s t r a t e d i n the novel

itself. We can then focus, i n turn, on the r e l i g i o u s , economic, and

philosophical patterns i n Robinson Crusoe, and thus we can see how these

patterns work together to structure and create meaning i n the book.

Before we analyze the novel i t s e l f , we should perhaps look at

the general h i s t o r i c a l and p o l i t i c a l background i n England during the

l a t t e r h a l f of the seventeenth century, since Defoe himself i s very

much a product of this age, and the events which took place during the

Restoration period undoubtedly had a great influence on h i s l i f e ,

philosophy, and writings. Defoe, i t i s thought, was born i n 1660..

This i s , of course, the year i n which Charles II was restored to the

English throne, and the year which consequently marked the end of

Puritan rule i n t h a t country. The Puritans had maintained political

control i n England for eleven years after the C i v i l War, and with the

death of Oliver Cromwell, o f f i c i a l l y "Lord Protector" of the

Commonwealth, they discovered that they lacked the p o l i t i c a l cohesiveness

so important to the smooth functioning of a government. As varied

in p o l i t i c a l opinions as they were i n r e l i g i o u s b e l i e f s , the Puritans

came to r e a l i z e that power and s o l i d a r i t y were maintained through the

strong personality of Cromwell himself, and through the existence of

a Puritan army l o y a l to the Lord Protector. When Cromwell died

the Puritans could no longer maintain their government, and f o r p o l i t i c a l

reasons—besides a general weariness among i n f l u e n t i a l elements of the

 8

population with Puritan r u l e — C h a r l e s II was c a l l e d back to assume

the kingship.

With the p o l i t i c a l f a i l u r e and subsequent loss of power by

the Puritans, a new phase i n the persecution of these dissenting

religious groups began. A series of reactionary parliamentary acts,

known c o l l e c t i v e l y as the Clarendon Code, began with the passing

of the Corporation Act of December, 1661. This f i r s t law, directed

against what p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s power the Puritans s t i l l retained,

excluded from municipal bodies a l l people refusing to renounce the

Covenant.,"'"''" to take the sacrament according to the r i t e s of the

Church of England, or to swear nonresistance to the monarchy. In

1662, another b i l l , the Act of Uniformity, required a l l preachers

who did not conduct t h e i r services according to the new and revised

Book of Common Prayer to quit their p u l p i t s . The direct result of

this act was to force nearly two thousand ministers to reject the

Church of England and to become either i t i n e r a n t preachers, sermon-

i z i n g wherever they could c o l l e c t • a crowd, or to find new l i v e l i h o o d s .

Dissenting congregations had to go underground also, and as a contem-

porary, O l i v e r Heywood, remarked, "The Act of Uniformity struck a l l

12
nonconformists dead on St. Bartholomew's Day, August 24, 1662."
And G.R. Cragg, i n his Puritanism i n the Period of the Great Persecution,

points out:

For the most part the ejected ministers were thrown upon
the world without means of support. They could not con-
tinue the work for which they had been trained, and the
alternatives to which educated men would ^naturally turn
were closed to them by the ingenuity with which the Act
of Uniformity had been framed. Many were the expedients
to which they were driven. A few had private means.
Some possessed s k i l l s for which the community was glad
to remunerate them. Many turned to secular c a l l i n g s
u n t i l they could f i n d some opportunity of exercising
their ministry once more. 13
 9

Many of these ejected ministers d i d return to preaching nonconformist

doctrines. Others, however, took up more secular c a l l i n g s .

The persecution of dissenting ministers spread gradually to

a persecution of t h e i r congregations as well, and thus the Clarendon

Code forced a l l nonconformists to do one of two things: they

could either j o i n the Anglican Church and again take part i n an

active and open p o l i t i c a l l i f e , or they could quit t h e i r p o l i t i c a l

concerns and survive i n society as best they could. There seems,

then, to be a general movement among Puritans of this time to more

economic concerns, and as Maurice Ashley notes, "One reason f o r the

extraordinary success of the Nonconformists... i n business was that

they were thus diverted from the ordinary duties and pleasures of
14

citizenship." This movement into business resulted, as we s h a l l

l a t e r see, i n s l i g h t s h i f t s of emphasis i n Puritan doctrine, especially

regarding the place of trade and morality i n the nonconformist view

of human l i f e . These concepts are thus fundamental to our understanding

of what Defoe i s doing i n Robinson Crusoe.

Though many of the events of Defoe's early l i f e , and i n fact

a great deal of h i s l a t e r l i f e , are largely a matter of conjecture,

one thing i s certain; his way of l i f e was influenced by the Clarendon

Code and the persecution of dissenting groups. His parents, f o r

example, had long been members of the congregation of Dr. Samuel

Annesley. When the Act of Uniformity was passed, they followed

Dr. Annesley into the Presbyterian Church. Thus, we assume that Defoe's

background i s nonconformist, and that he was taught basic Puritan

doctrine as a c h i l d . There i s , however, only scattered evidence of this

 10

background i n his own writing. He does number the members of l o c a l

dissenting groups i n h i s Tour Thro' the Whole Island of Great Britain;

there are moral passages, very Puritan i n tone, i n h i s Review; also,

his most notorious piece of work, The Shortest Way with the Dissenters,

i s an i r o n i c attack on the conservative High-Church clergy, and

consequently, a kind of defense of the dissenters. But i n this

case, biographical evidence i s more h e l p f u l than l i t e r a r y corroborations.

For example, Defoe was sent to the Reverend Charles Morton's dissenting

academy at Newington Green i n order to prepare himself for the

Presbyterian ministry. Bonamy Dobree comments on h i s education,

both under Annesley and under Morton:

From Samuel Annesley, his f i r s t p a s t o r — o n whose

death he wrote one of his most tedious poems—he
derived not only a C a l v i n i s t i c denial of grace, but
a d i s l i k e of dogmatic insistence, of f i e r c e p o l i t i c o -
r e l i g i o u s s t r i f e , which the l a t e r Defoe would at any
rate find contrary to the interests of trade. But
Charles Morton, l a t e r f i r s t Vice-President of Harvard,
Master of Stoke Newington Academy where Defoe got his
schooling, was a d i s c i p l e of Wilkins, famous i n the
Royal Society, and he inculcated a firm b e l i e f i n Baconian
progress, making, i t would seem, no d i s t i n c t i o n between
the two philosophies, divine and natural. He taught,
nevertheless, that there existed an operative providence
always at hand to help those strenuous to help themselves.
From both, probably, Defoe derived that deep apprehension
of the manifestations of supernatural e v i l seldom absent
from the p u r i t a n i c a l consciousness.15

Thus, p u r i t a n i c a l and r e l i g i o u s as his education was, Defoe

was also taught the more p r a c t i c a l d i s c i p l i n e s of science, l o g i c , and

natural philosophy. John Moore conjectures that Defoe described h i s

education i n this passage from The Compleat English Gentleman: "He run

through the whole course of philosophy, he p e r f e c t l y compassed the

study of geography, the use of maps and globes; he read a l l that S i r

 11

Isaac Newton, Mr. Whitson, Mr. Halley had said i n English upon the
16

nicest subjects i n astronomy and the secrets of nature...." It

should also be mentioned that the Puritan education stressed not only

theology, but p r a c t i c a l i t y , e s p e c i a l l y i f the student was considering

the ministry as a vocation. William H a l l e r , i n h i s Rise of Puritanism,

points to the long t r a d i t i o n of both r e l i g i o u s and secular education

in the nonconformist schools:

Students were enveloped i n an intensely r e l i g i o u s
atmosphere, they were instructed i n rhetoric and oratory,
in the Bible and the Greek and Latin c l a s s i c s , i n moral
and natural philosophy. In the course of time, h i s t o r y ,
the modern languages and l i t e r a t u r e s , mathematics and
experimental science, f i n a l l y the s o c i a l sciences, a l l
found acceptance within this curriculum as the vestiges
of scholasticism, followed by evangelism, faded away.17

And as Richard Bernard explains, i n The F a i t h f u l l Shepheard, a broad

education must be given a man preparing f o r the dissenting'ministry:

"What Art or Science i s there, which a Divine s h a l l not stand i n need

of...?" And "Grammar, Rhetorick, Logicke, Physicks, Mathematicks,

Metaphysicks, Ethicks, P o l i t i c k s , Oeconomicks, History, and M i l i t a r y

18

D i s c i p l i n e , " are some of the s p e c i f i c courses he names.

The importance of this education to our understanding of Defoe

cannot be underestimated. Morton d e f i n i t e l y fostered the pragmatic

and p r a c t i c a l approach to experience and l i f e and grounded h i s students,

19

as James Sutherland indicates, i n science, inquiry, and reasoning.

Consequently, i t i s safe to assume that Defoe was knowledgeable both

i n Puritan writings and i n the secular natural philosophies. As

Novak points out, the author of Robinson Crusoe was apparently

familiar with the works of Dalby, Thomas, S i r William Petty, John As.gill,
 12

and Nicholas Barbon, at least by the time he wrote his f i r s t important

work on economics, Essay upon Projects. Defoe mentions A r i s t o t l e

and Machiavelli i n Considerations on the Present State of A f f a i r s

in Great B r i t a i n , he quotes Hobbes i n The Storm, and he refers to

Bacon i n A General History of Discoveries and Improvements, i n Useful

20

Arts and to Locke and Pufendorf i n Jure Divino. Though perhaps one

can doubt that Defoe read a l l of the works of these men, s t i l l i t i s

safe to assume that he was at least f a m i l i a r with their ideas. Con-

sequently, one expects to find their influence i n his writings. One

assumption we w i l l make l a t e r i s that the natural law p h i l o s o p h e r s —

primarily Hobbes and Locke—form a part of that i d e o l o g i c a l model which

influenced Defoe's outlook and that t h e i r ideas influenced both the

theme and structure of Robinson Crusoe.

F i n a l l y , Defoe himself re-enacted what had become a standard

pattern i n the l i v e s of many Puritans; he turned from a m i n i s t e r i a l

vocation to go into business. Sutherland states that Defoe's father,

James Foe, "must have r e a l i z e d that he [Daniel] was an adventurer:

a respectable adventurer, no doubt, dealing for the most part with

rather large ideas." And he saw his son become "a promoter, a
21

speculator, a man of many a f f a i r s . " In turning to the world of

economics and trade, Defoe was following the trend of his age; i . e . ,

the nonconformist entered into the vocation of tradesman or merchant.

Defoe, at any rate, seems to have entered the merchant profession

wholeheartedly, for i n the years that followed," he was a wholesale

hosier, he imported wine, insured ships, dealt i n r e a l estate, owned a

brickworks, and carried on trade i n wool, oysters, cheese, and s a l t .

 13

In fact, by the time legally-sanctioned persecution of the noncon-

formists began fading out with the ascension of William and Mary to

the English throne, Defoe had become a f a i r l y successful businessman

and p o l i t i c a l pamphleteer. However, i n 1692 he was declared bankrupt

for fel7,000, and though he might have had some business success along

the way, he was never e n t i r e l y free of his creditors u n t i l his death.

In s p e c i f i c a l l y r e l a t i n g Robinson Crusoe to this rather sketchy

h i s t o r i c a l and biographical background, one thing becomes apparent.

Perhaps Defoe's turning from an intended career i n the ministry to

secular business persuits i s d i r e c t l y related to Crusoe's leaving his

father's home, and the law profession he was being trained f o r , and

taking to the sea. At least this would explain Crusoe's reference to

his story as being both " a l l e g o r i c a l " and " h i s t o r i c a l " i n the "Preface"

to the l a t e r Serious Reflections. Defoe, as some c r i t i c s would point

out, i s perhaps writing loosely of his own l i f e i n the Crusoe t r i l o g y ;

that i s , perhaps some of the episodes could be taken as a l l e g o r i c

renderings of certain events i n Defoe's own l i f e . This would be f i n e ,

but i t does not r e a l l y t e l l us anything about the structures and

themes to be found i n the text as a whole. It i s c e r t a i n l y one of

the most useless points to pursue i n Robinson Crusoe. Another

implication i s that the book i s structured according to the s t r i c t

p r i n c i p l e s of r e l i g i o u s allegory. Thus, Crusoe defends the value

of allegory, and incidently the value of his own Adventures, i n drawing

a contrast between the useful allegory and the useless romance.

Crusoe states, again i n the Serious Reflections, that "the t e l l i n g or

 14

writing a Parable, or an a l l u s i v e a l l e g o r i c k history i s quite a

different Case, and i s always Distinguisht from the other Jesting with

Truth; that i t i s design'd and e f f e c t u a l l y turn'd for i n s t r u c t i v e

and upright ends, and has i t s Moral j u s t l y apply'd: Such as the

h i s t o r i c a l Parables i n the holy Scripture, such i s the Pilgrims

Progress, and such, i n a Word the Adventures of your f u g i t i v e Friend,

22

Robinson Crusoe." Defoe, i n defending h i s book's reputation as

truth (either l i t e r a l or f i g u r a t i v e ) , builds h i s case for allegory.

In putting forward this case, however, Defoe confuses h i s l i t e r a r y

terms. A p a r a b l e — " h i s t o r i c a l " or o t h e r w i s e — i s usually a shorter

piece, a story, i l l u s t r a t i n g some moral lesson. A parable can be

a l l e g o r i c a l , though every element of the story does not necessarily

have to conform to a d e f i n i t e and precise system of meaning.

It w i l l be my contention, throughout this essay, that Defoe

i s not writing a s t r i c t allegory, that i n fact the structure of

Crusoe i s looser and perhaps more suggestive than that of an

allegory. A looser form would also allow Defoe to weave into h i s

work more of the thoughts of those writers who perhaps influenced him,

making the work a f a r r i c h e r source of ideas and themes than i f

he had attempted to produce a straight r e l i g i o u s and Puritan

allegory. In a l l , Defoe would have been more accurate i n c a l l i n g h i s

f i r s t novel a parable rather than an allegory. A parable retains the

moral thrust of allegory, but does not embody the s t r i c t structure

of referents and meaning contained i n the more r i g i d form. It also

need not be an e n t i r e l y r e l i g i o u s work; i t can include a more secular

wisdom as well as a r e l i g i o u s v i s i o n . In this sense, Robinson Crusoe

 15

could perhaps be c a l l e d a parable, whether i t i s a parable of

economic man or of religious man or of both at once.

In a larger view, nearly a l l of Defoe's f i c t i o n a l narratives,

i f we are to believe the statements made i n h i s prefaces, are parables,

but nearly a l l f a l l considerably short of being a l l e g o r i c a l . First,

Defoe's stories are parables largely through their professed moral

purpose. Defoe, masquerading as Crusoe i n the "Preface" to the Serious

Reflections, defines h i s aesthetic credo: "...the design of everything

i s said to be f i r s t i n intention, and l a s t i n execution." ( I l l , ±x).

Consequently, Defoe pays l i t t l e attention to a tight o v e r a l l patterning

of his f i c t i o n , yet he i s always ready to point out the moral ( i . e . ,

intention). Thus, the "Preface" to Part I of Robinson Crusoe reads

in part, "The story i s t o l d with modesty, with seriousness, and with

a r e l i g i o u s application of events to the uses to which wise men always

apply them (viz.) to the instruction of others by this example, and.to

j u s t i f y and honor the wisdom of Providence i n a l l variety of our

circumstances, l e t them happen how they w i l l " ( I , i i ) . One must

f i n a l l y agree a ^ r e with Maximillian Novak that Defoe oftentimes

c

writes h a s t i l y , lets things "happen how they w i l l , " and shows better

a b i l i t y at constructing scenes, paragraphs, and sections, than a

well-integrated, s t r u c t u r a l l y flawless narrative. " I f he occasionally

forgot what he said twenty pages back," concludes Novak, "he was fully
23

aware of i n d i v i d u a l words and paragraphs."

On the other hand, i f Defoe does stress intention over execution

(moral over technique or structure), there are s t i l l s p e c i f i c patterns

which work throughout Robinson Crusoe—patterns which indicate a rather

 16

complex structure of ideas i n the novel. The purpose of this essay

w i l l be to uncover this structure through, f i r s t , a look at the novel'

i d e o l o g i c a l background, and second, by r e a l i z i n g Defoe's thematic

intentions i n Robinson Crusoe as these are indicated i n the structure

of the book. The primary objective i s to indicate, through a close

reading of the text as i t relates to a background of ideas and b e l i e f s

that there i s no r e a l paradox between economics and trade and Crusoe's

e s s e n t i a l l y nonconformist morality. Rather, these two elements work

together i n the novel to indicate a more complete pattern of meaning

i n the book, and this pattern i s only r e a l i z e d when the reader compre-

hends the integration of r e l i g i o u s (Puritan) and secular (economics,

natural philosophy) modes of thought into the pattemof Crusoe's

adventures. We w i l l begin by looking s p e c i f i c a l l y at the r e l i g i o u s an

economic themes i n Robinson Crusoe, indicating how they work together

throughout the novel, and then go on to relate the pattemof Crusoe's

growth into moral and i n t e l l e c t u a l knowledge to the philosophy of the

period and indicate that this pattern of growth also works to resolve

the trade-morality paradox.

 CHAPTER I I

Religion and Economics i n Robinson Crusoe

1. Introduction

In spite of the c r i t i c a l volumes and a r t i c l e s written on Defoe,

a l l of which expose and explain c r i t i c a l problems and dilemmas

within the canon of his works, there i s a general problem that has not

yet received the attention i t merits. Suppose, as many c r i t i c s have,

that one can read Robinson Crusoe as a Puritan allegory. Besides

interpretative d i f f i c u l t i e s with the text i t s e l f , there would be

serious problem i n defining what exactly Puritanism i s . In fact,

any precision i s sadly lacking i n defining what a Puritan believed

as opposed to what, say, an Anglican did. The reasons for this

d i f f i c u l t y are b a s i c a l l y two: one r e l i g i o u s , the other political.

O r i g i n a l l y , the sixteenth century "Puritan" had i t from John

Calvin that a l l people were predestined to either suffer the torments

of h e l l or l i v e i n eternal b l i s s i n heaven. According to Calvin's doc-

t r i n e of hard determinism, man had l i t t l e or no choice i n his fate:

everything had already been decided. From b i r t h a l l human beings

were depraved, l i v i n g , as a result of Adam's o r i g i n a l s i n , in' an

e s s e n t i a l l y e v i l world and, consequently, subject to the many

temptations of that world. This concept of o r i g i n a l s i n , '-• •-:

1

was a universal Christian doctrine, the concept

 18

of pre-destination was primarily Puritan. And the Puritans also

dissented from Anglican doctrine, supposedly, i n t h e i r doctrine of

the e l e c t . If one were a member of the e l e c t — t h a t i s , a member i n good

standing of the Puritan Church—then one stood a good chance of being

"saved". These two doctrines, i t could be said, served to define

Puritan r e l i g i o u s ideology up u n t i l the time of the Puritan

Revolution. Then, as the o r i g i n a l and central groups of the Puritan

Church began to s p l i n t e r and form opposing factions within t h e i r

own ranks, the core doctrines of predestination and the elect began

to fade, i n some groups, into a more "benevolistic" ideology. If,

according to Puritan pamphleteers such as John Goodwin and Henry Parker,

the seeds of grace resided i n each i n d i v i d u a l , then i t was possible

for anyone to achieve the state of grace even here i n this s i n f u l

world. And, i f they were saved, the new converts c e r t a i n l y needn't

burn i n h e l l for an e t e r n i t y . The conception of a f a l l e n world remained,

but predestination began to fade as a doctrine strongly advocated by

the Puritan divines. Thus, at least one defining and fundamental

doctrine of the early Puritan Church, could no longer specifically

apply to the post-revolution Puritan churches. As for the doctrine

of the e l e c t , most r e l i g i o u s d i s c i p l i n e s in Europe—Roman Catholic

or Anglican, Orthodox or P r o t e s t a n t — s t r e s s e d the idea that members

of t h e i r p a r t i c u l a r group, or sect, were saved while everyone else

was damned.

Also, Puritanism existed o r i g i n a l l y as a p o l i t i c a l movement

within a larger p o l i t i c a l structure. The Dissenters existed from the

sixteenth century as a s p l i n t e r group within the Anglican Church, and

 19

were attempting to p o l i t i c a l l y " p u r i f y " or reform i t . This c o n f l i c t

was l a r g e l y one over church government, though during the Puritan

Revolution i t became a matter of national government also. The

Dissenters were opposed s p e c i f i c a l l y to church government by prelates,

but even here, the various sects within the so-called Puritan Church

were i n c o n f l i c t with one another. Presbyterians, Independents,

Baptists, Quakers, Brownists, Separatists, Muggletonians and so forth,

a l l had t h e i r own ideas on the various p o l i t i c a l structures which

should constitute the r u l i n g system of the Anglican Church. Defoe's

p a r t i c u l a r sect, the Presbyterians, did stress the doctrine of

predestination but p o l i t i c a l l y were to the " r i g h t , " closer to the

central doctrines of the Anglican Church (though s t i l l dissenting

from i t ) than any of the other Puritan sects."'" In f a c t , the

Presbyterians weren't o f f i c i a l l y excluded from the Anglican Church

u n t i l the Act of Uniformity passed i n Parliament i n 1662. Consequently,

t r y i n g to formulate a series of precise statements on the p o l i t i c a l

doctrines of Puritanism would be as d i f f i c u l t as t r y i n g to formulate

a s i m i l a r c o l l e c t i o n of statements on r e l i g i o u s doctrine.

In approaching Defoe's writings, then, this problem i n

d e f i n i t i o n becomes more than simply a biographical quandary. Defoe

never actually reveals h i s "true" r e l i g i o n i n his published writings,

and i f we did not know that he came from a Presbyterian family, we

would have some d i f f i c u l t y i n l a b e l l i n g him according to r e l i g i o u s

belief. Even i n such autobiographical pieces as "An Appeal to Honour

and J u s t i c e " (1715), or i n such moralizing works as Religious Courtship

 20

(1722) and The Family Instructor (1715, 1718), Defoe always assumes a

broader and more generalized r e l i g i o u s view. Consequently, i n

reading Defoe's f i c t i o n , one never finds clear statements of basic

Puritan doctrine; rather, one finds broader, perhaps more "universal,"

r e l i g i o u s themes (at least i n the Protestant sense). George Starr

summarizes this c r i t i c a l problem with Defoe and h i s r e l i g i o n i n

Defoe and Casuistry, where he points out that i n researching the

writings of both Anglicans and Puritans i n the seventeenth century,

"Not. only does agreement greatly outweigh d i s a g r e e m e n t b u t disagree-

ment does not necessarily follow sectarian l i n e s . One object i n

c i t i n g Anglican as well as Nonconformist divines i s to suggest that

Defoe's Puritanism (and for that matter post-Restoration Puritanism

i t s e l f ) i s a complex problem which c a l l s for further exploration, not

a s e t t l e d h i s t o r i c a l fact on which interpretations of his l i f e and

2

works can p r o f i t a b l y be based." Further, Starr remarks i n h i s

Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography, " i t becomes clear that the leading

r e l i g i o u s ideas i n Defoe's f i c t i o n were i n fact commonplaces of the

English Protestant t r a d i t i o n , not merely crotchets of h i s much-

3

discussed Dissenting m i l i e u . "

This b r i e f sketch of the d i f f i c u l t i e s inherent i n generating

accurate d e f i n i t i o n s of Puritanism and Defoe's own r e l i g i o u s ideology

indicates the l e v e l on which Defoe's Robinson Crusoe should be

approached. Rather than looking f o r parts of the text which might

s p e c i f i c a l l y point to something called a "Puritan theme," one should

approach the novel from a point of generalization: that i s , from

a broad view of the English Protestant ideology to a p a r t i c u l a r application

 21

of the ideology to Robinson Crusoe. The argument, then, must be from the

general to the p a r t i c u l a r — d e f i n i n g the ideology, then applying i t

in a close c r i t i c a l analysis of Robinson Crusoe i n order to show that

what at f i r s t might seem a paradox between moral theory and economic

fact i s subsumed i n a coherent philosophy held by the author. The

primary objective of this chapter i s to define a s t r u c t u r a l pattern i n

Robinson Crusoe which incorporates both the r e l i g i o u s and economic

themes into a pattern of interaction and development. The reason

for this approach i s simply that with this s t r u c t u r a l view of the

novel at hand—an interpretation which indicates a balanced structure

and an integration of themes—one can then move on to the larger

idediogieal and thematic framework which this f o r m a l i s t i c pattern

indicates: that of the growing importance of the concept of individualism

i n the r e l i g i o u s , s o c i a l , and p o l i t i c a l thought of the day. Robinson

Crusoe, then, w i l l be analysed not as a book i s o l a t e d from i t s

h i s t o r i c a l period, but as i t was most l i k e l y read and appreciated by

the l i t e r a t e , educated person who purchased a copy of the f i r s t

edition i n 1719. In this manner, the contemporary reader i s made

aware of the i d e o l o g i c a l background of the novel, for only i n this

way can one gain a broader c r i t i c a l understanding of Robinson Crusoe

in p a r t i c u l a r , and of Defoe's work i n general.

|I. The Religious Theme

Basic to both Anglican and Puritan religious b e l i e f i s a core

of i n t e r r e l a t e d concepts which can be discussed under three general

 22

categories: the importance of the i n d i v i d u a l as indicated i n a form of

"sub-" or " p r e - l i t e r a t u r e " and a concomitant emblematic way of viewing

r e a l i t y , Providence, and the doctrine of the c a l l i n g .

F i r s t , as i s indicated by both Puritan and Anglican writings

of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the i n d i v i d u a l soul was

the place wherein the divine l i g h t of grace could be cherished, and

4

this soul consequently became the b a t t l e f i e l d between Satan and God.

Perhaps, with the usual reservations, one can assume that this doctrine

i s more Puritan than Anglican in nature, for i t at least i s a fundamental

theme i n Puritan l i t e r a t u r e , both imaginative and f a c t u a l . John

Bunyan, for example, stresses both this popular conception of the human

soul and the importance of the i n d i v i d u a l looking inward into his

soul i n the scene at the Interpreter's House in Pilgrim's Progress.

This scene resolves i t s e l f into an a l l e g o r i c a l depiction of the b a t t l e

between good and e v i l within the human heart: in the individual's

heart burns the f i r e of grace onto which Satan, standing at one side,

casts water, and C h r i s t , standing on the other side, pours the "Oyl of

his Grace." The i n d i v i d u a l person, Bunyan implies, should be

v i t a l l y concerned with his own soul, should watch i t c a r e f u l l y , and

should keep the divine f i r e well-fed.^ This basic idea of a r e l i g i o u s

introspection, here exemplified i n Bunyan's allegory, becomes the

impetus behind the writing of most of the s p i r i t u a l autobiographies of

the time, including, of course, Bunyan's own Grace Abounding.

The intensely i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c concern over the s p i r i t u a l welfare

of the soul leads n a t u r a l l y , as William Haller would have i t i n his

Rise of Puritanism, to a form of l i t e r a t u r e termed s p i r i t u a l autobiography.

 23

Each properly r e l i g i o u s man observes this s p i r i t u a l warfare i n his

heart, and, as a consequence of h i s observations, writes a daily journal,

usually beginning with his s p i r i t u a l r e b i r t h (since this event marks

the beginning of his observations and r e f l e c t i o n s ) , and consisting

almost e n t i r e l y of his s p i r i t u a l and metaphysical ruminations and

struggles for that p a r t i c u l a r day. Because of the dynamic tendencies

and missionary zeal of the early Puritans, these records were usually

published (and especially i f the author i s also an i n f l u e n t i a l preacher)

in order to i n s t r u c t others i n the workings of grace and in ways to

overcome Satan's forces. Closely following these autobiographies,

in both form and content, are " i n s t r u c t i o n " or "guide" books, which

teach interested readers how to look into t h e i r souls and cure what

diseased parts they find. Thus, in the seventeenth century, an

entire l i t e r a t u r e of s p i r i t u a l instruction, i s born, consisting of

books written by such Puritan divines as William Perkins, William Ames,

and Richard Baxter, and s p i l l i n g over into the works of Anglican

bishops such as H a l l , Sanderson, and Barlow'. And the t i t l e s of these

works indicate their most fundamental themes: Christian Warfare,

Doctrine of the Beginnings of Christ, Discourse about the State of

True Happiness, The New B i r t h , The Whole Armor of God, Seven Treatises,

Containing Such Directions as i s gathered out of the Holie Scriptures,

leading and guiding to true happiness, both i n this l i f e , and i n the

l i f e to come, and may be c a l l e d the practise of C h r i s t i a n i t i e .

P r o f i t a b l e for a l l such as h e a r t i l y desire the same: i n which, more

p a r t i c u l a r l y true Christians may learn how to leade a godly and

comfortable l i f e everyday (known popularly as Seven Treatises).

 24

These biographies, autobiographies, and guide-books, bom and

bred of the conversion experience and the doctrine of ideas inherited

with that experience, influenced the religiously-based l i t e r a t u r e that

followed i n both form and content. In a f o r m a l i s t i c sense, the

narrative structure of this l i t e r a t u r e , because of an "emblematic"

view of the world, tends to dissolve into a series of scenes and

events, each of which could be interpreted for i t s s p i r i t u a l significance.

George Starr points out that this l e d naturally to the r e l i g i o u s man

seeing h i s l i f e as a series of r e l i g i o u s l y s i g n i f i c a n t episodes.^

Thus, i n the summary of the s p i r i t u a l t r i b u l a t i o n s of the day, the

autobiographer or d i a r i s t looks p a r t i c u l a r l y for signs of God's favor

or disfavor. In other words, to the Puritan (and, of course, to the

Anglican), second causes are without a doubt merely results of a

F i r s t Cause, for every outward occurrence i s a s i g n — a n emblem—

containing certain, innate s p i r i t u a l significance. This emblematic

way of perceiving the world lays stress on the representational aspects

of situations and objects i n that world. An i n v i s i b l e hand of God—

P r o v i d e n c e — i s always at work i n this world, and the i n d i v i d u a l person

i s duty-bound to delve below mere appearance i n order to read the

s p i r i t u a l r e a l i t i e s manifested underneath. The anonymous author of

Christian Conversation, i n Six Dialogues, for example, states that " ' t i s

obvious to every man i n the least conversant with the Scriptures,

that everywhere heavenly things are set forth by earthly representations;

and that i n great mercy and condescension to our capacities and

g

understandings, and as helps to our f a i t h . " And John Livingstone

observes among Scottish Presbyterians i n Ireland i n the 1620s that

 25

"some of them had attained such a dexterity of expressing r e l i g i o u s

purposes by the resemblance of worldly things, that being at feasts

in common inns, where were ignorant profane persons, they would,

among themselves, i n t e r t a i n s p i r i t u a l l discourse for ane long time;

and the other professed, that although they spake good English, they
9
could not understand what they s a i d . " The purposes to which an

author could apply this interesting g i f t of s p i r i t u a l sight are

either i n an explanatory, autobiographical manner as i s implied

in the t i t l e of James Janeway's work, I n v i s i b l e s , R e a l i t i e s , Demonstrated

in the Holy L i f e and Triumphant Death of Mr. John Janeway, or i n a more

r e f l e c t i v e manner as i n Ralph Austen's The S p i r i t u a l l use of an Orchard,

or Garden of Fruit Trees.

In actual fact, though, the unifying formal structure of the

s p i r i t u a l autobiography i s to be found elsewhere, i n the conversion

process of the human soul which gave r i s e to this emblematic v i s i o n ,

and i n the various metaphors which were used and reused continually

by the Puritan and Anglican authors. This standard pattern i s an

account of the writer's early, depraved l i f e — u s u a l l y , the more l u r i d

in d e t a i l the b e t t e r — a provocation to repentance followed by a

series of r e f l e c t i o n s , the conversion experience i t s e l f , and a sub-

sequent account of a l i f e f i l l e d with r e l i g i o u s r e f l e c t i o n s , backslidings,

and so on, with a standard death-bed v i c t o r y over the forces of e v i l .

Once again, George Starr points o u t — t h i s time with s p e c i f i c reference

to Robinson Crusoe—that "Conversion i s clearly the p i v o t a l phase i n

the sequence:... each stage not only precedes or follows conversion i n

point of time, but takes on significance wholly as a preparation or

 26

obstacle to i t beforehand, or as a r e s u l t or retrogression from

i t once achieved.

The emblematic v i s i o n of the Protestant divines led naturally

into a metaphorical view of l i f e . S p e c i f i c a l l y , the standard metaphors

which ordered the r e l i g i o u s world v i s i o n of the seventeenth-century

Protestant were the view of l i f e as a journey or pilgrimage, geo-

graphical wandering as s p i r i t u a l alienation from God, the wilderness

and " l o s t soul" metaphor, and i n fact, that overriding view of a l l

objects and situations i n the world as being vehicles for the

conveyance of a s p i r i t u a l meaning. This view of r e a l i t y r e s u l t s ,

of course, i n the a l l e g o r i c a l interpretation of the l i f e of man i n

the world and naturally influenced an author l i k e John Bunyan i n the

construction of works such as Pilgrim's Progress and The L i f e and Death

of Mr. Badman. The same metaphorical v i s i o n works throughout

Robinson Crusoe, but a more complete understanding of that mechanism

of God's responsible for c o n t r o l l i n g events and situations i n this

world i s necessary before we turn s p e c i f i c a l l y to Defoe's novel.

The prevailing use of emblems and metaphors i n the seventeenth

and eighteenth century s p i r i t u a l autobiographies, d i a r i e s , and sermons

indicates a strong b e l i e f i n the workings of Providence i n this f a l l e n

world. Crusoe himself defines Providence i n his Serious Reflections,

the t h i r d and f i n a l work of Defoe's dealing with this "mariner of

York." In a chapter e n t i t l e d "Of Listening to the Voice of Providence,"

Crusoe states that this s p i r i t u a l manifestation consists of "that

operation of the power, wisdom, j u s t i c e , and goodness of God by which

He influences, governs, and directs not only the means, but the events
 27

of a l l things which concern us i n this world" (III, 178). To

Crusoe, the d e f i n i t e existence of a Providence a c t i v e l y causing events

to take place i n this world indicates that God e x i s t s , and i n a

rather c i r c u l a r piece of l o g i c , this proof of God's existence leads

to two further assumptions:

1. That this eternal God guides by His providence the

whole world, which Hehas" created by His power.
2. That this Providence manifests a p a r t i c u l a r care
over and concern i n the governing and directing [of]
man, the best and l a s t created creature on earth.

( I l l , 178)

That Providence which i s responsible f o r the correct mechanical

operation of the universe i s also responsible for guiding the a f f a i r s

of men i n general. And, i n p a r t i c u l a r , Providence plays a major

role i n the a f f a i r s of i n d i v i d u a l persons. Thus, the polemical

purpose of Crusoe's chapter and the impetus behind the writing of

s p i r i t u a l autobiographies, exempla, and guide books are one and the

same: "By l i s t e n i n g to the voice of Providence, I mean to study i t s

meaning i n every circumstance of l i f e , i n every event; to learn

to understand the end and design of Providence i n everything that

happens, what i s the design of Providence i n i t respecting ourselves,

and what our duty to do upon the p a r t i c u l a r occasion that o f f e r s " ( I I I ,

181-182).

Providence, therefore, guides and directs those who pay

heed to i t s voice—who, i n fact, can discern the workings of a F i r s t

Cause behind second causes. Many of Defoe's writings, from The

Storm (1704) to The Journal of the Plague Year (1722), i l l u s t r a t e the

working of this s p i r i t u a l force behind the mask of events, f o r both

the storm and the plague were sent as warnings to the English nation
 28

to cease i t s wicked ways, and thus represent a c a l l to repentance.

As Crusoe himself states i n his Farther Adventures, " I f we do not allow

a v i s i b l e Curse to pursue v i s i b l e Crimes, how s h a l l we reconcile the

Events of Things with the Divine Justice?" (II, 181). Or, this at

least i s one function of Providence; i t i s God's v i s i b l e warning to

unrepentant sinners. And Crusoe, i n this case, follows standard r e l i g i o u s

doctrine in assuming that the reason f o r the punishment can be read

in the punishment i t s e l f .

On the other hand, Providence maintains a "guide and d i r e c t i o n "

status by indicating what " c a l l i n g " one should pursue. This indication

occurs on two l e v e l s — o n e s p i r i t u a l and one mundane—which correspond

to what sermonizers term a general c a l l i n g and a p a r t i c u l a r c a l l i n g .

The general c a l l i n g , as Robert Sanderson defines i t i n XXXVI Sermons

(1689), " i s that wherewith God c a l l e t h us...to the f a i t h and obediance

of the Gospel, and to the embracing of the Covenant of Grace." The

p a r t i c u l a r c a l l i n g " i s that wherewith God enableth us, and directeth

us...on to some special course and condition of l i f e , wherein to

employ ourselves, and to exercise the g i f t s he hath bestowed upon

11

us." Thus Charles and Catherine George, i n t h e i r book on The Protestant

Mind of the English Reformation, point out that "A man's proper c a l l i n g

i s determined by the providence of God and i s matched by the possession

12

of natural g i f t s appropriate to the tasks involved." Providence,

then, acts to c a l l men f i r s t to the proper r e l i g i o n (in this case,

Protestant C h r i s t i a n i t y ) and second to a p a r t i c u l a r station in l i f e .

The emphasis i n the l a t t e r i s s o c i a l and economic i n nature: a person

employs h i s own capacities and a b i l i t i e s as these have been given him

by Providence i n h i s occupation and consequently i n the maintenance of

 29

s o c i a l and economic order. Or as William Perkins, a noted Puritan divine,

asserts, "A vocation of c a l l i n g i s a certaine kind of l i f e , ordained

and imposed on man by God, for the common good." Perkins goes on to

point out:

Now a l l societies of men, are bodies...the common

wealth also, and i n these bodies there be several members,
which are men walking i n several c a l l i n g s and o f f i c e s ,
the execution whereof, must tend to the happy and good
estate of the rest; yea of a l l men every where, as
much as possible i s . . . . Here then we must i n generall
know, that he abuseth his c a l l i n g whosoever he be that
against the end thereof, imployes i t for himselfe, seeking
wholly his owne and not the common good. And that common
saying, Every man for himselfe, and God for us a l l , i s
wicked, and i s directed against the end of every c a l l i n g ,
or honest kind of l i f e . 1 3

To refuse to accept one's p a r t i c u l a r c a l l i n g , then, i s both a s i n

against society and a s i n against God. In fact, r e l i g i o u s treatises

throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are f i l l e d with

examples of Adam's, Jonah's, Balaam's, and prodigal sons who, through

pride i n some cases and fear i n others, s i n against the s o c i a l and

r e l i g i o u s order, s i n against Providence, and therefore s i n against

God. And, working well with these favorite r e l i g i o u s themes, Defoe

sets out immediately i n Robinson Crusoe to give the reader t h i s

moral perspective on his main character.

The f i r s t pages of Robinson Crusoe set the moral and religious

theme. Crusoe, born the son'of a r e t i r e d middle-class merchant who had

made his modest fortune "by merchandise," finds his head " f i l l e d very

early with rambling thoughts," and terms this wanderlust a " f a t a l . . .

propension of nature tending d i r e c t l y to the l i f e of misery which

was to b e f a l l me" (I, 4). Thus, the reader, i s immediately presented

with a b u i l t - i n moral outlook, for physical and emotional states, and

 30

events themselves, are described and interpreted through the moral

viewpoint of an older and wiser Crusoe. In f a c t , this narrative

d e v i c e — i n d i c a t e d through the consistent use of the past tense.,

a technique of foreshadowing, and continual didactic and moralizing

i n t r u s i o n s — g i v e s the text i t s e l f a "double perspective:" an event,

for example, occurs both on a l e v e l of " r e a l i s t i c " adventure and on

a possible moral and r e l i g i o u s l e v e l . This double perspective i s

important as i t allows us to posit a shaping v i s i o n at work i n

Robinson Crusoe, s e l e c t i n g , modifying, and interpreting events, and

thus indicating the p o s s i b i l i t y of a d e f i n i t e structure i n a book

considered by some to be a rather haphazard compendium of second-hand

travel books and adventure s t o r i e s . The pattern emerges almost

immediately, brought into focus by a t r a i n of r e l i g i o u s allusions and

metaphors and by Crusoe's own method of describing and moralizing.

The young Crusoe dreams of going to sea and making his own

fortune. He i s not content with the "middle station of l i f e " so

assiduously recommended by h i s father, who warns h i s son that i f he does

take "this f o o l i s h step" God would not bless him, and he "would have

leisure hereafter to r e f l e c t upon having neglected his counsel when

there might be none to assist me i n my recovery" ( I , 16). Crusoe

c a l l s his father's words " t r u l y prophetic," and indeed they are. He

ships out three different times, and on his f i r s t voyage he nearly

drowns. He i s successful on h i s second venture, r e a l i z i n g a considerable

p r o f i t , but even i n this case he only appears to be a successful

trader-adventurer. His success i s , i n one sense, merely a temptation—

e s s e n t i a l l y an e v i l one at t h a t — t o further voyages, and on his third

 31

venture he i s captured by Moorish pirates. He manages to escape

from the Moorish c i t y , Salee, and through the aid of a Portuguese

captain who eventually rescues him, finds both new l i f e and new

wealth as a plantation owner in B r a z i l . But, his " f a t a l propension"

drives him on to undertake a slaving expedition which ends i n a

shipwreck and his i s o l a t i o n on an.island. He has, then, twenty-

eight years to r e f l e c t on his father's warning. In f a c t , throughout

these early adventures we are constantly reminded of Crusoe's father's

warning, and h i s statement impresses i t s e l f on Crusoe's mind with an

almost god-like profundity. This would indicate, i f we follow the

seventeenth century doctrine of r e l i g i o u s correspondences, that for

"father" we can substitute "God." The old merchant i s described as

"a wise and grave man" who gives his son' "his testimony to this [the

middle station of l i f e ] as the just standard of true f e l i c i t y " (I, 4).

" F e l i c i t y , " in.the eighteenth century r e l i g i o u s context, defines the

14

state of the unfalien Adam, and Crusoe's father uses the word to

refer to a kind of edenic middle-class existence. Perhaps, then,

f e l i c i t y means both, for the old man's description of that middle

states comes very close to not only a description of the virtuous

l i f e of a Puritan, but also to an earthly paradise, emblematic of the

o r i g i n a l Eden. In this f e l i c i t o u s middle station, one finds "temperance,

moderation, quietness, health, society, a l l agreeable diversions, and

a l l desireable pleasures" (I, 3). The middle station i s the middle

way, and by resting content i n that proper place, one i s not tempted

to the s i n of hybris. Crusoe i s so tempted, however, for he leaves his

home "without God's blessing, or my father's," and he goes "against

 32

the w i l l , nay the commands" of h i s father (I, 8). The meaning i m p l i c i t

in this recounting of a f a l l from grace i s made e x p l i c i t l a t e r when,

after spending several years i n i s o l a t i o n on a desert i s l e , Crusoe

c a l l s his departure from home his " o r i g i n a l s i n : "

I have been i n a l l my circumstances a memento to those

who are touched with the general plague of mankind, whence,
for ought I know, one h a l f of their miseries flow; I mean,
that of not being s a t i s f i e d with the station wherein God
and Nature had placed them; f o r , not to look back upon
my primitive condition and the excellent advice of my
father, the opposition to which was, as I may c a l l i t ,
my o r i g i n a l s i n , my subsequent mistakes of the same kind
had been the means of my coming into this miserable
condition; for had that'Providence, which so happily had
seated me at the B r a z i l s as a planter, blessed me with
confined desires, and I could have been contented to
have gone on gradually, I might have been by this time,
I mean i n the time of my being i n this i s l a n d , one of
the most considerable planters i n the B r a z i l s . . . . ( I , 215)

Crusoe's e x p l i c i t reference to disobedience and o r i g i n a l s i n , hheralded

by the phrase "the general plague of mankind," indicates that paternal

disobedience means the same thing as disobedience of God. His

l i f e i s , as he terms i t , a "memento": a reenactmenf of the almost

archetypal pattern of the l i f e of a Protestant divine. Thus Crusoe

himself becomes an everyman—a prodigal son—who l i v e s a l i f e according

to the pattern of s i n , repentance, and grace.

If we consider Crusoe's early disobedience as his o r i g i n a l s i n ,

then h i s f a l l from the "middle s t a t i o n " makes him an "old Adam"

whose travels represent a s p i r i t u a l e x i l e from the edenic s o c i a l

existence propounded by his father. Quite simply, the "old Adam"

i s , i n one sense, the o r i g i n a l Adam who inhabited the o r i g i n a l paradise

and who f e l l through the s i n of pride. After his f a l l , the "old Adam"

grew wild, or as Henry Parker, a Puritan pamphleteer, writes i n h i s

Observations upon some of his Majesties Late Answers and Expresses (1642),
 33

man "grew so untame and u n c i v i l l a creature that the Law of God

written i n his breast was not s u f f i c i e n t to restrayne him from

mischiefe....Defoe himself writes, i n The Family Instructor, that

"The effect of [Adam's] s i n i s a corrupt Taint which we a l l bring into

the world with us, and which we find upon our Nature, by which we find

a Natural Propensity i n us to do E v i l , and no natural I n c l i n a t i o n to

do Good.. .."^ This "mischiefe" or "corrupt Taint" which resides i n

every human being makes everyone an "old Adam," and every human l i f e ,

then, i s a reenactment of the story of the wayfaring prodigal son.

Crusoe's own story i s no exception to this rule. For example,

during the f i r s t storm, i n which he nearly drowns, Crusoe resolves

to return home: "Now I saw p l a i n l y the goodness of his [Crusoe's

father] observations about the middle station of l i f e , how easy, how

comfortably he had l i v e d a l l h i s days, and never had been exposed

to tempests at sea or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I would,

l i k e a true repenting prodigal, go home to my father" (I, 9). Of

course, this reference to the prodigal son i s i r o n i c i n i n t e n t i o n , for

as soon as the storm abates, so does CCrusoe's resolution. But the

prodigal son i s mentioned several more times during Crusoe's narration

of his early l i f e , buttressing that m o r a l i s t i c and religious perspective

through which we view that l i f e and indicating both a formal pattern

and a pattern of r e l i g i o u s psychology which w i l l suffuse Defoe's

novel.

The l i f e pattern of the prodigal son i s simply a ree^nactment

of the disobedience, f a l l , and eventual redemption of the old Adam, and

t h i s can be seen as the pattern of Crusoe's own life. Crusoe, then,

exemplifies the t y p i c a l psychology of the prodigal son and the old

 34

Adam. At one point i n his story, just after young Crusoe has been

counting the p r o f i t s from his several years as a plantation owner

in B r a z i l , the older Crusoe intrudes once again with a didactic comment:

Had I continued in the station I was i n , I had room

for a l l the happy things to have yet befallen me, for
which my father so earnestly recommended a quiet,
r e t i r e d l i f e , and of which he had so sensibly described
the middle of l i f e to be f u l l of; but other things
attended me, and I was s t i l l to be the w i l f u l agent
of a l l my own miseries; and p a r t i c u l a r l y to increase my
fault and double the r e f l e c t i o n s upon myself, which
in my future sorrows I should have leisure to make;
a l l these miscarriages were procured by my apparent
obstinate adhering to my f o o l i s h i n c l i n a t i o n , i n
contradiction to the clearest views of doing myself
good i n a f a i r and p l a i n pursuit of those prospects
and those measures of l i f e which Nature and Providence
concurred to present me with and to make my duty.
As I had once done i n my breaking away from my parents,
so I would not be content now but I must go and leave the
happy view I had of being a r i c h and t h r i v i n g man i n my
new plantation only to pursue a rash and immoderate desire
of r i s i n g faster than the nature of the thing admitted;
and thus I cast myself down again into the deepest gulf
of human misery that ever man f e l l into, or perhaps
would be consistent with my l i f e and a state of health
in the world. ( I , 41-42)

The reference here i s to the slaving expedition Crusoe w i l l undertake

which w i l l end i n a shipwreck and his own i s o l a t i o n on the i s l a n d .

But Crusoe also a r t i c u l a t e s the basic theme of the book, a theme

explained with reference to the psychology of the prodigal son as found

in numbers of seventeenth century r e l i g i o u s works: "a rash and immoderate

desire of r i s i n g faster than the nature.of the thing admitted" i s

exactly the s i n f u l frame of mind of the prodigal son which results

in h i s wild and i r r a t i o n a l pursuits. Just as Adam i s evicted from

Eden and forced to wander the earth, so the prodigal son, according

to John Goodman i n The Penitant Pardon'd (1694), "grows Male-content

with his condition; and finding himself restrained, the proud waves of
 35

his passion rage and swell against a l l that bounds and checks them....

He finds h i s condition not to his mind, and...he i s tempted to run

upon adventures....""'''' Thus, through h i s w i l f u l and p r i d e f u l d i s -

obedience of his f a t h e r — h i s o r i g i n a l s i n — C r u s o e tomes to represent

both the f a l l e n Adam and the prodigal son, and h i s geographical

i s o l a t i o n and wandering becomes a metaphoric representation of s p i r i t u a l

i s o l a t i o n and e r r i n g . This l a t t e r theme goes back to Pilgrim's Progress

at least, and further i f we" were to trace the life-as-pilgrimage and

wilderness metaphors i n older Protestant l i t e r a t u r e . The adventure

pattern i n Robinson Crusoe—the pattern of geographical t r a v e l s —

becomes what amounts to a c o n t r o l l i n g r e l i g i o u s metaphor through

at least the early part of the book. And George Starr, i n f a c t , finds

i t a unifying pattern i n a l l of Defoe's f i c t i o n :

I have argued...that Robinson Crusoe uses wandering,

f l e e i n g , straying, and other images of anxious motion to
indicate the hero's alienation from 'the true center of
his being.' Through a kind of a l l u s i v e shorthand,
Defoe associates geographical remoteness with s p i r i t u a l
malaise (Adam unparadised, the Prodigal 'in a far country,'
e t c . ) . Crusoe i s 'errant' at f i r s t i n both body and
soul; eventually, returning home and coming to rest
indicate his achievement (however precarious or temporary)
of s p i r i t u a l soundness. The careers of a l l of Defoe's
heroes and heroines can be charted s p a t i a l l y i n the same
way; centrifugal motion sooner or l a t e r gives way to
centripetal motion, which culminates i n motifs of return,
reunion, and repose.18

Therefore, i n Robinson Crusoe, the author's early references to the

prodigal son ( I ; 9, 15) and to young Crusoe as another Jonah ( I ; 10, 16)

f l e s h out the bare adventure pattern, giving the book a deeper s p i r i t u a l

significance that has also been indicated through the steady rhythm of

moral comment delivered by the older Crusoe and through continual

reference to the workings of Providence in Crusoe's l i f e .

 36

Crusoe's world, then, i s an emblematic one, for many of the

events described are seen through the "moral" frame as a direct result

of the workings of Providence. And, this correlation between event

and some kind of s p i r i t u a l significance allows the reader to see a

pattern of experience emerging i n the book, for experience i t s e l f i s

closely t i e d to Crusoe's own s p i r i t u a l development even though the pattern

of experience ( i . e . , wandering and adventure) seems, at f i r s t , merely

counterpointed to the older Crusoe's knowledge of that experience.

Crusoe's world i s one i n which Providence a c t i v e l y intervenes i n the

l i v e s of i n d i v i d u a l men, and a world i n which the i n d i v i d u a l must

learn to read his own s p i r i t u a l state i n his perceptions of

P r o v i d e n t i a l l y guided events. I t i s just this emblematic v i s i o n which

Crusoe must be made aware o f .

F i r s t , Crusoe's wrong c h o i c e — h i s leaving home to set o f f on

adventures—brings an immediate warning from heaven. A storm rises while

Crusoe i s on board ship. He fears death and, i n his desperate state,

believes that perhaps h i s repentance w i l l cause the storm to abate.

F i l l e d , consequently, with "wise and sober thoughts," he vows to go

home, and the storm does abate. However, he f a l l s i n with bad companions

and, " i n that one night's wickedness," he "drowns" (negates) h i s

repentance, r e f l e c t i o n s , and resolutions (I, 10). Crusoe belabors h i s

sinfulness for another page, and the storm strikes again, this time

sinking the ship. The crew i s saved, and afterwards, on shore, the

vessel's captain exhorts Crusoe to return to his father and not

tempt Providence. Crusoe, according to the captain, "might see a

v i s i b l e hand of Heaven" against him: "You see what a taste Heaven has

given you of what you are to expect i f you p e r s i s t ; perhaps this i s a l l

 37

b e f a l l e n us on your account, l i k e Jonah i n the ships of Tarshish"

(I, 17).

This emblematic way of interpreting events becomes a basic

narrative pattern i n Robinson Crusoe, consolidating the r e l i g i o u s

theme and the actual narrative structure of the book, and working i n

close conjunction with the metaphoric adventure pattern. On the

simplest l e v e l of narration an event or sequence of events i s narrated,

then a religious s i g n i f i c a t i o n i s given to that event. This pattern

i s , of course, part of that rhythm of moral comment, but takes on even

greater s t r u c t u r a l s i g n i f i c a n c e when one realizes that i t does i n

fact suffuse the entire book. The perception of a F i r s t Cause behind

second causes becomes, gradually, a part of the pattern of Crusoe's

thought, and consequently a part of the pattern of the book, forming

a religious superstructure of both form and content. For example,

when Crusoe has been alone on his island for only a short while, the famous

"miracle" of the corn occurs:

It was a l i t t l e before the great rains, just now

mentioned, that I threw this s t u f f [ i . e . , the corn]
taking no notice of anything and not so much as
remembering that I had thrown anything there, when
about a month a f t e r or thereabout I saw some few
stalks of something green shooting out of the ground,
which I fancied might be some plant I had not seen; but
I was surprised and p e r f e c t l y astonished when a f t e r a
l i t t l e r longer time I saw about ten or twelve ears come
out which were perfect green barley of the same kind as
our European, nay, as our English barley.
It i s impossible to express the astonishment and
confusion of my thoughts on this occasion; I had hitherto
acted upon no r e l i g i o u s foundation at a l l ; indeed
I had very few notions of r e l i g i o n i n my head er had
entertained any sense of anything that had b e f a l l e n me
otherwise than as a chance, or, as we l i g h t l y say,
what pleases God; without so much as inquiring into the
end of Providence i n these things or His order i n
 38

governing events i n the world. But after I saw barley

grow there, i n a climate which I know was not proper
for corn, and especially that I knew not how i t came
there, i t s t a r t l e d me strangely and I began to suggest
that God had miraculously caused this grain to grow
without any help of seed sown and that i t was so
directed purely for my sustenance on that wild
miserable place. ( I , 86-87)

The narrative pattern here i s that of a described event, then an

explication of that event with a view to i t s s p i r i t u a l s i g n i f i c a n c e .

The corn grows, and at f i r s t we might be tempted to say purely

by accident. But, i n the f i c t i o n a l world of this novel, i t i s

Providence which causes the corn to grow. And so Crusoe t e l l s

us.

Again, even the most mundane happening achieves a s p i r i t u a l

significance through that moral and r e l i g i o u s framework which Crusoe

the narrator i s so concerned i n emphasizing. This outlook, fundamental

to an understanding of Robinson Crusoe, i s that same v i s i o n which

guided the Puritan and Anglican divines i n their pilgrimage through

life. J . Paul Hunter, i n The Reluctant Pilgrim, discusses this way

of perceiving r e a l i t y with s p e c i f i c reference to Puritan ideology,

and points to a correlation between event or object, and idea as

being central to the Puritan v i s i o n : "Contemporary events thus

became emblems of concepts, and the contemporary world i t s e l f became

emblematic of the s p i r i t u a l or conceptual world which was the ultimate

19

referent for a l l creation, the ultimate r e a l i t y . " However, man i s

not simply born with this a b i l i t y to read accurately the s p i r i t u a l

meanings i n second causes, rather i t i s a v i s i o n acquired slowly through

learning and experience. Thus, although the older Crusoe goes to great

lengths to a r t i c u l a t e the emblematic structure of r e a l i t y throughout his

 39

book (such events as the rescue of Friday, Crusoe's rescue by an

English ship, and even his own repentance are signalled by P r o v i d e n t i a l l y -

sent "dream-visions"), the young Crusoe must learn slowly, and

p a i n f u l l y at times, to read s p i r i t u a l significance into events.

The novel then, i n one sense, traces Crusoe's s p i r i t u a l education,

and the episode of the grain becomes central to his religious

development i n that i t leads d i r e c t l y into his conversion experience,

which, i n turn, allows him to see the f u l l s p i r i t u a l significance of

the events of his l i f e .

Crusoe's early repentances are s u p e r f i c i a l : he i s b l i n d to

Providence, or at least prefers to ignore i t s warnings, and he i s

continually g u i l t y of the s i n of pride. The importance of the grain

episode i n the development of the r e l i g i o u s theme through Robinson

Crusoe i s that for the f i r s t time young Crusoe begins thinking seriously

on Providence. And, i t i s soon after this episode that he begins

praying to God. To be sure, Crusoe s t i l l blunders on i r r e l i g i o u s l y

while b u i l d i n g his f o r t i f i c a t i o n s and storehouse. For example,

he does set up a cross on h i s i s l a n d , but then uses i t only as a

calendar and even neglects to keep his Sundays, " f o r , omitting my

mark from them on my post, I forgot which was which" (I, 80). Yet,

at the same time, the eighteenth-century reader would be aware that

Crusoe i s approaching some kind of important r e l i g i o u s experience, f o r

events begin b u i l d i n g slowly toward h i s conversion. He begins

thinking of Providence when the grain sprouts, but he s t i l l does not

turn to God. In f a c t , he merely blesses himself: he i s proud that

Providence i s taking a hand i n his l i f e , but he i s not properly thankful.

 40

From this point, nature begins acting up, i n d i c a t i n g , again through

a doctrine of correspondences, that Crusoe has further s p i r i t u a l

t r i b u l a t i o n s to endure. E a r l i e r storms were interpreted as "God's

v i s i b l e warnings," and the earthquake and hurricane that Crusoe

suffers through on h i s i s l a n d are also linked to things divine i n

the t e r r i f y i n g dream-vision that Crusoe has a short time l a t e r :

I thought that I was s i t t i n g on the ground, on the

outside of my w a l l , where I sat when the storm blew
a f t e r the earthquake, and that I saw a man descend from
a great black cloud, i n a bright flame of f i r e , and
l i g h t upon the ground. He was a l l over as bright as a
flame, so that I could but just bear to look towards
him; his countenance was most inexpressibly dreadful,
impossible f o r words to describe; when he stepped upon
the ground with h i s feet, I thought the earth trembled,
just as i t had done before i n the earthquake, and a l l
the a i r looked, to my apprehension, as i f i t had been
f i l l e d with flashes of f i r e .
He was no sooner landed upon the earth but he moved
forward towards me, with a long spear or weapon i n his
hand, to k i l l me; and when he came to a r i s i n g ground,
at some distance, or I heard a voice so t e r r i b l e , that
i t i s impossible to express the terror of i t ; a l l that
I can say I understood was t h i s : 'Seeing these things
have not brought thee to repentance, now thou shalt
die.' At which words, I thought he l i f t e d up the spear
that was i n h i s hand, to k i l l me. (I, 97)

This v i s i o n , with i t s i n t e r e s t i n g inclusion of the previous

concrete experience of a very real storm and earthquake, influences

Crusoe to a f i n a l and permanent repentance. He laments, upon waking,

that he has been the most "hardened" and "wicked" of men, and that he

has never properly feared and venerated God. At this point he

realizes the pattern of his l i f e has been that of a sinner who has

ignored a l l the signs of Providence: he sees that his l i f e has been

a progression of one s i n after another, beginning with his "rebellious

behavior" against his father, and culminating i n a punishment-through-

 41

e x i l e on this "Island of Despair." With new insight into h i s

condition, Crusoe has reached the center of his story, the p i v o t a l

point i n h i s experience, and can now discern the pattern of his l i f e

and the active intercession of Providence i n the events of h i s

life.

Crusoe's conversion leads to several pages of expostulations to

God—much more convincing r e l i g i o u s acts than the b r i e f prayers he

mumbles during various storms or h i s landing on the i s l a n d — a n d , most

important with reference to Crusoe's new v i s i o n , a recapitulation of the

major events of his l i f e now interpreted as i f Providence were playing

an active part:

The growing up of the corn, as i s hinted i n my journal,

had at f i r s t some l i t t l e influence upon me, and began to
affect me with seriousness, as long as I thought i t had
something miraculous i n i t ; but as soon as ever that
part of the thought was removed, a l l the impression
which was raised from i t wore o f f also, as I have noted
already.
Even the earthquake, though nothing would be more
t e r r i b l e i n i t s nature or more immediately directing to
the i n v i s i b l e Power which alone directs such things,
yet no sooner was the f i r s t f r i g h t over but impression
i t had made went o f f also. I had no more sense of God
or His judgments, much less of the present a f f l i c t i o n
of my circumstances begin from His hand, then i f I
had been i n the most prosperous condition of l i f e .
(T, 99-100)

This awareness of a F i r s t Cause behind the events of his l i f e and the

r e a l i z a t i o n that these events were, i n large part, e f f o r t s to get

him to repent, helps to awaken Crusoe's conscience, and he begins

seriously plumbing the depths of his own consciousness, r e f l e c t i n g

on things divine. He reasons from postulates as basic as the existence

of God, and he reconstructs, p a r t i a l l y from memory and p a r t i a l l y from

experience, the s p i r i t u a l cosmos of the Protestant r e l i g i o n :

 42

Then, i f followed most n a t u r a l l y , I t i s God that

has made i t a l l . Well, but then, i t came on strangely,
i f God has made a l l these things, He guides and governs
them a l l and a l l things that concern them; for the Power
that could make a l l things must certainly have power to
guide and direct them.
If so, nothing can happen i n the great c i r c u i t of His
works e i t h e r without His knowledge or appointment.

(I, 102)

From this point on Crusoe notes that events happen P r o v i d e n t i a l l y .

If his physical i l l n e s s (he i s quite i l l at the time of h i s vision) i s

emblematic of h i s s p i r i t u a l malais^ for he has reached his lowest

physical and s p i r i t u a l state, then when he goes to his chest f o r

tobacco to cure his fever, he also finds a B i b l e — " a cure both for

soul and body." He i s P r o v i d e n t i a l l y directed to open his Bible to

appropriate verses. H/s thoughts pn Providence quiet h i s fears of savages

on the island. Providence, i t w i l l be pointed out, i s responsible

for h i s acquisition of Friday, since through a dream he knows he

w i l l suceed i n obtaining a companion. And f i n a l l y , Crusoe t e l l s us

A

that Providence "had delivered me from so many unseen dangers and

had kept me from those mischiefs which I could no way have been

the agent i n delivering myself from, because I had not the least

notion of any such thing depending, or the least supposition of i t

being possible" (I, 193).

F i n a l l y , we are tempted to see the repentance scene as not

only central to the development of a r e l i g i o u s pattern, but also a

scene from which different patterns resonate throughout the novel.

On the l e v e l of characterization, for example, Crusoe's post-

repentance r e l i g i o u s r e f l e c t i o n s e s t a b l i s h a certain consistency i n

his personality. Such a consistency has been with us since the

 43

beginning of the book, but only i n the moral frame imposed by the older

Crusoe who i s narrating. After the repentance, the moral and

r e l i g i o u s r e f l e c t i o n s become those of the younger Crusoe. In f a c t ,

Crusoe never ceases r e f l e c t i n g on God and Providence, so that not only

i s h i s character given consistency, but a unifying thematic concern

( i . e . , to point out the workings of Providence and thus to point

d i d a c t i c a l l y to a moral) becomes manifest throughout the book.

Crusoe states at one point, "These thoughts took me up many hours,

days, nay, I may say, weeks and months" ( I , 174). And at another time,

"I had t e r r i b l e r e f l e c t i o n s upon my mind for many months" ( I , 146). Crusoe,

then, i s granted an i n t e r i o r i t y by virtue of his repentance which he

did not manifest through the e a r l i e r portions of the novel.

On a l e v e l of action, Crusoe's repentance leads d i r e c t l y to

a further and wider exploration of the island. Before, Crusoe

was concerned primarily with i s o l a t i n g himself from h i s environment.

He b u i l t a fort to protect himself from any beasts or savages he might

encounter. He never wandered past h i s immediate part of the island.

Now, however, the f u l l y repentant Crusoe comes out of his protective

physical i s o l a t i o n to explore the island systematically. Faith

has conquered fear, and again,,, the r e l i g i o u s theme works to give an

emblematic significance to the adventure story. When Crusoe explores

his i s l a n d , he discovers what amounts to an earthly paradise:

At the end of this march I came to an opening,

where the country seemed to descend to the west, and
a l i t t l e spring of fresh water, which issued out of the
side of the h i l l by me, run the other way, that i s , due
east; and the country appeared so fresh, so green, so
f l o u r i s h i n g , everything being i n a constant verdure,
or f l o u r i s h of spring, that i t looked l i k e a planted
garden.
 44

I descended a l i t t l e on the side of that delicious vale,

surveying i t with a secret kind of pleasure (though
mixed with my other a f f l i c t i n g thoughts), to think
that this was a l l my own, that I was King and lord of a l l
this country indefeasibly and had a right of possession....
I saw here abundance of cocoa trees, orange, and lemon and
citron trees.... ( I , 110-111)

This d e l i g h t f u l picture of natura naturata leads Crusoe to thank God

for h i s deliverance onto the i s l a n d , and he wishes h e a r t i l y he could

stay for the rest of h i s l i f e . At this point, he catches himself and

c a l l s himself a hypocrite for thinking t h i s when he would much rather

be back i n English society. But, on the other hand, this view of

his i s l a n d , and this t r a i n of thought, are a far cry from the "Island

of Despair" of Crusoe's f i r s t months of i s o l a t i o n .

Of course, the i s l a n d i t s e l f has significance i n the pattern

of Crusoe's s p i r i t u a l development. If Crusoe's o r i g i n a l s i n i s i n part

his abandonment of the "middle station of l i f e " i n disobedience of

his father, and his period of s p i r i t u a l erring i s emblemized i n h i s

wanderings and misfortunes, then his physical i s o l a t i o n on the island

r e f l e c t s h i s s p i r i t u a l i s o l a t i o n from God. The meaning i m p l i c i t here,

of course, i s that Crusoe being an everyman, a prodigal son, then h i s

s p i r i t u a l condition i s the same as that of every other human being.

Only our mariner of York i s doubly a f f l i c t e d : h i s s p i r i t u a l s i n

results i n s p i r i t u a l i s o l a t i o n while his s i n against the s o c i a l order

(the middle station) results i n physical i s o l a t i o n . But, i f the

i s l a n d i s a place of i s o l a t i o n , then i t i s also a place of purgation.

The i s l a n d occupies the center of Crusoe's narrative just as i t

occupies the center of h i s s p i r i t u a l l i f e : the years he spends on

the i s l a n d are those years i n which he develops h i s r e l i g i o u s b e l i e f

 45

and h i s s p i r i t u a l being. Just as the s t r u c t u r a l and thematic center

of the Protestant s p i r i t u a l autobiography i s that repentance scene

which leads to the s p i r i t u a l development of the writer, so i t i s i n

Crusoe's narrative. And, pushing our correspondences a b i t further,

i f the island i s a place of s p i r i t u a l purgation, then i t can also be

emblematic of the wilderness of the f a l l e n world. As archetype, the island

i s a place of repose, the garden of innocence, and i t s praises are

sung throughout l i t e r a t u r e from Pindar's description of the land of the

Hyperboreans i n his second Olympian to Andrew Marvell's eulogy on the

Bermudas. Crusoe's own "Happy I s l e " comes close at times to this garden-

i s l a n d , but his paradise also contains i t s snakes. The "garden" he

discovers on his exploratory journey inland i s favored by nature, yet

i t also contains lurking dangers. Crusoe dares not eat the grapes

he finds there, f o r he might contract "the f l u x . " They must be dried

into r a i s i n s , but when he sets out one batch they are trampled i n the

night by what he assumes are "wild creatures" (I, 111-112). Finally,

this edenic part of the i s l e i s near the side where the c a n n i b a l s — o r

"natural men"—land and hold t h e i r "savage feasts." Thus, although Crusoe

c a l l s the place a "natural garden," i t i s not as pleasant as i t f i r s t

appears, and again we are tempted to say that t h i s part of the island

represents a mere earthly E d e n — i l l u s o r y and f u l l of snares for the

repentant and unrepentant sinner a l i k e .

Because of the part played by Providence i n the novel,

because of Defoe's apparent care i n working on both a l e v e l of adventure

and a r e l i g i o u s l e v e l , and because of the obvious s t r u c t u r a l and

thematic basis of Robinson Crusoe i n an e a r l i e r Protestant "subliterature,"

 46

we must agree with Nigel Dennis that "there was never a book i n
20

which God's hand was busier." Providence i s present as a part of

the moral frame at the beginning of the novel, i t i s active during

Crusoe's early adventures, i t intervenes a l l the time on the

island, and i t i s f i n a l l y present when Crusoe i s delivered from his

isolation:
Then I took my turn and embraced him [the captain
of an English ship that has anchored at the island]
as my d e l i v e r e r , and we rejoiced together. I told
him I looked upon him as a man sent from Heaven to
deliver me, and that the whole transaction seemed to
be a chain of wonders; that such things as these were
the testimonies we had of a secret hand of Providence
governing the world, and an evidence that the eyes of
an i n f i n i t e Power could search into the remotest
corner of the world, and send help to the miserable
whenever He pleased.
I forgot not to l i f t up my heart i n thankfulness to
Heaven; and what heart could forbear to bless Him, who
had not only i n a miraculous manner provided for one i n
such a wilderness and i n such a desolate condition, but
from whom every deliverance must always be acknowledged
to proceed. (I, 302-03)

Providence, an entity everpresent throughout this novel, helps l i n k

parts into a whole, and allows the reader to place emblematic meanings

on several of Crusoe's adventures. Also, the s t r u c t u r a l pattern of o r i g i n a l

sin and the f a l l , followed by e x i l e , i s o l a t i o n , a conversion and

repentance, and a f i n a l deliverance from s i n — t h a t pattern of the

s p i r i t u a l autobiography and " l i v e s " of the Puritan s a i n t s — h e l p s to

organize the narrative into a s i g n i f i c a n t l y structured unit. But,

attthe same time, this unit lacks the precision of concrete

reference which defines the allegory of the type written by John

Bunyan or*Edmund Spenser.

 47

Some c r i t i c s have argued that Robinson Crusoe i s very much a

s p i r i t u a l allegory worthy of comparison with The Pilgrim's Progress

(though not, perhaps, The Faerie Queen). Edwin B. Benjamin, for example,

states that Defoe found s p i r i t u a l allegory to be the form most

suited to h i s subject:

Allegory seems to have been always congenial to the

Puritan mind as a legitimate province i n which the
imagination might.exercise i t s e l f ; and although at
times i n the eighteenth century i t came to be looked
down upon as a rather crude vehicle of l i t e r a r y
expression, i t continued longer as a v i t a l t r a d i t i o n
in the dissenting milieu i n which Defoe's mind was
molded than i n more advanced i n t e l l e c t u a l and l i t e r a r y
c i r c l e s . Defoe can hardly have been unaffected by the
forces that shaped Bunyan and that accounted for the
popularity of h i s a l l e g o r i e s . ^

In Benjamin's reading a l l of the fundamental a l l e g o r i c a l elements of

Crusoe's story are covered: Crusoe's father i s God, and Crusoe's

o r i g i n a l s i n i s disobedience; Crusoe i s expelled from Eden ("the

middle station") and becomes a prodigal son, an exiled wanderer;

in the a l l e g o r i c a l wilderness of the i s l a n d , he repents and duly notes

his conversion i n a Journal which he began o r i g i n a l l y for p r a c t i c a l

purposes but which now becomes a "Puritan" diary; and f i n a l l y , Crusoe,

f u l l y repentent, i s delivered from h i s i s o l a t i o n and reenters society

as a member of the "middle c l a s s . " Benjamin's description i s general,

but both he and J. Paul Hunter, another defender of the a l l e g o r i c a l

approach to Rob ins on Crus oe, can be more s p e c i f i c . Benjamin points to

a c l u s t e r of minor symbols surrounding the repentance scene, showing

that the sprouting grain i s "clearly...the seeds of grace s t i r r i n g i n

[Crusoe's] heart and sending forth t h e i r f i r s t tender sprouts." Crusoe,

soon after, fashions his f i r s t earthenware pot, and Bejamin terms this

pot the reborn Crusoe, stating that "dissenting c i r c l e s were accustomed

 48

to think and to express themselves i n terms of 'chosen vessels' and

22

seeds of grace or doctrine."

However, "dissenting c i r c l e s " were not the only religious

groups to think and perceive i n an emblematic way. Catholics, as

well as Protestants, were accustomed, as Lynn White points out, to see

nature "as a symbolic system through which God speaks to men: the

ant i s a sermon to sluggards; r i s i n g flames are the symbols of the

soul's a s p i r a t i o n . " And White goes on to remark that "This view of

23

nature was e s s e n t i a l l y a r t i s t i c rather than s c i e n t i f i c . " In

Defoe's day, seeds of a metaphysical insecurity had begun to sprout,

as science and materialism began to share the center stage with older

r e l i g i o u s modes of perception. Even Hunter, i n arguing his a l l e g o r i c a l

interpretation of Defoe's f i r s t novel, i s forced to admit that i n the

early eighteenth century "contemporary events and the contemporary world...

operated only suggestively on man's perception, f o r the old precise

system of analogies was gone, but even this small guide toward

certitude gladdened the hearts of men bewildered by the r a p i d i t y of

24

changes i n their world."

Just as there can be a difference between one's o r i g i n a l intention

to produce an allegory and the fact that the product ends up to be not

quite what he had i n mind, there can be a difference between allegory

as a l i t e r a r y form and an emblematic way of perceiving r e a l i t y . What

we have been discussing i n Robinson Crusoe i s the presence of a general

i d e o l o g i c a l orientation to the world which controls, f o r the most

part, both the form and the content of the novel. Even assuming, with

Benjamin, that certain events and o b j e c t s — t h e sprouting grain and

the p o t — a r e granted an a l l e g o r i c a l significance, a large portion of the

 49

narrative i s s t i l l s u b s t a n t i a l l y "outside" of any kind of s p i r i t u a l ,

emblematic interpretation. And much of the delight countless readers

have received from the novel since i t s f i r s t appearance i n 1719 would

remain unexplained. Defoe perhaps uses an e x i s t i n g l i t e r a r y form

in a general way to unify and pattern his book, but an even more

pervading formal unity can be apprehended by incorporating that other,

economic, theme and pattern into our reading of Robinson Crusoe. Mr.

Benjamin i s led to remark that "side by side with Crusoe's physical

conquest of nature i s his struggle to conquer himself and to find

25

God." "Side by s i d e " does not necessarily mean " i n one and the

same thing" or "at one and the same time". The truth i s that the

focus of Crusoe's narrative begins s h i f t i n g back and forth between two

poles—one r e l i g i o u s and one economic—and the larger pattern of the

novel can, i n part, be described as the rhythm of this s h i f t i n g and

i n t e r a c t i n g of themes. Thus, the more purely "economic" schemes and

projects which Crusoe undertakes are generally, though i n some places

perhaps d e f i n i t e l y , connected with the r e l i g i o u s theme and form of

Defoe's novel.

III. The Economic Theme

When Crusoe i s washed ashore "on the desert i s l a n d , the

f a i r l y pervasive a l l e g o r i c a l pattern through which previous events can

be interpreted becomes generalized and diffused: the reader i s never

allowed to forget that Providence i s a c t i v e l y at work i n this novel, and

that Crusoe i s a prodigal son being punished for moral transgressions,

 50

but the strongly f e l t s p i r i t u a l theme with which the book begins i s

gradually counterpointed more and more to the p r a c t i c a l and economic

themes of the book. In other words, the assumption i s t h i s : at the

beginning of the novel there exist two thematic patterns fused

together—the secular and economic and the religious and a l l e g o r i c a l .

As the novel develops beyond the point where Crusoe i s washed ashore,

and p a r t i c u l a r l y beyond the repentance scene, these two themes are

counterpointed with one another; the two are s t i l l generally connected,

and one does r e f l e c t on the other, but the p o s s i b i l i t y of reading the

novel as a Protestant allegory f a l l s away as Defoe focuses the reader's

attention on other aspects of i s l a n d e x i s t e n c e — i . e . , more p r a c t i c a l

considerations generated by the basic problem of physical survival

on a desert i s l a n d .

However, s e t t i n g out the economic theme of Robinson Crusoe leads

to several problems. Certainly, most "economic" c r i t i c s of the book

would hold that Defoe focuses h i s reader's attention on Crusoe's

p r a c t i c a l i t y and his struggle for s u r v i v a l i n order to i l l u s t r a t e a

way of perceiving the world p r a c t i c a l l y and economically. Perhaps

most would even go so f a r as to admit that Providence does manifest

i t s e l f through Nature, but that i s not important. Most of these

c r i t i c s would stress the ultimate importance i n Robinson Crusoe of the

idea that Nature exists only to be exploited to the f u l l e s t extent

possible. Religion and beauty are not important, economics are. Thus,

as Ian Watt remarks, i n The Rise of the Novel, "Wherever Crusoe looks

his acres cry out so loud for improvement that he has no leisure to
26
observe that they also compose a landscape." Watt i s correct, for
 51

other of Defoe's writings support this view. In Caledonia: A

Poem i n Honour of Scotland and the Scots Nation, Defoe exhorts the

Scots to improve on their native resources through application and

industry:

'Tis Blasphemy to say the Climat's curst,

Nature w i l l ne're be f r u i t f u l t i l l she's f o r c ' t ;

Nature's a V i r g i n very Chast and Coy,

To court her's nonsense: If you w i l l enjoy
She must he ravisht; when she's forc't she's free,
A perfect Prostitute to Industry.

And:
27

For Beauty's best described by Usefulness.

To ravish Nature i s to exploit i t , at least to Defoe. This leads

l o g i c a l l y back to Watt who asserts that "Crusoe's island gives him the
28

complete l a i s s e z - f a i r e which economic man needs to r e a l i s e h i s aims."

Thus, i n Watt's i n t e r p r e t a t i o n , Crusoe l i v e s completely the u t i l i t a r i a n

and p r a c t i c a l l i f e of the economic i n d i v i d u a l i s t . He i s the rudimentary

c a p i t a l i s t , eternally transforming the status quo, and, as Watt

points out, r e l i g i o n takes a back seat to materialism.

The problem i n defining the economic theme comes when we turn

to other c r i t i c s ' interpretations of this theme i n Robinson Crusoe.

Maximillian Novak, for example, agrees with Watt i n his contention

that Defoe's novel i s primarily a work on economics, and that Crusoe

himself i s an "economic animal." In Novak's estimation, the novel

i s a vehicle which allows Defoe to i l l u s t r a t e three economic theories:

"Cl) a theory of invention, (2) a theory of value, and (3) an

economic theory of society." But, Novak i s diametrically opposed, i n

his economic interpretation, to Watt i n that "everything i n Robinson

 52

Crusoe related to the c a l l i n g constitutes an attack upon economic

29

individualism." Was Defoe economically l i b e r a l (a l a i s s e z - f a i r e

c a p i t a l i s t ) or conservative (a mercantilist)? How i n fact did the

Puritans view economics, and did Defoe view them i n the same way?

More fundamentally, one could ask under what economic d o c t r i n e —

l i b e r a l or c o n s e r v a t i v e — d i d Defoe tackle the problem of reconciling

trade and r e l i g i o u s morality. More pertinent to this present essay

would be the question of Crusoe's own economics. What kind of perspective

does Defoe give us on Crusoe and h i s economic practices? This again

leads us back to the economic viewpoint of Defoe himself. It i s

far beyond the scope of this essay to even attempt complete answers

to many of these questions, but, through a close look at Robinson

Crusoe i t s e l f , we can at least approach solutions to these problems.

Novak does gives us a clue when he mentions the doctrine of the c a l l i n g ,

for i t i s this part of the Protestant ideology that allows us a

perspective on Crusoe's early adventures while i t forms a bridge between

secular and s p i r i t u a l concerns. Thus, i n order to see how, f i r s t ,

the economic and r e l i g i o u s themes work i n conjunction with one another

throughout the novel, we must begin with a discussion of the c a l l i n g

as i t applies to the f i r s t part of Robinson Crusoe.

Crusoe's s i n , as we have already seen, i s h i s disobedience of

his father and his setting out i n quest of adventure and economic

advancement. In so doing, young Crusoe also commits a s i n i n a

s o c i a l sense, for by leaving his s p e c i f i c s o c i a l and economic s t a t i o n ,

he transgresses against the s o c i a l order. I f we go back for a moment

to Crusoe's conversation with the ship's c a p t a i n — o c c u r r i n g just after

 53

they have been pulled from the stormy sea—we find a clear statement

of this theme: '"Young man,' says he, 'you ought never to go to sea

any more; you ought to take this for a p l a i n and v i s i b l e token that

you are not to be a seafaring man.' 'Why s i r , ' said I, ' w i l l you go

to sea no more?' 'That i s another case,' said he, ' i t i s my calling

and therefore my duty....'" ( I , 16). The captain goes on to advise

Crusoe to return to h i s father's house, since they can both p l a i n l y

see that "the hand of Providence" i s against Crusoe.

In h i s speech the captain assumes that since Crusoe's calling

i s obviously not that of a seaman then he had best not try going to

sea again, for the storm has been sent by Providence s p e c i f i c a l l y to

warn him against taking up that vocation. Or so thinks the captain.

The eighteenth century reader knows, of course, that Crusoe has sinned

against h i s father i n a r e l i g i o u s sense, and i n so doing, has also

committed a s i n of pride i n the secular sense: Providence i s not

just warning Crusoe to avoid the seaman's trade, but i s acting to

influence him to return to h i s proper s o c i a l station. The proper

s o c i a l position i s the "middle station i n l i f e . " Crusoe's s i n of

pride, then, i s s t i l l h i s desire to r i s e "faster than the nature of

the things admitted," and this time i n a socio-economic sense:

Crusoe i s the i n d i v i d u a l sinning against the status quo and consequently

heing punished for i t .

Again, this concept of controverting the s o c i a l order i s

very fundamentally based i n the Puritan doctrine of the c a l l i n g : the

economic boundaries set out i n this doctrine are those which Crusoe

transgresses. Since the c a l l i n g has already been defined i n i t s

 54

secular and s p i r i t u a l aspects, what remains i s to define the c a l l i n g

with p a r t i c u l a r reference to the Puritan outlook on economics, as

i t i s our contention that Defoe wants, and even expects, his reader

to see Crusoe's actions from this viewpoint. In the section

previously quoted from Perkins (page2l9'+), the Puritan divine

attaches d e f i n i t e value to l i v i n g an "honest kinde of l i f e , " and i n

fact summarizes the rather a l t r u i s t i c p o s i t i o n of the early Puritans:

a man's c a l l i n g should be practised with a view to a common s o c i a l

good, rather than towards f u l f i l l m e n t of one's own s e l f i s h desires.

Thus, the primary impetus behind the Puritan conception of the

p a r t i c u l a r c a l l i n g would be to maintain the status quo. This c o n f l i c t s ,

however, with Ian Watt's arguments i n that Watt, following the theory

outlined by Max Weber i n Die protestantische Ethik und der Geist

des Kapitalismus, t i e s the r i s e of capitalism d i r e c t l y to the

Puritan doctrine of the c a l l i n g . And, i n so arguing, Watt defines

capitalism as a "dynamic tendency...whose aim i s never merely to

30

maintain the status quo, but to transform i t incessantly."

In actual fact, the Puritans had long maintained a more

conservative outlook on economics. Richard Sibbes, for example, i n

The S p i r i t u a l l Man's Aime (1637), sets up what amounts to an opposition

between r e l i g i o n and trade:

Now being such a s k i l l i t must direct everything so
farre as i t helps or hinders that...so a l l trades wee
must t e l l them of t h e i r f a u l t s , as they are blemishes
to Religion, for wee must not bee so i n this or
that trade, as that we forget we are Christians, and
therefore we must heare meekly the word of God, when
i t meets our p a r t i c u l a r c a l l i n g s . . . . 31
 55

However, as William Haller r i g h t l y remarks, the Puritan "had no reason

to fear the world or run away from i t . Rather he must go forth and
32

do the w i l l of God there." And the w i l l of God was for man to

labor and be f r u i t f u l . Sibbes, though, i s s t i l l assuming the

correct Puritan p o s i t i o n i n that the i n d i v i d u a l must accept his

c a l l i n g i n meekness and humility. Also, of course, connected to

t h i s humble acceptance of the w i l l of God i s the b e l i e f that material

well-being did not necessarily mean that God sanctioned that wealthy

individual's p a r t i c u l a r c a l l i n g , or that that person was blessed by

God. "A r i c h man may be a good man, and a poore man may be wicked,"

states Thomas Adams (in 1629). "But Christ s a n c t i f i e d Riches as

33

w e l l as Povertie...." One must remember that poverty i s a t r a d i t i o n a l

Christian v i r t u e , and that the poor man has as much a chance of

being numbered among the elect (to some Puritan ministers, even more

of a chance) as a r i c h man.

However, i n the interim between these early Puritan writings

and Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, a marked change had taken place i n the

structure of English society, followed by a subsequent change i n

Puritan "economic doctrine." Not only did the persecution of the

Puritans push them more and more into the world of merchants and

trade, but that business world i t s e l f was evolving out of the more

t r a d i t i o n a l guild and mercantilist s o c i a l structures into an open

and competitive market society. As H.M. Robertson points out, i n

his Aspects of the Rise of Economic Individualism, the Puritans, faced

with this new type of society, had to assimilate i t s ultimately

i n d i v i d u a l i s t ideology into t h e i r own, and the Puritan churches had

to f i n d a place for this new, important class of hard-headed

 56

businessmen i n the e c c l e s i a s t i c a l scheme of things. These churches

(including, according to Robertson, the Anglican and Catholic churches),

i n accepting this new class, had " i n some way to sanctify and find

an otherworldly s i g n i f i c a n c e in t h e i r [the business class] s o l i d i t y ,

diligence and honest r e s p e c t a b i l i t y — c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s which were

r e a l l y virtues despite t h e i r worldly origin-r-and to j u s t i f y the aims

34

and methods of their trade." Thus, a Puritan minister l i k e Richard

Baxter, writing i n 1678, makes what was to become a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c

statement on the new Puritan economic outlook:

Q_. It i s a duty to desire and endeavour to get, and
prosper, and grow r i c h by our labours; when Solomon
s a i t h , Labour not to be rich? Prov. x x i i i , 4 .
Answ. It i s a s i n to desire Riches as worldlings and
sensualists do, for the provision and maintenance
of f l e s h l y l u s t s , and pride: But i t i s no s i n , but
a duty, to labour not only for labour sake, formally
resting i n the act done, but for that honest increase
and provision, which i s the end of our labour; and
therefore to choose a gainful c a l l i n g rather than
another, that we may be able to do good and relieve
the poor.35

A Puritan can now choose "a gainful c a l l i n g " and proceed to increase

his possessions honestly. Also, altruism s t i l l makes up a part of

this doctrine, but " r e l i e v i n g the poor" seems to take second place to

an "honest increase and p r o v i s i o n . " And, l a t e r on in the seventeenth

century, as Novak points out, "Among religious thinkers the i d e a l of

charity began to fade.... The poverty that had once been regarded as

a sign of salvation now developed into an almost certain i n d i c a t i o n of

36

damnation." Puritans, i n fact, could now assume that worldly

success was a mark of divine favor. Even Robinson Crusoe hints at

this b e l i e f at the end of the f i r s t volume of his adventures, when he

refers to the " l a t t e r end of Job" being "better than the beginning" (I, 318).
 57

Job's prosperity i s a direct g i f t from God, a reward f o r not succumbing

to temptation.

By the beginning of the eighteenth century, then, a new

economic c l a s s — a new kind of merchant with a new outlook—had

emerged, and the Puritans had become very much a part of this group.

Of course Watt i s right to an extent: this new middle class did

lean toward a concept of "economic individualism:"

Capitalism brought a great increase of economic

s p e c i a l i z a t i o n ; and t h i s , combined with a less r i g i d
and homogeneous s o c i a l structure, and less absolutist
and more democratic p o l i t i c a l system, enormously
increased the i n d i v i d u a l ' s freedom of choice. For
those f u l l y exposed to the new economic order, the
e f f e c t i v e entity on which s o c i a l arrangements were
now based was no longer the family, nor the church, nor
the g u i l d , nor the township, nor any other c o l l e c t i v e
unit, but the i n d i v i d u a l : he alone was primarily
responsible for determining his own economic, s o c i a l ,
p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s roles."37

Watt's description of the new c a p i t a l i s t ethic should be somewhat

tempered, however, when discussing the economic outlook of the

Puritans, even after they had successfully assimilated.themselves

into the r i s i n g economic society. It i s true that the long-standing

democratic t r a d i t i o n of i n d i v i d u a l i s m — s e t out o r i g i n a l l y i n the

"Liberty Tracts" composed during the Puritan Revolution and carried

on i n subsequent Leveller pamphlets—in Puritan ideology would make

the t r a n s i t i o n into a secular individualism f a i r l y easy, and that

the concept of the c a l l i n g could be e a s i l y modified to assimilate

new p o l i t i c a l and economic doctrines. However, Watt s t i l l exaggerates

the whole-hearted acceptance, by Puritans, of the basic concerns of

c a p i t a l i s m — i . e . , to be eternally transforming the status quo. The

Puritan " c a p i t a l i s t " i s s t i l l concerned with the maintenance of a s o c i a l

 58

order. Or, perhaps i t would be more accurate to say that l a t e r Puritan

writers, those of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries,

tend to assume a more reasoned, middle-of-the-road position—not

necessarily conservative, but opposed to any r a d i c a l changes i n the

fundamental, unifying concepts of the status quo. It would be of

importance to note here that Defoe himself i s cited by H.M. Robertson

as an example of the conservative Puritan outlook, and that both

Maximillian Novak and William Payne, the former arguing primarily

from pamphlet evidence and the l a t t e r from Defoe's Review, come to the

conclusion that Defoe was a m e r c a n t i l i s t — a conservative, i n other words,

for the most part opposed to the l a i s s e z - f a i r e school of economic

38
individualism. Payne does see elements of a l a i s s e z - f a i r e attitude
in Defoe, but concludes by l a b e l l i n g him a m e r c a n t i l i s t :

In h i s preoccupation with credit as a substitute for

a b u l l i o n economy, his arguments for high wages, his
disapproval of workhouses," h i s ' b e l i e f i n competition,
expansion of trade, and the free movement of labor
he foKshadowed the coming l a i s s e z f a i r e philosophy.
On the other hand, i n h i s eagerness for a favorable
balance of trade, his emphasis on the value of b u l l i o n
and coin, his approval of chartered c o l o n i a l companies,
his insistence on the importance of c o l o n i a l trade, and
the need of fostering i t ; i n his emphasis on a large
population kept busily employed, i n his contempt, even
hatred, f o r speculation, he placed himself d i r e c t l y
in the stream of mercantilist philosophy, and might
well be c a l l e d a "thorough-going mercantilist."39

Besides the evidence Novak and Payne c i t e i n their arguments,

one of Defoe's own f i r s t publications tends to support the conservative

view of economics. In h i s Essay Upon Projects, written about twenty-two

years before Robinson Crusoe, he condemns economic foolishness and the

errors of "projecting" while he:praises p r a c t i c a l i t y , level-headedness,

and reason:•
 59

Man i s the worst of a l l God's Creatures to s h i f t f o r

himself; no other Animal i s ever starv'd to death; Nature
without, has provided them both Food and Cloaths; and
Nature within has plac'd an Instinct that never f a i l s to
direct them to proper means for a supply; but Man must
either Work or Starve, Slave or Dye; he has indeed Reason
given him to direct them, and few who follow the Dictates
of the Reason come to such unhappy Exigencies; but when by
the Errors of Man's Youth he has.reduc'd himself to such
a degree of Distress, as to be absolutely without Three
things, Money, Friends, and Health, he Dies i n a Ditch,
or i n some worse place, an Hospital.40

The "Errors .of Man's Youth" are, of course, i l l u s t r a t e d i n Robinson

Crusoe. On the other hand, what the reasonable man should assume i s

that only through slow, progressive labor, diligence, and application,

and through well-reasoned decision, w i l l one r i s e i n the world to a place

b e n e f i c i a l both to oneself and to society at large. This, i n f a c t ,

i s one of the most prevalent and long-lasting themes i n a l l of Defoe's

writings, for i n one of his l a s t works, The Complete English Tradesman,

he returns to this same basic idea: "A Man that w i l l fee s t i l l , should

never hope to r i s e ; he that w i l l l i e i n a Ditch and pray, may depend

41

upon i t he s h a l l He i n the Ditch and die."

To Defoe, then, application and diligence did not mean ruthless

competition i n the chaotic world of stock-jobbing, speculating and "open-

market" trading. Rather, the tradesman i s a sort of s p i r i t u a l father

to both his peers and the lower classes. Again i n The Complete English

Tradesman, Defoe sings praises to the merchant:

He i s , i n the f i r s t place, a kind of natural magistrate
in the town where he l i v e s ; and a l l the l i t t l e causes, which
in matters of trade are innumerable, and which often, f o r
want of such a judge, go on to suits at law, and so ruin
the people concerned i n them by the expense, the delay, the
wounds i n substance, and the wounds i n reputation, which
they often bring with them: I say a l l these causes are
brought before him; and he not only hears and determines
them, but i n many of them his determination s h a l l be as e f f e c t u a l
 60

among the contending tradesmen, and h i s vote as

decisive, as that of any lord chancellor whatever.
He i s the general peacemaker of the country, the
common a r b i t r a t o r of a l l trading differences, family
breaches, and private i n j u r i e s ; and, i n general, he i s
the domestic judge, i n trade e s p e c i a l l y ; and by this he
gains a general respect, an universal kind .of reverence,
i n a l l the families about him, and he has the blessings
and prayers of poor and r i c h .
Again; he i s the trade-counsellor of the country where
he l i v e s . It must be confessed, i n matters of commerce,
lawyers make but very poor work, when they come to be
consulted about the l i t t l e disputes which continually
happen among tradesmen; and are so far from setting
things to r i g h t s , that they generally, by t h e i r ignorance
in the usage and customs of trade, make breaches wider
rather than close them, and leave things worse than they
find them.

Thus he i s , i n a word, a kind of common peacemaker,

and i s the father of the trading world i n the orb or
c i r c l e wherein he moves; h i s presence has a kind of
peacemaking aspect i n i t and he i s more necessary than
a magistrate, whether he i s in o f f i c e or not.^2

This panegyric describes not a r e a l tradesman, but an i d e a l o n e — a

model which every merchant should emulate. The model tradesman i s a

force for order i n his society: he does not seek to destroy any

competitor's business, rather he f a i r l y arbitrates disputes and i s

looked upon as an i d e a l s o c i a l being. He has, i n other words, quietly

and contentedly assumed his s o c i a l position and maintains that position

for the good not only of himself, but for everyone else around him.

He i s not eternally transforming the status quo.

The young Crusoe i s i n complete contrast to this figure of ease,

s t a b i l i t y , and reason. If a d i l i g e n t application of oneself to one's

c a l l i n g should result i n a steady r i s e i n one's fortune coupled with

one's acceptance of a s p e c i f i c s o c i a l position, then the young Crusoe,

in l e t t i n g h i s rash desire to r i s e quickly control his actions, embarks

on a series of f o o l i s h ventures which the Protestant moral cosmos must

 61

naturally punish. Thus, Crusoe's s i n i s both r e l i g i o u s and social:

he disobeys his f i g u r a t i v e s p i r i t u a l father and becomes a prodigal,

and he disobeys his l i t e r a l father and becomes a f o o l i s h projector of

get-rich-quick schemes. Instead of r i s i n g slowly to his own economic

and s o c i a l p o s i t i o n , he decides to r i s e quickly on h i s own, paying no

heed to his father, to the ship's captain, or to h i s own r e l i g i o u s

background:

But my i l l fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy

that nothing could r e s i s t ; and though I had several
times loud c a l l s from my reason and my more composed judg-
ment to go home, yet I had no power to do i t . I know
not what to c a l l t h i s , nor w i l l I urge that i t i s a
secret overruling decree that hurries us on to be the
rash instruments of our own destruction, even though i t
be before us, and that we rush upon i t with our eyes
open. (I, 15)

And, a b i t further, Crusoe c a l l s his " i l l f a t e " "That e v i l influence

which carried me f i r s t away from my father's house, that hurried me

into the wild and indigested notion of r a i s i n g my fortune, and that

impressed those conceits so f o r c i b l y upon me as to make me deaf to

a l l good advice and to the entreaties and even command of my father...."

(I, 17-18).

By thus moralizing on an economic basis, Crusoe i s pointing to

a s i g n i f i c a n t connection between morals and trade. In the fictional

world of this novel, the prodigal son must learn to be a rational

economic creature just as he must gain that important commitment to a

religious belief. Thus, the idea of the Bildungsroman underpins and

connects both themes—economic and r e l i g i o u s : Crusoe must learn proper

respect for society and for his position i n society just as he must

learn proper respect for God. To see this connection c l e a r l y , l e t us

 62

go again to the early sections of Robinson Crusoe.

As I have already indicated, the didactic purpose of the first

pages of Robinson Crusoe i s to show that youthful sins result i n

t e r r i b l e punishments. But, Crusoe i s successful at least twice

before he i s shipwrecked on the island. His successes at this early

stage, however, are q u a l i f i e d , and both cases serve to support the

moral v i s i o n of the narrator. On h i s t h i r d voyage, Crusoe makes

£ 300 through trading, a p r o f i t of something over 500% on his o r i g i n a l

investment of t, 40. However, this one successful venture, states

Crusoe, " f i l l e d me with those aspiring thoughts which have since so

completed my r u i n . " He sets himself up as "a Guinea trader" and on h i s

next voyage i s captured by Moorish p i r a t e s , becomes a slave i n their

c i t y , Salee. And, as George Starr has pointed out, captivity i n Salee,

or i n other of the Moorish pirate towns, had become emblematic i n

seventeenth-century t r a v e l l i t e r a t u r e , of a sojourn i n H e l l and

43

consequently as a punishment for a s i n f u l l i f e . Thus, as i n Colonel

Jack, Roxana, and Moll Flanders, Crusoe's overreaching results i n disaster.

He does eventually escape, and a f t e r d r i f t i n g down the coast of A f r i c a ,

he i s picked up by an honest Portuguese captain who generously helps him

become a plantation owner i n B r a z i l . The plantation prospers, and

Crusoe i r o n i c a l l y discovers that he i s fast approaching that "very

middle station, or upper degree of low l i f e " which his father had

praised as h i s proper c a l l i n g : "...and I used often to say to myself,

I could ha' done this as w e l l i n England among my friends as ha' gone

5,000 miles o f f to do i t among strangers and savages i n a wilderness...."

CI, 39). But this state i s not destined to l a s t , for Crusoe longs for
 63

more wealth and adventure: "And now increasing i n business and

wealth, my head began to be f u l l of projects and undertakings beyond

my reach; such as are indeed often the ruin of the best heads i n

business" ( I , 41). His next project i s a slaving expedition which

ends with the shipwreck, the death of a l l the crew save Crusoe, and

his subsequent i s o l a t i o n on the island.

Again, the reader i s not surprised at the shipwreck, for Crusoe

has c a r e f u l l y prefigured the incident. In fact, while he i s s t i l l dis-

cussing his B r a z i l i a n plantation l i f e , he gives the reason for this

further punishment, and again, punishment results from a transgression

of socio-economic boundaries:

....I l i v e d just l i k e a man cast away upon some

desolate island that had nobody there but himself. But
how just has i t been, and how should a l l men r e f l e c t ,
that when they compare their present conditions with
others that are worse, Heaven may oblige them to make
the exchange and be convinced of their former f e l i c i t y
by t h e i r experience; I say, how just has i t been, that
the t r u l y s o l i t a r y l i f e I reflected on i n an island of
mere desolation should be my l o t , who had so often
unjustly compared i t with the l i f e which I then l e d ,
in which had I continued, I had i n a l l probability
been exceeding prosperous and r i c h . (I, 39)

Here the " f e l i c i t o u s state" i s equated with simply staying put and

r i s i n g slowly and reasonably. But Crusoe must be o f f to sea again

on another f o o l i s h project. Thus, he i s , i n the "pre-island" part of

his Adventures, an "economic i n d i v i d u a l i s t " — a c a p i t a l i s t — o u t f o r

personal gain. However, within.the moral framework of the novel the

reader c l e a r l y perceives that each time Crusoe t r i e s to overextend

himself he i s destined to f a l l . Providence w i l l not allow Crusoe to

be guilty again of r e l i g i o u s or_ economic hybris. The point of this novel

 64

i s , then, that the good man (or "Puritan") must do his best to

assimilate himself into the existing s o c i a l and moral order, because

in so doing, he i s obeying God's w i l l . When, conversely, he attempts

to overextend h i m s e l f — t o become a c a p i t a l i s t transforming the

status quo—he i s disobeying God's w i l l and must be punished. Of

course when Crusoe i s i s o l a t e d on the island he i s certainly s t i l l an

economic i n d i v i d u a l i s t : he i s l i t e r a l l y isolated from the society of

men and concerned ("economically" speaking) with h i s own survival.

It i s exactly because of this i s o l a t i o n that c r i t i c s interpret Defoe's

thematic purpose as the recreation of an ideal economic Utopia modeled

on the existing s o c i a l and economic s i t u a t i o n i n England at that

time. At least, both Watt and Novak argue for this interpretation.

But Novak, at l e a s t , goes on to indicate a further moral i n t e r p r e t a t i o n :

while on his i s l a n d , Crusoe learns humility, and consequently carves

out a place for himself i n the natural order, becomes a projector

but at this time, as Novak seems to indicate, with p r a c t i c a l i t y and

diligence as goals, not s e l f i s h economic gain. On the i s l a n d , then,

Crusoe's projecting goes hand i n hand with his moral development, and

again, the repentance scene i s central to this interpretation of^the

book.

We have already seen that before Crusoe actually repents of

his sings and begins h i s introspective, r e l i g i o u s soul-searching, he

keeps to h i s own immediate part of the island. Likewise, h i s economic

projects tend to be short-term and based more on immediate needs. His

f i r s t major project, for example, i s an attempt to salvage material from

the ship: h i s "extremity" (he spent the night i n a tree) arouses h i s

"application," and he constructs a r a f t to carry back to the island a l l

 65

that he can reclaim. In f a c t , Crusoe i s methodical—more than previously,

at any r a t e — i n what he does save, showing a p r a c t i c a l turn of mind.

He f i r s t removes provisions, including some corn, clothes and tools,

then ammunition and arms. He even methodically l i s t s the "three

encouragements" to h i s project: "1. A smooth, calm sea. 2. The

tide r i s i n g and s e t t i n g i n to the shore. 3. What l i t t l e wind there

was blew me towards the land...." ( I , 56). Such careful considerations

speak highly of Crusoe's p r a c t i c a l i t y and diligence, and when he

returns to h i s island i n his Farther Adventures, i t i s just this

attitude that the Spanish s e t t l e r s praise the most. They t e l l Crusoe

that they could do nothing but despair when shipwrecked, and they

r e a l i z e that this was d e f i n i t e l y the wrong attitude. An o l d Spaniard

remarks to Crusoe:

...that i t was not the Part of wise Men to give up them-

selves to t h e i r Misery, but always to take Hold of the
Helps which Reason offer'd, as w e l l for present Support,
as f o r future Deliverance. He t o l d me that Grief was the
most senseless i n s i g n i f i c a n t Passion i n the World; f o r
that i t regarded only Things past, which were generally
impossible to be r e c a l l ' d , or to be remedy'd, but had
no View to Things to come, and had no Share i n any
Thitfi'g that looked l i k e Deliverance, but rather added
to the A f f l i c t i o n , than propos'd a Remedy.... He ran
on then i n Remarks upon a l l the l i t t l e Improvements I had
made i n my Solitude; my unweary'd Application, as he
call'd i t ( I I , 108)

Crusoe's actions i n the few months following the shipwreck

indicate that he has taken the f i r s t step to becoming a balanced,

integrated human being. From being a person of pure passion, a projector

of f o o l i s h schemes, Crusoe has graduated to being a man of Reason:

he has, i n the language of Renaissance, moved up from the vegetative

soul (Caliban, the natural man) to the r a t i o n a l soul. And this move up

can, i n f a c t , be taken as the f i r s t step i n Crusoe's development

 66

to a s p i r i t u a l rebirth., a step which i s indicated primarily through an

"economic" aspect of the novel. Before, Crusoe acted upon impulse, but

in the extremity of h i s i s o l a t i o n he must use reason. . Impulse, i n

fact, has no further control over Crusoe's actions, for i t i s now only

through reason that he can possibly accept his s i t u a t i o n and do the

best he can i n order to survive.

Thus, Crusoe daily improves h i s f o r t i f i c a t i o n s and explores

the immediate part of h i s island. He discovers goats on the island,

and through close study of goat behavior and theorizing on goat optics,

he finds he i s able to k i l l them for food. He begins building a table

and chair but finds he i s a sorry workman, being merely a "natural

mechanic." What i s important i s that Crusoe gradually begins, through

reason, to order his projects, his routine, and f i n a l l y , his environment:

"So I went to work; and here I must needs observe, that as reason i s the

substance and o r i g i n a l of the mathematics, so by stating and squaring

everything by reason and by making the most r a t i o n a l judgment of

things, every man may be i n time master of every mechanic a r t " (I, 77).

And, a b i t l a t e r , when he begins h i s Journal, he notes i n an entry

for November 4, "This morning I began to order my times of work, of

going out with my gun, time of sleep, and time of diversion" ( I , 79).

He then l i s t s his daily a c t i v i t i e s and the times he has a l l o t e d for

each. The Journal i t s e l f i s important since i t indicates Crusoe's

desire for an orderly, daily record of what he has done, besides, the

fact that i t allows him, f o r a while at any rate, to keep track of the

date. F i n a l l y , as he sets his provisions i n order, he takes "great

pleasure...to see a l l my goods i n such order and especially my stock of

a l l necessaries so great" ( I , 76).

 67

Almost as soon as Crusoe lands on h i s island, he exhibits a

"rage f o r order." After a b r i e f period of despair and despondency, h i s

p r a c t i c a l nature gains control, so that by the time h i s repentance

takes place, he has already secured himself f a i r l y well from danger and

has exhibited a d i l i g e n t application that w i l l allow him to survive f o r

twenty-eight years on a desert island. Reason, then, has reduced

the environment, f o r the most part, to an order that s u i t s Crusoe's

convenience; Crusoe i s able to give shape and purpose to nature and has

thus moved up from the passionate, almost brutish behavior (in a moral

and r e l i g i o u s sense) he displayed throughout h i s early adventures.

But, f a i t h i s s t i l l needed before the earth w i l l y i e l d to Crusoe the

harvest that w i l l truly sustain him; i . e . , f a i t h w i l l give him that

v i s i o n of Providence actively p a r t i c i p a t i n g i n his l i f e which w i l l

quash h i s fears (those that Reason w i l l not eradicate) and w i l l result

in Crusoe's s p i r i t u a l conquest of h i m s e l f — a victory which p a r a l l e l s

his conquest of the natural environment. Actually, the shipwreck i t s e l f

i s a kind of minor fulcrum i n Crusoe's moral growth: impulse drops

away as reason takes over. But the repentance scene i s the major fulcrum

of the n o v e l — t h e p i v o t a l point in Crusoe's moral and i n t e l l e c t u a l

growth—for he finds the f a i t h that w i l l bolster h i s reason and which

w i l l result i n a change i n h i s pattern of behavior and a change i n

his outlook towards h i s island environment.

F i r s t , since the acquisition of f a i t h means, to the Protestant,

an acknowledgement of the existence of God and a r e a l i z a t i o n that God

cares f o r the p a r t i c u l a r , i n d i v i d u a l soul, then Crusoe knows that

Providence has taken a s p e c i a l interest i n him and i s influencing the

 68

events i n h i s l i f e . In psychological terms, this new knowledge of

Providence, coupled with a s p i r i t u a l r e b i r t h , allows Crusoe to

overcome his fear of nature and consequently to expand both his

discoveries and his projects. George Starr, i n his discussion of

Robinson Crusoe and i t s r e l a t i o n to s p i r i t u a l autobiography,

comments on just this aspect of Crusoe's behavior.

At various points [after his repentance] he experiences

' f r i g h t s ' and 'consternations'; some of them are f u l l y
as harrowing as the 'strange surprizing adventures' that
preceded his conversion and perhaps more so, since he
had then been callous towards dangers and deliverances
a l i k e . Now, however, he becomes better able to confront
new hazards, and to dispel t h e i r terrors, f o r he gains
security from the conviction that he i s an object of
Providential care. In other words, i t i s not that his
b e l i e f shields him from further v i c i s s i t u d e s , but that
such v i c i s s i t u d e s either f a i l to discompose him or
else agitate him only when he forgets he i s under divine
protection.44

We have already seen that Crusoe begins to explore h i s entire

i s l a n d , but 'he now also considers himself as "lord and king" of his

domain (I, 111). He builds a bower near the middle of the i s l a n d ,

begins seriously keeping the Sabbath, and starts his large projects

for mastering and taming the environment. He learns the seasons;

plants barley; manufactures tables, chairs, baskets, and pots; discovers

t u r t l e s ; tames a goat. One could, of course, argue that given the

amount of time Crusoe spends on his i s l a n d , he would naturally evolve

to this l e v e l of conquest and exploitation. However, Crusoe himself

i s careful to point out that his awareness of a beneficent Providence

has calmed h i s fears: "...therefore I acquiesced i n the dispositions

of Providence, which I began now to own and to believe, ordered

everything f o r the best; I say, I quieted my mind with t h i s , and l e f t

a f f l i c t i n g myself with f r u i t l e s s wishes...." (I, 120). And, J. Paul

 69

Hunter points d i r e c t l y to the o v e r a l l significance of Crusoe's

conversion when he remarks, "Emblematically, Crusoe has beaten the

45

sword of his v i s i o n into the ploughshare of his experience."

However, these statements should be q u a l i f i e d . Upon repenting,

Crusoe i s not immediately transformed into a paragon of "economic"

brilliance: he i s not, i n other words, an a l l e g o r i c a l s t i c k figure

either i n an economic or a r e l i g i o u s sgfi-se, but defines himself as

much through his mistakes as through h i s successes. Crusoe learns

slowly and p a i n f u l l y through experience, from his account of the number

of clay pots he attempts before he produces one he can c a l l a functional

success, to probably his best-known mistake, the manufacture of a

periagua, which i s a direct result of his newly acquired exploratory zeal.

H i t t i n g upon the idea of a canoe pleases Crusoe no end, and he immediately

chooses a "vast tree" which he must hollow out. He spends t h i r t y - f o u r

days cutting the tree down and hacking away i t s branches. It takes

another month to hollow, shape and dub i t , and then--and only then—does

he r e a l i z e that he can never get i t to the water: "But a l l my devices

to get i t into the water f a i l e d me; though they cost me infinite

labor, too. It lay about one hundred-yards from the water, and not more.

But the f i r s t inconvenience was, i t was u p h i l l towards the creek; w e l l ,

to take away this discouragement, I resolved to dig into the surface of

the earth, and so make a d e c l i v i t y . . . . " (I, 141). However, he realizes

that he cannot even move the heavy boat. He decides to b u i l d a canal

but then r e a l i z e s that that project would cost him ten to twelve years

labor. At the dismal end of this venture Crusoe realizes he has allowed

eagerness and "fancy" to p r e v a i l , and he sees "the f o l l y of beginning

a work before we count the cost and before we judge r i g h t l y of our own
 70

strength to go through with i t " (I, 141-142). But, i n the f i n a l

analysis, perhaps i t i s Providence that watched over this project and

saved Crusoe from committing a greater f o l l y , for a f t e r he reasons

awhile on this latest project, he concludes that had he finished the

canoe he would have embarked on "the maddest voyage and the most

unlikely to be performed that ever was undertaken" (I, 141). The

important point i s that Providence helps Crusoe to help himself. In

spite of his seeming s t u p i d i t y , he learns from his mistakes, and necessity

and a new-found s p i r i t of adventure (this time within the dictates

of common sense and Christian faith) compel him on to new projects and

new mistakes.

I f , on the other hand, we follow Novak's more secular approach

to this novel, necessity alone gives b i r t h to society by destroying sloth.

And Novak points out that Crusoe's primary aim i s to "recreate upon the

microcosm of h i s island the standard of existence of Western c i v i l i z a t i o n

in his d a y — t o duplicate i n the existence of one man a l l the useful

products required by the human race for comfort and convenience."

Therefore, the more properly economic themes of Robinson Crusoe are

"That labor and invention create things of use and that the value of
46

things depends on their u t i l i t y . . . . " Defoe, Novak suggests, i s t e l l i n g

his readers that t h e i r concept of society i s in fact based upon t h e i r

society's theories of value and u t i l i t y : a given society tends to

value things for t h e i r usefulness, and their value varies according to

their u t i l i t y . This holds true for Western European c i v i l i z a t i o n just

as i t holds true for the one-man society that Crusoe creates on his

island. This idea, then, i s the economic theme of the book. However,

a careful reading of Defoe's novel w i l l show, as we indicated above,

 71

that the r e l i g i o u s theme functions just as much i n the economic sphere

of the book as i t does i n the adventure sphere. If necessity compels

Crusoe to take up his various projects, then Providence certainly

gives him an added impetus. Thus i t i s that the repentance scene i s

c r u c i a l to both the r e l i g i o u s and the economic themes. But the economic

theme also develops a pattern of i t s own, and this i s one reason we

cannot read Crusoe's account as a s t r i c t r e l i g i o u s allegory. The

economic pattern detaches i t s e l f from time to time from the religious

theme to create i t s own narrative rhythm. The reader becomes aware of

a kind of "rhythm of project" which i s counterpointed to the more

general s p i r i t u a l and moral pattern.

In general terms, this economic pattern evolves logically

through (1) the r e a l i z a t i o n of a problem, (2) projected solutions and

a decision on a single course of action, (3) the solution of the

problem which may, i n turn, breed (4) new problems. For example,

after Crusoe has constructed his shelter, he faces a general problem:

since he cannot l i v e forever on the ship's stores, how can he obtain

food? This basic problem breeds several solutions: raise barley,

harvest grapes, k i l l goats, and so on. However, the barley must be

planted at a certain time, otherwise the crop w i l l f a i l (as i t does

once). The project then involves a study of the climate and the

seasons, so the barley can be planted accordingly. Then, of course, one

must reap, thresh, grind, and store the grain. Each phase requires

new projects, creating, i n e f f e c t , a web of economic schemes. The

same pattern develops with the grapes and the goats. Proceeding through

reason from phase to phase of his projects, creating new projects along
 72

the way, and eventually achieving an ordered and patterned l i f e on the

i s l a n d — a l l of these create that sense of excitement i n the reader.

And f i n a l l y , Crusoe manages to create that status quo-—an economic

s t a b i l i t y — w h i c h allows him ample security and gives him that sense

of true accomplishment i n which the reader shares. By the time

Crusoe discovers the print of a man's foot on the beach (which throws

him into great consternation by reviving h i s fears of cannibals), he has

a large and prospering goat herd, f i e l d s of planted grain, considerable

grape harvests, and two "plantations," as he c a l l s them. He i s a

competent carpenter, farmer, baker, potter and j a c k - o f - a l l trades, and

he i s continually employed i n just keeping his projects going.

At about the same time that'Crusoe finishes developing his

pattern of existence on h i s i s l a n d , he discovers traces of the

cannibal feasts on the side of the islandUqpposite to where he had

o r i g i n a l l y washed ashore. If he had made this discovery before the

time of h i s repentance, he undoubtedly would have been "taken quite

a f f r i g h t , " perhaps running to his " f o r t r e s s " and cowering there for

several days. However, at the same time that his routine becomes

organized and he tames the natural environment, h i s moral character

has developed and deepened. And just as his r e l i g i o u s r e f l e c t i o n s

have given h i s economic a c t i v i t y a new meaning, granting to h i s tasks

and h i s products what amounts to a glow of s p i r i t u a l significance,

so has his fear of the natural environment and a l l i t contains diminished

considerably. Thus, when he discovers traces of the cannibals on this

far side of the i s l a n d , he shows absolutely no fear at a l l . Rather, a l l

his "apprehensions were buried i n the thought of such a p i t c h of

inhuman, h e l l i s h b r u t a l i t y , and the horror of the degeneracy of human

 73

nature" ( I , 182). He vomits, but more from disgust than from .fear,

and then he gives thanks to God that he "was distinguished from such

dreadful creatures" ( I , 183). Crusoe does, on the other hand, exhibit

a great amount of fear when he discovers more recent evidence of

cannibals v i s i t i n g the i s l a n d — i . e . , the discovery of the footprint

on the beach—but by that time, the reader i s so aware of Crusoe's

own r e l i g i o u s nature that t h i s reaction seems nothing more than a s l i g h t

relapse. Indeed, Crusoe's immediate impulse i s to destroy the order

he has so c a r e f u l l y constructed. But again, i t i s h i s r e l i g i o n

that saves the economic basis of h i s existence.

After r e f l e c t i n g once again on Providence, Crusoe i s inspired

to make certain small changes i n his l i f e s t y l e . He takes " a l l the

measures human prudence could suggest," and plans for new fortifications,

devises a hidden pasture for his goats, and uses charcoal for h i s cooking

f i r e s so no flame w i l l be seen. While rearranging his environment he

continually turns to his Bible for i n s p i r a t i o n , meditates on Providence,

and, i n this manner, he p r e s e n t s — i n the midst of his considerations on

p r o j e c t s — h i s strongest statements on Providence and i t s actions i n

his life:

I then reflected that God, who was not only righteous

but omnipotent, as He had thought f i t thus to punish and
a f f l i c t me, so He was able to deliver me; that i f He
did not think to do i t , 'twas my unquestioned duty to
resign myself absolutely and e n t i r e l y to His w i l l ; and
on the other hand, i t was my duty also to ;hope i n Him,
pray to Him, and quietly to attend the dictates and
directions of His daily providence. ( I , }:74)

Because of these r e f l e c t i o n s , Crusoe i s able to " r i s e cheerfully" and

go about turning his new schemes into r e a l i t i e s . Religion masters fear,

reasons overcomes impulse, and economic optimism triumphs. The moral,

 74

according to Crusoe, i s :

. . . ' t i s never too late to be wise; and I cannot but

advise a l l considering men, whose l i v e s are attended with
such extraordinary incidents as mine, or even though not
so extraordinary, not to s l i g h t such secret intimations
of Providence, l e t them come from what i n v i s i b l e
i n t e l l i g e n c e they w i l l , that I s h a l l not discuss and
perhaps not account f o r ; but certainly they are a
proof of the converse of s p i r i t s and the secret communi-
cation between those embodied and those unembodied; and
such a proof as can never be withstood. (I, 194)

Thus r e l i g i o n comes to Crusoe's aid, allowing him the presence

of mind—the wisdom—needed to e f f e c t h i s more purely economic projects.

Though Crusoe begins i n s i n , he "grows up" on h i s i s l a n d , and the

Puritan ideology which he i n t e r n a l i z e s — w h i c h gives him this f a i t h and

wisdom—sanctions h i s projects. Even though the economic pattern at

timer achieves a kind of independence from the r e l i g i o u s theme, Crusoe

i s always anxious to point the reader back to a moral and r e l i g i o u s

perspective. Thus, Crusoe's endeavors have meaning not only on a mundane

l e v e l , but on a s p i r i t u a l l e v e l as w e l l . For as Martin Greif remarks,

Defoe's hero " i s enabled through the g i f t of divine grace to contribute

47

to h i s own physical s u r v i v a l on the i s l a n d . " So, even i f Ian

Watt, i n proving his economic interpretation of Robinson Crusoe, points

out that Friday i s the "advent of new manpower," and that relations

between Friday and Crusoe are completely " u t i l i t a r i a n , " the reader i s

s t i l l aware of the importance of a Christian ideology throughout this

48

section of the book. . Crusoe's rescue of Friday i s foretold i n a

dream—a "secret intimation" of Providence. In f a c t , after this

dream, Crusoe decides h i s next project w i l l be to obtain a servant, but

when he actually makes the rescue he i s " c a l l e d p l a i n l y by Providence

to save this poor Creature's l i f e " (I, 224). Certainly the advent of
 75

Friday on the island i s of great u t i l i t a r i a n value to Crusoe, but i t

also allows him to practice h i s C h r i s t i a n i t y : he converts Friday

and i n so doing strengthens the impact of h i s own conversion. Crusoe

i s able to extend h i s own e t h i c a l being and thus give the l i e to a

solely economic i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the book by proving that h i s own

s p i r i t u a l i t y i s not merely "mechanical," or the author's afterthought

to improve the novel's sales among the moral element of the English

population. This religious theme i s an i n t r i n s i c part of the

narrative structure and thematic patterning of the book i t s e l f , and

an important part of Defoe's o r i g i n a l moral intention i n writing

Robinson Crusoe.

i&v. Structure

It i s possible to discuss the structure of Robinson Crusoe on

three l e v e l s : the l e v e l of paratactic structure which i s analogous

to the pattern of the picaresque and adventure s t o r i e s ; the f o r m a l i s t i c

pattern of two i n t e r a c t i n g themes; and a structure somewhat analogous

to that of the Bildungsroman wherein the reader sees the education and

growth of the main character's mind. To be sure, these s t r u c t u r a l

levels are not completely isolated from one another. They are connected

f i r s t through the c o n t r o l l i n g consciousness of the narrator, second

through the type of "double v i s i o n " discussed e a r l i e r , and t h i r d through

the main character's s p i r i t u a l growth. It i s because of the l a t t e r that

Crusoe i s able to a r t i c u l a t e the patterns of emblematic reference which

structure the book on the second and t h i r d levels. Thus, these

s t r u c t u r a l patterns are models which w i l l indicate the existence of

 76

a certain l o g i c of construction in Crusoe's story. This present

section w i l l attempt to describe b r i e f l y these l e v e l s , beginning with

the simplest, the paratactic structure. The l a s t l e v e l — t h a t based on

the way Crusoe himself perceives r e a l i t y — i s the most complex since

i t involves both a pattern of ideas and an epistemology which merit

further exploration i n the next chapter. Therefore, this l a s t l e v e l

w i l l be described here simply as a basic s t r u c t u r a l pattern and only

insofar as i t relates to the other patterns i n the book.

A paratactic pattern i s that i n which a given text i s dissolved

into a series of discrete episodes. The narrative, i n f a c t , tends toward

fragmentation rather than integration. Thus, this type of structure i s

basic to adventure and picaresque s t o r i e s wherein the account usually

proceeds scene by scene with l i t t l e or no direct causal relationship

between two successive "scenes" or "adventures." Such a pattern i s

u n i f i e d only through the existence of a main character who "travels"

through these scenes and around whom (though not always) the action

centers. In Robinson Crusoe, the narrative i s thus fragmented on at

least two l e v e l s . F i r s t , the reader follows the hero through scene

a f t e r scene and, indeed, i f he reads Robinson Crusoe as merely an

adventure narrative, he can see l i t t l e causal or thematic connection

between the scenes except that they are narrated sequentially by a

single, central character. Second, the novel breaks up into three

large chunks: Crusoe's series of early adventures, his island

sojourn, and h i s l a t e r travels between the time of h i s deliverance and

his return to England. Again, outside of the fact that these

sequences are narrated by Crusoe, there seems, on this l e v e l of pure

adventure, to be very l i t t l e i n t r i n s i c connection between the sections,

 77

and i f we were reading Robinson Crusoe as a simple adventure story,

then this would be our f i n a l word on structure.

However, i t i s obvious from our discussion of Defoe's novel

thus f a r that Crusoe's adventures .are meant to be read emblematically.

In other words, the adventures are given a significance which transcends

the paratactic l e v e l of structure, so that the form of the book i s ,

in part, this further s i g n i f i c a t i o n of the event, s i t u a t i o n , and even

object, which transcends the mundane pattern of adventure. The fact

that most of the adventures can be described as economic i n one way

or another, and also as s i g n i f i c a n t i n a r e l i g i o u s sense, leads to

the postulate that a truer way of describing the structure of Robinson

Crusoe would be to see these two themes as interacting with one another

through the narrative.

With s p e c i f i c reference to Defoe's novel, l e t us define this

concept of an interaction of themes as two themes running alongside

each other, r e f l e c t i n g upon one another, and crossing at different

points i n the narrative. We have already seen, f o r example, that the

economic and r e l i g i o u s themes are fused together in the opening pages

of the novel: Crusoe's o r i g i n a l s i n and subsequent punishments can be

read on both r e l i g i o u s and socio-economic l e v e l s . These two themes

divide during the island section of the narrative, but i n this case

d i v i s i o n i s not opposition, rather i t i s a counterpointing and r e f l e c t i n g .

The narrative focus s h i f t s from economics to r e l i g i o n and then back

again. This s h i f t i n g r e s u l t s , as we have seen, i n the two themes

i n t e r a c t i n g with one another, thus achieving a pattern of interaction.

Crusoe's economic projects are punctuated by his r e f l e c t i o n s on God's

beneficence, and, i n p a r a l l e l fashion, r e l i g i o n influences economics

 78

just as economics r e f l e c t back on r e l i g i o n . Crusoe feels that he owes

his economic s u c c e s s — h i s progress i n transforming a w i l d and natural

environment to h i s own u s e s — t o that Providence which bolsters h i s f a i t h

and courage and allows him to discover h i s own i n i t i a t i v e . Crusoe

carefully points this out many times i n h i s narrative: "I frequently

sat down to my meat with thankfulness and admired the hand of God's

providence, which had thus spread my table i n the wilderness" (I, 143).

And, "These r e f l e c t i o n s made me very sensible of the goodness of

Providence to me and very thankful for my present condition, with a l l

i t s hardships and misfortunes" ( I , 144). I t i s because of God's

w i l l that Crusoe comes to the i s l a n d , and through God's w i l l he

eventually gains control over h i s s i t u a t i o n , r e a l i z i n g , as A.D.

McKillop puts i t , "within natural l i m i t s and with comparative innocence

49

man's desire f o r domination."

Thus, Crusoe's achievement comes about partly through hisoown

i n i t i a t i v e (although i t s development i s influenced by Providence, i t i s

s t i l l primarily Crusoe's own) and partly through a curious confluence

of events which strongly indicate a Providential hand at work. Through

f a i t h Crusoe gains i n i t i a t i v e , purpose, and s i g n i f i c a n c e , and with the

help of Providence he achieves economic success and eventually

deliverance from his island. Trade and morality, then, are not

necessarily opposed to one another i n Robinson Crusoe. Rather, Crusoe

must learn to control h i s i n c l i n a t i o n s to adventure and trade by

r e a l i z i n g and i n t e r n a l i z i n g an e s s e n t i a l l y Christian morality. This

morality, Defoe implies, w i l l allow Crusoe to l i v e comfortably and at

ease i n the world.

 79

Coming to a r e a l i z a t i o n of Christian morality involves, of

course, a learning process, and t h i s , i n turn, suggests the f i n a l

l e v e l of u n i f i c a t i o n i n structure. Each s t r u c t u r a l l e v e l discussed

so f a r has been inadequate i n one way or another. F i r s t , the

paratactic l e v e l does not take into account the pattern of

emblematic s i g n i f i c a t i o n and the "archetypal" reenactment of the

prodigal son story. The concept of an interaction between two

themes moves us one step closer to this reading of the novel, but

i t does not take f u l l y enough into account the c o n t r o l l i n g and

growing consciousness of Crusoe himself. S t i l l , this pattern of

i n t e r a c t i o n does suggest this growth, for as Martin Price asserts:

Defoe achieves the most fundamental dramatization

of his industry. The forming of the pot has been
likened to the forming of a soul, and the analogy can
be accepted without overemphasis. The book relates
Crusoe's mastery of nature to h i s mastery of s e l f ;
the outward i s l a n d and the inward jungle are, to some
extent, counterparts, yet at a l e v e l of symbolism that
needs no insistence and i s more readily sensed than
identified.50

The ordering of Crusoe's "inward jungle" operates, generally,

as a pattern of growth through the novel. As Crusoe proceeds from

impulses and passion (notethe number of references to."wild" and

" f o o l i s h " "notions" i n the pre-island part of h i s adventures) through

reason ( d i l i g e n t application) to f a i t h , he gradually masters his

environment. His control of h i s passions makes him not only a complete

man, but also a leader of men. He proves successful i n both recapturing

a ship on which the crew has mutinied and in leading a party of men

through the Pyrenees where he displays such a cool head i n actions

against large pack of hungry wolves that he i s made "captain" of the

 80

group. This b a t t l e with the wolves serves to bring out those q u a l i t i e s

which Crusoe has developed while on the island: h i s a b i l i t y toOdeal

with the natural environment i n a r a t i o n a l way, h i s courage due to h i s

acquisition of f a i t h , and f i n a l l y h i s q u a l i t i e s of leadership.

Crusoe, by the end of h i s story, has i n t e r n a l i z e d those q u a l i t i e s of

being which Defoe assigns to the "complete tradesman." Crusoe has

learned to control h i s impulsive behavior and to be a "natural

magistrate" among men.

Thus, Robinson Crusoe i s a s i g n i f i c a n t s t r u c t u r a l unit, patterned

generally along the l i n e s of a s p i r i t u a l autobiography with i t s

conventional sin-exile-redemption-grace structure, each element of

which conforms to a stage i n Crusoe's moral growth. At the end of

his story Crusoe assimilates himself back into society, assuming the

very "middle station of l i f e " ' which he brote^away from i n the beginning.

The structure of the novel, then, i s well balanced i n three p a r t s — e a c h

part s i g n i f i c a n t i n the pattern of s p i r i t u a l growth. The early

adventures show Crusoe sinning and i n e x i l e ; the central portion of the

n a r r a t i v e — C r u s o e on his island—develops the theme of s p i r i t u a l

growth and contains what I have termed the major fulcrum of the novel,

the repentance scene; the f i n a l portion of the novel shows a new

Crusoe emerging from the island experience, a Crusoe who i s the

complete antithesis to the young man who f i r s t set out on h i s " f o o l i s h

adventures." F i n a l l y , through the system of emblemism, the events,

situations, objects, and even characters described i n this novel

a l l work to drive the theme home. There i s , i n other words, a more

or less complete integration of a l l the narrative elements i n

Robinson Crusoe.
 81

But structure i t s e l f i s perhaps only a metaphor for a larger

ideological vision. At least this i s what our study so far would seem

to indicate. Defoe i s a r t i c u l a t i n g a Protestant v i s i o n of r e a l i t y and

experience, and this v i s i o n of r e a l i t y makes up the structure of the

novel. At the center of Defoe's own imaginative v i s i o n , as i t i s

projected i n Robinson Crusoe, i s a conception of human experience as an

economic and moral struggle defined very much within the context of an

eighteenth—century middle class ideology. It is.not enough to say,

with Robert Donovan, that "The world of Defoe's imagination i s a

projection of economic society," and that "the p r a c t i c a l choices

51

thrust upon his characters are dictated by economic n e c e s s i t i e s . "

These choices are also dictated by a moral framework which conditions

that economic outlook. Crusoe himself, then, i s emblematic of his

society i n a more metaphysical sense, for we have hinted at a deeper

epistemology and doctrine of ideas which form the t h e o r e t i c a l and

i d e o l o g i c a l basis to Robinson Crusoe. Any f i n a l u n i f i c a t i o n of trade

and morality can be achieved only when we see Robinson Crusoe as embodying

in concrete (though f i c t i o n a l ) experience the abstract eighteenth century

concepts of man and society. This relationship i s what the next

chapter w i l l explore.
 CHAPTER I I I

Philosophy and Knowledge i n Robinson Crusoe

1. Introduction

In the eleventh century, A.D., an Arab philosopher, Ibn T u f a i l ,

wrote a book e n t i t l e d Hayy ibn Yakzan after the name.: of i t s main

character. This f i c t i o n a l narrative traces the l i f e of Yakz"an through

a series of seven-year cycles as he grows and matures on an isolated

desert i s l a n d . Ernst Behler has recently discussed this work, and

claims that these cycles perform two functions: f i r s t , they give a

d e f i n i t e o v e r - a l l s t r u c t u r a l rhythm to the book; second, this rhythm

indicates the growth of the main character's mind through four s t a g e s —

"the discovery of the science of l i f e , " "the discovery of the higher world,"

"the discoveryof ecstasy," and "the discovery of mankind." Behler

also indicates that the plan of T u f a i l ' s work i s very roughly

analogous to the plan of Robinson Crusoe, though differences i n

p a r t i c u l a r themes and intentions are apparent. 1

I f , however,

we follow the pattern of Yakzan's mental and s p i r i t u a l development,

we can see certain general analogies with the development of

Robinson Crusoe's character. When Crusoe i s shipwrecked on h i s

i s l a n d , he begins studying the science of existence; necessity leads

him to evolve certain projects upon which h i s very survival depends, and

this i s the "discovery of the science of l i f e . " Crusoe has already

l i v e d the l i f e of a s i n f u l c r e a t u r e — a "brutish" human—so this "science"

 83

i s the f i r s t step to a "higher v i s i o n . " The dreams and eventual

repentance of Crusoe, which bring him to a knowledge of Providential

care and of the existence of God, could correspond to the discoveries

of "a higher world" and of "ecstasy." In .a way, the coming of Friday

to the i s l a n d represents a "rediscovery" of mankind, since this section

of Defoe's novel p a r a l l e l s the advent of another human, Abdal, on

Yakzan's i s l a n d . Just as Crusoe teaches Friday the fundamental tenets

of the Christian r e l i g i o n , so Yakzan teaches Abdal the universal

knowledge he has gained through his development of natural reason

and contemplation. I t i s i n this manner' that Yakzan reveals a

concordance of reason and r e l i g i o n , just as Crusoe s o l i d i f i e s h i s

own f a i t h by reasoning out Christian doctrine with Friday.

At this point, however, the correspondence between the two books

breaks down. When Yakzan and Abdal return to c i v i l i z a t i o n with the

intention of preaching truth to mankind, they r e a l i z e , upon making that

attempt, that they can never enlighten t h e i r fellows. Yakzan sees

"that there are varying degrees of i n s i g h t , that the majority of men

have no access to h i s own v i s i o n , and that the words of t h e i r prophet

already contain within themselves the highest possible measure of

2

truth, to which nothing can be added." Crusoe, however, successfully

reintegrates himself into society, s e t t l i n g down i n the middle station

and enjoying his accumulated wealth.

There are other differences between the two books. Yakzln

i s supposedly a c h i l d of nature, since he d r i f t e d to the i s l a n d i n a

basket while s t i l l an infant. Crusoe i s large a product of the

b e l i e f s and conventions of h i s English society. Yakzan seems quite

 84

content on his i s l a n d , Crusoe i s at f i r s t nearly always i n some

state of fear or despair. However, Behler indicates a fundamental

theme for both books: "The depiction of a human consciousness

developed i n i s o l a t i o n may equally w e l l serve to show the harmony

of natural and revealed explanations of the world. I t can bring

proof, or at least an indication, that theological instruction need

not c o n f l i c t with nature and i n this way strengthen the fundamental

3

agreement of both views."

As Behler indicates, we can approach Defoe's f i r s t novel

from the point of view that i t i l l u s t r a t e s a general view of man and

his relationships to nature, society, and even the cosmos. In this

sense, Crusoe himself Is "emblematic" of a larger metaphysical

and r e l i g i o u s ideology. But, before we can approach this reading of

Robinson Crusoe, we again need d e f i n i t i o n s . I f Defoe's book indicates

the harmonious relationship between r e l i g i o n and nature, or reason,

then we need to define these terms i n their eighteenth century context.

Thus, phrases such as the "state of nature" and "natural law" become

extremely important to a reading of Robinson Crusoe, and i n f a c t , as

Hans A a r s l e f f points out i n r e f e r r i n g to Locke's philosophy; "The

problem of the state of nature i s e s s e n t i a l l y a question about the
..4

nature of man.

A a r s l e f f ' s statement would indicate that concepts such as

"reason" and "natural law" perhaps form a kind of "core ideology"

which was used i n the eighteenth century to define the i n d i v i d u a l and

his relations with society, nature, and the universe. In this manner,

"human consciousness" would come to be defined i n the terms of reference

 85

which, defined and delineated both the popular and metaphysical

view of man i n the early eighteenth century. Our assumption here,

is this: Defoe's Robinson Crusoe i l l u s t r a t e s , or exemplifies, a

"community of values" which had been systematized by the more

"popular" (by popular I mean widely disseminated) philosophers of

the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. These values come

to be defined through Crusoe's i n t e l l e c t u a l and s p i r i t u a l growth i n the

novel, and so we must look to the philosophy of the time to under-

stand the quality of this growth..

More s p e c i f i c a l l y , t h i s possible i d e o l o g i c a l structure of

Defoe's novel finds i t s p a r a l l e l i n the philosophy of John Locke.

Locke, i n his Essay concerning Human Understanding and Two Treatises

of Government, i s concerned with codifying the bases to human thought,

understanding, and action, as these were formulated through the

seventeenth century. At least one of h i s concerns i s to show how a

stable, ordered society i s created. Thus, in: h i s Second Treatise

of Government, he reasons from an abstract state of nature wherein

he can also define the nature of man. Defoe, of course, places his

hero i n a concrete state of nature ( i . e . , the desert island) and i n

this manner i l l u s t r a t e s this theory of man. And where Locke reasons

that through r e f l e c t i o n and meditation i t i s possible for man to

gain knowledge of himself and h i s place i n nature and society, so

Crusoe follows this same general pattern of thought. Again, though

some e s s e n t i a l l y Marxist c r i t i c s have indicated that Locke was

defining a bourgeois and " c a p i t a l i s t " e t h i c , he i s s t i l l , i n actual

f a c t , very much concerned with the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of creating a stable

and ordered s o c i a l environment.

 86

In order to show the p a r a l l e l s between the ideology

i l l u s t r a t e d i n Robinson Crusoe and Locke's philosophy, our approach

must again be from the general to the p a r t i c u l a r . Of f i r s t importance

i s the d e f i n i t i o n of the standard metaphysical concepts of the period,

and following t h i s , an application of these concepts to Robinson

Crusoe. Our major point, then, i s t h i s : besides the s p e c i f i c

adventure pattern, the r e l i g i o u s and emblematic pattern, and the

related economic pattern, at least part of the popularity of Robinson

Crusoe i n the eighteenth century results from Defoe's a b i l i t y to

present concretely ( i . e . , through example, and i l l u s t r a t i o n ) the

r a t i o n a l basis of man's b e l i e f i n God, i n a natural order, and

in a society that would function most successfully by incorporating

into i t s structure the p r i n c i p l e s of right reason and r e l i g i o u s

morality. And, by thus i l l u s t r a t i n g the r a t i o n a l and r e l i g i o u s

bases which should control the actions of a "good" s o c i a l being,

Defoe i s able to reconcile that paradox between trade and morality

which he has been accused of either simply glossing over or ignoring

altogether.

Iii.. The State of Nature and the Early Growth of Robinson Crusoe

When Robinson Crusoe i s carrying out his bread-making

project, he r e f l e c t s on the number of tasks he must perform and

remarks on the d i f f i c u l t y of doing such things i n a "meer State

of Nature" ( I , 130). Certainly, at least the more learned of

Defoe's readers would he f u l l y aware of the significance of this

remark: poor Robinson Crusoe, i s o l a t e d on a desert island and forced

 87

to make do as best he can without the comfort and aid of human

society, i s a paradigm of the natural man placed i n a state of

nature.

To be sure, a concept of the natural man i s almost literally

as old as Adam. The Puritans, i n f a c t , see natural man as the archetypal

Adam f i g u r e — t h e man who f e l l from grace through s i n , and must

consequently l i v e out his l i f e b a t t l i n g and subduing the environment

around him. Likewise, the medieval and scholastic Christian

philosophers held to approximately the same view while at the same

time positing that both the law of nature and the law of reason

(essentially the same thing) were operative i n the natural, or

f a l l e n , man. To the s c h o l a s t i c , the laws of reason and nature were

written on the heart of man by God. However, i n the f i r s t half

of the seventeenth century, when Descartes and the s c i e n t i f i c

philosophers of the Paduan school began exploring and defining new

methodologies i n philosophy and science, they sparked d i a l e c t i c a l

arguments over the d e f i n i t i o n s of man which became, on the one hand,

an i n t e l l e c t u a l revolt against the doctrines of the older scholastic

philosophers, and on the other, one of the defining "motifs" of

seventeenth century philosophy.

We can begin with Hugo von Grotius, whose De Jure B e l l i ac Pacis

was published i n 1625, and who i s the f i r s t to begin secularizing the

concept of the law of nature. Grotius, to be sure, follows the

scholastics i n assuming that the law of nature i s the same as the law

of reason. But, he also writes, "The law of nature i s a dictate of

right reason, which points out that an act, according as i t i s or i s

not i n conformity with r a t i o n a l nature, has i n i t a quality of moral

 88

baseness or moral necessity; and that, i n consequence, such an act

i s either forbidden or enjoined by the author of nature, God.""'

Thus, instead of the law of nature being obligatory because i t i s the

w i l l of God, i t i s obligatory because i t i s grounded i n reason. Human

nature, then, becomes "the mother.of the law of nature". However,

Grotius' mistake, according to l a t e r "natural law. philosophers,"

was to reject the concept of isolated'man as the basis of h i s

investigation. Hobbes, Locke, and Pufendorf, a l l following the

secularizing trend i n i t i a t e d i n Grotius, define the abstract essence

of man as complete solitude; i n other words, a state of i s o l a t i o n

and alienation from his fellows.

Hobbes, i n Leviathan (published i n 1651), f i r s t draws h i s

t h e o r e t i c a l man outside of society: Hobbes' state of nature and h i s

natural man are both l o g i c a l , not h i s t o r i c a l , hypotheses. His

picture of man i n the state of nature i s , i n t h i s sense, c l e a r l y

the abstract negation of man i n c i v i l i z e d society:

In such condition, there i s no place for industry;

because the f r u i t thereof i s uncertain: and consequently
no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the
commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious
building; no instruments of moving, and removing, such
things as require much force; no knowledge of the face
of the earth; no account to time; no a r t s ; no l e t t e r s ;
no society; and which i s worst of a l l , continual fear,
and danger of violent death; and the l i f e of man,
s o l i t a r y , poor, nasty, brutish, and short.1

The state of nature, according to Hobbes, i s a state of perpetual

war—both of man against man and man against nature—where man i s

motivated by two primary emotions, fear and desire. And, i t would

seem, Crusoe i s describing himself i n just this Hobbesian state of

nature when he lands on h i s i s l a n d :

 89

I had a dreadful Deliverance: For I was wet, had no

Clothes to s h i f t me, neither did I see any Prospect
before me, but that of perishing with Hunger, or being
devour'd by wild Beasts; and that which was p a r t i c u l a r l y
a f f l i c t i n g to me was that 1 had no Weapon either to
hunt and k i l l any Creature for my Sustenance, or to defend
my s e l f against any other Creature that might desire to
k i l l me for t h e i r s : In a Word, I had nothing about me
but a Knife, a Tobacco-pipe, and a l i t t l e Tobacco i n a
Box, this was a l l my Provision, and threw me into t e r r i b l e
Agonies of Mind, that for a while I run about l i k e a
Mad-man; Night coming upon me, I began with a heavy
Heart to consider what would be my Lot i f there were
ravenous Beasts i n that Country, seeing at Night they
always come abroad for t h e i r Prey. ( I , 50-51)

Crusoe, l i k e a "meer Brute," must spend the night i n a tree.

Samuel Pufendorf, born in the same year as Locke, describes h i s

t h e o r e t i c a l natural man as Hobbes does, and this description too,

f i t s Robinson Crusoe p e r f e c t l y :

What a wretched Creature we should at least behold!

A mute and an ignoble Animal, Master of no Powers or
Capacities any farther than to pluck up the Herbs and
Roots that grow about him; to gather the Fruits which he
did not plant; to quench h i s Thirst at the f i r s t River,
or Fountain or Ditch, that he finds out i n h i s way; to
creep into a Cave for Shelter from the Injuries of
Weather, or to cover over h i s Body with Moss and Grass
and Leaves; Thus would he pass a heavy L i f e i n most
tedious Idleness; would tremble at every Noise, and
be scar'd at the approach of any of his Fellow Creatures,
t i l l at l a s t his miserable days were concluded by the
Extremity of Hunger or T h i r s t , or by the Fury of a ravenous
beast.8

The purpose of Hobbes' description of the state of nature as a

state of war and fear i s to b u i l d up a theory of absolute monarchy

based firmly on laws which govern men's behavior i n such a natural

state. Thus, with Hobbes, and l a t e r with Pufendorf and Locke, natural

law evolves into both a moral and a p o l i t i c a l doctrine based upon,

and i n s i s t i n g on, the i n d i v i d u a l man's rights to self-defense and

self-preservation.
 90

Of course, Locke's argument d i f f e r s r a d i c a l l y from Hobbes'

in at least one way: I f Hobbes reasons from the state of nature i n order

to indicate that the best possible government i s an absolute monarchy,

then Locke argues from the natural state i n order to prove the best

government i s e s s e n t i a l l y democratic. Certainly, Locke's popularity

i n the eighteenth century i s i n part explained through this fundamental

purpose of h i s argument. As John Plamenatz states, "Locke's Treatise

was popular becasuse i t suited the s o c i a l aspirations and also the

i n t e l l e c t u a l prejudices of classes growing i n importance, classes

l i v i n g on rents and p r o f i t s and employing wage-labourers. It i s a

theory made up of old ingredients presented i n a more secular and

9
modern, and therefore a t t r a c t i v e form."

Thus, when Locke argues from the state of nature i n h i s Second

Treatise of Government, his purpose i s to prove that the existing

form of government i n England at that time ( i . e . , the period following

the Glorious Revolution) i s the best type of government. In making

this argument, Locke incorporates the most common and acceptable

ideas of ihe period on natural law and the state of nature, the use

of reason and divine law, and the form of government, into a

system both r a t i o n a l and desirable to a major portion of the

society of early eighteenth-century England. Locke's philosophy,

then, i s made up of the leading, and popular, ideas of the time, and

before r e l a t i n g i t " t o Defoe's own very popular novel, we need to

discuss i t s three basic concepts: the state of nature, the law of

nature and the place of reason and divine law, and the concept of

property.
 91

F i r s t , Locke's view of the state of nature i s a b i t : more optimistic

than Hobbes', especially with h i s apparent incorporation of Christian

p r i n c i p l e s into this state. For one thing, Locke describes the state

of nature i n two ways; i t can be a state of-peace, or i t can be a

state of war. I t i s a state of war i f any man "attempts to get

another Man into his absolute p o w e r . B u t , the men who attempt to

do t h i s — t h a t i s , encroach on the fundamental freedom of others

without proper consent being g i v e n — a r e obviously f u l l of "Malice, Violence,"

and want only the "Mutual Destruction" of mankind. Man, i n the

state of nature, r e a l i z e s the many benefits to be derived from main-

taining peace with h i s fellows. This way of thinking i s possible

because man i s e s s e n t i a l l y a r a t i o n a l creature; he has "a knowledge

of himself, which the beasts have not."''""'" Man, i n the state of

nature, i s thus governed by a

law of Nature...which obliges everyone: And Reason,

which i s that Law, teaches a l l Mankind, who w i l l but
consult i t , that being a l l equal and independent,
no one ought to harm another i n his L i f e , Health,
Liberty, or Possessions. For Men being a l l the
Workmanship of one Omnipotent, and i n f i n i t e l y wise
Maker; A l l the Servants of one Sovereign Master, sent
into the World by his order and about his business,
they are his Property, whose workmanship they are....

Man, then, i s created equal with his fellows, and "Every one," even i n

the state of nature, " i s bound to preserve himself, and not to quit

his Station w i l f u l l y . " In so obeying the dictates of natural law and

reason, the i n d i v i d u a l helps to "preserve the rest of Mankind" (Locke's

italics). Those who transgress natural law declare themselves "to

l i v e by another Rule, than that of reason and common Equity, which i s

that measure God has set to the actions of Men f o r their mutual security
,,12
 92

Even i n a state of nature, then, man should assume his proper

role i n that universal order set and sanctioned by God f o r the benefit

of humanity. In obeying the law of nature and the dictates of reason,

man i s also obeying divine law, and Locke grants to the natural state

of man a Christian moral tone not found i n the Hobbesian view. In

his Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Locke states that man's

duty i s , i n e f f e c t , to discover the purpose for which God has placed

him on earth, and what, i n fact, h i s duty i s . This discovery leads

to greater knowledge and self-awareness:

Therefore, as God has set some things i n broad daylight;

as he has given us some certain knowledge, though limited
to a few things i n comparison, probably as a taste of what
i n t e l l e c t u a l creatures are capable of to excite i n us a
desire and endeavour a f t e r a better state: so, i n the
greatest part of our concernments, he has afforded
us only the twilight, as I may so say, of p r o b a b i l i t y ;
suitable, I presume, to that state of mediocrity and
probationership-he has been pleased to place us i n here;
wherein, to check our over-confidence and presumption,
we might, by every day's experience, be made sensible of
our short-sightedness and liableness to error; the sense
whereof might be a constant admonition to us, to spend
the days of this our pilgrimage with industry and care,
in the search and following of that way which might
lead us to a state of greater perfection. I t being
highly r a t i o n a l to think, even were revelation s i l e n t i n
the case, that, as men employ those talents God has
given them here, they s h a l l accordingly receive their
rewards at the close of the day, when their sun s h a l l
set, and night s h a l l put an end to t h e i r labours.13

Locke could here be describing the basic Christian outlook on l i f e as

a pilgrimage wherein man i s aided through both reason and revelation

to come to a greater knowledge of himself, h i s place and duty i n the

world, and h i s Maker. Morality, then, i n Locke's view, " i s the proper

science and business of mankind i n general," and "Moral philosophy

comprehends r e l i g i o n too, or a man's whole duty...." Reason can

discover to us both natural law and divine law, since the two are
 93

e s s e n t i a l l y the same, and this use of reason coupled, Locke h i n t s ,

with revelation (a matter of faith) leads to the knowledge of one's

position i n a .sane and r a t i o n a l universe.

Thus, we see the morality inherent i n Locke's conception of

human nature and h i s view of how man should r a t i o n a l l y act. It i s

e s s e n t i a l l y the same morality that one finds i n more properly "Puritan"

works of the same period, The New Whole Duty of Man, containing the

Faith as well as Practice of a Christian and Richard Baxter's

Christian Directory, both of which were extremely popular and

i n f l u e n t i a l writings i n the period between 1670 and 1720. Both books

describe the r a t i o n a l , happy man who becomes the model for the

eighteenth century man, and both picture man as being moral because

he i s r a t i o n a l . And again, as John Plamenatz states, Locke "believed

that men are moral because they are by nature r a t i o n a l , and can

therefore discover, merely be r e f l e c t i n g on what i s involved i n being

human, how they ought to behave.""'""'

There i s also another important part of Locke's philosophy

which involves two central concepts which l i e at the core of h i s

thought: individualism and property. When Locke follows Hobbes i n

defining the bases of human nature through a .removal of man from

society and a concomitant placing of him i n the state of nature, he,

l i k e Hobbes, emphasizes an e s s e n t i a l l y s o l i p s i s t i c view of man—a

view which i s also present and prevalent throughout the philosophical,

p o l i t i c a l and economic writings of the seventeenth century. Hobbes

bases h i s philosophy on an egocentric individualism: man, i n the

state of nature, i s completely on h i s own. "Locke," says Ian Watt,

"constructed the class system of p o l i t i c a l thought based on the

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i n d e f e a s i b i l i t y of i n d i v i d u a l rights, as against the more t r a d i t i o n a l

ones of Church, Family, or King." ^ 1

Watt goes on to indicate that

Locke's emphasis on individualism i s fundamental to the epistemology

of our modern period, and he i s e s s e n t i a l l y correct i n doing so.

Basic to the Essay concerning Human Understanding i s a concern

with p a r t i c u l a r and individuating circumstances i n constructing

a theory of knowledge. In h i s concern for precise observation i n the

recording of human thought, Locke focusses on descriptions of i n t e r -

mediate processes i n the i n d i v i d u a l human mind. His focus i s on the

inner man—an i n d i v i d u a l different from a l l others i n that h i s

patterns of thought are, through bits p a r t i c u l a r experience of the world,

unique to him alone. Likewise, i n his Two Treatises of Government, Locke

presents his natural man as a creature "loose from a l l s o c i a l d i s c i p l i n e ;

he i s autonomous and self-contained, and belongs to no s o c i a l order,

no community""'"^—except, one might'add, a natural community. And,

of course, what i s essential to the d e f i n i t i o n of man as a complete

i n d i v i d u a l i s the concept that each man "has a Property i n h i s own

Person." Locke continues:

This no Body has any Right to but himself. The

Labour of h i s Body, and the Work of his Hands, we may
say, are properly h i s . Whatsoever then he removes out
of the State of Nature hath provided, and l e f t i t i n ,
he hath mixed his Labour with, and joyned to i t some-
thing that i s his own, and thereby makes i t h i s Property.

We have moved here from the idea that man has a property i n his person

to the idea that he can extend h i s basic property into the state of

nature by mixing h i s labor with i t . And again, Locke i s a r t i c u l a t i n g

a set of values that had achieved almost the status of a t r a d i t i o n

in the seventeenth century.

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" A l l roads i n our period have led to individualism," states

h i s t o r i a n Christopher H i l l i n h i s discussion of the seventeenth

19

century. This of course includes the philosophic road, and

Locke's epistemology i t s e l f i s merely a continuation of the i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c

and introspective method used by Descartes e a r l i e r i n the same

century. Also, his theory of man and property goes back at least to

the Puritan pamphleteers at the time of the c i v i l war. In 1646,

Henry Overton, i n h i s An Arrow against a l l Tyrants, stated what i s

e s s e n t i a l l y the same doctrine:

To Every I n d i v i d u a l l i n nature i s given an i n d i v i d u a l
property by nature, not to be invaded or usurped by any:
for every one as he i s himselfe, so he hath a s e l f e
propriety, else could he not be himselfe .and on this no
second may presume to deprive any of,, without manifest
v i o l a t i o n and affront to the very p r i n c i p l e of nature,
and of the Rules of equity and j u s t i c e between man
and man; mine and thine cannot be, except this be; No
man hath power over my rights and l i b e r t i e s , and I over
no mans; I may but an I n d i v i d u a l l , enjoy myselfe, and my
s e l f e propriety, and may write my s e l f e no more than
my s e l f e , or presume any further; i f I doe, I am an
encroacher & an invader upon an other mans Right, to
which I have no Right. For by n a t u r a l l b i r t h , a l l men-
are equally and a l i k e borne to l i k e propriety, l i b e r t y
and freedome, and as we are delivered of God by the hand
of nature into this world, every one with a n a t u r a l l ,
innate freedome and propriety (as i t were writ i n the
table of every mans heart, never to be obliterated)
even so are we to l i v e , every one equally and a l i k e to
enjoy his B i r t h - r i g h t and p r i v i l e d g e ; even a l l whereof
God by nature hath made him ifree.

Overton goes on to stress the sanctity of i n d i v i d u a l freedom and

equality, and to define man as an egocentric creature: "Every man

by nature being a King, P r i e s t and Prophet i n h i s owne n a t u r a l l

c i r c u i t e and compasse, whereof no second may partake, but by

deputation, commission, and free consent from him, whose n a t u r a l l
20
right and freedome i t i s . Overton, then, argues that each man
 96

is behaving r a t i o n a l l y and reasonably, according to both the law

of nature and moral law, when he seeks to preserve his e s s e n t i a l

freedom.

Overton, of course, r e f l e c t s the same fundamental individualism

and i t s connection with a concept of property that i s found i n both

Hobbes and Locke. This egocenfcricism i s so central to the Puritan

r e l i g i o n that when William Haller stresses " s p i r i t u a l equalitarianism"

and individualism as basic to Puritanism, he i s also quick to

connect this ideology to the "accelerating democratization of English

21

society" and to a basis i n a common view of natural law. Also,

C.B. MacPherson has written convincingly of the r i s e of individualism

and i t s r e l a t i o n to property i n p o l i t i c a l philosophy; H.M. Robertson

has discussed i t with s p e c i f i c reference to the r i s e of the trading

state; and both Christopher H i l l and Maurice Ashley have traced the

important changes i n economics as English society evolved from the

e s s e n t i a l l y feudal system of guilds and royally chartered companies

in the Renaissance to the m e r c a n t i l i s t — i n some cases laissez-faire—

22

system and j o i n t - s t o c k companies of the late seventeenth century.

Defoe, of course, with h i s interest i n both trade and p o l i t i c s ,

was aware of, and v i t a l l y concerned with, questions on the concepts

of property and individualism i n the early eighteenth century. He

f i l l e d the pages of his Review with h i s ideas on trade, p o l i t i c s , and

morality, and produced a long series of pamphlets on the same subjects.

His f i c t i o n can i n fact be seen as a l o g i c a l extension of these

e a r l i e r a r t i c l e s and pamphlets; Defoe, i n other words, uses a f i c t i o n a l

form as a vehicle for conveying his ideas on man and society. At the

same time, his novels are, or can be considered to be, aesthetic structures.
 97

We would expect Defoe to consciously use r h e t o r i c a l and s t r u c t u r a l

devices to define and explore these i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c and s o c i a l

themes i n h i s f i c t i o n , and we would thus also expect the three-

part d i v i s i o n of The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe to.mean something

in r e l a t i o n to the author's intentions. We have already seen that the

three-part structure underpins and helps to express the book's

Christian and economic themes. It remains to indicate how this

d i v i s i o n c l a r i f i e s and patterns the development of Crusoe's

knowledge from his "brutish" beginning wherein he i s o l a t e s himself

from society to his w i l l i n g reentry back into society at the end of

the book. In this manner, the theme of individualism and the pattern

of Crusoe's developing self-knowledge combine to form a more philosophical

interpretation of the f i r s t volume of Crusoe's adventures.

We have already seen that Crusoe, i n his pre-island adventures,

i s very much a l a i s s e z - f a i r e i n d i v i d u a l i s t . His economic schemes,

his desire to r i s e faster than "the nature of the thing" allows, and

his complete disregard for any prompting toward a balanced and normal

l i f e , point to Crusoe as being a " C a p i t a l i s t " i n Watt's Marxist

sense of the term ( i . e . , one who continually transforms the economic

status quo). But at the same time, Defoe stresses that Crusoe i s not

a man of reason—not even a r a t i o n a l c r e a t u r e — f o r his passions rule

his actions. He breaks h i s "vows and promises" to lead a better

l i f e , h i s obstinacy wins over h i s reason and judgment, and whereas

reason ought to guide him, h i s "wild and undigested notions of r a i s i n g

[his] fortune" come to control h i s thoughts and actions. Thus, as he

points out with reference to the slaving expedition which ends with

his i s o l a t i o n on the i s l a n d , he i s "the w i l f u l agent" of h i s own

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miseries, and he e n t i r e l y gives over to his " f o o l i s h i n c l i n a t i o n "

by abandoning, and abusing, his prosperous plantation i n B r a z i l .

F i n a l l y , he notes that he obeys " b l i n d l y the dictates of [his]

fancy rather than [his] reason" (I, 4 3 ) . His shipwreck on the

i s l a n d and his descent into the physical state of nature merely

complete this picture of Crusoe as an animal: he i s , i n other

words, a b r u t i s h being controlled completely by his own passions. Thus,

the moral tone of the books would indicate that Crusoe the c a p i t a l i s t ,

by opposing the dictates of Nature and Reason, i s breaking the Law

of Nature by allowing himself to be controlled by animal i n s t i n c t s .

He would, i n fact, compare with the Hobbesian man who i s motivated

in his actions by two emotions—fear and d e s i r e — a n d there might also

be some resemblance to Locke's perpetrator of the state of war i n

nature. Crusoe's i s o l a t i o n on the i s l a n d i s e s s e n t i a l l y no d i f f e r e n t

than h i s i s o l a t i o n i n society except that, now that he doesn't have

human companionship, he misses i t . Crusoe's i r r a t i o n a l behavior,

his basis of action i n i n s t i n c t , h i s e s s e n t i a l l y b r u t i s h human

n a t u r e — a l l of his basic personality t r a i t s before he landed

on his i s l a n d — r e c e i v e concrete embodiment i n this physical i s o l a t i o n .

On this i s l a n d he i s , at f i r s t , the same Crusoe—alone, acting

according to fear and desire, sunk into a state of nature. But i t soon

becomes apparent that he i s growing out of t h i s state, leaving behind

his animal i n s t i n c t s , and become a r a t i o n a l man.

Defoe's use of a f i r s t person narrator who i s recounting his

early adventures contributes to the moral tone of these early parts

of the book. We have already seen that the older Crusoe i s able to

give Christian and emblematic s i g n i f i c a n c e to his youthful exigencies

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by r e f e r r i n g the reader to p a r a l l e l s between h i s own story and

those of the prodigal son, Jonah, and the f a l l of man. It

undoubtedly i s Defoe's a r t i s t i c intention to indicate a disparity

between the moral tone implied through the intrusions of the older

Crusoe and the actions of the young Crusoe which involve "rash and

immoderate" desires and "wild and undigested" notions. The moral

i s , of course, pointed out several times by the narrator. One

instance of this i s Crusoe's e a r l i e s t r e f l e c t i o n on quitting the

adventuring l i f e . This r e f l e c t i o n occurs almost immediately a f t e r

his f i r s t sea voyage ends i n near disaster:

As to going home, shame opposed the best motions that

offered to my thoughts; and i t immediately occurred to
me how I should be laughed at among the neighbours,
and should be ashamed to see, not my father and mother
only, but even every body else; from whence I have since
often observed how incongruous and i r r a t i o n a l the common
temper of mankind i s , e s p e c i a l l y of youth, to that reason
which ought to guide them i n such cases, v i z . , that
they are not ashamed to s i n , and yet are ashamed to
repent; not ashamed of the action for which they ought
j u s t l y to be esteemed fools, but are ashamed of the
returning, which only can make them be esteemed wise
men. (I, 15-16)

Here, the contrast between the young and f o o l i s h Crusoe and the moral

tone of the older narrating Crusoe i s made e x p l i c i t through a juxtaposition

of a " f o o l i s h " notion of shame and wiser observations,, after the second

semi-colon, of the narrating voice. There are other such juxtapositions

throughout this early part of the narrative, as the narrator both comments

on his e a r l i e r sins and adumbrates the coming events. Thus, there are

references to "something f a t a l i n that propension of nature" ( I , 2)

and to the "miseries which Nature and the station of life...provided

against" (I, 4). The implication throughout these early sections i s

that Crusoe i s a " f o o l " i n his revolt against the middle station of
 100

l i f e and against a natural order. Consequently, the major contrast

in this part of the book i s between Crusoe the ignorant young f o o l

and Crusoe the man of moral awareness and self-knowledge. Crusoe's

early actions spring from f o o l i s h i n c l i n a t i o n s , not from any

p r i n c i p l e s of reason or f a i t h , and both Defoe's s t y l e and technique

indicate t h i s obstinacy and bull-headedness i n a -young Crusoe who

lacks reason or judgment.

It i s also important to note that Defoe, i n structuring these

early parts of his narrative, shows Crusoe as always gravitating

back toward the middle station in l i f e which he had scorned at the

beginning of his adventures. The older Crusoe notes that he once

approached the middle station when h i s B r a z i l i a n plantation began

to prosper, and again, on h i s i s l a n d , he t r i e s to achieve the same

q u a l i t i e s of ease, s t a b i l i t y , and security by which his father had

characterized this station. This tendency of Crusoe's to return

to the middle station—whether he l i k e s i t , or wants to, or n o t —

would seem to indicate that this i s h i s true "natural" i n c l i n a t i o n ,

rather than his own f o o l i s h , and therefore "unnatural," i n c l i n a t i o n .

Through h i s perhaps unnatural acts, the results of h i s following the

promptings of a f o o l i s h i n c l i n a t i o n and desire, he continually i s o l a t e s

himself from the society of men. His s e l f i s h and egocentric drive to

extend his material wealth and holdings results i n a reversal of h i s

fortunes and his i s o l a t i o n from human society.

F i n a l l y , Crusoe i s isolated from society not through any act

of his own, but through the action of Providence. Crusoe i s then sunk

into the state of nature that, i n one sense, represents the l o g i c a l

outcome of his previous actions; by following completely h i s i r r a t i o n a l

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passions and desires, Crusoe i s the Hobbesian natural man, and thus his

actions eventually lead him back from society into the state of

nature. On his island, i n complete i s o l a t i o n from mankind, Crusoe i s

forced through necessity to change the basis of his action, and

he must, simply by force of circumstance, begin p u l l i n g himself out of

this lowest state of "brutishness." It i s at this point i n his

adventures that h i s actions tend to take on a p o s i t i v e q u a l i t y , f o r he

begins to base them on more r a t i o n a l thoughts. In f a c t , a l l of

Crusoe's actions from t h i s point o n — i n c l u d i n g h i s accountant's figures,

his calendar-maker's dates,the itemizing of h i s possessions, the circum-

s t a n t i a l descriptions of p r o j e c t s — a r e necessary steps he must take on

the long and sometimes d i f f i c u l t path back to society. Here again,

Defoe's intentions become apparent. Most of the seventeenth-century

accounts of shipwrecked and stranded s a i l o r s point out the degrading

psychological effects of i s o l a t i o n ; they lose the faculty of speech,

go mad, and even die. But. Defoe disregards these e f f e c t s , and i t i s

for a good reason. He intends, i n his f i c t i o n a l account of one

man's i s o l a t i o n , to indicate the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of moral and r a t i o n a l

growth i n his hero, and thus to indicate something about the nature

of man and his place i n the world.

The change i n Crusoe—his acquisition of both rudimentary

self-knowledge and a general, p r a c t i c a l knowledge through e x p e r i e n c e —

i s signalled i n several places i n the text. After he has salvaged

most of the material he needs from the ship, he' sets about improving

his l i v i n g quarters, securing himself from wild beasts and savages, and,

symbolically, p u l l i n g himself out of the state of nature. He does a l l

this through an application of reason to his s i t u a t i o n , and the text

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r e f l e c t s this use of reason by i n d i c a t i n g an e x p l i c i t l o g i c of

development i n Crusoe's thoughts—something that he lacked before.

Consider, as an example, the following account of how Crusoe comes to

locate h i s new dwelling:

My thoughts were now wholly employed about securing

myself against either savages, i f any should appear,
or wild beasts, i f any were on the i s l a n d ; and I had
many thoughts of the method how to do t h i s , and what
kind of dwelling to make, whether I should make me a cave
i n the earth, or a tent upon the earth; and, i n short,
I resolved upon both, the manner and description of which
i t may not be improper to give an account of.
I soon found the place I was i n was not for my s e t t l e -
ment, p a r t i c u l a r l y because i t was upon a low moorish ground
near the sea, and I believed would not be wholesome;
and more p a r t i c u l a r l y because there was no fresh water
near i t . So I resolved to f i n d a more healthy and more
convenient spot of ground.
I consulted several things i n my s i t u a t i o n , which I
found would be proper for me. F i r s t , health and fresh
water, I just now mentioned. Secondly, shelter from the
heat of the sun. Thirdly, security from ravenous creatures,
whether men or beasts. Fourthly, a view to the sea, that
i f God sent any ship i n sight I might not lose any
advantage f o r my deliverance, of which I was not w i l l i n g
to banish a l l my expectation yet. (I, 63)

Thus, Crusoe begins h i s search f o r a pr-o P - er

location for h i s dwelling,

and thus he begins to domesticate h i s island. There are several important

things worth noting i n this passage. F i r s t , Crusoe's actions are w e l l -

thought out i n advance; there i s a careful weighing of facts before a

conclusion i s reached—something which does not occur to this extent i n

any of the e a r l i e r portions of the story. Second, there i s a l o g i c a l

continuity to Crusoe's thought; again something we do not see i n

previous parts of the book. And t h i r d , the structure of the passage i t s e l f

i s exceedingly r a t i o n a l : though Crusoe may have "many thoughts," he

i s able to sort them out and present the important ones accurately and

l o g i c a l l y , to himself for consideration, and thus he can make strong and

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r a t i o n a l resolutions which, lead both to a greater control over the

natural environment and to a greater control over his own thought-

processes - and behavior. Also, as we have seen, Crusoe i s f a i r l y

methodical when he salvages materials from his ship. He does make

mistakes, nearly sinking his raft twice, and rather f o o l i s h l y taking

o f f everything he can get his hands on. But again, he c a r e f u l l y

considers a l l the factors, advantages, and disadvantages, and thus

displays the f i r s t crude use of a r a t i o n a l i t y that w i l l allow him

to control and order a major portion of the natural environment on his

island.

Following the Lockean concept of property and labour, Crusoe,

in mixing his labor with the natural environment, manifests a "natural"

human control over i t , and also extends the property of his person

into i t . Thus, i n the many passages wherein Crusoe takes pride i n his

belongings and i n his accomplishments, he i s celebrating not only the

triumph of human reason over both the state of nature and the brutish

aspects of his own human nature, but also the a c q u i s i t i o n of property

through his own action and increasing self-knowledge. In fact, as h i s

p r a c t i c a l knowledge and true confidence (as opposed to false pride)

increase, h i s actions evolve into gradually more and more complicated

patterns, and his property increases from the time he s i t s i n h i s

cave and takes pride i n the orderly arrangement of the items he has

salvaged from the ship, to the place i n his narrative where he can

say (after his repentance): "I descended a l i t t l e on the side of that

delicious vale, surveying i t with a secret kind of pleasure (though

mixed with my other a f f l i c t i n g thoughts), to think that this was a l l

my own, that I was king and l o r d of a l l this country indefeasibly and

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had a right of possession; and i f I could convey i t , I might have i t i n

inheritance, as completely as any lord of a manor i n England" (I, 110).

And again, l a t e r on i n the narrative, Crusoe r e f l e c t s on knowledge,

reasonable a c q u i s i t i o n , and usefulness: "In a word, the nature and

experience of things dictated to me upon just r e f l e c t i o n that a l l the

good things of this world are no farther good to us than they are

for our use; and that whatever we may heap up indeed to give others,

we enjoy just as much as we can use, and no more" (I, 143).

F i r s t , Crusoe i s j u s t i f i e d i n claiming ownership of the

island i n the Lockean sense, since he has mixed his labor with large

parts of i t , and since i t i s part of the natural order, or way

of things, for man to dominate. As Locke-states i n his F i r s t

Treatise of Government:

For the desire, the strong desire of Preserving his

L i f e and Being having been Planted i n him, as a P r i n c i p l e
of Action by God himself, Reason, which was the Voice
of God i n him, could not but teach him and assure him,
that pursuing that natural I n c l i n a t i o n he had to
preserve h i s Being, he followed the W i l l of his Maker,
and therefore had a.right to make use of those Creatures,
which by his Reason or Senses he could discover would
be serviceable thereunto. And thus Man's Property
in the Creatures, was founded upon the right he had,
to make use of those things, that were necessary or
useful to his Being.23

And further on, in•the chapter on property i n the Second Treatise, Locke

again indicates that God (or Providence) works through man's reason to

allow him to subdue and order the earth according to the laws of nature

and of property:

God and his Reason commanded to subdue the Earth,

i . e . improve i t for the benefit of L i f e , and therein
lay out something upon i t that was his own, his labour.
He that i n Ohedience to t h i s Command of God, subdued,
t i l l e d and sowed any part of i t , , thereby annexed to i t
something that was his Property, which another had no
T i t l e to, nor could without injury take from him.24
 105

Therefore, i n Locke's Treatises, God gave the earth to man to

c u l t i v a t e , and order, according to reason, which i s God's w i l l , which

is also the law of nature and thus the law which society should model

i t s e l f on. As Locke states near the end of h i s F i r s t Treatise, "the

positive Laws of Society" are "made conformable to the Laws of Nature,

for the public good, i . e . the good of every p a r t i c u l a r Member of

25

that society." Locke's concepts of property and i n d i v i d u a l i t y ,

then, are at one with h i s concepts of natural order and the stable

arrangement of society; and a l l , of course, find their basis i n God's

w i l l as that w i l l i s indicated by both the voice of Reason and

Providence. The s p i r i t u a l i z e d cosmos at the back of Locke's

philosophy i s the same as that which operates continually through

Rob in s on C rus oe; and, as we have already seen, Providence and Crusoe

work very closely together to order the natural environment on the

island and to create a status quo that—according to Watt, MacPherson,

and o t h e r s — i s so unprofitable to the true c a p i t a l i s t .

Second, as our quotations from Defoe's novel indicate, once

Crusoe masters his passion he gains the use of h i s more r a t i o n a l

f a c u l t i e s , and i t i s through this learning process that he completes his

conquest of the natural environment by extending his property on the

island. Thus, once again, the pattern of Crusoe's meditations indicates

h i s growing r a t i o n a l i t y and self-knowledge as he subdues and orders h i s

environment. For example, when Crusoe r e f l e c t s on "stating and squaring

everything by reason, and making the most r a t i o n a l judgment of things"

C i , 74), he i s involved i n enlarging his cave, producing h i s f i r s t

table and chair, making shelves, and ordering h i s goods inside h i s

fortification. Soon after t h i s , Crusoe begins keeping h i s Journal, which

 106

seems to him to be a f i t place for recording both his r e f l e c t i o n s

on h i s s i t u a t i o n and what he does i n that s i t u a t i o n — h i s daily

a c t i v i t i e s i n other words. I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g , at this point, that

the narrative eye of the older Crusoe becomes the narrative " I " of a

diary, perhaps indicating that i n one sense, Crusoe i s developing

the perspective of the older narrative voice. The Journal does

contain some e s s e n t i a l l y moral r e f l e c t i o n s , but the perceptions are

not yet turned inward to record the state of Crusoe's soul. This

kind of observation w i l l come only a f t e r h i s conversion. So, for the

time being at any rate, Defoe i s more largely concerned with presenting

to h i s readers Crusoe's r e l a t i v e success i n ordering his actions and

his thoughts according to reason. At the same time, this pattern of

i n t e r i o r growth and external conquest again p a r a l l e l s certain basic

ideas i n Locke's philosophy.

According to both Locke and Defoe, man i s not born with a

knowledge of the law of nature, or of the uses of reason. Man's

f a c u l t i e s must be developed—a learning process must take p l a c e — b e f o r e

he can e f f e c t u a l l y p u l l himself out of the state of brute nature to a

position of self-knowledge and r a t i o n a l i t y . As Locke asks i n h i s

Second Essay of the Law of Nature, " i f a l l men are l e d to the knowledge

of i t [the law of nature] by the l i g h t of nature, how does i t arise

that very many ariortals are without knowledge of this law and nearly

a l l think of i t d i f f e r e n t l y , a fact that does not seem possible i f a l l

men are l e d to the knowledge of i t by the l i g h t of nature?" Locke's answer

i s that, since the law of nature i s not innate i n a l l men, a proper use

of mental f a c u l t i e s ( i . e . , reason) w i l l lead man to a knowledge of this

2.6
law. This knowledge, as those who have read the Essay concerning
 107

Human Understanding w i l l t e s t i f y , can be gained through experience and

contemplation. This i s how, according to Locke, man transcends the

brutish state of nature. Man' d i f f e r s from the brute animals i n three

ways: man has reason and memory, he can learn from experience, and he

can come to act i n accord with the results of his contemplation.

Man, then, i s free at any time to use h i s f a c u l t i e s of reason and

contemplation to gain a knowledge of the workings of nature, the society

he l i v e s i n , and the universe.

In most of Defoe's f i c t i o n , characters are more largely determined

by their environment than by any innate or hereditary t r a i t s . Colonel

Jack, of course, has certain t r a i t s which lead people to think he i s of

noble, or high-ranking, b i r t h . However, characters such .as he and Captain

Singleton are ignorant of the moral and s o c i a l e v i l s of pickpocketing

or p i r a t i n g u n t i l they are t o l d , or somehow learn, that such actions

controvert moral and s o c i a l order. As Jonathan Bishop states, i n

h i s a r t i c l e , "Knowledge and Action i n Defoe's Novels,"

NoifcwoniHyedoes eachohero start'the book as a tabula

rasa, but before every p r i n c i p a l adventure he i s again
reduced to this state. Moll Flanders i s broke and
desperate when she starts a new attempt. Bob Singleton
i s marooned on the coast of Madagascar, Robinson
Crusoe wrecked on a desert i s l a n d , Colonel Jack
transplanted as a felon to V i r g i n i a . In each case the
hero i s stripped naked and must begin again the
laborious business of learning and applying his
knowledge.29

Once f i l l e d with abhorrence towards the e v i l of their deeds,

Defoe's characters often try to remedy the situations they created, or they

repent and l i v e good, Christian l i v e s . In this sense, a l l of Defoe's

novels are stories of men and women learning about themselves through

a combination of a close interaction with t h e i r environment, and consequent

 108

reflections on what they have learned from their i n t e r a c t i o n . Defoe

creates situations for his main characters through which he can illustrate

his doctrine of necessity and self-preservation. In other words,

commiting a moral sin i s often necessary simply i n order to survive i n

this world. However, at the same time, Defoe's characters are

learning through experience and r e f l e c t i o n to become n essentially

moral and good human beings. In this larger context, then, Defoe's

novels are studies i n the acquisition of knowledge through experience.

The.direct causal relationship between experience and knowledge i s , of

course, fundamentally Lockean, and at the same time allows Defoe

to indicate what a society of men devoid of morality and r a t i o n a l i t y

would be. l i k e : i t would be, simply, a Hobbesian state of n a t u r e —

a world f i l l e d with pickpockets and thieves and lacking any order or

sanity. That i s , society would be such i f not for the existence of

men who are knowledgeable in the ways of God, the laws of nature,

and who are aware of what t h e i r position in society i s and what the

bounds set by nature on that position are. Man's acquisition of s e l f -

knowledge, then, would also be an affirmation of a s o c i a l and moral

order i n which a society of men can exist i n peace and harmony with one

another.

Thus, Defoe often depicts the true state of society (among

the lower classes at least) not as that r a t i o n a l and moral mechanism

in which a l l mankind can happily and peaceably coexist. Rather, the

state of society i s in many cases analogous to the Hobbesian state of

nature, and so Crusoe points out i n conversation with an "Old Gentlewoman"

in his Serious Reflections:

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R.C. Truly, the main business that mankind seems

to be doing i s to eat and drink; that's t h e i r enjoyment,
and to get food to eat i s their employment, including
a l i t t l e their eating and devouring one another.
Old Gent. That's a description of them as brutes.
R.C. I t i s so i n the f i r s t part, namely, t h e i r l i v i n g
to eat andtdrink; but i n the last part they are worse
than the brutes; for the brutes destroy not t h e i r own
kind, but prey upon a different species; and besides, they
prey upon one another for necessity, to s a t i s f y t h e i r
hunger, and for food; but man for baser ends, such as
avarice, envy, revenge, and the l i k e , devours h i s own
species, nay h i s own f l e s h and blood.... ( I l l , 106)

A b i t further on, Crusoe discusses the c i v i l i z i n g power of C h r i s t i a n i t y

as i t works to influence men—both "savage" and " c i v i l i z e d " — t o a

higher knowledge of themselves and of t h e i r proper positions i n

society and nature. F i n a l l y , i n a l a t e r work, A System of Magick, Defoe

combines p r a c t i c a l i t y , action, knowledge and understanding i n c r i t i c i z i n g

the generations descended from Noah and h i s sons after the flood:
j
In the room of this capacious Understanding and this
inquiring and applying Temper i n those Ages, behold a
stupid Generation risen up i n Succession; s t r i p t as naked
of the natural Glories of t h e i r Ancestors, as the Earth
was of i t s natural Fruitfulness a f t e r the Curse i n
Paradise; and instead of applying themselves to useful
Arts, and to the acquiring of Knowledge, grown as
indolent as they were ignorant, having, l i k e Solomon's
Fool, no delight i n Understanding.29

In Moll Flanders, to draw an example from Defoe's f i c t i o n , society

i s often pictured as a state of nature wherein man must try to survive

in the midst of ignorance, foolishness, and a h o s t i l e environment.

Robert Donovan points out, "In this respect Moll i s very much l i k e

Robinson Crusoe; both are centrally concerned with the elementary

problem of s u r v i v a l , and beyond that with whatever material amenities

a h o s t i l e environment can be made to p r o v i d e . T h e fundamental

difference between the two novels i s that, i n Rob in s on C rus oe, Defoe's

hero struggles i n the state of nature as nature, while i n Moll Flanders,

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the main character d i r e c t l y confronts the moral and s o c i a l problems

as they are created by the s o c i a l environment through which she moves.

But, on the other hand, both novels contain a d i a l e c t i c a l opposition

between a complete secular individualism and a moral v i s i o n which i n c o r -

porates the eighteenth century ideals of Christian morality and s o c i a l

order.

Perhaps, then, i n h i s f i r s t novel, Defoe has focussed on a

single character through whom this d i a l e c t i c can be resolved. We

have so f a r seen that, through an application of a r a t i o n a l knowledge and

action to p r a c t i c a l problems, Crusoe i s able to p u l l himself out of a

"meer State of Nature," and in so doing i s perhaps embodying the ideals

of a rational,and active man. These ideals are d i a l e c t i c a l l y ppposed

to Crusoe's own character t r a i t s i n the pre-island portion of his adventures;

that i s , before Crusoe came to h i s i s l a n d , he was an egocentric, possessive,

and e s s e n t i a l l y c a p i t a l i s t i c character motivated by unreasonable

desires and i n c l i n a t i o n s . But Defoe, i n ordering the events of h i s

narrative, implies that r a t i o n a l i t y i s i n s u f f i c i e n t i n aiding the good

man to perform right actions, and Crusoe needs to acquire the p r i n c i p l e s

of Christian f a i t h before h i s knowledge becomes complete and before

he can therefore successfully reenter the society of men. Crusoe, then,

needs to repent and convert himself to C h r i s t i a n i t y before he can

become a good s o c i a l being. In becoming a r a t i o n a l creature, Crusoe

has advanced one step closer to f a i t h and one step closer to a reintegration

into society. And Defoe, i n tracing this early development of Crusoe

on h i s island from the state of brute nature to a state of reasonable

a c q u i s i t i o n , allows his hero just enough time to get comfortably

c
 Ill

s e t t l e d on his i s l a n d , and just enough time to gain r a t i o n a l control

over his actions, before God s t r i k e s a blow that Crusoe feels w i l l surely

be f a t a l . What small security Crusoe had and what s t a b i l i t y he did acquire

are shattered by i l l n e s s and a t e r r i f y i n g dream.

There i s a possible p a r a l l e l , however s l i g h t , between this

event and the second voyage Crusoe made i n which he realized a

handsome p r o f i t . In both cases, Crusoe has gained some confidence:

his early success leads him to f e e l confident that he can perhaps make

a career out of voyaging and trading, and the miracle of the grain

leads him to believe that Providence i s watching over him and caring

for him. However, on his t h i r d voyage he i s captured by the Moorish

p i r a t e s , and just as he achieves a new sense of security and comparative

ease on his i s l a n d he f a l l s i l l . In both cases, the reader i s made

aware of the fact that Providence i s responsible for both the

achievement and the loss, and this fact i s one of the f i r s t that the

repentant Crusoe r e a l i z e s and which humbles him before God and

Providence.

F i n a l l y , in-spending those f i r s t nine months (perhaps a period

of gestation before a s p i r i t u a l rebirth) on his i s l a n d , ordering and

subduing his environment for his use, Crusoe has learned to f u l l y

appreciate the p r i n c i p l e s of reason, f o r they have allowed him to

achieve h i s s t a b i l i t y and security. Because r a t i o n a l i t y has become

i n t e g r a l to his thoughts and actions, he w i l l be able, upon his

conversion, to successfully combine the p r i n c i p l e s of reason and

Christian f a i t h i n meditating on his place i n the divine scheme. He

w i l l be able, i n other words, to view h i s f a i t h r a t i o n a l l y and to

achieve an even greater security and peace of mind that he ever

 112

experienced before.

Defoe has ordered h i s narrative, then, to trace the growth of

Robinson Crusoe into a f u l l y aware moral and r a t i o n a l being. This

development, I would suggest, culminates i n a resolution of the d i a l e c t i c

of trade and morality within the main character himself and h i s successful

reintegration into society. Thus Crusoe moves from an egocentric and

possessive c a p i t a l i s t to a more complete s o c i a l and moral being who

eventually reassumes h i s proper station i n l i f e (and, i t should be

pointed out, i n an e s s e n t i a l l y Christian moral and s o c i a l cosmos). This

d i a l e c t i c a l movement, and the resolution that takes place, would be one

way of making sense of the development of Crusoe through those three

stages of growth discussed e a r l i e r — i m p u l s e (brute nature), reason, and

f a i t h — a n d would allow us, f i n a l l y , to see Crusoe as embodying certain

of the ideals of the eighteenth century view of man. In the next section,

we w i l l consider the patterns of event and s i t u a t i o n i n Robinson Crusoe

in order to define the f i n a l stage of the protagonist's development—

that of f a i t h — a n d to show how this development operates to resolve

the trade-morality paradox.

.•3r.I. Possessive Individualism and the Pattern of Growth i n Robinson Crusoe

Locke's concept of property, which becomes the needed bridge

i n h i s philosophy between the abstract world of the state of nature and

the concrete, actual world of p o l i t i c a l l i b e r t y guaranteed by p o l i t i c a l

arrangements, can also be used to begin our discussion of the d i a l e c t i c s

and pattern of Robinson Crusoe. We have seen that concept of s e l f -

ownership i s central to the philosophical and p o l i t i c a l d e f i n i t i o n of

 113

individualism i n the seventeenth century. C.B. MacPherson defines the

e s s e n t i a l l y "possessive" quality of this doctrine of individualism

i n h i s discussion of seventeenth century p o l i t i c a l theory:

Its possessive quality i s found i n i t s conception

of the i n d i v i d u a l as e s s e n t i a l l y the proprietor of his
own person or capacities, owing nothing to society for
them. The i n d i v i d u a l was seen neither as a moral whole,
nor as part of a larger s o c i a l whole, but as an owner
of himself. The r e l a t i o n of ownership, having become
for more and more men the c r i t i c a l l y important r e l a t i o n
determining t h e i r actual freedom and actual prospect of
r e a l i z i n g t h e i r f u l l p o t e n t i a l i t i e s , was read back into
the nature of the i n d i v i d u a l . The i n d i v i d u a l , i t was
thought, i s free inasmuch as he i s proprietor of his
person and capacities. The human essence i s freedom
from dependence on the w i l l s of others, and freedom i s
a function of possession. Society becomes a l o t of
free equal individuals related to each other as proprietors-
of t h e i r own capacities and of what they have acquired
by t h e i r exercise. Society consists of relations of
exchange between proprietors. P o l i t i c a l society becomes
a calculated device for the protection of this property
and for the maintenance of an orderly r e l a t i o n of
exchange.3i

Here, i n a n u t s h e l l , i s the essence of the seventeenth century

theory of individualism as formulated by Hobbes, Locke, and many of the

Puritan p o l i t i c a l writers. Man i n a state of nature i s free to think

and act as he wants. Freedom i s then equated with t o t a l possession of

self. When a free i n d i v i d u a l becomes a member of society, a contract

i s made wherein the i n d i v i d u a l gives up a certain number of freedoms

for the security and the s t a b i l i t y (law and order) offered by a society

of men. The relationship of the i n d i v i d u a l to society becomes e s s e n t i a l l y

a trade r e l a t i o n s h i p : I w i l l trade some of my freedom i n the state of

nature for the security and s t a b i l i t y I expect to receive i n j o i n i n g the

society of men. Again, transgression of this s t a b i l i z e d system of trade

relationships upsets the balance of society-^the s o c i a l order—and

consequently, law and order (morality) must step in to restore

 114

the balance of relationships and to keep the i n d i v i d u a l from

again upsetting the contractual arrangements.

Thus, men l i k e Defoe and Locke saw the needu for a

Christian morality which would keep society, and the arrangements

which make up that society, balanced. Locke, for example, when

s i t t i n g on the Board of Trade i n London from 1695 to 1698, promulgated

32

a m e r c a n t i l i s t i c economic p o l i c y tempered by a Christian morality.

Likewise, Defoe, i n one of his last pieces for Applebee's Journal

(11 January 1729), writes:

S i r , I have upon many Occasions shewn the World that
I am a constant Friend to TRADE, and Commerce, which I
take to he the t h i r d general Head i n the Essentials
of a Nation's Good. For,—
1. To be Uniform i n orthodox P r i n c i p l e s of Religion,
adhering s t r i c t l y to the common Faith. 2. To be established
on one and the same Foundation of Right and Property,
Loyalty and Subjection, and 3. To be f l o u r i s h i n g and
prosperous, i n just Measures, for Encouragement of Commerce,
&c. These three, i n my Opinion, constitute a happy People.
And a b i t further on i n the same piece:

If Trade i s the L i f e and Prosperity of a Nation i n

general, and the next valuable Thing to Religion and
C i v i l Government i n a Commonwealth, then the Tradesman
i s a most useful and valuable Creature to his Country;
and i t i s of Importance to the Publick, that he should
thrive i n his private Capacity, as well as i t i s that ^
Trade, in General, should prosper as a publick Good....

Also, i n previous a r t i c l e s for Applebee's, Defoe argues against that

extreme form of economic individualism, stock-jobbing, p i c t u r i n g the stock-

jobber as an immoral person who i s w i l l i n g to undermine s o c i a l s t a b i l i t y

in order to raise his own fortune, and consequently, who i s the direct

antithesis to the good, or "compleat," tradesman. In e f f e c t , the stock-

jobber-—and the f l o a t e r of wild p r o j e c t s — t e n d s to cause society to

revert into that state of nature wherein a l l s o c i a l contracts are

 115

nullified. For a stable economy and a f l o u r i s h i n g trade, this

reversion would never do.

Consequently, Defoe's e a r l i e r work, Robinson Crusoe, can be seen

as a manifesto against this .reckless and speculative "capitalism."

When Crusoe's animal nature and his desire to r i s e quickly i n the

world of trade result i n h i s wild economic schemes, these schemes

are j u s t l y punished by Providence i n i t s capacity as a force of order

in the s o c i a l environment. Thus, the f i r s t part of the novel becomes

a d i a l e c t i c i n which the thesis i s Crusoe's economic schemes and the

antithesis a sense of moral T i g h t n e s s , embodied i n Providence, which

continually plagues Crusoe's trading adventures by means of storms,

shipwrecks, and c a p t i v i t y . Crusoe, then, begins as the a c q u i s i t i v e

c a p i t a l i s t who prefers to brush aside any awareness he might have of

r e l i g i o n and morality, yet eventually he reaches a "synthesis" of trade-

and-morality through h i s experience and the knowledge he gains from that

experience. Again, the crucible of experience which molds Crusoe's

new knowledge i s the i s l a n d , and again, the central point i n this

development i s the conversion scene. One example w i l l serve to

indicate the difference i n Crusoe before and a f t e r h i s repentance,

in both the s o c i a l and r e l i g i o u s sense.

Before Crusoe lands on the i s l a n d , he never thinks seriously on

r e l i g i o n or on the morality of h i s actions. In spite of the professed

loyalty of X u r y — a loyalty which should bind both the slave and Crusoe

s e l l s h i s "man" to the Portuguese captain for sixty pieces of s i l v e r ,

twice the sum for which Judas betrayed Christ. Crusoe i s , of course,

" l o t h to take" the money at f i r s t , since i t means s e l l i n g "the poor

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boy's l i b e r t y , " y e t he does i t anyway. L a t e r , he r e a l i z e s h i s need

f o r Xury, and s t a t e s t h a t he had "done wrong" i n p a r t i n g w i t h him.

But h e r e , t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p i s s t a t e d i n terms of need and usefulness

and seems completely l a c k i n g i n any moral or C h r i s t i a n q u a l i t y . And

even though Crusoe s e l l s Xury i n t o ten y e a r s ' bondage, he w i l l be

s e t f r e e o n l y i f he turns Christian. Surely t h i s comment i s i r o n i c ,

s i n c e Crusoe's a c t of s e l l i n g i s i t s e l f not very c h a r i t a b l e ; i t seems

t h a t Cirusoe i s o n l y out to t u r n the f a s t buck, d i s c a r d i n g Xury when the

boy i s no longer useful. T h i s e a r l y m a s t e r - s e r v a n t r e l a t i o n s h i p con-

t r a s t s w i t h the l a t e r a s s o c i a t i o n between Crusoe and Friday. Here,

though F r i d a y swears f e a l t y to Crusoe, becoming i n e f f e c t h i s s l a v e ,

Crusoe takes the pains h i m s e l f to convert h i s s l a v e to C h r i s t i a n i t y ,

to g i v e F r i d a y an awareness of " c i v i l i z e d " v a l u e s (e.g., forbidding

F r i d a y to eat h i s enemies and s a l t i n g h i s meat), and, in fact,

t h e i r comradeship develops i n t o a r e l a t i o n s h i p of t r u s t and love through-

out t h e l k s t p a r t of Crusoe's n a r r a t i v e , ending only w i t h Friday's

death i n the F a r t h e r Adventures. Besides, then, the usefulness of a

servant, a great d e a l of m o r a l i t y enters i n t o t h i s second a s s o c i a t i o n

with a "barbarian".

There i s one other i n t e r e s t i n g contrast involving Friday and

Crusoe and the n a t u r e of s o c i a l relationships. When these two men

rescue F r i d a y ' s f a t h e r from the c a n n i b a l s , the k i n d n e s s and solicitation

shown by the son c o n t r a s t s markedly w i t h Crusoe's e a r l i e r treatment

of h i s own father. One i n t e r p r e t a t i o n here would be t h a t even F r i d a y ,

a n a t u r a l man and supposedly a savage, can show more l o y a l t y , l o v e ,

and obedience to h i s f a t h e r than Crusoe, a supposedly c i v i l i z e d man,

did previously to h i s . Thus, Crusoe, i n the first p a r t of h i s n a r r a t i v e ,

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is even l e s s than a savage i n h i s s o c i a l and moral r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h

h i s " f a t h e r ; he i s a "meer b r u t e . "

These c o n t r a s t s i n Crusoe's r e l a t i o n s h i p s w i t h h i s two s e r v a n t s ,

and i n the two f a t h e r - s o n r e l a t i o n s h i p s , i n d i c a t e s t h a t a marked change

has taken p l a c e i n Crusoe's p r i n c i p l e s o f a c t i o n and h i s s e l f -

knowledge. Whereas b e f o r e h i s c o n v e r s i o n e x p e r i e n c e he o n l y honors

what we c o u l d term a " s o c i a l c o n t r a c t " i f i t i s u s e f u l to.him—that

is, a l l o w s him to r i s e i n the w o r l d — a f t e r t h i s e x p e r i e n c e he l e a r n s t o

s u b o r d i n a t e these " o b s t i n a t e i m p u l s e s " t o a sense o f m o r a l i t y and

order. I f Crusoe's c o n v e r s i o n of F r i d a y i l l u s t r a t e s a triumph o f

n u r t u r e over savage n a t u r e , then h i s c o n v e r s i o n a l s o p a r a l l e l s Crusoe's

own ,experience i n l e a r n i n g to be, i n e f f e c t , a b e t t e r human b e i n g .

L i k e w i s e , b e f o r e the i s l a n d e x p e r i e n c e , Crusoe i s e s s e n t i a l l y

an i s o l a t e d f i g u r e among mankind: h i s c o n t a c t w i t h men t a k e t h e

s form

of t r a d i n g o r economic c o n t r a c t s , b u t we never admire Crusoe's actions

or the p a r t he p l a y s i n these t r a d i n g i n c l i n a t i o n s . He l e a v e s h i s f a t h e r ' s

home to go t o s e a , thus r e f u s i n g t o take h i s l a w f u l and moral p l a c e

in the middle station of l i f e . He l e a v e s h i s p r o s p e r i n g B r a z i l i a n plantation

in o r d e r t o go on a s l a v i n g e x p e d i t i o n , a g a i n overthrowing his position

in the middle station of l i f e . However, when he r e t u r n s t o s o c i e t y ,

a f t e r twenty-eight y e a r s o f i s o l a t i o n , h i s a c t i o n s a r e admirable. The

r e a d e r , i n f a c t , has been prepared l o n g i n advance f o r t h i s s u c c e s s f u l

r e i n t e g r a t i o n i n t o the s o c i a l o r d e r through Crusoe's growing reinvolvement

w i t h mankind w h i l e s t i l l on h i s i s l a n d .

In h i s f i r s t encounter w i t h another E u r o p e a n — t h e S p a n i a r d he

and F r i d a y rescue from the c a n n i b a l s — C r u s o e i s q u i c k t o s e t out the

terms o f a c o n t r a c t which a l l p a r t i e s w i l l f a i t h f u l l y abide by:

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if the S p a n i a r d i s t o b r i n g h i s f r i e n d s over from the mainland, they

must swear t o f o l l o w Crusoe's commands and to obey h i s d e c i s i o n s .

T h i s demand i s q u i t e r e a s o n a b l e , s i n c e Crusoe does own h i s i s l a n d

( i n the Lockean sense) and s i n c e he i s o f f e r i n g a degree o f p r o t e c t i o n

and s t a b i l i t y (the i s l a n d can support a s i z e a b l e p o p u l a t i o n as long

as peace i s m a i n t a i n e d ) . T h i s c o n t r a c t i s s e t out i n w r i t i n g even though

Crusoe has run out o f i n k many y e a r s h e f o r e , and the s i g n i n g o f the

document i n d i c a t e s t h a t Defoe's hero i s now p r e p a r e d t o become a

l e a d e r o f men. Crusoe i s a l l o w e d t o prove h i s l e a d e r s h i p capabilities

l a t e r when he poses as the "governor" o f h i s i s l a n d and l e a d s a

s u c c e s s f u l counter-mutiny a g a i n s t the s a i l o r s - t u r n e d - p i r a t e s on the

English ship. Here, o f c o u r s e , Crusoe becomes a f o r c e f o r moral

o r d e r and s t a b i l i t y i n the l i m i t e d , and perhaps m i s c r o c o s m i c , s h i p -

board s o c i e t y . Whereas the p i r a t e s have o v e r t u r n e d t h e i r social

o b l i g a t i o n s by r e v o l t i n g a g a i n s t the r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f moral law

and o r d e r , the s h i p ' s c a p t a i n , Crusoe r e a f f i r m s the o r d e r l y arrangement

of t h i s s o c i e t y by t r i u m p h i n g over the s i n f u l ways o f the m u t i n e e r s .

Consequently, when he r e t u r n s t o Europe, he i s given the l e a d e r s h i p o f

the group o f men w i t h whom he t r a v e l s through the Pyrenees, and a t

the end o f the book, he d u t i f u l l y reassumes t h a t p r o p e r p l a c e i n

s o c i e t y which he overthrew a t the b e g i n n i n g o f h i s adventures. The

moral of the s t o r y i s t h a t Crusoe has l e a r n e d t o l i v e a l i f e based

on the " r i g h t s p r i n c i p l e s o f s o c i a l o r d e r and s t a b i l i t y ; he has gained,

i n o t h e r words, a p r o p e r m o r a l i t y and s e l f - k n o w l e d g e . .

A l a r g e r system o f p a r a l l e l s and c o n t r a s t s i n Crusoe's a c t i o n s

i n d i c a t e s t h a t perhaps Defoe's n o v e l i s c a r e f u l l y s t r u c t u r e d t o show

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the development of Crusoe into this paradigm of the good s o c i a l being

who always affirms through his actions the natural and s o c i a l order.

Again, the bases of s o c i a l action reside i n a knowledge of what i s

e t h i c a l l y r i g h t , and this sense of right and wrong i s inherent

in the conversion experience i n the book. An awareness of moral goodness

proceeds d i r e c t l y from the repentance of Crusoe, and Defoe's novel i s

structured so as to indicate the b i r t h of a moral v i s i o n as i t springs

from Crusoe's acceptance of C h r i s t i a n i t y .

As we have seen, upon h i s acceptance of God, Christ, and the

rest of the Christian doctrine, Crusoe begins to seriously consider h i s

position i n r e l a t i o n to God and the Christian cosmos. He points out

that, for the f i r s t time since his prayers during the storm o f f H u l l ,

he contemplates his s i n f u l nature and thinks of repenting. The

difference i s , of course, that during the e a r l i e r storm, Crusoe

was prompted by fear of drowning, while on his i s l a n d he i s prompted

by the t e r r i f y i n g dream-vision, but at the same time, perhaps r e a l i z e s

that he i s reaching out f o r something he"has lacked before: he i s , i n

other words, working toward a higher v i s i o n — a sBlf-knowledge. Thus,

he states that previously he "was merely thoughtless of a God or a

Providence; acted l i k e a meer brute from the principles of Nature,

and by the dictates of common sense only, and indeed hardly

that" (I, 9 7 ) . This passage signals the course of Crusoe's l a t e r

s p i r i t u a l development: "common sense," or reason, i s not enough

i f one wants to understand as completely as possible the workings of the

universe, the purpose of events i n this world, and the place of the

i n d i v i d u a l i n God's design. Crusoe, i n f a c t , finds that f a i t h bolsters

h i s powers of reasoning, and he begins to discern patterns i n his own

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l i f e which, of course, are reflected i n the patterns of the novel.

In the f i r s t place, Crusoe notes "a strange concurrence of days

in the various providences which b e f e l l " him. He notes i n quick

succession:that the same date he l e f t his father's house, he was

taken by Moorish p i r a t e s ; he escaped from Sallee on the same date that,

some time before, he got away from the sinking ship i n Yarmouth

Roads; on his birthday he was stranded on his desert island. He points

out, r e f e r r i n g to this l a t t e r concurrence of dates, "...my wicked l i f e

and my s o l i t a r y l i f e began both on a day" (I, 147).

Just as he begins noting this curious pattern of s i g n i f i c a n t

dates i n his l i f e (a pattern which indicates a Providential design i n

-

his l i f e ) , Crusoe also begins ordering his pattern of l i v i n g . For

example, he solemnly observes the anniversary of h i s shipwreck on

the i s l a n d , fasting and meditating for an entire day each year. Since

his repentance, Crusoe has also used this day, among others, to reason

out the existence of God and to meditate on the design and pattern of

Providential care i n h i s l i f e . And he can announce on the fourth

anniversary of his i s o l a t i o n , that "by a constant study and serious

application of the Word of God, and by the assistances of His grace,

I gained a different knowledge from what I had before. I entertained

d i f f e r e n t notions of things" (I, 142). Crusoe's knowledge, gained

from experience, i s partly the a b i l i t y to "sum and square" everything,

and to act r a t i o n a l l y where before he would have acted f o o l i s h l y .

But, to Defoe and to Crusoe, reason alone i s a weak and f a l t e r i n g

guide, whereas reason buttressed by the strong p r i n c i p l e s of C h r i s t i a n

f a i t h provides the suremeans to true knowledge. In speaking of religious

conviction, Defoe himself writes, "It i s Religion alone, which i s the

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bond of V i r t u e i n the World; the Awe o f a D i v i n e Power, and a Sense o f

the Majesty and Vengeance of Heaven, b e i n g - a l o n e a b l e to r e s t r a i n the

34

V i c e s and L u s t s o f Men." B e g i n n i n g w i t h a t r u e repentance, Crusoe

r e a l i z e s t h a t h i s major s i n was to r e j e c t "the v o i c e o f P r o v i d e n c e ,

which had m e r c i f u l l y put me i n a p o s t u r e or s t a t i o n o f l i f e wherein

I might have been happy and easy; but I would n e i t h e r see i t m y s e l f ,

or l e a r n to know the b l e s s i n g o f i t from my p a r e n t s " ( I , 100). He

then prays s i n c e r e l y f o r the f i r s t time i n many y e a r s , and soon

a f t e r i s a b l e t o reason out h i s p l a c e i n the d i v i n e scheme:

What i s t h i s e a r t h and sea, o f which I have seen
so much? whence i s i t produced? And what am I , and
a l l the o t h e r c r e a t u r e s , w i l d and tame, human and
b r u t a l , whence are we? Sure we are a l l made by some
s e c r e t Power, who formed the e a r t h and sea, the a i r
and sky. And who i s t h a t ?
Then i t f o l l o w e d most n a t u r a l l y , I t i s God t h a t
has made i t a l l . W e l l , but then i t came on s t r a n g e l y ,
i f God has made a l l these t h i n g s , He guides and governs
them a l l , and a l l t h i n g s that concern them; f o r the
Power t h a t c o u l d make a l l t h i n g s , must c e r t a i n l y have
power t o guide and d i r e c t them.
I f so, n o t h i n g can happen i n the great c i r c u i t of
His works, e i t h e r without H i s knowledge o r appointment.
And i f n o t h i n g happens w i t h o u t H i s knowledge, He knows
t h a t I am h e r e , and am i n t h i s d r e a d f u l c o n d i t i o n .
And i f n o t h i n g happens w i t h o u t H i s appointment, He
has a p p o i n t e d a l l t h i s to b e f a l l me. ( I , 101-102)

T h i s , then, i s a l a r g e p a r t o f Crusoe's new-found knowledge, an awareness

of P r o v i d e n c e and a j u s t i f i c a t i o n o f f a i t h through reason. The catalyst

for Crusoe's thought i s the d r e a m - v i s i o n which so t e r r i f i e d him, so t h a t

Defoe seems to be i n d i c a t i n g that some s o r t o f r e v e l a t i o n must take p l a c e

b e f o r e reason can j u s t i f y the f o u n d a t i o n s of f a i t h . On the o t h e r hand,

t h e r e were two ways to f a i t h i n God i n the e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y — o n e by

r e v e l a t i o n and one through r e a s o n — a n d i t seems t h a t Crusoe uses

b o t h i n c o n j u n c t i o n w i t h one another. However, when he l a t e r converts

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F r i d a y t o C h r i s t i a n i t y , Crusoe draws a d i s t i n c t i o n between reason and

revelation:

. . . i t was a testimony to me how the mere n o t i o n s of

n a t u r e , though they w i l l guide r e a s o n a b l e c r e a t u r e s t o
the knowledge of a God, and of a worship or homage due
to the supreme b e i n g o f God, as the consequence o f
our n a t u r e , y e t n o t h i n g but D i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n can form
the knowledge of Jesus C h r i s t and o f a redemption
purchased f o r us, o f a Mediator of the new convenant,
and o f an I n t e r c e s s o r at the f o o t s t o o l of God's throne.
(I., 244)

Thus, a g e n e r a l knowledge of God can be o b t a i n e d through the p r i n c i p l e s

of n a t u r e and r e a s o n , but p a r t i c u l a r knowledge of Jesus C h r i s t must

come through r e v e l a t i o n o r n u r t u r e . With F r i d a y , Crusoe must bear

the white man's burden.

We have p r e v i o u s l y n o t e d t h a t , a f t e r Crusoe's repentance, he

expands b o t h h i s e x p l o r a t i o n and h i s c o n t r o l over the n a t u r a l

environment. He l e a r n s the seasons, o r d e r s h i s p r o j e c t s , and meditates

continually. He dominates the i s l a n d i n a s t r i c t l y orderly fashion,

p r o d u c i n g n e i t h e r too much nor too l i t t l e of what he needs. It i s

w e l l w i t h i n Crusoe's power to overproduce the commodities essential

to h i s e x i s t e n c e . He c o u l d , f o r example, grow a c r e s o f r i c e , barley,

and c o r n , but most of i t would be s u r p l u s and waste. He would be

dominating h i s environment f o r no r e a l reason whatsoever, and thus

we can assume t h a t he has l e a r n e d what h i s p l a c e i s i n the n a t u r a l o r d e r

and, i n consequence, adheres to the bounds s e t by n a t u r e : "...we

enjoy j u s t as much as we can use, and no more" ( I , 143). Thus,

Crusoe comes t o v a l u e t h i n g s o n l y as they are u s e f u l t o him. In o t h e r

words, he l e a r n s to temper h i s a c q u i s i t i v e n e s s , to keep i t w i t h i n the

natural (and moral) bounds, and a g a i n , the triumph over h i s a n i m a l ,

"brute" nature i s complete.

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Another p a t t e r n which would i n d i c a t e a new basis for action

and a new means of knowledge f o r Crusoe, would be the s e r i e s of dream-

v i s i o n s he n a r r a t e s . S i g n i f i c a n t l y , these v i s i o n s b e g i n only w i t h the

one that brings on h i s repentance. Previously, while his prayers

and sabbath-keeping were merely m a t t e r s of form, he had no such v i s i o n s ,

or p a i d no a t t e n t i o n to them. At l e a s t , none are n a r r a t e d . However,

the dream p a t t e r n takes i t s s i g n i f i c a n c e from the f a c t t h a t Crusoe

pays great a t t e n t i o n to h i s s e p a r a t e dreams, knowing ( a f t e r h i s

c o n v e r s i o n ) they are one means through which P r o v i d e n c e communicates.

Thus, by l i s t e n i n g to t h i s P r o v i d e n t i a l v o i c e , he i s a b l e to see into

the f u t u r e , and t o guide h i s a c t i o n s a c c o r d i n g to the knowledge

g r a n t e d him by God's v o i c e .

Frank E l l i s , t a k i n g a r a t h e r s t r a n g e view of the dream-

pattern i n Robinson Crusoe, s t a t e s that i n f a c t dreams e x i s t on both

s i d e s of Crusoe's c o n v e r s i o n : "Superimposed on t h i s form i s a r e l a t e d

p a t t e r n of dreams ( i s o l a t e d man t a l k i n g to God). This dream-

conversion pattern i s r e p e a t e d on e i t h e r s i d e , so to speak, of the

c e n t r a l confrontation—^before and a f t e r , t h a t i s t o say, the c e n t r a l

e p i s o d e of the p l o t . " And further, E l l i s points out, "the conversion of

F r i d a y and of Robinson Crusoe h i m s e l f are preceded and foreshadowed

3 '5

by dream sequences." Thus, Crusoe dreams one n i g h t t h a t he w i l l get

one o f the "savages" to be h i s s e r v a n t , that a man would come "running

i n t o my little t h i c k grove, b e f o r e my fortification, to hide himself."

Crusoe dreams he w i l l show h i m s e l f to the savage, whereupon the latter

w i l l p r o s t r a t e h i m s e l f before:Crusoe and become h i s s e r v a n t ( I , 220-221).

Crusoe's new p r o j e c t w i l l be to get a servant, and h i s f e a r of the

cannibals i s consequently overcome by the knowledge granted him by

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P r o v i d e n c e t h a t he w i l l be s u c c e s s f u l i n t h i s v e n t u r e .

The g e n e r a l importance o f the dream p a t t e r n i s t h a t i t i n d i c a t e s

t h a t Crusoe's i n n e r b e i n g — h i s t h o u g h t - p r o c e s s e s and h i s s p i r i t u a l and

r a t i o n a l c h a r a c t e r — i s s l o w l y opening out i n t o the book and assuming

an e v e r g r e a t e r importance to the n a r r a t i v e i t s e l f . The importance

of t h i s "blooming" of Crusoe's i n n e r b e i n g i s t o i n d i c a t e t h a t he

is coming to a g r e a t e r knowledge o f h i m s e l f , and t h a t t h i s knowledge—

a r e s u l t o f h i s e x p e r i e n c e — i s b e i n g f e d back i n t o h i s e x p e r i e n c e

through an i n t e r a c t i o n w i t h the environment. Thus, the c o l l a p s i n g

and s t r e t c h i n g o f the time sequence throughout Robinson Crusoe s e r v e s

what we c o u l d term a thematic f u n c t i o n . We can assume, g i v e n the

e x i s t e n c e of an obvious p a r a l l e l i n g and c o n t r a s t i n g o f events i n Defoe's

n o v e l , t h a t our author c a r e f u l l y chooses h i s events t o show Crusoe's

g r a d u a l awakening to these s p i r i t u a l r e a l i t i e s and t o a s e l f -

knowledge. The s t r e t c h i n g o f a s i n g l e day's events i n t o s e v e r a l pages,

o r the c o l l a p s e of s e v e r a l weeks i n t o a s i n g l e sentence, would indicate

p a r a l l e l s between Crusoe's a c q u i s i t i o n " o f knowledge and h i s a c q u i s i t i o n

of goods and p r o p e r t y through a focus on important events and

important m e d i t a t i o n s . The f a i r l y d e t a i l e d d e s c r i p t i o n s of v a r i o u s

p r o j e c t s such as the making of p o t s , f u r n i t u r e , f o r t i f i c a t i o n s , and the

growing and h a r v e s t i n g of c r o p s , i l l u s t r a t e Crusoe's d i l i g e n c e , patience,

prudence, and an a p p l i c a t i o n of reason i n o r d e r t o g a i n c o n t r o l over

the n a t u r a l environment. His e x p l o r a t i o n s of the i s l a n d " a n d , i n p a r t i c u l a r ,

the d i s c o v e r i e s he makes of f e r t i l e l a n d , grapes, t o r t o i s e s , and so

on, s e r v e the purpose of showing how Crusoe extends h i s d i l i g e n t application,

h i s human power of reason, and h i s p r o p e r t y i n t o the s t a t e o f n a t u r e .

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In c o n j u n c t i o n with, the n a r r a t i o n o f c e r t a i n o f these p r o j e c t s ,

Crusoe's m e d i t a t i o n s and r e f l e c t i o n s e x i s t i n a k i n d of t i m e l e s s

w o r l d , y e t at the same time p a r a l l e l h i s conquest o f the n a t u r a l

environment. Thus, as Crusoe i n d i c a t e s i n s e v e r a l o f the more m e d i t a t i v e

passages of the book, the " s e c r e t h i n t s and n o t i c e s " of Providence,

working i n c o n j u n c t i o n w i t h h i s reason and p r o v i n g to him the

" j u s t n e s s of t h i s r e a s o n , " form a s t r o n g bond between h i s growing

s p i r i t u a l and r a t i o n a l b e i n g and h i s a p p l i c a t i o n o f moral knowledge and

reason to a p r a c t i c a l and u t i l i t a r i a n conquest of the environment.

T h i s major thematic t h r u s t of the n a r r a t i v e achieves its fruition

w i t h the coming of F r i d a y to Crusoe's i s l a n d . Friday himself can

be seen, i n one sense, as a thematic d e v i c e which i n d i c a t e s the

triumph of reason and f a i t h i n Crusoe's mind. First, of course, we

have seen t h a t Providence g i v e s n o t i c e to Crusoe t h a t he w i l l o b t a i n

a servant. Crusoe, because of h i s new "notions of t h i n g s , " pays heed

to t h i s P r o v i d e n t i a l dream and d e c i d e s , a f t e r many " s e c r e t d i s p u t e s "

and " g r e a t p e r p l e x i t i e s , " to prepare to capture one of the savages.

He s e t s h i m s e l f "upon the s c o u t , as o f t e n as p o s s i b l e " ( I , 222), and

soon h i s d i l i g e n c e i s rewarded. A f t e r a f i g h t w i t h the c a n n i b a l s ,

i n which he i s " c a l l e d p l a i n l y by Providence to save" one "poor

creature's l i f e " ( I , 225), he o b t a i n s F r i d a y . F r i d a y then becomes

u s e f u l to both Crusoe and the n a r r a t i v e i t s e l f . He has a certain

u t i l i t a r i a n v a l u e as a s e r v a n t to Crusoe, but at the same time, he

a l l o w s Crusoe to become a m i s s i o n a r y . Crusoe c o n v e r t s F r i d a y , and

w i t h p a r t i c u l a r r e f e r e n c e to the theme of Crusoe's moral growth, t h i s

s o l i d i f i e s and i l l u s t r a t e s our hero's f a i t h and knowledge. Again,

the n a r r a t i v e f o c u s s e s on the d i a l o g u e s through which Crusoe c o n v e r t s

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h i s s e r v a n t to a C h r i s t i a n and c i v i l i z e d m o r a l i t y , i n d i c a t i n g the path

t h a t i s open from m e d i t a t i o n t o a c t i o n throughout the n o v e l . Therefore,

F r i d a y i s of p r a c t i c a l use t o Crusoe, and he i s o f moral and thematic

use to the n a r r a t i v e , s i n c e once a g a i n reason and f a i t h triumph over

a savage n a t u r e .

There i s one f i n a l important p a t t e r n i n Defoe's n o v e l which

indicates the growth o f p r a c t i c a l knowledge, reason, and f i n a l l y ,

the r e a l i z a t i o n t h a t a c q u i s i t i o n s h o u l d be tempered by reason. Three

times s h i p s come to Crusoe's i s l a n d , and each o f these i n c i d e n t s i s

used by Defoe to i l l u s t r a t e c e r t a i n c h a r a c t e r t r a i t s i n Robinson

Crusoe which have developed through the course o f the p r e c e d i n g

narrative. The f i r s t i n c i d e n t i s t h a t o f the shipwreck which p l a c e s

Crusoe i n a s t a t e o f n a t u r e and which c o n c r e t e l y embodies the dominant

n a t u r e o f Crusoe h i m s e l f up t o t h a t p o i n t i n the n a r r a t i v e . First,

the shipwreck i s o b v i o u s l y punishment by Providence f o r what we have

seen t o be moral and s o c i a l s i n s : Crusoe's o v e r r e a c h i n g and b e s t i a l

nature r e s u l t s i n d i v i n e l y - s e n t punishment as the P r o v i d e n t i a l p a t t e r n

once again triumphs. He i s p l a c e d i n a s t a t e o f n a t u r e which i s

emblematic d f h i s own n a t u r e . He i s c o n t r o l l e d by p a s s i o n and

morally isolated from h i s own s p e c i e s through h i s e a r l y adventures;

he i s c o n t r o l l e d by p a s s i o n and p h y s i c a l l y i s o l a t e d from h i s own s p e c i e s

when he i s shipwrecked on t h e i s l a n d . Though he begins slowly to

e v o l v e r a t i o n a l p a t t e r n s o f thought i n h i s mind, he i s s t i l l largely

a creature of i n s t i n c t as i s i l l u s t r a t e d i n h i s plundering of t h i s

first staip. He does b e i n g to c o o r d i n a t e h i s p l a n s and " g e s t u r e s , " b u t

plunders the s h i p of e v e r y t h i n g he can take o f f , whether i t i s u s e f u l

or useless. And, i n h i s h a s t e and f o l l y , he n e a r l y o v e r t u r n s one r a f t -

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l o a d , w h i l e a t another time he a c c i d e n t a l l y dumps a l o a d o f u s e l e s s

and heavy ironwork i n t o the r i v e r . He even h a u l s o f f what he knows

is u s e l e s s g o l d , b u t not without a d d r e s s i n g to the money h i s famous

apostrophe which C o l e r i d g e and o t h e r s have found t o be a m a s t e r p i e c e o f

irony:

I s m i l e d t o myself a t the s i g h t o f t h i s money.

"0 drug!" s a i d I a l o u d , "what a r t thou good f o r ? Thou
are n o t worth t o me, no, not the t a k i n g o f f o f the
ground; one o f those k n i v e s i s worth a l l t h i s heap.
I have no manner o f use f o r thee; even remain where
thou a r t , and go t o t h e bottom as a c r e a t u r e whose
l i f e i s n o t worth s a v i n g . " However, upon second
thoughts, I took i t away.... ( I , 62)

C e r t a i n l y t h i s passage c o u l d be i r o n i c , s i n c e at the same time Crusoe

has taken away o t h e r u s e l e s s i t e m s , but i t c o u l d a l s o i l l u s t r a t e the

first glimmerings o f prudence i n Crusoe's mind. I f he i s e v e r r e s c u e d

from h i s i s l a n d , the g o l d w i l l c e r t a i n l y be u s e f u l , and i t i s t h i s line

of r e a s o n i n g that c o n t r o l s h i s thoughts when the second s h i p i s

wrecked o f f h i s i s l a n d y e a r s later.

When t h i s second s h i p runs aground, Crusoe takes h i s canoe out

to i t and f i n d s "very l i t t l e . . . t h a t was o f any use to me," except f o r

s e v e r a l chests o f money ( I , 214). A g a i n he r e f l e c t s t h a t " f o r as t o the

money, I had no manner of o c c a s i o n f o r i t ; 'twas t o me as the d i r t under

my f e e t ; and I would have g i v e n i t a l l f o r t h r e e o r f o u r p a i r o f E n g l i s h

shoes and s t o c k i n g s , which were t h i n g s I g r e a t l y wanted, but had n o t

had on my f e e t now f o r many y e a r s . " Crusoe takes the money o f f t h e

s h i p , b u t t h i s time g i v e s h i s r e a s o n :

W e l l , however, I lugged t h i s money home t o my cave,

and l a i d i t up, as I had done that b e f o r e which I
brought from our own s h i p ; but i t was g r e a t p i t y , as I
s a i d , t h a t the o t h e r p a r t o f t h i s s h i p had n o t come t o
my s h a r e , f o r I am s a t i s f i e d I might have loaded my
canoe s e v e r a l times over w i t h money, which, i f I had
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ever escaped t o England, would have l a i n here s a f e

enough t i l l I might have come a g a i n and f e t c h e d i t .

(I, 215)

What the r e a d e r might have once seen as merely greed and stupidity

has now become a prudent a c t , f o r Crusoe i s s a v i n g the money f o r when

he might need i t .

A number o f y e a r s have e l a p s e d s i n c e Crusoe p l u n d e r e d the

f i r s t wreck, and the change i n h i s b e h a v i o r as he takes t h i n g s from this

second wreck i s q u i t e e v i d e n t . I n s t e a d of l a y i n g h i s hands on a n y t h i n g

t h a t i s l o o s e o r that he can detach, he i s v e r y j u d i c i o u s i n the items

he a c q u i r e s . He doesn't take any m u s k e t s — h e a l r e a d y has enough—but

he takes the powder horn. He takes some k e t t l e s and p o t s , and a

g r i d i r o n , and i s l i k e w i s e very s e l e c t i v e i n what he takes from the

seachests. Crusoe, then, behaves as a r e a s o n a b l e man would. He knows

what he needs from the s h i p , h i s e x p e r i e n c e and reason h a v i n g taught

him the u s e f u l n e s s o f c e r t a i n items and the u s e l e s s n e s s of o t h e r s .

T h e r e f o r e , i n j u d g i n g the u t i l i t y and v a l u e of c e r t a i n o b j e c t s , and

even o f c e r t a i n v e n t u r e s , Crusoe shows again a new knowledge i n h i s

ability to handle h i m s e l f i n c e r t a i n s i t u a t i o n s . And, as i f t o d r i v e

the p o i n t home, Defoe f i l l s the f o l l o w i n g pages of the n a r r a t i v e w i t h

another o f those l o n g m e d i t a t i v e passages wherein Crusoe reflects on

his past l i f e of s i n and the j o y s he would have found i n s t a y i n g

peaceably i n the middle s t a t i o n o f l i f e , a l l o w i n g reason and m o r a l i t y

to guide him i n h i s a c q u i s i t i o n o f m a t e r i a l wealth and w e l l - b e i n g .

F u r t h e r , i n c a l l i n g c h i m s e l f a "memento to those who are touched w i t h

the g e n e r a l plague of m a n k i n d " — i . e . , the s i n of p r i d e — Crusoe

again shows an awareness of the e x i s t e n c e of an e s s e n t i a l l y moral

u n i v e r s e wherein man must p e a c e f u l l y s e t t l e i n t o h i s proper station

in life and temper h i s a s p i r a t i o n s and a c q u i s i t i v e n e s s w i t h both faith

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and reason. Crusoe, h e r e , i s a f a r cry from the Crusoe who found

himself, in his f i r s t days on the i s l a n d , sunk i n t o a "meer s t a t e

o f N a t u r e " and governed o n l y by " f e a r and d e s i r e , " unaware of h i s true

p o s i t i o n or n a t u r e , or by any r e a l i z a t i o n t h a t through reason and

r a t i o n a l a p p l i c a t i o n he can raise himself out of h i s b e s t i a l mental

and p h y s i c a l s t a t e of n a t u r e .

F i n a l l y , w i t h the coming of the t h i r d s h i p to the i s l a n d ,

Crusoe i s ready to take complete c o n t r o l of the s i t u a t i o n and to become

a l e a d e r of men and a f o r c e f o r order and stability in society.

In p l a n n i n g a counter-strategy that leads to a s u c c e s s f u l recapture

of the s h i p , Crusoe again i l l u s t r a t e s through h i s a c t i o n s h i s ability

to reason and take c o n t r o l , and to see the event through to the end.

For example, he makes h i s demands to the E n g l i s h c a p t a i n "most

reasonable." I f Crusoe i s to g i v e h i s a i d i n r e c a p t u r i n g the ship,

the c a p t a i n must submit to two conditions:

1. That w h i l e you s t a y on t h i s i s l a n d w i t h me,

you w i l l not p r e t e n d t o any a u t h o r i t y h e r e ; and i f I
put arms i n t o your hands, you w i l l upon a l l o c c a s i o n s
g i v e them up to me and do no p r e j u d i c e to me or mine
upon t h i s i s l a n d , and i n the meantime, be governed by
my o r d e r s . 2. That i f the s h i p i s or may be recovered,
you w i l l c a r r y me and my man to England, passage f r e e .
( I , 285-86)

A s o c i a l c o n t r a c t i s formed t h a t i s both r e a s o n a b l e and just. The

c a p t a i n o f f e r s Crusoe command :of h i s s h i p , but Crusoe j u d i c i o u s l y

refuses. What f o l l o w s the arrangement of t h i s contract i s a

s t r i n g of v i c t o r i e s which end w i t h the r e c a p t u r e of the s h i p and

s a f e passage of Crusoe and F r i d a y back to England. In a l l , P r o v i d e n c e

has a l l o w e d Crusoe to a c h i e v e , through d i l i g e n c e and application, his

own salvation: through Crusoe's own e f f o r t s , he gains a final deliverance

from the i s l a n d and i s f u l l y i p r e p a r e d to reassume h i s j u s t and proper

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place i n society. One of Crusoe's l a s t a c t i o n s on h i s i s l a n d i s to

g i v e thanks t o t h a t P r o v i d e n c e which a i d e d him in a l l his "right"

actions:

I f o r g o t not t o l i f t up my h e a r t i n t h a n k f u l n e s s to
Heaven; and what h e a r t c o u l d f o r b e a r to b l e s s Him, who
had not only i n a m i r a c u l o u s manner p r o v i d e d f o r one
i n such a w i l d e r n e s s and i n such a d e s o l a t e c o n d i t i o n ,
but from whom every d e l i v e r a n c e must always be
acknowledged to p r o c e e d . ( I , 305-06)

And, as a f i n a l n o t e , Crusoe r e a l i z e s the s i g n i f i c a n c e of the

date of h i s d e p a r t u r e from the island:

And thus I l e f t the i s l a n d , the 19th of December, as

I found by the s h i p s account, i n the y e a r 1686, a f t e r I
had been upon i t e i g h t and twenty y e a r s , two months, and
n i n e t e e n days, b e i n g d e l i v e r e d from t h i s second c a p t i v i t y
the same day of the month t h a t I f i r s t made my escape i n
the b a r c o - l o n g o , from among the Moors of S a l l e e
( I , 310-11)

W.' S t r u c t u r e and Dialectics

The suggestion that' Crusoe i s f i n d i n g s i g n i f i c a n t p a t t e r n s i n

his l i f e and t h a t Defoe i s c a r e f u l l y s t r u c t u r i n g h i s n a r r a t i v e to show

the stages of Crusoe's development p o i n t s to the p o s s i b i l i t y , again,

of a shaping v i s i o n at work throughout the e n t i r e n a r r a t i v e , and f u r t h e r ,

t h a t each episode i s thematically significant i n this larger structure.

In the p r e v i o u s chapter I i n d i c a t e d the p o s s i b i l i t y of t h r e e structural

l e v e l s i n Robinson Crusoe: the p a r a t a c t i c s t r u c t u r e , the p a t t e r n of

i n t e r a c t i o n between the r e l i g i o u s and economic themes, and a structure

which i n c o r p o r a t e s the growth and development of the main c h a r a c t e r and

w h i c h serves to u n i f y and p l a c e i n proper p e r s p e c t i v e the moral and

economic themes of the book. Now t h a t we have e x p l o r e d and defined

the q u a l i t y of Crusoe's mental and s p i r i t u a l development and i t s basis

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i n the p h i l o s o p h y of the p e r i o d , we should be able to d e s c r i b e this

more comprehensive s t r u c t u r e i n Defoe's novel.

On the most b a s i c l e v e l , Defoe's Robinson Crusoe d i v i d e s i n t o

three units: the p r e - i s l a n d s e c t i o n , the twenty-eight y e a r sojourn

on the i s l a n d , and the r e t u r n to the c i v i l i z e d w o r l d . As we have seen,

Crusoe's own nature—his character and thoughts—is explored and

defined i n each of these t h r e e s e c t i o n s , the e x p l o r a t i o n b e i n g deeper

and more s i g n i f i c a n t during the i s l a n d p o r t i o n o f the s t o r y . The

r e a s o n f o r t h i s s i g n i f i c a n c e i s t h a t , q u i t e simply, the i s l a n d i s

Crusoe's p r o v i n g - g r o u n d ; i t i s here that he must develop and fully

r e a l i z e a code of e t h i c s and of r i g h t a c t i o n which w i l l facilitate his

peaceful reentry into society. In t h i s sense, each of the major

changes i n h i s c h a r a c t e r — h i s a c q u i s i t i o n of reason and faith—and

a l l h i s ; p r o j e c t s and diary-keeping, take him one step f u r t h e r from the

s t a t e of n a t u r e and consequently one step c l o s e r to a recovery of

civilized society. I f the i s l a n d p o r t i o n i t s e l f i s a major transitional

scene, then i t i s c a r e f u l l y connected w i t h the n a r r a t i v e s e c t i o n s on

e i t h e r s i d e through Defoe's use of s p e c i f i c f i c t i o n a l devices. In

f a c t , Defoe i s c a r e f u l to p r e p a r e h i s reader f o r each stage i n Crusoe's

development through b o t h d r a m a t i c b u i l d - u p s to c l i m a c t i c scenes and

t r a n s i t i o n a l scenes and devices. Our last s e c t i o n , then, w i l l be an

attempt to i n d i c a t e the c l o s e r e l a t i o n s h i p s between Crusoe's

developing character and the dramatic s t r u c t u r e of the n o v e l , and to

show how both character and s t r u c t u r e consequently work toward a

r e s o l u t i o n of the trade-morality paradox.

First, each stage of Crusoe's development, b e g i n n i n g w i t h h i s

essentially "brutish" early l i f e , i s c a r e f u l l y defined and dramatically

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rendered b e f o r e any move i s made to the next stage (though i n many cases

Defoe does p r e f i g u r e f u t u r e developments). Thus, i n the opening

pages of the book, Crusoe's f a t h e r c a r e f u l l y d e s c r i b e s the middle

state i n l i f e , and i n so doing he d e f i n e s the q u a l i t y o f Crusoe's

e a r l i e s t years. Defoe's h e r o grows up i n an environment o f ease,

s t a b i l i t y , s e c u r i t y , and comparative t r a n q u i l i t y ; he does not have much

to worry about, and h i s f u t u r e has been p r e t t y w e l l mapped out f o r him.

But Crusoe i s q u i c k to p o i n t out t h a t he i s " f i l l e d very e a r l y with

r a m b l i n g t h o u g h t s " ( I , 2 ) , and so b e g i n s l a y i n g the groundwork f o r a

revolt against h i s father. The r e v o l t comes about, characteristically,

through a spur-of-the-moment d e c i s i o n to s h i p out w i t h a f r i e n d , and

in r e v o l t i n g a g a i n s t the v a l u e s o f r a t i o n a l i t y (implied i n h i s father's

arguments) and a concomitant s e c u r i t y and s t a b i l i t y , Crusoe embraces

a s e t o f c o u n t e r - v a l u e s — p a s s i o n , i n c l i n a t i o n , and a d e s i r e to r i s e

q u i c k l y i n the w o r l d . These c o u n t e r - v a l u e s are e x e m p l i f i e d and

illustrated i n the s e r i e s of schemes and t r a d i n g adventures which

follow. At the same time, the moral framework and the c o r r e c t v a l u e s

of Crusoe's f a t h e r c o n t i n u a l l y impose themselves throughout these

e a r l y adventures, b o t h through the n a r r a t o r ' s l i t e r a r y a n a l o g i e s t o

the Genesis s t o r y , the p r o d i g a l son, and Jonah, and through the

i n t r u s i o n s of P r o v i d e n c e i n t o young Crusoe's l i f e . In t h i s manner, the

d i a l e c t i c between Crusoe's t r a d i n g schemes and a moral and Christian

ethos becomes o p e r a t i v e through the f i r s t p o r t i o n o f the book.

The d i a l e c t i c i s n e a r l y r e s o l v e d f o r the f i r s t time when Crusoe

s e t t l e s on h i s B r a z i l i a n p l a n t a t i o n . In t h i s c a s e , the m o r a l reflections

of the n a r r a t o r i n d i c a t e that the younger Crusoe i s g r a v i t a t i n g back

i n t o the middle s t a t i o n o f l i f e . But the c o u n t e r - i d e o l o g y proves

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s u c c e s s f u l a g a i n , as Crusoe d e c i d e d t o accompany h i s f r i e n d s on a s l a v i n g

e x p e d i t i o n , and once a g a i n the themes o f t r a d e and f o o l i s h n e s s assert

themselves. Crusoe's s l a v i n g voyage proves to be the structural

t r a n s i t i o n between the f i r s t two major s e c t i o n s o f the book. What the

r e a d e r i s i n v i t e d t o see as b a s i c a l l y an immoral venture ("foolish

i n c l i n a t i o n s " coupled w i t h " r i s i n g f a s t e r than the n a t u r e o f the t h i n g

allowed") ends i n d i s a s t e r f o r Crusoe, w i t h a l l of h i s former security

d e s t r o y e d ; he i s shipwrecked and i s o l a t e d through an act of Providence

on a d e s e r t i s l a n d , and he must spend the next twenty-eight years

d e v e l o p i n g h i s r a t i o n a l and moral b e i n g b e f o r e Providence w i l l allow

him to r e t u r n to s o c i e t y .

It i s i n t e r e s t i n g to n o t e , at t h i s p o i n t , that b e f o r e each major

change i n h i s l i f e , Crusoe reaches a p o s i t i o n o f a c e r t a i n degree of

stability and s e c u r i t y . The e q u i l i b r i u m and r e l a t i v e i m m o b i l i t y of the

middle s t a t i o n of l i f e i s r e f u t e d by Crusoe as he opts f o r the hazards

and m o b i l i t y o f the a d v e n t u r e r ' s l i f e . And i n s t e a d of q u i t t i n g after

his s u c c e s s f u l second voyage, he f e e l s confident i n his trading

capabilities—a c o n f i d e n c e which i s s h a t t e r e d by P r o v i d e n c e during h i s

t h i r d voyage. F o r a t h i r d time, on h i s p l a n t a t i o n i n B r a z i l , Crusoe

r e a l i z e s a c e r t a i n degree of e q u i l i b r i u m . As I have i n d i c a t e d , he

f a s t approaches the middle s t a t i o n which he overthrew at the b e g i n n i n g

of his story. But, the t r a d e nexus e n t e r s once a g a i n , and what c o n f i d e n c e

and sound p o s i t i o n Crusoe had g a i n e d i s overthrown by Providence.

F i n a l l y , we have seen that on h i s i s l a n d , Crusoe manages to take a

s t e p out of the n a t u r a l s t a t e by a p p l y i n g reason to h i s s i t u a t i o n .

A g a i n , he r e a l i z e s a c e r t a i n s t a b i l i t y i n h i s s i t u a t i o n , and this
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stability i s i n d i c a t e d i n s e v e r a l ways. He works c a r e f u l l y a t

s e v e r a l rudimentary p r o j e c t s , he f o r t i f i e s h i m s e l f a g a i n s t any

" w i l d c r e a t u r e s " or "savages," and f i n a l l y he even has time t o b e g i n

a journal: "And now i t was when I began t o keep a j o u r n a l of every

day's employment; f o r , i n d e e d , at f i r s t , I was i n too much h u r r y , and

not only h u r r y as t o l a b o u r , but i n t o o much discomposure of mind;

and my j o u r n a l would have been f u l l o f many d u l l t h i n g s " ( I . 75).

A j o u r n a l , o f c o u r s e , i m p l i e s a c e r t a i n o r d e r i n g o f one's life

and thoughts, and as Crusoe p o i n t s o u t , i t i s o n l y a f t e r he has

r a t i o n a l l y mastered h i s thoughts, t h a t he can b e g i n t h i s p a r t i c u l a r account.

Among o t h e r t h i n g s , then, Crusoe's J o u r n a l t r a c e s h i s development up t o

a p o i n t of r e l a t i v e c o n f i d e n c e and e q u i l i b r i u m . Thus, the " r e a s o n -

s t a g e " o f our hero's development i s c a r e f u l l y rendered by Defoe b e f o r e

he b e g i n s h i s dramatic b u i l d - u p t o Crusoe's repentance, when the sure

ground Crusoe f e l t h i m s e l f t o be on i s shaken first by a storm and an

earthquake, and then by i l l n e s s and a v i s i o n of God's punishment.

The s o c i a l and t h e m a t i c i m p l i c a t i o n s o f t h i s s t r u c t u r e o f

e q u i l i b r i u m and u n d e r c u t t i n g are t h a t Crusoe, i n each case, has some-

how f a i l e d t o become a complete man. Throughout his pre-island

adventures he opposes r a t i o n a l and moral v a l u e s i n b a s i n g h i s

a c t i o n s on d e s i r e and i n c l i n a t i o n . Because o f h i s o p p o s i t i o n to

c o r r e c t v a l u e s he i s j u s t l y punished by P r o v i d e n c e . And when

Crusoe a c h i e v e s , through r a t i o n a l b e h a v i o r , a c e r t a i n e q u i l i b r i u m on

his i s l a n d , Defoe i m p l i e s t h a t reason a l o n e i s i n s u f f i c i e n t ; i t does

not complete man's knowledge. Thus, Defoe structures h i s n a r r a t i v e to

i n d i c a t e , on the one hand, t h e incompleteness o f each o f t h e stages

Crusoe r e a c h e s , and on the o t h e r hand, the a b s o l u t e n e c e s s i t y o f a

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sense o f C h r i s t i a n moral p r i n c i p l e s i n a c h i e v i n g a b a l a n c e d and r a t i o n a l

self-knowledge. Once Crusoe has gained t h i s knowledge, he i s ready

to make h i s slow and p a i n s t a k i n g way back i n t o human s o c i e t y .

A g a i n , Defoe g i v e s us a slow and dramatic b u i l d - u p t o Crusoe's

f i n a l a p o t h e o s i s — h i s e n t r y i n t o the proper s t a t i o n o f l i f e in civilized

society. A f t e r Crusoe's repentance, Defoe allows p l e n t y o f time f o r h i s

p r o t a g o n i s t t o d i s c o v e r and e x p l o r e the p r i n c i p l e s and v a l u e s o f

C h r i s t i a n f a i t h , c a r e f u l l y p r e p a r i n g him, through m e d i t a t i o n s and

a c t i o n s , f o r h i s e v e n t u a l rescue from the i s l a n d . "Thus," as

E.M.W. T i l l y a r d p o i n t s out, "Crusoe l e a r n t t o cope w i t h solitude

and w i t h a l i f e now devoid o f v i o l e n t t u r n s and s u r p r i s e s . But t h a t i s

a d i f f e r e n t matter from coping w i t h s o c i e t y and i t s ways. And t o t h a t

second a p t i t u d e he must be educated. It i s this f u r t h e r e d u c a t i o n and

the use t o which Crusoe puts i t t h a t i s the theme of the second half
36

of the book."

In a manner o f s p e a k i n g , the p a t t e r n Crusoe f o l l o w s i n

r e d i s c o v e r i n g human s o c i e t y i s roughly analogous t o the p a t t e r n o f h i s

own development up t o t h i s "half-way" p o i n t i n the n o v e l . Crusoe

has p r o g r e s s e d from the "meer S t a t e o f Nature" through reason t o

C h r i s t i a n f a i t h , and t h e p a t t e r n he f o l l o w s i n r e d i s c o v e r i n g mankind

proceeds from a d i s c o v e r y o f t h e c a n n i b a l s , or " n a t u r a l men," through

a rescue o f F r i d a y — w h o i s shown t o be a f a i r l y r a t i o n a l human—then

F r i d a y ' s f a t h e r and t h e S p a n i a r d , and f i n a l l y to a meeting w i t h a man

of both reason and f a i t h , the E n g l i s h c a p t a i n . And j u s t as he gets

more and more o f h i s i s l a n d i n t o h i s p o s s e s s i o n , so he g r a d u a l l y gets

more and more o f humanity t o s e r v e him. In a l l t h i s he i s , o f course,

a j u s t r u l e r and l e a d e r , s i n c e he now bases h i s a c t i o n s and s o c i a l c o n t r a c t s

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on the p r i n c i p l e s o f reason and f a i t h he has l e a r n e d i n h i s solitude.

When, f o r example, he has t h r e e men working f o r him on h i s i s l a n d ,

he makes t h i s "merry r e f l e c t i o n : "

My i s l a n d was now p e o p l e d , and I thought m y s e l f

v e r y r i c h i n s u b j e c t s ; and i t was a merry r e f l e c t i o n ,
which I f r e q u e n t l y made, how l i k e a k i n g I looked.
F i r s t o f a l l , the whole country was my own mere
p r o p e r t y , so t h a t I lad an undoubted r i g h t of dominion. .
Secondly, my people were p e r f e c t l y s u b j e c t e d . I was
a b s o l u t e l o r d and l a w g i v e r ; they a l l owed t h e i r l i v e s t o
me, and were ready to l a y down t h e i r l i v e s , i f t h e r e
had been o c c a s i o n of i t , f o r me. I t was remarkable,
too, we had but t h r e e s u b j e c t s , and they were of t h r e e
different religions. My man F r i d a y was a P r o t e s t a n t , h i s
f a t h e r was a Pagan and a c a n n i b a l , and the S p a n i a r d was
a Papist. However, I a l l o w e d l i b e r t y of c o n s c i e n c e
throughout my dominions. ( I , 269)

Crusoe, who once r e v e l l e d i n h i s s o c i e t y of c a t s , a dog, and a p a r r o t ,

can now take a g r e a t d e a l more p r i d e i n h i s a b i l i t y as a j u s t ruler

of t h i s somewhat i n f o r m a l s o c i e t y o f humans.

There are two important t r a n s i t i o n a l scenes which d r a m a t i c a l l y

signal the b e g i n n i n g o f t h i s r e c o v e r y of human s o c i e t y . The first is

the d i s c o v e r y of a s i n g l e footprint on the beach which a t f i r s t throws

Crusoe i n t o great consternation. However, as we have seen, a f t e r much

r e f l e c t i o n and m e d i t a t i o n , Crusoe a l t e r s h i s l i f e - s t y l e on the

island t o take i n t o account t h i s p r e v i o u s l y unforeseen circumstance

( i . e . , the p o s s i b i l i t y of c a n n i b a l s f r e q u e n t i n g h i s s i d e o f the

island), and t h i s minor event breeds a c h a i n o f events which

ends i n the r e s c u e of F r i d a y . The o t h e r event i s the second shipwreck

which a l l o w s Crusoe to g i v e v o i c e , a g a i n through r e f l e c t i o n s , t o h i s

d e s i r e f o r human conpanionship. From these two occurences, the

reader i s l e d through a s e r i e s o f m e d i t a t i o n s and a c t i o n s through

w h i c h Crusoe c o n t i n u a l l y proves h i s c a p a b i l i t i e s . . T h i s sequence of

thought and event l e a d s t o the f i n a l r e c a p t u r e of the E n g l i s h ship

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from the mutineers ( a g a i n , p o s s i b l y emblematic of Crusoe's r e c o v e r y

of c i v i l i z e d s o c i e t y ) . Indeed, we have a l r e a d y seen that t h i s final

event a l l o w s Crusoe t o prove h i s c a p a b i l i t i e s as a l e a d e r of men by

b a s i n g h i s a c t i o n s on reason and a f a i t h i n Providence. Crusoe's

triumph over the u n j u s t and immoral mutineers (who were p r o b a b l y

m o t i v a t e d i n t h e i r a c t i o n by d e s i r e and i n c l i n a t i o n ) proves t h a t he

i s now a b l e t o r e t u r n t o England and t o p e a c e f u l l y and confidently

s e t t l e i n t o the s e c u r e and s t a b l e middle s t a t i o n o f l i f e . And, as i f

to d r i v e t h i s p o i n t home, Defoe g i v e s us one l a s t p i c t u r e o f Crusoe

i n a c t i o n , t h i s time commanding c i v i l i z e d men i n the f i g h t w i t h the

wolves as he i s r e t u r n i n g to England. The i m p l i c a t i o n through these

f i n a l a c t i o n s i s that Crusoe has i n t e r n a l i z e d the moral framework, first

p r e s e n t e d through h i s f a t h e r ' s l e c t u r e s , which he f o o l i s h l y revolted

a g a i n s t at the b e g i n n i n g of h i s t a l e . F i n a l l y , Crusoe i s now prepared

to w r i t e h i s memoirs (Defoe's " j u s t h i s t o r y o f f a c t " ) and to s t r u c t u r e

them so as t o i n s t r u c t the r e a d e r through "a r e l i g i o u s application

of events to the uses to which wise men always a p p l y them...and t o j u s t i f y

and honour the wisdom of P r o v i d e n c e i n a l l the v a r i e t y o f our c i r c u m -

s t a n c e s , l e t them happen how they w i l l " (I, l x v i i , "Author's Preface").

I t i s , i n the f i n a l a n a l y s i s , Defoe's ability to c a r e f u l l y

o r d e r h i s f i c t i o n a l s t r u c t u r e so as t o e x e m p l i f y a n d ' i l l u s t r a t e the

growing c o n s c i o u s n e s s of the main c h a r a c t e r that r e s u l t s i n the a e s t h e t i c

success of the work. T h i s s u c c e s s i s a c h i e v e d through an unmediated

i d e n t i t y of form and c o n t e n t , and w i t h t h i s f a c t i n mind, we can agree

w i t h David G r o s s v o g e l who s t a t e s t h a t Crusoe i s "not r e r e a d because of

the c o m p l e x i t i e s o f a c r i t i c ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s , " but because o f the

3,7
" s i m p l i c i t y " of the n a r r a t i v e i t s e l f . ' The word " s i m p l i c i t y , " however,
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does need some q u a l i f i c a t i o n . Form:and content a r e one i n t h a t t h e

development o f Crusoe's knowledge and e t h i c s i s r e l a t e d t o us through

his own n a r r a t i v e eye. He sees the P r o v i d e n t i a l p a t t e r n in his life

just as he sees the s t r u c t u r e o f the book i n i t s r e l a t i o n s h i p t o

his own development. The s t r u c t u r e o f the book thus r e p r e s e n t s t o the

r e a d e r the growth of r a t i o n a l i t y and moral awareness i n the mind of

its narrator. From voyage t o voyage, and from shipwreck t o shipwreck,

we view the s l o w l y developing p r o c e s s e s o f Crusoe's thought, and we

delve w i t h him below the s u r f a c e m a n i f e s t a t i o n of events and o b j e c t s

to read a deeper and t r u e r s i g n i f i c a n c e . The n a r r a t i v e eye i s e s s e n t i a l l y

a P u r i t a n and e t h i c a l eye, but i f some events cannot be read as

h a v i n g s p e c i f i c and s i g n i f i c a n t r e l i g i o u s meaning, they still

certainly c o n t r i b u t e t o our knowledge o f the n a r r a t o r h i m s e l f and t o the

pattern o f h i s moral growth. Therefore, the book's s i m p l i c i t y does n o t

lie e n t i r e l y i n i t s q u a l i t y of d e s c r i p t i v e " r e a l i s m " , n o r i n the p a t t e r n

of an unambiguous adventure s t o r y , b u t r a t h e r i n the complete identification

between the n a r r a t o r and the n a r r a t i v e , between the theme and t h e

a e s t h e t i c and dramatic s t r u c t u r e .

One q u a l i t y o f the s t r u c t u r e o f t h i s n o v e l , which Defoe

is doubtlessly concerned w i t h b r i n g i n g out, i s t h a t the book i s a

kind of patterned polemic; Crusoe, i n n a r r a t i n g h i s l i f e story, i s

r e c o n c i l i n g the paradox of t r a d e and m o r a l i t y by t r a c i n g h i s evolution

from a b r u t e human i n the s t a t e o f n a t u r e t o a c i v i l i z e d human ready

to assume h i s p l a c e i n s o c i e t y . The b a s i c problem which Defoe must

r e s o l v e i s , as we have seen, i n d i c a t e d i n the opposing s e t s of c o u n t e r -

values which form a d i a l e c t i c i n the p r e - i s l a n d s e c t i o n o f t h e n a r r a t i v e .

 139

I t i s e x a c t l y t h i s o p p o s i t i o n t h a t has l e d John R i c h e t t i , i n h i s P o p u l a r

F i c t i o n B e f o r e R i c h a r d s o n , t o see the f i r s t and t h i r d books o f the

Crusoe t r i l o g y — T h e Strange'and S u r p r i s i n g Adventures of Robinson

Crusoe and The S e r i o u s R e f l e c t i o n s — a s " d i r e c t e d at a c o u n t e r - i d e o l o g y

of s e c u l a r i n d i v i d u a l i s m which i n s i s t s , i n a sense, upon the

i m p l i c a t i o n s of modern e x p e r i e n c e , and thus e f f e c t i v e l y denies the

p r o v i d e n t i a l c o n t r o l of the n a t u r a l and human o r d e r s . " Richetti

c o n t i n u e s , "In i t s b a l a n c i n g o f s e c u l a r and r e l i g i o u s e x p e r i e n c e and i t s

compensation f o r s e c u l a r a c t i o n and power by p a s s i v i t y and submission,

Robinson Crusoe e p i t o m i z e s the s t r a t e g y o f p o p u l a r r e l i g i o u s i d e o l o g y ,

3'8

not simply, as Watt would have i t , Defoe's own psychosis." Thus, the

psychology, and the p s y c h o l o g i c a l growth, of Crusoe i m p l i e s a moral

polemic i n the n o v e l : the development o f Crusoe's c h a r a c t e r on the

i s l a n d embodies and e x e m p l i f i e s (through i n c i d e n t , a c t i o n , and

m e d i t a t i o n ) an i d e o l o g y which i s a b a l a n c e d r e s o l u t i o n o f the two

s e t s of v a l u e s j u x t a p o s e d i n the e a r l i e s t p o r t i o n o f the n a r r a t i v e .

In more p r e c i s e terms, the t r a d e - m o r a l i t y d i a l e c t i c i n the p r e - i s l a n d

adventures o f the young Crusoe i s resolved—or synthesized—through

Crusoe's a p p l i c a t i o n o f reason t o h i s s i t u a t i o n and w i t h h i s a c q u i s i t i o n

of C h r i s t i a n faith.

T h e r e f o r e , on one l e v e l o f i n t e r p r e t a t i o n , Robinson Crusoe illustrates

the harmony between reason and the laws o f n a t u r e on the one hand, and

the moral p r i n c i p l e s of the E n g l i s h P r o t e s t a n t r e l i g i o n on the o t h e r .

The r i g h t s o f n a t u r e i n c l u d e those o f s e l f - p r e s e r v a t i o n , the liberty

of the i n d i v i d u a l as d e f i n e d through the concept o f p r o p e r t y , and the

d e s i r a b i l i t y o f e x t e n d i n g one's own p r o p e r t y to i n s u r e s e l f - p r e s e r v a t i o n .

The laws of n a t u r e , a c c o r d i n g to Hobbes and Locke, are those laws o f

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reason which, i n s u r e t h e l i b e r t y o f the i n d i v i d u a l and h i s r i g h t s

to s e l f - p r e s e r v a t i o n and p r o p e r t y . But the laws o f n a t u r e a l s o

i n s u r e peace, s t a b i l i t y , and o r d e r i n the s t a t e o f n a t u r e , a t l e a s t

a c c o r d i n g to Locke. These laws can be c o n t r o v e r t e d by t h e o v e r l y

a c q u i s i t i v e i n d i v i d u a l , and thus, as i n the e a r l y , pre-island

adventures o f Robinson Crusoe, the o r d e r l y arrangement o f s o c i e t y and

of the Lockean s t a t e of n a t u r e , and the laws g o v e r n i n g b o t h n a t u r e and

s o c i e t y , a r e upset. The u n b a l a n c i n g o f n a t u r e and s o c i e t y i n the

e a r l i e s t p a r t s of Robinson Crusoe o c c u r s through Crusoe's s i n o f p r i d e —

h i s reenactment o f the f a l l o f man from the s o c i a l and n a t u r a l o r d e r

and from a s t a t e o f grace. The s i n of one i n d i v i d u a l , i n Defoe's

view, can upset the e n t i r e arrangement o f the w o r l d , and i n a c h a i n

of e v e n t s , Crusoe's s i n (emblematic o f the s i n o f a l l men) r e s u l t s i n

shipwrecks and d i s a s t e r s b e f a l l i n g o t h e r men. At the end of the book,

however, when Crusoe has become a man o f reason, f a i t h , and knowledge,

h i s good a c t s can r e s t o r e s o c i e t y and n a t u r e t o t h e i r p r o p e r b a l a n c e —

first, i n h i s s u c c e s s f u l " c o r r e c t i o n " o f the m u t i n e e r s , and second, i n

h i s wise h a n d l i n g of h i s w e a l t h and h i s s e t t l i n g down i n E n g l i s h society.

T h i s c o n t r a s t between the young Crusoe and the mature Crusoe indicates

that the a c q u i s i t i o n o f b o t h reason and f a i t h can i n f l u e n c e a man t o

m a i n t a i n the s o c i a l and .natural o r d e r . Thus, i n s t e a d o f drawing a

c o n t r a s t between Crusoe as t h e a c t i v e c a p i t a l i s t and Crusoe as t h e

p a s s i v e s o c i a l b e i n g , as R i c h e t t i would have us do, we can see the

d i f f e r e n c e w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y i d e a s o f "wrong" a c t i o n

and " r i g h t " a c t i o n . L e t us b r i e f l y r e t u r n t o the s t r u c t u r e o f Defoe's

n o v e l as i t r e l a t e s t o these concepts o f a c t i o n .
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T h i s l a r g e r c o n t r a s t between the younger Crusoe and the

o l d e r i s s u p p o r t e d , as we have seen, by a s t r u c t u r e o f p a r a l l e l s

and c o n t r a s t s throughout the book. Defoe, i n f a c t , works c o n s c i o u s l y

over each s i d e of Crusoe's repentance to i n d i c a t e s i m i l a r i t i e s or

d i s s i m i l a r i t i e s i n mental s t a t e s , i n c i d e n t s , and s i t u a t i o n s , i n

o r d e r t o show the m a t u r i n g p r o c e s s which takes p l a c e as h i s main

c h a r a c t e r comes t o a more complete self-knowledge. The change i n

Crusoe's temperament would i n d i c a t e t h a t , i f t h e r e e x i s t s a d i a l e c t i c

between s e c u l a r and r e l i g i o u s i n t e r e s t s (or t r a d e and m o r a l i t y ) i n the

p r e - i s l a n d e x p l o i t s of Crusoe, then a p r o p e r b a l a n c e has been s t r u c k between

these two s e t s of v a l u e s by the time our hero l e a v e s h i s i s l a n d : this

b a l a n c e i s simply the p l a c i n g o f r e l i g i o u s and moral " c o n t r o l s " on

one's d e s i r e to r i s e q u i c k l y i n the w o r l d . Crusoe, on h i s i s l a n d ,

has l e a r n e d to work f o r and m a i n t a i n a s t a t u s q u o — a b a l a n c e d and

o r d e r l y way of l i f e — a n d through t h i s achievement has p r e p a r e d him-

s e l f f o r a r e e n t r y i n t o the s o c i e t y of men. He has l e a r n e d to c o n t r o l

h i s a c q u i s i t i v e n e s s w i t h a m o r a l i t y which i n v o l v e s the knowledge o f h i s

p r o p e r p l a c e i n the n a t u r a l and s o c i a l o r d e r , and t h i s i s e x a c t l y what

makes the i s l a n d such a remarkable p r o v i n g ground. As Crusoe remarks,

after his repentance:

In the f i r s t p l a c e , I was removed from a l l the

wickedness of the w o r l d h e r e . . . . I had n o t h i n g to
c o v e t ; f o r I had a l l that I was now capable of e n j o y i n g .
I was l o r d o f the whole manor; o r , i f I p l e a s e d , I might
c a l l myself k i n g or emperor over the whole country which
I had p o s s e s s i o n o f . There were no r i v a l s : I had no
c o m p e t i t o r , none to d i s p u t e s o v e r e i g n t y or command w i t h
me.... But a l l I c o u l d make use of was a l l t h a t was
valuable.... The most covetous g r i p i n g m i s e r i n the
w o r l d would have been cured o f the v i c e o f covetousness,
i f he had been i n my case; f o r I p o s s e s s e d i n f i n i t e l y
more than I knew what to do w i t h . ( I , 142-43)
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In t h i s s t a t e o f comparative innocence, Robinson Crusoe

r e a l i z e s the need f o r o r d e r . I f he i s prompted by f e a r and desire

to r a i s e h i m s e l f out of h i s b e s t i a l s t a t e and t o o r d e r h i s environment,

then he soon a l s o l e a r n s the v i r t u e o f temperance perhaps simply

because he l e a r n s he can s a t u r a t e h i m s e l f w i t h goods to no purpose

whatsoever. He l e a r n s t o v a l u e t h i n g s f o r t h e i r u t i l i t y , and this

goes hand i n hand w i t h r e s t r a i n t i n the a c q u i s i t i o n o f goods. The

important t h i n g to note i s t h a t Crusoe e v e n t u a l l y comes to i n v o l v e

b o t h h i s head and h i s h e a r t i n h i s l a b o r and a c q u i s i t i o n , and thus

the l o n g m e d i t a t i v e passages wherein Crusoe d i s p l a y s h i s maturing

s e l f - k n o w l e d g e and the n a r r a t i o n o f " p r o j e c t s wherein Crusoe channels h i s

thoughts and h i s e n e r g i e s towards the problems o f s u r v i v a l are i n t e g r a l

t o one another: the deepening o f Crusoe's moral n a t u r e b o t h c o n t r o l s

and v a l i d a t e s the energy he expends on s u r v i v a l . God p l a c e d man

on e a r t h t o do h i s duty, to work, and to t r a n s f o r m and subdue

n a t u r e i n o r d e r to make i t u s e f u l t o h i m s e l f . But, i n a l l t h i s ,

Crusoe t e l l s us, man cannot f o r g e t God. Instead of running i n t o excess'

and intemper.ance, as the young Crusoe d i d , t h i s mature Crusoe illustrates

the c o h e s i v e n e s s of c o n s c i o u s a c t i v i t y and m o r a l aim, and i t i s thus

t h a t the paradox o f t r a d e and m o r a l i t y i s r e s o l v e d . And a l t h o u g h , as

M a r t i n P r i c e has p o i n t e d out, on h i s i s l a n d Crusoe's " t r a d e s m a n l i k e

energy remains i n n o c e n t , w i t h no danger of i n o r d i n a t e d e s i r e s leading

to d i s h o n e s t y , " '" i t i s a l s o on h i s i s l a n d t h a t Crusoe l e a r n s t o

c o n t r o l r a t i o n a l l y and m o r a l l y , h i s p r e v i o u s " i n o r d i n a t e desires."

A g a i n , Defoe's t e c h n i q u e o f d r a m a t i c p r e s e n t a t i o n i s important, f o r

we see Crusoe- v i t a l l y i n v o l v e d i n s o l v i n g problems of b o t h a p r a c t i c a l

and a s p i r i t u a l n a t u r e . J u s t as each s t a g e i n h i s growth t o s e l f -

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awareness and r i g h t a c t i o n i s d r a m a t i c a l l y rendered and f i x e d through

his involvement d i r e c t l y with trading projects or with survival

p r o j e c t s , so the s p i r i t u a l and p h i l o s o p h i c q u a l i t y o f each stage

is e x p l o r e d and d e f i n e d through a s e r i e s o f m e d i t a t i o n s and

r e f l e c t i o n s b o t h on r e l i g i o n and reason, and on a c t i o n itself.

Thus, Crusoe r e t u r n s t o s o c i e t y a new man. He m a r r i e s and

s e t t l e s down i n England, e n j o y i n g the w e a l t h he has gained from

his B r a z i l i a n p l a n t a t i o n , the money he put i n t o the care o f t h e o l d widow

in England, and the t r e a s u r e he accumulated during h i s i s l a n d sojourn.

When he r e a l i z e s the extent o f h i s w e a l t h , he s t a t e s that " I might

w e l l say now, indeed, t h a t the l a t t e r end o f Job was b e t t e r than

the b e g i n n i n g " ( I , 318). Crusoe handles h i s money w i s e l y t h i s

time, p r e f e r r i n g to i n v e s t most o f i t s a f e l y , and to g e n e r o u s l y settle

p o r t i o n s o f i t on f a i t h f u l f r i e n d s and r e l a t i v e s . He can s a y , then,

at the end o f h i s s t o r y , "And thus I have g i v e n the f i r s t part of a l i f e

of f o r t u n e and adventure, a life of Providence's chequersrwork, and o f

a v a r i e t y which the w o r l d w i l l seldom be a b l e t o show the l i k e o f ;

b e g i n n i n g f o o l i s h l y , but c l o s i n g much more h a p p i l y than any p a r t o f i t

ever gave me l e a v e so much as t o hope f o r " ( I , 340).

Defoe shows us, then, t h a t reason and f a i t h can work t o r e s t o r e

b a l a n c e and n o r m a l i t y t o a s i t u a t i o n made extremely u n s t a b l e by man's

intemperate and immoderate d e s i r e s . But, t h i s r e s o l u t i o n i n one man

does n o t mean t h a t the d i a l e c t i c i s r e s o l v e d i n s o c i e t y a t l a r g e .

U n f o r t u n a t e l y , Defoe r e a l i z e s , t o o few men honor t h e i r s o c i a l c o n t r a c t s

and o b l i g a t i o n s , and so he perhaps o f f e r s h i s Crusoe as an example o f the

good man which o t h e r s s h o u l d i m i t a t e . I f the n o v e l shows Crusoe pulling

h i m s e l f out o f the s t a t e o f n a t u r e as i s l a n d , then one o t h e r implication

i s t h a t other men s h o u l d , and c o u l d through r i g h t a c t i o n s , p u l l

themselves out of the s t a t e of n a t u r e as s o c i e t y . Thus, t h e r e would

be no d i s j u n c t i o n between p u b l i c v i r t u e and p r i v a t e v i c e — n o

d i s p a r i t y between the e s s e n t i a l v a l u e of t r a d e and the intrinsic

v a l u e of p r i v a t e m o r a l i t y — f o r a l l men would become moral and

r e a s o n a b l e b e i n g s , and f o r c e s f o r o r d e r and s t a b i l i t y i n the s m a l l

circuits of t h e i r lives.
 CHAPTER IV

Conclusion: Theme and Technique

While d e l i n e a t i n g t h r e e fundamental themes i n Robinson

C r u s o e — t h e r e l i g i o u s , the economic, and the theme o f growth t o moral

knowledge—I have a l s o attempted to c o n s t r u c t v a r i o u s models which would

d e s c r i b e the fundamental s t r u c t u r e o f the n o v e l . These models have

i n c l u d e d the p a r a t a c t i c s t r u c t u r e , the p a t t e r n o f i n t e r a c t i o n between

two themes, and f i n a l l y , a d r a m a t i c p a t t e r n through which Defoe

p r e s e n t s h i s hero's a c q u i s i t i o n o f reason and f a i t h . These three

p a t t e r n s and the t h r e e most fundamental themes are not i s o l a t e d from

one another, but r a t h e r work t o g e t h e r to s t r u c t u r e and c r e a t e

meaning i n Defoe's n o v e l . P r e v i o u s c r i t i c s have tended to i s o l a t e

one theme and one p a t t e r n from the r e s t , e l e v a t i n g one aspect of the

book at the expense o f a l l o t h e r s ; t h u s , a s o l e l y r e l i g i o u s inter-

p r e t a t i o n o f the work tends t o undercut what economic meaning i t may

have, and v i c e v e r s a . And f o r the most p a r t , a p h i l o s o p h i c a l background

has been c a l l e d i n simply to support one o f two b a s i c interpretations

o f the n o v e l : i f a critic sees the book as a r e l i g i o u s and allegorical

s t o r y , then he draws support from a P u r i t a n background and p h i l o s o p h y ;

if a critic, on the o t h e r hand, sees the book as a t r a c t on economics

(as Watt and Novak have done), then h i s support i s drawn from a more

s e c u l a r p h i l o s o p h y and from p o l i t i c a l and economic w r i t i n g s . I suggest

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a change i n our c r i t i c a l view o f Robinson Crusoe; s e e i n g the n o v e l i n

relation to the v a l u e s and i d e a s of i t s a g e — i t s b r o a d c u l t u r a l and

ideological background—should a l l o w one to put t o g e t h e r a more

complete p a t t e r n o f meaning i n the book, a p a t t e r n which w i l l take

i n t o account n e a r l y a l l of the n a r r a t i v e elements and a l l o w us t o see

the t h r e e themes as b e i n g i n t e r r e l a t e d and i n t e g r a l . By "narrative

elements" I mean the author's t e c h n i q u e i n i t s broadest sense as

it i s d e f i n e d by Mark S c h o r e r i n h i s essay, "Technique as D i s c o v e r y : "

When we speak o f technique...we speak of n e a r l y e v e r y -

thing. For technique i s the means by which the w r i t e r ' s
e x p e r i e n c e , which i s h i s s u b j e c t matter, compels him
to a t t e n d t o i t ; t e c h n i q u e i s the o n l y means he has of
d i s c o v e r i n g , e x p l o r i n g , developing h i s s u b j e c t , of
conveying i t s meaning, and, f i n a l l y , of e v a l u a t i n g i t .
Technique i s r e a l l y what T.S. E l i o t means by " c o n v e n t i o n " —
any s e l e c t i o n , s t r u c t u r e , or d i s t o r t i o n , any form or
rhythm imposed upon the w o r l d of a c t i o n ; by means o f
w h i c h — i t s h o u l d be a d d e d — o u r apprehens i o n o f the world
of a c t i o n i s e n r i c h e d o r renewed.!

As was suggested i n the p r e v i o u s c h a p t e r , Defoe's technique

can be d e s c r i b e d as one o f c o n t i n u a l s i m p l i f i c a t i o n . His s t y l e , f o r

example, i s p l a i n , h i s d e s c r i p t i o n s are o f s u r f a c e s (Locke's primary

qualities of matter) or of events o r o b j e c t s t h a t can be r e a d as

a l l e g o r i c a l s h e l l s , and f i n a l l y , h i s n a r r a t i v e c o n t a i n s a s i n g l e moral

thrust. Thus, A.D. M c K i l l o p d e s c r i b e s the broad a p p e a l of Robinson

Crusoe as stemming from an "impulse...toward s i m p l i f i c a t i o n , not toward

primitivism." He d e s c r i b e s Crusoe's a c t i o n s on the i s l a n d as illustrating

"a s i m p l e r - t h a n - r e a l - l i f e - p r o g r a m , " but here M c K i l l o p i s d i s c u s s i n g

2

a s i n g l e theme w i t h o u t r e l a t i n g i t to technique. I would suggest

t h a t Defoe's themes and h i s t e c h n i q u e are a l l p a r t of a s i n g l e moral

v i s i o n which s u f f u s e s the n o v e l , and t h a t h i s technique i s , i n t h i s

sense, those methods through which Defoe p r e s e n t s h i s moral vision.

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The impulse through the n o v e l — o n b o t h a thematic and t e c h n i c a l level—

is toward s i m p l i f i c a t i o n and r e c o n c i l i a t i o n as Crusoe r e a l i z e s this

moral knowledge w h i l e working through h i s adventures and p r o j e c t s

back t o s o c i e t y . T h e r e f o r e , Robinson Crusoe embodies not o n l y a theory

of man b u t a moral v i s i o n as w e l l , and both v i s i o n and t h e o r y s e r v e

to d e f i n e Defoe's i n t e n t i o n s and h i s t e c h n i q u e . And v i s i o n and theory

are, o f course, subsumed i n the l a r g e r and more complex c u l t u r a l and

i d e o l o g i c a l model which has been d e f i n e d i n the p r e v i o u s two c h a p t e r s .

Our r e a d i n g o f Defoe's n o v e l has i n d i c a t e d t h a t , f o r purposes of

f i c t i o n a l p r e s e n t a t i o n , the author has reduced and s i m p l i f i e d this

model through h i s t e c h n i q u e . But b e f o r e i n v o l v i n g o u r s e l v e s i n these

i s s u e s , a s h o r t summary o f f i n d i n g s i s perhaps i n order.

F i r s t , Defoe's n o v e l embodies an e s s e n t i a l l y P u r i t a n religious

vision. D i f f e r e n t events and s i t u a t i o n s a r e o b v i o u s l y i n t e n d e d to

be emblematic. Crusoe's l e a v i n g home r e p r e s e n t s the f a l l o f man through

d i s o b e d i e n c e , h i s wanderings embody i s o l a t i o n -
from God and v a l u e

(Jonah, the p r o d i g a l s o n ) , h i s p h y s i c a l i s o l a t i o n on the i s l a n d

r e p r e s e n t s t h i s same s p i r i t u a l a l i e n a t i o n and a complete social

alienation. P r o v i d e n c e , the hand o f God, i n t e r v e n e s throughout

Crusoe's l i f e , l e a d i n g both Crusoe and the r e a d e r t o see h i s a u t o -

b i o g r a p h y as " P r o v i d e n c e ' s chequer-work." The n o v e l , i n t h i s sense,

shows how the moral and r e l i g i o u s v i s i o n of the n a r r a t i n g Crusoe has

developed—what s i g n i f i c a n t i n c i d e n t s , s i t u a t i o n s , and thoughts

the younger Crusoe e x p e r i e n c e d which came to d e f i n e the r e l i g i o u s point

of view and the r e l i g i o u s p a t t e r n o f the book. Thus, Crusoe sees

h i m s e l f as r e e n a c t i n g the a g e - o l d p a t t e r n o f the f a l l of man, the

loss of Paradise ( i n this case, the middle s t a t i o n and s o c i e t y ) , t h e

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e x i l e and repentance of the wanderer, and a final restoration

to P a r a d i s e ( a g a i n , s o c i e t y seen e m b l e m a t i c a l l y ) . This pattern

i s , perhaps, the backbone of the n o v e l , s i n c e the n a r r a t i n g Crusoe

has i n t e r n a l i z e d t h i s C h r i s t i a n view of l i f e and presents his own

s t o r y as i t i l l u s t r a t e s t h i s view. As we have seen, the religious

v i s i o n i s so s t r o n g i n c e r t a i n p a r t s of the n a r r a t i v e t h a t some c r i t i c s

attempt an a l l e g o r i c a l i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f the work. But again, there i s

no p r e c i s e , p o i n t - f o r - p o i n t analogy between each one of the events and

a fundamental C h r i s t i a n p a t t e r n of meaning. One can, f o r example,

read the m i r a c l e of the corn as emblematic of the seeds of grace

s p r o u t i n g i n Crusoe's h e a r t , but the d i r e c t correlation is in fact

nonexistent. When the " p h y s i c a l " i n c i d e n t o c c u r s , the seeds of grace

have not y e t s p r o u t e d , and they don't u n t i l sometime l a t e r . At most,

t h i s event can be read as a k i n d of emblematic foreshadowing, but

Defoe i s probably more concerned w i t h the thematic p o s s i b i l i t i e s of a

d i s p a r i t y between t h i s c o n v e n t i o n a l r e l i g i o u s metaphor and Crusoe's

s p i r i t u a l s t a t e at the time the a c t u a l event takes p l a c e . T h i s example

i s more a case o f i s o l a t e d i r o n y , s i n c e Crusoe f a l l s ill before he

even t h i n k s of r e p e n t i n g . There are o t h e r events which might be

i n t e r p r e t e d as emblematic, but o n l y by s t r e t c h i n g a p o i n t o r by

reading the metaphoric meaning i n a v e r y broad and general sense;

Crusoe, f o r example, forms h i s f i r s t pot, which r e p r e s e n t s h i s g i v i n g

s p i r i t u a l shape to h i s s o u l , or Crusoe o r d e r i n g h i s i s l a n d - w i l d e r n e s s

p a r a l l e l s h i s growth out of h i s "inward j u n g l e . " This allegorical

r e a d i n g , b e s i d e s b e i n g hazy and at times ambiguous, would a l s o g i v e

more of a s u b s i d i a r y s t a t u s t o the o t h e r themes than i s warranted by the

text. These o t h e r p a t t e r n s are s t r e s s e d too much throughout the novel

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and, i n t h i s sense, s h o u l d not be relegated to a s o l e l y r e l i g i o u s -

allegorical pattern.

However, t h i s i s not t o say t h a t the general r e l i g i o u s

pattern i s unimportant, f o r i t operates to p l a c e a perspective on

Crusoe's economics. His s i n s are i n f a c t enacted i n a more economic

frame of r e f e r e n c e , so that the economic p a t t e r n supports the

r e l i g i o u s and moral theme j u s t as the r e l i g i o u s p a t t e r n supports the

economic and moral theme. A g a i n , i n the o p p o s i t i o n between m e r c a n t i l i

and laissez-faire c a p i t a l i s m , both Defoe and, eventually, Crusoe opt

f o r the more c o n s e r v a t i v e and moral view. This conservative bias i s ,

as we have seen, a b a s i c p a r t of P u r i t a n thought i n the seventeenth

century, i n d i c a t e d p r i m a r i l y i n the w r i t i n g s of R i c h a r d Baxter and

William Perkins. The conservative a t t i t u d e does change throughout the

l a t t e r p a r t o f the century, but w r i t e r s such as Defoe and Locke—

both from P u r i t a n b a c k g r o u n d s — s t i l l s i d e w i t h the m e r c a n t i l i s t

conservatives. Thus Defoe a c t u a l l y f o r t i f i e s h i s economic theme

i n Robinson Crusoe by s e t t i n g h i s hero's t r a d i n g v e n t u r e s i n a moral

and r e l i g i o u s context. The moral depends on the r e l i g i o u s framework,

but i t depends on socio-economic v a l u e s as w e l l . We have seen t h a t

Crusoe's e a r l y t r a d i n g schemes are i n d i r e c t o p p o s i t i o n to the correct

s o c i a l v a l u e s — i . e . , maintaining order, s t a b i l i t y , b a l a n c e , not rising

f a s t e r than the n a t u r e of t h i n g s allows—both expounded by h i s father

and i m p l i e d through the o l d e r Crusoe's moral v i s i o n and h i s growth to

e t h i c a l awareness on the i s l a n d . Crusoe l e a r n s to o r d e r h i s life,

maintian a status quo, and r e a l i z e the b l e s s i n g s o f so doing. He

l e a r n s to v a l u e things economically only as they are u s e f u l to him,

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honor h i s c o n t r a c t u a l arrangements, and r e c i p r o c a t e the l o y a l t i e s

of h i s s e r v a n t and f r i e n d s . In s h o r t , he l e a r n s the e s s e n t i a l v a l u e o f

stability and s e c u r i t y through h i s e x p e r i e n c e and through h i s coming

to a knowledge o f p r o p e r p o s i t i o n , duty, and o b l i g a t i o n .

As our summary has thus f a r i n d i c a t e d , a p a t t e r n o f growth

i n t o moral v i s i o n and knowledge i s superimposed on both.the religious

and economic p a t t e r n s . We have seen t h a t t h i s l a r g e r p a t t e r n i n v o l v e s

an awareness o f both the p h i l o s o p h i c a l i d e a s i n c i r c u l a t i o n a t the time

and the v a l u e s p r e s e n t e d i n the p h i l o s o p h i e s o f the seventeenth

century. C e r t a i n C h r i s t i a n i d e a l s a r e fundamental t o Locke's views

on man and s o c i e t y , and these i d e a l s a r e i n h e r e n t i n the Lockean quest

for greater knowledge—for d i s c o v e r i n g , i n o t h e r words, the sane and

r a t i o n a l workings o f a u n i v e r s e which embodies the wisdom o f i t s C r e a t o r .

Crusoe grows i n t o t h i s knowledge w h i l e on h i s i s l a n d . He d i s c o v e r s t h a t

n a t u r e i s b e s t made u s e f u l by o r d e r i n g i t a c c o r d i n g to the p r i n c i p l e s

of reason, and t h a t n a t u r e h e r s e l f c o n t a i n s a n a t u r a l law o r o r d e r

which Crusoe r e a l i z e s by assuming ( i n Locke's terms) a " n a t u r a l control"

over the environment. A f t e r h i s repentance, he n o t e s t h a t faith

solidifies and b u i l d s on t h i s r a t i o n a l i t y ; reason o r d e r s and f a i t h

v a l i d a t e s , i n o t h e r words. Thus, a f t e r h i s repentance, Crusoe

i n d i c a t e s t h a t he makes h i m s e l f "very melancholy sometimes, i n r e f l e c t i n g ,

as the s e v e r a l o c c a s i o n s p r e s e n t e d , how mean a use we make o f a l l

these [the p r e c e p t s o f r e a s o n ] , even though we have these powers

e n l i g h t e n e d by the g r e a t lamp o f i n s t r u c t i o n , the S p i r i t o f God, and

by the knowledge o f H i s Word added t o our u n d e r s t a n d i n g . . . . " And he makes

" c e r t a i n d i s c o v e r i e s o f the i n v i s i b l e w o r l d and a converse o f s p i r i t s

we cannot doubt" ( I , 233) through both h i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f the law of

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n a t u r e and h i s d i s c o v e r y o f the reasonableness of C h r i s t i a n faith.

These c o n c e p t s , then, l e a d Crusoe t o accept r a t i o n a l l y and apodictically

the e x i s t e n c e of a "converse o f s p i r i t s " and a hand of P r o v i d e n c e always

at work i n the w o r l d , and t h i s r e a l i z a t i o n i s , of c o u r s e , p a r t and

p a r c e l o f h i s new-found knowledge. L i k e w i s e , these concepts seem to

l i e at the b a s i s of Locke's own quest for knowledge—in a manner of

speaking, h i s philosophy i t s e l f — a n d i n p r e s e n t i n g t h i s more

p h i l o s o p h i c theme of s e l f - k n o w l e d g e , Defoe i s r e d u c i n g the Lockean

(and P u r i t a n i n some r e s p e c t s ) concepts of reason and f a i t h and their

i n t e r a c t i o n to t h e i r most b a s i c and s i m p l i f i e d l e v e l s . At the same

time, Defoe's r e d u c t i o n l e a d s to an i n t e g r a t i o n o f a l l t h r e e b a s i c

themes s i m p l y by showing them as i n t e r r e l a t e d p a r t s o f the same

b a s i c moral v i s i o n — i n this case, Crusoe's vision.

All t h r e e themes, then, are r e f l e x i v e i n t h a t they work t o

d e f i n e the "complete man" as he combines the p r i n c i p l e s o f reason and

f a i t h to produce e s s e n t i a l l y good a c t i o n s . T h i s complete man is

Crusoe h i m s e l f when he l e a v e s h i s i s l a n d to r e t u r n to c i v i l i z a t i o n ; he

has a s t r o n g moral v i s i o n , f o r t i f i e d by b o t h reason and faith.

Crusoe's m o r a l i t y has, o f c o u r s e , i t s p a s s i v e a s p e c t ; self-knowledge

and awareness come through r i g h t ( r a t i o n a l ) thoughts and contemplation.

But h i s v i s i o n a l s o has an a c t i v e s i d e ; r i g h t i n t e n t i o n s l e a d to good

actions. Thus, a c c o r d i n g to Crusoe i n h i s S e r i o u s R e f l e c t i o n s , "...we

are to l i s t e n to the v o i c e o f Nature [ i . e . , Reason], and t o the

v o i c e s o f c r e a t u r e s , v i z . , t o the v o i c e o f the i n v i s i b l e agents of

the w o r l d of s p i r i t s . . . w e are to l i s t e n to the v o i c e o f God" ( I I I , 187).

L i s t e n i n g to the v o i c e o f " i n v i s i b l e a g e n t s " and "the v o i c e o f God"

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a r e , i n Crusoe's sense, p a r t s o f the P u r i t a n concepts o f i n t r o s p e c t i o n

and emblematic i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of e v e n t s . But, i n Crusoe's case, t h i s

moral v i s i o n i s a l s o f i r m l y grounded i n the p h i l o s o p h y o f the p e r i o d ,

so t h a t both r e l i g i o n and p h i l o s o p h y work to g i v e man a s t r o n g sense

and knowledgeof r i g h t a c t i o n i n a w o r l d t h r e a t e n e d by the i n o r d i n a t e

and immoral d e s i r e s and i n c l i n a t i o n s o f a f a l l e n human n a t u r e .

Crusoe has l e a r n e d h i s l e s s o n ; he must work f o r o r d e r and s t a b i l i t y ,

f o r o n l y then w i l l he be b l e s s e d (as was J o b ) , and o n l y then i s t h e r e

a possibility t h a t s o c i e t y as a whole ( w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o the themes o f

Defoe's n o v e l ) w i l l be b a l a n c e d , o r d e r e d , and sane. Defoe's p o l e m i c a l

purpose, then, i s perhaps t o show that people s h o u l d f o l l o w Cursoe's

example, r e a l i z i n g as completely as p o s s i b l e t h e i r p o s i t i o n i n a world

t h r e a t e n e d by the p r o b a b i l i t y o f human anarchy, and that t h e i r moral

duty i s — b y f o l l o w i n g the d i c t a t e s o f reason, f a i t h , and moral

k n o w l e d g e — t o become a c t i v e i n p r o m u l g a t i n g i d e a l s o f o r d e r and

social stability. In a l l t h e i r a c t i o n s , people s h o u l d m a i n t a i n a

C h r i s t i a n m o r a l i t y and a p p l y the p r i n c i p l e s o f human reason.

T h e r e f o r e , t o Defoe, p r o p e r knowledge should apply t o a c t i o n i n

all spheres o f human e n d e a v o r — p o l i t i c a l , s o c i a l economic, p h i l o s o p h i c ,

religious. But, as we have seen, i n e i g h t e e n t h century p h i l o s o p h y a major

p o r t i o n o f these c a t e g o r i e s d i s s o l v e i n t o a s i n g l e economic frame-

work. S o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s are seen as a system o f " t r a d e

c o n t r a c t s " which, t o a p h i l o s o p h e r such as Locke, s h o u l d p r o v i d e the

maximum freedom t o the i n d i v i d u a l ( d e f i n e d , s i g n i f i c a n t l y , through an

"economic" concept o f p r o p e r t y ) w h i l e at the same time i n s i s t i n g on an

o r d e r l y arrangement o f these c o n t r a c t s which would i n s u r e a s t a b i l i z e d

society. The s e t o f laws which govern b o t h the s t a t e o f n a t u r e and the

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arrangement of s o c i e t y s h o u l d a l s o o f course operate to m a i n t a i n a

b a l a n c e , o r s t a t u s quo, i n the a r e a of a c t u a l t r a d i n g relationships.

Thus, t h e r e i s a g e n e r a l c o n n e c t i o n between Locke's a b s t r a c t and

t h e o r e t i c a l concepts and Defoe's thematic i n t e n t i o n s i n Robinson

Crusoe. Defoe's purpose i n s e t t i n g Crusoe i n a s t a t e o f n a t u r e and

t r a c i n g h i s growth back i n t o s o c i e t y i s to i l l u s t r a t e those r u l e s which

s h o u l d always govern man's a c t i o n s . Locke's c o d i f i c a t i o n o f the laws

of n a t u r e , h i s d e s c r i p t i o n o f . t h e s t a t e of n a t u r e , h i s view of s o c i e t y

as a system of c o n t r a c t and t r a d e r e l a t i o n s h i p s , are a l l p a r a l l e l e d

i n Crusoe's r e a l i z a t i o n of h i s p o s i t i o n i n a s t a t e o f n a t u r e and

in society. And, j u s t as Locke's p h i l o s o p h y i s based on the relation-

s h i p s between reason and faith (the quest f o r knowledge b e i n g a r a t i o n a l

d i s c o v e r y of man's purpose and p o s i t i o n i n r e l a t i o n to n a t u r e , society,

and God), so Crusoe must i n t e r n a l i z e the p r i n c i p l e s o f reason

and f a i t h i n o r d e r to r e c o v e r h i s p r o p e r p o s i t i o n i n b o t h a C h r i s t i a n

cosmos and a s e c u l a r s o c i e t y .

The way i n which Defoe p r e s e n t s t h i s b a s i c theme i s most

important h e r e , s i n c e he i s i l l u s t r a t i n g , through Kis f i c t i o n , the same

o r g a n i z a t i o n of r e a l i t y t h a t Locke attempts i n h i s more t h e o r e t i c a l and

abstract philosophy. The r a t h e r complex i d e o l o g i c a l model which informs

b o t h Defoe's and Crusoe's v i s i o n i s thus reduced and s i m p l i f i e d i n o r d e r

to c o n c r e t e l y r e p r e s e n t the i d e a s , i d e a l s , and v a l u e s by which the

eighteenth—-century Englishman s h o u l d l i v e . In t h i s sense, the dramatic

A.

s t r u c t u r e and the moral c o n f l i c t s i n Robinson Crusoe are unidimensional

i n t h a t b o t h are c o n t r o l l e d by a s i n g l e , p e r v a d i n g moral v i s i o n which

i n f u s e s b o t h theme and technique,.

For example, p a r t o f the s i m p l i f i c a t i o n i s a p l a i n n e s s of s t y l e

which i s d i s c u s s e d not o n l y by Defoe, but a l s o by P u r i t a n w r i t e r s and

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Locke h i m s e l f . Plainness i n s t y l e leads, i n a l l three cases, to a

c l o s e r approximation o f r e a l i t y (Locke's e m p i r i c i s m , the P u r i t a n

emblematic v i s i o n o f e x p e r i e n c e ) and thus c l o s e r to the fundamental

t r u t h s o f the human c o n d i t i o n . And, i n b o t h Locke and Defoe, this

s t y l e l e a d s to a uniform tone o f " c o o l " o b j e c t i v i t y and e m o t i o n a l d e t a c h -

ment. Since most o f Defoe's s t o r i e s are memoirs, the n a r r a t o r himself

is detached from h i s e a r l i e r e x p e r i e n c e . T h i s detachment creates

b o t h an " a e s t h e t i c d i s t a n c e " between the n a r r a t o r and the e a r l y events

of h i s l i f e , and a s t y l e t h a t remains " o u t s i d e " — n o t emotionally

i n v o l v e d , i n other w o r d s — t h e narrated situations. The given event i s

r e p o r t e d by means of a detached s t y l e which l e a d s , p a r a d o x i c a l l y , t o

an e m o t i o n a l involvement by the reader. Crusoe, f o r example, r e l a t e s

t h a t a f t e r the f i r s t shipwreck, he never saw any o f h i s f e l l o w

crewmen, " o r any s i g n o f them, except t h r e e o f t h e i r h a t s , one cap,

and two shoes that were n o t f e l l o w s " ( I , 4 3 ) . Not o n l y does t h i s

sentence i l l u s t r a t e Defoe's use of c i r c u m s t a n t i a l d e t a i l , b u t the

style i t s e l f r e f l e c t s an e m o t i o n a l detachment. The reader must fill

in the emotional gap; he must imagine the sadness, perhaps even the

b i t t e r n e s s , that Crusoe f e e l s when he f i n d s these o b j e c t s on t h e

beach.

Therefore, the detachment o f the n a r r a t o r l e a d s n o t n e c e s s a r i l y

to i r o n y , but r a t h e r to empathy. A g a i n , the s t r a i g h t - f o r w a r d and

c o n s i s t e n t l y s e r i o u s manner i n which Crusoe t e l l s h i s s t o r y m i l i t a t e s

a g a i n s t any p e r v a s i v e i r o n i c view o f h i s adventures. C e r t a i n l y there

are i s o l a t e d cases o f i r o n y , but only when some o f Crusoe's e a r l y

a c t i o n s a r e h e l d up a g a i n s t the moral v i s i o n o f the n a r r a t o r . Swift

or Pope, f o r example, may use the detached persona t o c r e a t e complex

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i r o n i e s i n t h e i r works, but Defoe o f f e r s us a simple n a r r a t i v e which

evokes an empathetic response from the r e a d e r , not an i r o n i c one.

Defoe undoubtedly meant us to take h i s hero s e r i o u s l y , not to see him

as a b u f f o o n or to see h i s e n t i r e autobiography as an i r o n i c i n v e r s i o n

of the moral v i e w p o i n t of the o l d e r Crusoe. T h i s l a c k of complex

i r o n y again l e a d s us to see the n o v e l as e s s e n t i a l l y unidimensional;

r a t h e r than c r e a t i n g a complex s t r u c t u r e of meaning through convolutions

and v e r b a l c o m p l e x i t i e s , Defoe reduces Crusoe's a c t i o n s and meditations

to a s i n g l e , s t r a i g h t - f o r w a r d , " s u r f a c e " l e v e l .

F i n a l l y , i f Defoe's n o v e l i s not a work of complex QE pervasive

i r o n y , our case a g a i n s t the t r a d e - m o r a l i t y c o n f l i c t s c h o o l of criticism

is f u r t h e r strengthened. Any major theme o r p a t t e r n i n the book can

be read p r e c i s e l y f o r what i t i s , n e i t h e r more nor less. Crusoe's

progress i n b o t h the r e l i g i o u s and economic p a t t e r n s — h i s slow a c q u i s i t i o n

o f f a i t h and reason—is subsumed i n a l a r g e r , more g e n e r a l pattern

of h i s growth out of the s t a t e of n a t u r e i n t o a " c i v i l i z e d " human

being, able to r e e n t e r s o c i e t y . Thus, each theme and pattern reflects

the same fundamental moral purpose; Defoe's i n t e n t i o n i s to present

to h i s readers a p i c t u r e of the e s s e n t i a l l y good eighteenth-century

man. His t e c h n i q u e , then, r e f l e c t s h i s i n t e n t i o n ; he defines such

a man by s l o w l y and p a i n s t a k i n g l y t r a c i n g Crusoe's growth through a

s e r i e s of adventures and s i t u a t i o n s which produce t h i s paradigmatic

being. Crusoe, t h e r e f o r e , i s a man who can r e s o l v e the paradox between

t r a d e and m o r a l i t y . He does so by becoming an e s s e n t i a l l y conservative

f e l l o w w i t h s t r o n g r e l i g i o u s moral p r i n c i p l e s and w i t h a s t r o n g belief

i n a s t a b l e and ordered society. By l e t t i n g reason and f a i t h work i n

conjunction with one another, Crusoe can be r e s p o n s i b l e f o r good

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s o c i a l a c t i o n s — i . e . , a c t i o n s which w i l l i n s u r e the c o n t i n u e d p r o s p e r i t y

and b a l a n c e of s o c i e t y . In s h o r t , by the end of the n o v e l the younger

Crusoe has caught up completely w i t h the o l d e r one i n t h a t he has

i n t e r n a l i z e d moral and r a t i o n a l p r i n c i p l e s and i s thus a b l e to assume

a r a t i o n a l and s t a b l e p o i s i t i o n i n s o c i e t y . He has learned, quite

s i m p l y , t h a t reason o r d e r s and s t a b i l i z e s one's thoughts and a c t i o n s ,

and that f a i t h validates—makes s i g n i f i c a n t — t h o s e meditations and

actions. Crusoe has thus a c q u i r e d a moral c o n s c i e n c e and a p h i l o s o p h i c a l

knowledge of h i s p l a c e i n a r a t i o n a j L l y o p e r a t e d , and e s s e n t i a l l y moral,

cosmos. He has combined p r i n c i p l e s of a s e c u l a r knowledge (economic

and p h i l o s o p h i c a l ) w i t h the p r e c e p t s of P r o t e s t a n t C h r i s t i a n f a i t h to

f i n d a p a t t e r n o f r e l i g i o u s meaning, s o c i a l i d e n t i t y , and v a l u e i n h i s

own life, and i s thus o f f e r e d t o us by Defoe as the p a r a d i g m a t i c model

of the e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y middle class Englishman.

 \

NOTES

CHAPTER I

~*"Defoe's Review, ed. William Lytton Payne (New York: Columbia

University Press, 1938), XXII, 214.

2
Rudolf G. Stamm, "Daniel Defoe: An A r t i s t i n the Puritan
T r a d i t i o n , " P h i l o l o g i c a l Quarterly, 15 (1936), 225-46.
3
Hans H. Anderson, "TEe Paradox of Trade and Morality i n Defoe,"
Modern Philology, 39 (1941), 23-46.

^Maximillian E. Novak, Defoe and the Nature of Man (London:

Oxford University Press, 1963), p. 88.

^Maximillian E. Novak, Economics and the F i c t i o n of Daniel

Defoe (Berkeley: University of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1962), pp. 3-31.
Hereafter cited as Economics.

Novak, Economics, especially pp. 32-66.

''ian Watt, The Rise of the Novel: Studies i n Defoe, Richardson

and F i e l d i n g (1957; r p t . Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1967), pp. 60-92.

g
Arnold Kettle, An Introduction to the English Novel (1951; rpt.
New York: Harper & Row, 1960), I, 21-26, 55-62..
9
George A. Starr, Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1965)

"^See J . Paul Hunter, The Reluctant Pilgrim: Defoe's Emblematic

Method and Quest f o r Form i n Robinson Crusoe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
Press, 1966) and Edwin B. Benjamin, "Symbolic Elements i n Robinson Crusoe,"
P h i l o l o g i c a l Quarterly, 30 (1951), 206-11.

There are actually two Covenants. The f i r s t dates from 1638

when a protestation was signed throughout Scotland i n which the signers
(Covenanters) pledged to defend the Protestant ( i . e . , C a l y i n i s t ) r e l i g i o n .
 158

The second Convenant—the.one r e l a t i n g to our d i s c u s s i o n — i s a t r e a t y ,

The Solemn League and Covenant, concluded between the E n g l i s h P a r l i a m e n t
(at t h a t : t i m e i n r e v o l t a g a i n s t C h a r l e s I) and the Scots n a t i o n i n 1643.
In r e t u r n f o r S c o t t i s h m i l i t a r y a i d i n p r o s e c u t i n g the war a g a i n s t
C h a r l e s , i t was s t i p u l a t e d t h a t the reformed church i n S c o t l a n d
( P r e s b y t e r i a n ) would be p r e s e r v e d , popery and e p i s c o p a c y were t o be
e x t i r p a t e d i n b o t h England and S c o t l a n d , and peace would be concluded
between the two kingdoms. The Covenant remained on the books, o f f i c i a l l y
at l e a s t , throughout the p e r i o d o f P u r i t a n r u l e . With the r e s t o r a t i o n
of C h a r l e s I I , however, the Covenant came under heavy c r i t i c i s m , and the
t r e a t y i t s e l f was e f f e c t u a l l y a b o l i s h e d by the Clarendon Code, though
the Scots c o n t i n u e d f o r some time to r e f e r t o i t as i f i t were s t i l l
in effect.

12
O l i v e r Heywood: H i s Autobiography, D i a r i e s , Anecdotes and
Event Books, ed. J . H o r s f a l l Turner (London: B r i g h o u s e and B i n g l e y ,
1882-85), I , 93.
13
G.R. Cragg, P u r i t a n i s m i n the P e r i o d o f the Great P e r s e c u t i o n ,
1660-1688 (Cambridge: C a m b r i d g e - U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1957), p. 9.
14
Maurice A s h l e y , England i n the Seventeenth Century (Harmondsworth,
Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1952), p. 126.

"^Bonamy Dobree, E n g l i s h L i t e r a t u r e i n the E a r l y E i g h t e e n t h

Century (1959; r e p t . O x f o r d : Clarendon P r e s s , . 1 9 6 4 ) , p. 35.

16
Quoted i n John Robert Moore, D a n i e l Defoe: C i t i z e n of the
Modern World (Chicago: U n i v e r s i t y . o f . C h i c a g o P r e s s , 1958), p. 35.

" ^ W i l l i a m H a l l e r , The Rise of P u r i t a n i s m : Or, the Way t o the New

J e r u s a l e m as Set F o r t h i n P u l p i t and P r e s s from Thomas C a r t w r i g h t to John
L i l b u r n e and John M i l t o n , 1570-1643 (New York: Columbia U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s ,
1938), p. 302.

18
Quoted i n H a l l e r , T h e . R i s e . o f P u r i t a n i s m , p. 138..

19
James R. S u t h e r l a n d , Defoe ( P h i l a d e l p h i a and New York: J.B.
L i p p i n c o t t , 1938), p. 22.
20
See Novak, Economics, pp. 11, 160.

21
S u t h e r l a n d , p. 45.

22
D a n i e l Defoe, S e r i o u s R e f l e c t i o n s D u r i n g the L i f e and Sur-
p r i s i n g Adventures o f Robinson Crusoe w i t h h i s V i s i o n of the A n g e l i c
World, ed. George A. A i t k e n (London: J.M. Dent, 1895), pp. 115-16. A l l
 159

subsequent r e f e r e n c e s to the Crusoe t r i l o g y (Part I : The L i f e and Strange

S u r p r i s i n g Adventures of Robinson Crusoe; P a r t I I : The F a r t h e r Adventures
of Robinson Crusoe; P a r t I I I : S e r i o u s R e f l e c t i o n s ) , which comprise
the f i r s t t h r e e volumes o f A i t k e n ' s e d i t i o n o f the Romances and N a r r a t i v e s
by D a n i e l Defoe (16 v o l s . ) > are noted p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y i n the t e x t by
volume number ( I , I I , o r I I I ) and page.

23
Novak, Economics, p. i x .

CHAPTER I I

See Moore, p. 39; Diana Spearman, The Novel and S o c i e t y

(London: Routledge and Kegan P a u l , 1966), p. 157; and H a l l e r , The R i s e
of P u r i t a n i s m , pp. 16-17.-

2
George A. S t a r r , Defoe and C a s u i s t r y (Princeton: Princeton University
P r e s s , 1971), pp. x i - x i i .
3
S t a r r , Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography, p. x i .

4
For a p a r t i c u l a r d i s c u s s i o n o f t h i s theme, see S t a r r , Defoe
and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography, pp. 5-11.

"'john Bunyan, The P i l g r i m ' s P r o g r e s s from t h i s World to That

which i s t o Come, ed. James B l a n t o n Wharey, 2nd ed., r e v . by Roger
Sharrock (Oxford: Clarendon P r e s s , 1960), p. 32.

H a l l e r , The R i s e of P u r i t a n i s m , pp. 95-96, 141-42.

7
See S t a r r , Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography, pp. 6-11.
g
Quoted i n S t a r r , Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography, p. 20.

9
Quoted i n S t a r r , Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography, p. 20.

1 (
^ S t a r r , Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography., p. 40.

. 1 1
Robert Sanderson, XXXVI Sermons (London: 1689), pp. 205, 215.

12
C h a r l e s and K a t h e r i n e George, The P r o t e s t a n t Mind o f the E n g l i s h
Reformation: 1570-1640 ( P r i n c e t o n : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1961),
p. 127.
 160

13
The Workes o f that famovs and w o r t h y m i n i s t e r o f C h r i s t , i n
the V n i u e r s i t i e s of Cambridge, Mr W i l l i a m P e r k i n s (London: P r i n t e d by
I. L e g a t t , 1612-13), I , 750, 751.

"^See Robert W. A y e r s , "Robinson Crusoe: 'Allusive Allegorick

H i s t o r y , ' " PMLA, 82 (1967), 401.

" ^ H a l l e r , The R i s e o f P u r i t a n i s m , p. 368.

"^Quoted i n Hunter, p. 130..

"^John Goodman, The P e n i t e n t Pardon'd 04th ed. London: 1694),

pp. 86, 87.

18
S t a r r , Defoe and C a s u i s t r y , p. 182.

1 9
H u n t e r , p. 102.

20
N i g e l Dennis, Jonathan S w i f t . A Short C h a r a c t e r (New York:
M a c M i l l a n , 1964), p. 125.
21
Benjamin, pp. 206-07.

22
Benjamin, p. 211.

23
Lynn White, J r . , "The H i s t o r i c a l Roots of Our E c o l o g i c
C r i s i s , " S c i e n c e , 155 (March 10, 1967), 1206.

2 4
H u n t e r , p. 102.

25
Benjamin, p. 206.

2 6
W a t t , p. 70.

27
D a n i e l Defoe, C a l e d o n i a ; a poem i n honour o f S c o t l a n d and the
Scots n a t i o n (Edinburgh: P r i n t e d by the h e i r s and s u c c e s s o r s o f A.
Anderson, 1706), pp. 57, 59, 2.

2 8
W a t t , p. 86.

29
Novak, Economics, pp. 49, 42.

Watt, p. 65.
 161

31
R i c h a r d S i b b e s , The S p i r i t u a l l Man's Aime (London, 1637), p. 8.

32
H a l l e r , The R i s e o f P u r i t a n i s m , p. 123.

33
Quoted i n C h a r l e s and K a t h e r i n e George, p. 160.

34
H.M. Robertson, A s p e c t s of the R i s e o f Economic I n d i v i d u a l i s m :
A C r i t i c i s m of Max Weber and h i s S c h o o l (1933; r p t . New York: Augustus
M. K e l l e y , 1965), p. 166.
35
R i c h a r d B a x t e r , The C h r i s t i a n D i r e c t o r y (London, 1678),
IV, 131.

36
Novak, Economics, p. 70.

3 7
Watt, p. 61.

38
See Robertson, p. x i i ; Novak, Economics, pp. 3-31; and W i l l i a m
L y t t o n Payne, Mr. Review: D a n i e l Defoe as Author of The Review (New
York: King's Crown P r e s s , 1947), pp. 70-92.
39
Payne, Mr. Review, p. 92.

40
D a n i e l Defoe, Essay upon P r o j e c t s , e x c e r p t e d i n S e l e c t e d
P o e t r y and Prose o f D a n i e l Defoe, ed. "Michael F. Shugrue (New York:
H o l t , R i n e h a r t and Winston, 1968), p. 7.
41
D a n i e l Defoe, The Compleat English Tradesman (London, 172 7),
II, 183.

42
Defoe, The Compleat E n g l i s h Tradesman, I I , 149, 152.

A3
See George A. S t a r r . "Escape from Barbary: A Seventeenth-
Century Genre," Huntington L i b r a r y Q u a r t e r l y , 29 (1965), 35-52.
44
S t a r r , Defoe and S p i r i t u a l Autobiography, p. 113.

45
Hunter,, p. 175.

46
Novak, Economics, pp. 50, 51, 55.

^ M a r t i n J . G r e i f , "The C o n v e r s i o n o f Robinson Crusoe," S t u d i e s

i n E n g l i s h L i t e r a t u r e 1500-1900, 4 (1966), 553.
 162

48
Watt, p. 69.

49
A l a n Dugald M c K i l l o p , The E a r l y Masters of E n g l i s h Fiction
(Lawrence: U n i v e r s i t y o f Kansas. P r e s s , 1967), p. 24.

~*^Martin P r i c e , To the P a l a c e o f Wisdom: S t u d i e s i n Order and

Energy from Dryden to Blake (New York: Doubleday, 1964), p. 126.

"'''"Robert A l a n Donovan, The Shaping V i s i o n : I m a g i n a t i o n i n the

E n g l i s h Novel from Defoe to Dickens ( I t h a c a , N.Y.: Cornell University
P r e s s , 1966), p. 242.

CHAPTER I I I

E r n s t B e h l e r , "Ideas of the 'State o f N a t u r e ' and ' N a t u r a l

Man' i n the A r a b i c T r a d i t i o n of the M i d d l e Ages and t h e i r e n t r a n c e i n t o
Western Thought," A r c a d i a , 3 (1968), 22.

2
B e h l e r , p. 15.

3
B e h l e r , p. 17.

4
Hans A a r s l e f f , "The S t a t e o f Nature and the Nature o f Man
i n Locke," i n John Locke: Problems and P e r s p e c t i v e s ; A C o l l e c t i o n o f
New E s s a y s , ed. John W. Y o l t o n (Cambridge: Cambridge U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s ,
1969), p. 100.

^Hugo von G r o t i u s , De Jure B e l l i ac P a c i s L i b r i Tres (The

Law of War and Peace) , t r a n s . F r a n c i s W. K e l s e y et a l . ' ( I n d i a n a p o l i s :
B o b b s - M e r r i l , 1925), pp. 38-39.

^ G r o t i u s , p. 15..

7
Thomas Hobbes, L e v i a t h a n , o r the M a t t e r , Forme & Power of a
Common-wealth E c c l e s i a s t i c a l l and C i v i l l , ed. C.B. MacPherson
(Harmondsworth, M i d d l e s e x : Penguin Books, 1968), p.. 186.
g
Quoted i n Novak, Defoe and the Nature o f Man, p. 25.

9
John Plamenatz, Man and S o c i e t y : A C r i t i c a l Examination o f
Some Important S o c i a l and P o l i t i c a l T h e o r i e s from M a c h i a v e l l i t o Marx
(London: Longmans, Green, 1963), I , 212.
 163

John Locke, Two T r e a t i s e s of Government, ed. P e t e r L a s l e t t

1

(1960; r p t . New York and Toronto: The New American L i b r a r y , 1963),

pp. 319-320. H e r e a f t e r c i t e d as Two T r e a t i s e s .

''""'"Quoted by L a s l e t t i n "Introduction," Locke, Two Treatises,

p. 48.

12
Locke, Two T r e a t i s e s , pp. 311, 312.

13
John Locke, Essay c o n c e r n i n g Human U n d e r s t a n d i n g , ed. John
W. Y o l t o n (1961; r p t . London: J.M. Dent & Sons, 1967), Book IV,
S e c t i o n x i v , Paragraphy 2. H e r e a f t e r c i t e d as Essay f o l l o w e d by Book,
S e c t i o n , and Paragraph.
14

Locke, Essay, IV, x i i , 2.

"'""'piamenatz, I , 222.

"^Watt, p. 62.

"^Plamenatz, I , 221.

18
Locke, Two T r e a t i s e s , pp. 328-39.
C h r i s t o p h e r H i l l , The Century of R e v o l u t i o n , 1603-1714
1 9
(1961;
rpt. London: Sphere Books, 1969), p. 220.
20
Henry Overton, An Arrow A g a i n s t A l l T y r a n t s (London, 1646),
pp. 1-2.

21
H a l l e r , The R i s e o f P u r i t a n i s m , pp. 86, 179, 367.

22
See H.M. Robertson, Aspects of the R i s e o f Economic I n d i v i d u a l i s m ;
C h r i s t o p h e r H i l l , The Century o f R e v o l u t i o n ; Maurice A s h l e y , England i n
the Seventeenth Century; and C.B. MacPherson, The P o l i t i c a l Theory of
P o s s e s s i v e I n d i v i d u a l i s m (Oxford: Clarendon P r e s s , 1962).
23
Locke, Two T r e a t i s e s , p. 243.

^ L o c k e , Two T r e a t i s e s , pp . 332-33

^ L o c k e , Two T r e a t i s e s , p. 247.
 164

26
John Locke, Essays on the Law o f Nature, ed. Wolfgang von Leyden
(Oxford: Clarendon P r e s s , 1954), p. 31.

27
See A a r s l e f f ' s essay i n John Locke: Problems and P e r s p e c t i v e s ,
pp. 114-15.

28
Jonathan B i s h o p , "Knowledge, A c t i o n , and I n t e r p r e t a t i o n i n
Defoe's N o v e l s , " J o u r n a l of H i s t o r y of Ideas, 13 (1952), 6.
29
Quoted i n Novak, Defoe and the Nature of Man, p. 9.

^ D o n o v a n , p. 36.

31
MacPherson, The P o l i t i c a l Theory o f P o s s e s s i v e I n d i v i d u a l i s m , p. 3.
32
See P e t e r L a s l e t t , "John Locke, The Great Recoinage, and the
O r i g i n s of the Board of Trade: 1695-1698," i n John Locke: Problems and
P e r s p e c t i v e s , pp. 137-64.

33
W i l l i a m Lee, D a n i e l Defoe: H i s L i f e , and R e c e n t l y D i s c o v e r e d
Writings: E x t e n d i n g from 1716 t o 1729 (London: John Camden H o t t e n ,
1869), I I I , 469-70.
34
Lee, I I , 353.

35
Frank H. E l l i s , " I n t r o d u c t i o n " i n T w e n t i e t h Century I n t e r -
p r e t a t i o n s o f Robinson Crusoe, ed. Frank H. E l l i s (Englewood C l i f f s ,
N.J.: P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 1969), p. 13.

E.M.W. T i l l y a r d , The E p i c S t r a i n i n the E n g l i s h Novel (Fair

Lawn, N.J.: E s s e n t i a l Books, 1958), p. 38.

37
David I. G r o s s v o g e l , L i m i t s o f the N o v e l : E v o l u t i o n s o f a
Form from Chaucer t o R o b b e - G r i l l e t ( I t h a c a , N.Y.: Cornell University
P r e s s , 1968), p. 323.
38
John J . R i c h e t t i , P o p u l a r F i c t i o n B e f o r e R i c h a r d s o n : N a r r a t i v e
P a t t e r n s , 1700-1739 (Oxford, Clarendon P r e s s , 1969), pp. 13, 15.

39
P r i c e , p. 273.
CHAPTER IV

Mark Schorer, "Technique as Discovery," Hudson Review, 1

(1948), 67, 69.

McKillop, p. 24.
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