Crusoe’s
success in mastering his situation, overcoming his obstacles, and controlling
his environment shows the condition of mastery in a positive light, at least at
the beginning of the novel. Crusoe lands in an inhospitable environment and
makes it his home. His taming and domestication of wild goats and parrots with
Crusoe as their master illustrates his newfound control. Moreover, Crusoe’s
mastery over nature makes him a master of his fate and of himself. Early in the
novel, he frequently blames himself for disobeying his father’s advice or
blames the destiny that drove him to sea. But in the later part of the novel,
Crusoe stops viewing himself as a passive victim and strikes a new note of
self-determination. In building a home for himself on the island, he finds that
he is master of his life—he suffers a hard fate and still finds prosperity.
But this theme
of mastery becomes more complex and less positive after Friday’s arrival, when
the idea of mastery comes to apply more to unfair relationships between humans.
In Chapter XXIII, Crusoe teaches Friday the word “[m]aster” even before
teaching him “yes” and “no,” and indeed he lets him “know that was to be
[Crusoe’s] name.” Crusoe never entertains the idea of considering Friday a
friend or equal—for some reason, superiority comes instinctively to him. We
further question Crusoe’s right to be called “[m]aster” when he later refers to
himself as “king” over the natives and Europeans, who are his “subjects.” In
short, while Crusoe seems praiseworthy in mastering his fate, the
praiseworthiness of his mastery over his fellow humans is more doubtful. Defoe
explores the link between the two in his depiction of the colonial mind.
Crusoe’s
experiences constitute not simply an adventure story in which thrilling things
happen, but also a moral tale illustrating the right and wrong ways to live
one’s life. This moral and religious dimension of the tale is indicated in the
Preface, which states that Crusoe’s story is being published to instruct others
in God’s wisdom, and one vital part of this wisdom is the importance of
repenting one’s sins. While it is important to be grateful for God’s miracles,
as Crusoe is when his grain sprouts, it is not enough simply to express
gratitude or even to pray to God, as Crusoe does several times with few
results. Crusoe needs repentance most, as he learns from the fiery angelic
figure that comes to him during a feverish hallucination and says, “Seeing all
these things have not brought thee to repentance, now thou shalt die.” Crusoe believes
that his major sin is his rebellious behaviour toward his father, which he
refers to as his “original sin,” akin to Adam and Eve’s first disobedience of
God. This biblical reference also suggests that Crusoe’s exile from
civilization represents Adam and Eve’s expulsion from Eden.
For
Crusoe, repentance consists of acknowledging his wretchedness and his absolute
dependence on the Lord. This admission marks a turning point in Crusoe’s
spiritual consciousness, and is almost a born-again experience for him. After
repentance, he complains much less about his sad fate and views the island more
positively. Later, when Crusoe is rescued and his fortune restored, he compares
himself to Job, who also regained divine favour. Ironically, this view of the
necessity of repentance ends up justifying sin: Crusoe may never have learned
to repent if he had never sinfully disobeyed his father in the first place.
Thus, as powerful as the theme of repentance is in the novel, it is
nevertheless complex and ambiguous.
Crusoe’s
arrival on the island does not make him revert to a brute existence controlled
by animal instincts, and, unlike animals, he remains conscious of himself at
all times. Indeed, his island existence actually deepens his self-awareness as
he withdraws from the external social world and turns inward. The idea that the
individual must keep a careful reckoning of the state of his own soul is a key
point in the Presbyterian doctrine that Defoe took seriously all his life. We
see that in his normal day-to-day activities, Crusoe keeps accounts of himself
enthusiastically and in various ways. For example, it is significant that
Crusoe’s makeshift calendar does not simply mark the passing of days, but
instead more egocentrically marks the days he has spent on the island: it is
about him, a sort of self-conscious or autobiographical calendar with him at
its center. Similarly, Crusoe obsessively keeps a journal to record his daily
activities, even when they amount to nothing more than finding a few pieces of
wood on the beach or waiting inside while it rains. Crusoe feels the importance
of staying aware of his situation at all times. We can also sense Crusoe’s
impulse toward self-awareness in the fact that he teaches his parrot to say the
words, “Poor Robin Crusoe. . . . Where have you been?” This sort of
self-examining thought is natural for anyone alone on a desert island, but it
is given a strange intensity when we recall that Crusoe has spent months
teaching the bird to say it back to him. Crusoe teaches nature itself to voice
his own self-awareness.
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