Few novels have been as influential or important to the literary world as Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, written in 1719. This timeless tale presents the dramatic account of the realities of one young man who seeks his fame and fortune in the New World despite the cautionary admonishment of his father. Through the relationship and initial conversation(s) between these men, Defoe sets up the argument for two strikingly different attitudes in life—the view of the son who “would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea” (Defoe 1) and the view of the father who wanted his son to embrace the “easy circumstances sliding gently thro’ the world” (Defoe 2). From this starting point, the rest of the novel unwinds, and the readers come to fully understand the “perplex’d circumstances” (Defoe 2) that eventually befall the Prodigal Son, Crusoe, because of his resolute will to go against the wishes/commands of his father. In the end, Defoe has made a bold statement about the imprudence of living life in search of fame and fortune, the foolishness of ignoring conventional wisdom, and the extreme personal costs of which most people are oblivious when following this path in life.
Defoe begins the tale of Robinson Crusoe in the past verb tense of third person, which gives an allegorical feel to the story, especially with the admonishment of the father so quintessentially emphasized in the first chapter. The third paragraph sets up the conflict between these two men, but it also presents the author’s overall appraisal of what he is about to explain.
Being the third son of the family and not bred to any trade, my head began to be filled very early with rambling thoughts. . . .but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea; and my inclination to this led me so strongly against the will, nay, the commands of my father. . . tending directly to the life of misery which was to befall me” (Defoe 1).
Clearly, the narrator is not bragging about his initial attitude; he is lamenting his choice to ignore the advice of his father. Defoe writes, “My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel against what he foresaw was my design” (Defoe 1). Crusoe wants to go out and make his fortune abroad. He is unhappy and discontent with his station in life; yet, his father disagrees with young Crusoe’s assessment of their social status. The father comments, “The upper station of low life, which he had found, by long experience, was the best state in the world, the most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries and hardships, the labour and sufferings of the mechanic part of mankind” (Defoe 2).
With the aforementioned in mind, Crusoe’s father recommends his son stay at home where he can be gently and easily introduced into the comfortable life in England through familial connections. There is no need to struggle to succeed or to go for the exotic golden ring when the brass one is so easily reached in England. If the young Crusoe would obey his father’s wishes, then he would surely be “sensibly tasting the sweets of living without the bitter, feeling that they are happy, and learning by every day’s experience to know it more sensibly” (Defoe 2–3). The double use of “sensible” is utilized to dramatically drive home the point of what is the right choice to make for young Crusoe.
Initially, this makes sense to the son. The narrator states, “I was sincerely affected by this discourse, as indeed who could be otherwise? And I resolv’d not to think of going abroad any more, but to settle at home according to my father’s desire” (Defoe 3). However, the wanderlust desires of the son became too much for him to resist (not that he wants to, deep down). Hoping to have her positively influence his father, Crusoe admits to his mother, “My thoughts were so entirely bent upon seeing the world, that I should never settle to any thing with resolution enough to go through with it, and my father had better give me his consent than force me to go without it” (Defoe 3–4). The narrator’s father does not give his consent, of course, because he knows “if he [young Crusoe] goes abroad, he will be the miserablest wretch that was ever born” (Defoe 4).
By this time, though, young Crusoe is hellbent to run away, being “enrag’d with the passion of envy, or secret burning lust of ambition for great things” (Defoe 2). He throws caution to the wind, “consulted neither father or mother any more” (Defoe 4), and he arranges a spot on an outgoing ship with one of his companions and leaves his home, “without asking God’s blessing, or my father’s, without any consideration of circumstances or consequences” (Defoe 4). Like the biblical story of the Prodigal Son, Crusoe is demanding to be set free to live his life as he wants to, and with the same reckless naïveté about what can and will happen to him in the future—ironic, considering the shipwreck he will experience, shortly. His expectations are high, his emotions are wild, but reality is about to strike out at him in ways he could not envision.
Not one day out, the Prodigal Son encounters a great storm at sea--a hint of what is to come. Soon enough, the “prophetick” (Defoe 3) words of his father come true, much to his sorrow and lament, and Crusoe experiences needless (and seemingly endless) exhaustion, imprisonment, loneliness, madness, warfare, and nail-biting rescue. Throughout his experiences, Crusoe has ample time to “seriously. . . reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was overtaken by the judgment of Heaven for my wicked leaving my father’s house, and abandoning my duty” (Defoe 5). Crusoe’s story has come full circle and the reader fully understands the negative appraisal of the narrator in Chapter One of this novel.
As with the biblical tale of the Prodigal Son, in Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe presents the story of a young son who disobediently runs away from his wise father to live life hedonistically, only to find misery and sorrow on the trail of his adventure. Unlike the biblical Story, though, this Prodigal Son comes back to find no father running to embrace him, no healing reconciliation—time has taken nearly everyone from him and he only has the bitter fruits of his labor, which was the portent of his father long ago. Crusoe concludes,
Anyone would think that in this state of complicated good fortune I was past running any more hazards—and so, indeed, I had been, if other circumstances had concurred; but I was inured to a wandering life, had no family, nor many relations; nor, however rich, had I contracted fresh acquaintance (Defoe 223). The reward for Crusoe’s actions and efforts are his reward alone, sadly and realistically.
One can find many morals in this cautionary tale of youthful rebellion, but Crusoe best sums it up himself when he says, “It put me upon reflecting how little repining there would be among mankind at any condition of life, if people would rather compare their condition with those that are worse, in order to be thankful, than be always comparing them with those which are better, to assist their murmurings and complainings” (Defoe 122). The Prodigal Son—Crusoe—left home with a dream, experienced a long nightmare, but returned home with a vision to share with his readers, something which we all can thank Defoe for, personally.
Works Cited
Defoe, Daniel. Robinson Crusoe. Mineola, New York: Dover, 1998.