Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Not Reading for the Plot in Robinson Crusoe

The simplest essay will tell you that providence is one of Robinson Crusoe’s (1719) central themes, but it will not tell you from what Crusoe develops his notion of providence. Certainly, the type of providence to which Crusoe refers descends from a Protestant education, but I argue that it is more specifically founded upon and modeled after a particular reading practice. On his island, Crusoe begins his journey toward repentance after “having open’d the Book casually, the first Words that ocurr’d to me were these, Call on me in the Day of Trouble, and I will deliver, and thou shalt glorify me,” (73). The verse’s applicability to Crusoe’s misery strikes him with an overwhelming sensation of relief. Its usefulness compels him to memorize the lines so that he could “mus[e] upon them very often,” (73).

Paired with scriptural reading is a terrifying dream Crusoe has of God’s appearance before him. God declares of Crusoe’s misfortunes, “All these Things have not brought thee to Repentance,” (74). Both the words of the preceding verse and these of his dream make a great “impression” upon Crusoe. Neither sentences are sought after or result from active self-reflection, but unexpectedly appear to Crusoe. And in each instance, Crusoe’s process is the same: he encounters the sentences, he feels a tremendous emotive response to the words, and he commits those words to memory so that he can bring them forward in his mind whenever he so desires.

The chain of events shared between Crusoe’s reading and dream experiences form a pattern that can be replicated as a daily exercise. As he begins a habit of reading scripture every morning, he experiences the same “providential” encounter as earlier. He recounts that he was “earnestly begging of God to give me Repentance, when it happen’d providentially the very Day that reading the Scripture, I came to these Words, He is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give Repentance, and to give Remission: I threw down the Book, and with my Heart as well as my Hands lifted up to Heaven, in a Kind of Extasy of Joy,” (75). His description combines the spontaneity of his joy with the deliberate practice of his reading. Only by habituating himself to a daily reading routine can Crusoe facilitate seemingly incidental revelation. This routine becomes a form of mental and spiritual conditioning. He writes that he “began to exercise my self with new Thoughts; I daily read the Word of God, and apply’d all the Comforts of it to my present State,” (88).

The phrase “exercise my self with new thoughts” connects his reading to his other endeavors on the island, which are coordinated by a group of terms. Crusoe pursues each goal he sets on the island through a process of “exercise”, “experiments, or “essays.” When he first succeeds in agriculture and pottery, he does so after a period of “experiments,” (81, 94). In both cases, “experiment” signifies the development of a proper method formulated by changing different variables over the course of a series of trial methods. An “essay,” in the sense of a try, indicates a similar approach; “after a great many Essays and Miscarriages,” (114) Crusoe successfully makes “both Butter and Cheese” from the milk of his domesticated goats.

Reading, then, is another routine in a constellation of routines that constitute Crusoe’s daily life, but he distinguishes reading in its connection with providence and revelation. When Crusoe is preoccupied with a fear of the “Appearance of Savages,” those “Word[s] of Scripture [come] into [his] Thoughts, Call upon me…” (122). This second side of reading (that is revelatory and providential) lifts it from other habitual practices that only yield anticipated results, whether they be cheese, pottery, or wheat. The routine of reading provides a means for communicating with, understanding, and perceiving emotions that are unexpected or at least unplanned for. It gives Crusoe a way to make sense of the world as a place, which distributes the punishments and rewards of God.

Daniel Defoe, The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe (London: Printed by Baldwin and Craddock, Paternoster Row) 1831.

2 comments:

  1. Great analysis! I'd still like to see an essay comparing Crusoe with LOST :) Wouldn't you say that providence is a theme of both? And the ISLAND!?

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  2. Your post reminds me of the reading education you described in your Augst essay. The word I think of when I think of that essay and this post is "programming." The ideal of reading seems to be something like taking in a constantly looping program or code that determines your reactions or perceptions of external events; one might oppose this to something that seems more temporary and less "framing," like playing from sheet music or practicing a dance. I'm using a modern computer model for an old idea; I wonder what a good contemporary technological model might be for the type of programming I think you're describing.

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