CHAPTER I - START IN LIFE
I WAS born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family, though not
of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull.
He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving off his trade, lived afterwards
at York, from whence he had married my mother, whose relations were named Robinson,
a very good family in that country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer;
but, by the usual corruption of words in England, we are now called - nay we call
ourselves and write our name - Crusoe; and so my companions always called me.
I had two elder brothers, one of whom was lieutenant-colonel to an English regiment
of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous Colonel Lockhart, and was
killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the Spaniards. What became of my second
brother I never knew, any more than my father or mother knew what became of me.
Being the third son of the family and not bred to any trade, my head began to
be filled very early with rambling thoughts. My father, who was very ancient, had
given me a competent share of learning, as far as house-education and a country
free school generally go, and designed me for the law; 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, and against all the entreaties and persuasions
of my mother and other friends, that there seemed to be something fatal in that
propensity of nature, tending directly to the life of misery which was to befall
me.
My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel against
what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into his chamber, where
he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very warmly with me upon this subject.
He asked me what reasons, more than a mere wandering inclination, I had for leaving
father's house and my native country, where I might be well introduced, and had
a prospect of raising my fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease
and pleasure. He told me it was men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or of aspiring,
superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon adventures, to rise by enterprise,
and make themselves famous in undertakings of a nature out of the common road; that
these things were all either too far above me or too far below me; that mine was
the middle state, or what might be called 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, and not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition,
and envy of the upper part of mankind. He told me I might judge of the happiness
of this state by this one thing - viz. that this was the state of life which all
other people envied; that kings have frequently lamented the miserable consequence
of being born to great things, and wished they had been placed in the middle of
the two extremes, between the mean and the great; that the wise man gave his testimony
to this, as the standard of felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty nor
riches.
He bade me observe it, and I should always find that the calamities of life were
shared among the upper and lower part of mankind, but that the middle station had
the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so many vicissitudes as the higher
or lower part of mankind; nay, they were not subjected to so many distempers and
uneasinesses, either of body or mind, as those were who, by vicious living, luxury,
and extravagances on the one hand, or by hard labour, want of necessaries, and mean
or insufficient diet on the other hand, bring distemper upon themselves by the natural
consequences of their way of living; that the middle station of life was calculated
for all kind of virtue and all kind of enjoyments; that peace and plenty were the
handmaids of a middle fortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health, society,
all agreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were the blessings attending
the middle station of life; that this way men went silently and smoothly through
the world, and comfortably out of it, not embarrassed with the labours of the hands
or of the head, not sold to a life of slavery for daily bread, nor harassed with
perplexed circumstances, which rob the soul of peace and the body of rest, nor enraged
with the passion of envy, or the secret burning lust of ambition for great things;
but, in easy circumstances, sliding gently through the world, and 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,
After this he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate manner, not
to play the young man, nor to precipitate myself into miseries which nature, and
the station of life I was born in, seemed to have provided against; that I was under
no necessity of seeking my bread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to
enter me fairly into the station of life which he had just been recommending to
me; and that if I was not very easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere fate
or fault that must hinder it; and that he should have nothing to answer for, having
thus discharged his duty in warning me against measures which he knew would be to
my hurt; in a word, that as he would do very kind things for me if I would stay
and settle at home as he directed, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes
as to give me any encouragement to go away; and to close all, he told me I had my
elder brother for an example, to whom he had used the same earnest persuasions to
keep him from going into the Low Country wars, but could not prevail, his young
desires prompting him to run into the army, where he was killed; and though he said
he would not cease to pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I
did take this foolish step, God would not bless me, and I should have leisure hereafter
to reflect upon having neglected his counsel when there might be none to assist
in my recovery.
I observed in this last part of his discourse, which was truly prophetic, though
I suppose my father did not know it to be so himself - I say, I observed the tears
run down his face very plentifully, especially when he spoke of my brother who was
killed: and that when he spoke of my having leisure to repent, and none to assist
me, he was so moved that he broke off the discourse, and told me his heart was so
full he could say no more to me.
I was sincerely affected with this discourse, and, indeed, who could be otherwise?
and I resolved not to think of going abroad any more, but to settle at home according
to my father's desire. But alas! a few days wore it all off; and, in short, to prevent
any of my father's further importunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run
quite away from him. However, I did not act quite so hastily as the first heat of
my resolution prompted; but I took my mother at a time when I thought her a little
more pleasant than ordinary, and told her that my thoughts were so entirely bent
upon seeing the world that I should never settle to anything with resolution enough
to go through with it, and my father had better give me his consent than force me
to go without it; that I was now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice
to a trade or clerk to an attorney; that I was sure if I did I should never serve
out my time, but I should certainly run away from my master before my time was out,
and go to sea; and if she would speak to my father to let me go one voyage abroad,
if I came home again, and did not like it, I would go no more; and I would promise,
by a double diligence, to recover the time that I had lost.
This put my mother into a great passion; she told me she knew it would be to
no purpose to speak to my father upon any such subject; that he knew too well what
was my interest to give his consent to anything so much for my hurt; and that she
wondered how I could think of any such thing after the discourse I had had with
my father, and such kind and tender expressions as she knew my father had used to
me; and that, in short, if I would ruin myself, there was no help for me; but I
might depend I should never have their consent to it; that for her part she would
not have so much hand in my destruction; and I should never have it to say that
my mother was willing when my father was not.
Though my mother refused to move it to my father, yet I heard afterwards that
she reported all the discourse to him, and that my father, after showing a great
concern at it, said to her, with a sigh, "That boy might be happy if he would stay
at home; but if he goes abroad, he will be the most miserable wretch that ever was
born: I can give no consent to it."
It was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though, in the meantime,
I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling to business, and frequently
expostulated with my father and mother about their being so positively determined
against what they knew my inclinations prompted me to. But being one day at Hull,
where I went casually, and without any purpose of making an elopement at that time;
but, I say, being there, and one of my companions being about to sail to London
in his father's ship, and prompting me to go with them with the common allurement
of seafaring men, that it should cost me nothing for my passage, I consulted neither
father nor mother any more, nor so much as sent them word of it; but leaving them
to hear of it as they might, without asking God's blessing or my father's, without
any consideration of circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God knows,
on the 1st of September 1651, I went on board a ship bound for London. Never any
young adventurer's misfortunes, I believe, began sooner, or continued longer than
mine. The ship was no sooner out of the Humber than the wind began to blow and the
sea to rise in a most frightful manner; and, as I had never been at sea before,
I was most inexpressibly sick in body and terrified in mind. I began now seriously
to 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. All the
good counsels of my parents, my father's tears and my mother's entreaties, came
now fresh into my mind; and my conscience, which was not yet come to the pitch of
hardness to which it has since, reproached me with the contempt of advice, and the
breach of my duty to God and my father.
All this while the storm increased, and the sea went very high, though nothing
like what I have seen many times since; no, nor what I saw a few days after; but
it was enough to affect me then, who was but a young sailor, and had never known
anything of the matter. I expected every wave would have swallowed us up, and that
every time the ship fell down, as I thought it did, in the trough or hollow of the
sea, we should never rise more; in this agony of mind, I made many vows and resolutions
that if it would please God to spare my life in this one voyage, if ever I got once
my foot upon dry land again, I would go directly home to my father, and never set
it into a ship again while I lived; that I would take his advice, and never run
myself into such miseries as these any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his
observations about the middle station of life, how easy, how comfortably he had
lived all his days, and never had been exposed to tempests at sea or troubles on
shore; and I resolved that I would, like a true repenting prodigal, go home to my
father.
These wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm lasted, and indeed
some time after; but the next day the wind was abated, and the sea calmer, and I
began to be a little inured to it; however, I was very grave for all that day, being
also a little sea-sick still; but towards night the weather cleared up, the wind
was quite over, and a charming fine evening followed; the sun went down perfectly
clear, and rose so the next morning; and having little or no wind, and a smooth
sea, the sun shining upon it, the sight was, as I thought, the most delightful that
ever I saw.
I had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick, but very cheerful,
looking with wonder upon the sea that was so rough and terrible the day before,
and could be so calm and so pleasant in so little a time after. And now, lest my
good resolutions should continue, my companion, who had enticed me away, comes to
me; "Well, Bob," says he, clapping me upon the shoulder, "how do you do after it?
I warrant you were frighted, wer'n't you, last night, when it blew but a capful
of wind?" "A capful d'you call it?" said I; "'twas a terrible storm." "A storm,
you fool you," replies he; "do you call that a storm? why, it was nothing at all;
give us but a good ship and sea-room, and we think nothing of such a squall of wind
as that; but you're but a fresh-water sailor, Bob. Come, let us make a bowl of punch,
and we'll forget all that; d'ye see what charming weather 'tis now?" To make short
this sad part of my story, we went the way of all sailors; the punch was made and
I was made half drunk with it: and in that one night's wickedness I drowned all
my repentance, all my reflections upon my past conduct, all my resolutions for the
future. In a word, as the sea was returned to its smoothness of surface and settled
calmness by the abatement of that storm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over,
my fears and apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea being forgotten, and
the current of my former desires returned, I entirely forgot the vows and promises
that I made in my distress. I found, indeed, some intervals of reflection; and the
serious thoughts did, as it were, endeavour to return again sometimes; but I shook
them off, and roused myself from them as it were from a distemper, and applying
myself to drinking and company, soon mastered the return of those fits - for so
I called them; and I had in five or six days got as complete a victory over conscience
as any young fellow that resolved not to be troubled with it could desire. But I
was to have another trial for it still; and Providence, as in such cases generally
it does, resolved to leave me entirely without excuse; for if I would not take this
for a deliverance, the next was to be such a one as the worst and most hardened
wretch among us would confess both the danger and the mercy of.