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; t