The main feature of this story—an account of the efforts of a castaway to live comfortably without human aid,—is extremely attractive to the young. Many of the scenes are very vivid,—the shipwreck, the lonely island, the birds startled at the sound of the gun, the wildcat that observes the new intruder; his efforts to provide for himself food, clothing, and shelter; the construction of his strange dwelling, the planting of his crops, the care of his goats, the building of his canoe, and most of all, the account of the wild man Friday, whom he secures for his servant,—all these things are ingeniously and attractively described. But the repetitions which occur throughout the book make it in places very tedious. Crusoe tells us in his diary the same story which he has already related in the preceding narrative; he moralizes again and again upon his folly in disregarding the advice of his good father; he computes over and over the evils and the blessings that have befallen him; and tells many times and at great length the story of how he became a Christian and learned to pray. Much of the book is a sermon of Puritan dimensions. This is one of the works where theabridgement is better than the original. The homilies are commonplace, there are few striking passages and the style, though occasionally picturesque, is often dry and involved.
Of course in such a work there can be little portraiture of character. Robinson Crusoe himself is not a specially interesting person. His ingenuity is all that attracts us. In one or two places his jumbled motives are described with unconsciousnaïveté. For instance, he says, when he saw Friday escaping from the two savages who had intended to make a meal of him: “It came very firmly upon my thoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now was the time to get me a servant and perhaps a companion or assistant, and that I was called plainly by Providence to save this poor creature’s life.” So he killed the pursuers and appropriated Friday.
The description of Friday is well conceived. This interesting barbarian worships his master’s gun and talks to it, desiring it not to kill him. He says of Benamuckee, the creator, “All things say ‘Oh!’ to him,” and the objections of this child of nature to his master’s theology are very lifelike. “If God much stronger than the devil, why God no kill the devil, so make him no more do wicked?” And after Crusoe had replied, “God will at last punish him severely; he is reserved for the judgment and is to be cast into the bottomless pit, to dwell with everlasting fire,”Friday’s rejoinder has never yet, I think, been successfully answered,—“Why not kill the devilnow, not kill great ago?” It was natural that Crusoe should say, “Here I was run down againby him to the last degree.”