The Preface and Aspects of Morality in Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe

I find the preface to Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe to be especially interesting. It touches on a few important topics relative to 18^th century novels.  As readers, we are aware that it is the editor prefacing this novel. Defoe has distanced himself from personally providing the opening to his own accounts, which makes him seem unbiased.  The editor is claiming that Crusoe’s private adventures will be made “Publick” as though readers are offended by private thoughts. It is also interesting to note that the editor explains to readers that Crusoe’s adventures are various, therefore, demanding publication. The editor is highly regarding Defoe’s novel, and because the private is becoming public and because Crusoe’s adventures are in such “variety,” readers are trained to believe the novel is an account worth reading. What makes this novel even more attractive to readers is that it is about individual truths, focusing on one man’s adventures and perspective.  

Another interesting aspect about the preface is the way in which it shapes the reader’s perspective before she/he has even read the novel. The editor claims, “The story is told with Modesty, with Seriousness, and with a religious Application…which wise Men always apply them (viz. ) to the Instruction of others” (3).  Thus, the novel is meant to instruct readers.  What is interestingly different about this novel as opposed to Eliza Haywood’s Love in Excess is that readers are not in the dark about the novel’s didactic intentions. Haywood’s narrator does instruct readers at certain points in the novel, but we are told that Robinson Crusoe is meant to be critical of religious application, and upholds modest values. Morality is therefore built into the novel, and I wonder how this changes the reading of it. Readers begin the novel with the expectation of learning something new, perhaps about contemporary societal flaws or even shortcomings in their own morality.

Similar to Aphra Behn’s Oronooko, Robinson Crusoe is meant to be a “just History of Fact” (3). Thus, it is meant to be realistic. As a reader, being told the novel is void of “any appearance of Fiction,” I might not believe this, and will probably be skeptical about the validity of a novel that denies any aspects of fiction. However, then I think about our 21^st century society and how for example, when we see a movie in theatres, if the headline reads, “Based on true events,” we instantly take the movie more seriously. Perhaps this maneuver was to ensure that readers do not simply regard Robinson Crusoe as a novel of entertainment, but that it is also meant to be didactic. Moreover, it makes readers think that the story is real! The editor finds fact, not fiction, the works of this novel. It seems to me that at this point, the 18^th century is moving further away from Romance as a genre and possibly closer to realism, heroism, valor, and morality.

There are many instances in the novel that represent moral ideals. For example, we learn that Defoe set out to sea without his parent’s permission. He claims that he left home “without asking God’s Blessing, or my Father’s” (7). When at sea, and the winds began to blow heavily, Crusoe claims, “ 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” (7).  He also claims that if he gets on dry land again, he would go home directly to his father (8). The novel is teaching us that it is wrong to disobey your parents; if you go against God and your parents’ wishes, you will suffer.

Furthermore, I’m looking forward to discussing the novel’s tension between spiritualism/Christian morality and materialism/capitalism. The novel is filled with so much “stuff,” and the Puritans of the time will view this as materialistic. However, my question is, does Defoe balance this tension out? Does the novel justify materialism? Can we view Defoe as a hard working, self-made man? (See page 57, for example, where Crusoe makes candles and even a lamp, which provided him “Light”). In Christianity, Christ kept constantly working and improving, is Crusoe acting like Christ and stressing the importance of work?

I’m also curious as to when “things” became so important. Cruseo claims, “I found my self wanting in many Things” (57).  He also says, “I spent eighteen Days entirely in widening and deepening my Cave, that it might hold my Goods commodiously” (55). There is such an emphasis on “goods.” Do “things” determine someone’s identity?

Speaking of identity, does anyone think there is a good reason why Crusoe and Defoe rhyme? Any links between Defoe and his character?

Didacticism in Eliza Haywood's Love in Excess

Love in Excess seemed to me as an early experiment in novel writing, which served as a basis for later novels to draw themes from. Haywood utilizes extremely long sentences; this style, paired with the very dramatic events that occurred, created a more intense read for me.  I often felt like I did not have time to reflect on what I had just read because the narrator would introduce yet another surprising or dramatic incident. The characters, for example, are so dramatic that they seem unrealistic to me. The Count was happy in marrying Alovisa because of her rank and fortune, and yet, he falls in love with Melliora instantly after he meets her! And then, of course, he sympathizes with Amena because he mistreated her and did not love her back. He fell in love with another woman and had this moralistic epiphany in just a few pages! I couldn’t help but compare this with Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and how we learn the truth about Mr. Darcy’s behavior only towards the end of the novel. Even Elizabeth herself comes to realizations only as time passes. We as readers learn of our own biases as well.  In Love in Excess, however, we have no time to reflect because we are thrown right into everything all at once. Of course, I am not saying this is a flaw on Haywood’s part, I simply see it as an experiment in novel writing and Haywood possibly setting an example for later authors.

The interesting thing to me was that as readers, we did not have to guess what the characters were thinking. The third person omniscient narrator made that clear for us. Because the narrator is all knowing, events seemed more theatrical and dramatic than they could have been portrayed. This is because we are experiencing a scene from all the characters’ perspectives. For example, when Amena arrives at Alovisa’s home, we know that Amena sees Alovisa as a “dearest friend,” that the Count is “overjoyed to be eased of his fair burthen,” and that Alovisa is filled “with so exquisite a joy” because of Amena’s misfortunes (60, 61).  The characters’ dispositions are clear to us; they are not much of a mystery. I found this interesting because I am used to reading novels where the truth about characters is revealed only as the story goes on.

The narrator in Haywood’s novel, however, offers a clear portrayal of the inner workings of these characters and also adds her own personal input. For example, she refers to Alovisa as a “cruel woman,” (61), and even Anaret as a “cunning wench” (57).  This may be a conscious effort on the narrator’s part to teach readers who to like and dislike, thus creating a moralistic reading. There is a didactic aspect to novels at this time period and how they were meant to teach readers how to behave.  What I noticed was different with Haywood’s novel than with later novels of the century, is that we are not left to guess which character is moral and good. The narrator makes it clear to us and in giving us her opinion, shapes our opinions as well. As opposed to the narrator in Aphra Behn’s Oronooko who likes to leave room for the reader to judge, the narrator in Love in Excess leads us to a certain judgment.

As in Behn’s Oronooko, the narrator’s awareness of her presence within Love in Excess is an interesting factor. The narrator in Oronooko admits to omitting certain details from the story. The narrator in Haywood’s novel also claims that the feelings of the characters are sometimes so overwhelming that she cannot even describe them. For example, in regards to Amena, “the violence of her sorrow is more easily imagined than expressed” (63). Moreover, in regards to Alovisa, the narrator claims, “the most lively description would come far short of what she felt” (43).  Then interestingly enough, the narrator relates to us that Alovisa “tore her hair” and “was ready to lay violent hands on her own life” (43). I found this to be strange because I expected the narrator to leave out the details of Alovisa’s reaction and have us readers imagine the extremity of her feelings.

            Although the narrator is quick to give us her opinion on events or characters, at times I felt confused as to who was telling the story. The narrator draws our sympathies towards Amena as we witness how unfortunate her circumstance is, and yet towards the end of part 1, as things were going in Alovisa and the Count’s favor, the narrator has a change of voice and says “There was no gloom now left to cloud the gaity of the happy day” (79). I think this is the start of free indirect discourse.

            

Aspects of Narration and Lineage in Aphra Behn's Oroonoko

I have always found the title page to Aphra Behn’s Oroonoko to be remarkably interesting. It reads, “Oroonoko: or the Royal Slave. A True History.”  Here, I would like to place emphasis on “true” which precedes “history.” This implies that historical documents are not necessarily always the truth. Historical documents tend to mask the presence of a narrator, or a subject telling the story, in order to appear less biased.  I think Behn acknowledges that the historian is still human and subjective, and that historical documents, like fiction, are embedded with emotions and sensations.  Her fiction therefore is a “true history” or a true account of what occurred.  Behn begins Oroonoko with the word “I.” Right from the beginning, readers are aware that the narrator is present and there is indeed a subject telling the story. Behn states, “I do not pretend, in giving you the History of this Royal Slave, to entertain my Reader with the Adventures of a feign’d Hero…” (8).  Behn makes herself visible to readers and acknowledges that she is not making this story up for her own pleasures, but instead will present an honest portrayal. She even admits to omitting certain details because they may “prove tedious and heavy” to readers (8). She is not pretending to be objective. 

            Behn is an honest narrator because she admits her own presence in the story; thus, as readers we are then more likely to trust her judgment.  Although Behn is present in the story, she does at times distance herself as well.  For example, at one point she says “Some have commended this Act, as brave, in the Captain; but I will spare my sense of it, and leave it to my Reader, to judge as he pleases” (31).  She acknowledges that she has an opinion, but is allowing readers to place their own judgment on the events.  She is also challenging previous notions by specifying that only “some” commend the act as brave, indicating that there is another side and so she separates herself and invites readers to judge.  Thus, her account is a “true history” because as a writer, she acknowledges that there is a reader with her/his opinions; as opposed to one-sided narrations in historical documents, her fiction is a more honest account.

Furthermore, “Royal Slave” is another interesting aspect of the title. In the 19^th century, race was determined based on someone’s physical appearance, or biology.  However, in the 18^th century, a character’s race was determined by her/his family name or lineage. The definition of race, as an identity category, changes. Oroonoko is a noble African who comes from a royal bloodline. I would, however, like to point that when Behn delivers her first account upon meeting Oronooko, she illustrates him as being more Western than African; I find this to be a sort of strange passage. For example, she was curious to meet him because he spoke “French and English,” and she describes his physical appearance as thus: “His Nose was rising and Roman, instead of African and flat” (13).  I am interested in how authors from the 18th century represent the "other" in terms of Western notions. As a whole though, it is important to identify the difference between Behn’s portrayals of a slave with a historical document’s portrayal. In historical documents, slaves have no names or lineage. A slave is simply a slave without a story. Behn, however, fully develops her story and humanizes the oppressed.