One of the most important relationships that exist in Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe is that between Crusoe and Friday, the "savage" who becomes Crusoe's companion during his last few years on the island. Yet, notice that although I have termed Friday as being Crusoe's "companion,' I am using it in the strictest sense of the word. The use of the broader definition would imply the presence of comradery or the Christian idea of "Brotherly Love." To use this definition is impossible. One cannot truly love another as a brother when that other person is one's slave, which Friday apparently is. After all, Friday is not even worthy enough to call Crusoe by any other name but "Master." Not only is Friday a slave, but he fits into the category of the "Noble Savage," the cannibal that can be taught and trained how to be acceptable in Crusoe's world. Crusoe even presents Friday's physical appearance in a manner acceptable to his readers: he makes him seem European. Crusoe states that:
He had a very good countenance, not a fierce and surly aspect, but seemed to have something very manly in his face, and yet he had all the sweetness and softness of an European in his countenance too, especially when he smiled. His hair was long and black, not curled like wool; his forehead very high and large; ... The color of his skin was not quite black, but very tawny; and yet not of an ugly yellow, nauseous tawny, as the Brazilians and Virginians ... but of a bright kind of a dun olive colour that had in it something very agreeable, though not very easy to describe. His face was round and plump; his nose small, not flat like the Negroes', a very good mouth, thin lips, and his fine teeth well set, and white as ivory (Defoe, 203).
Crusoe "alters" Friday's appearance. Yes, his hair is black, but it is not curled like wool. Have no fear, no low brow here! He's "not quite" black -- he's TAWNY--tanned by the sun, and his facial features do not represent those of the Negroes either. Now that we have proven how physically acceptable Friday is, let us look at some of the even more "pleasing" aspects of his attitude.
Friday (if that's what your name really is) is a very complying man. He is given "truths" by Crusoe which he readily accepts. A perfect example can be found in the title of the nineteenth chapter--"I Call Him Friday." Yes, and that is just how it is: It is not "His Name is Friday" or "The Closest That I Can Come to Pronouncing His Tribal Name is Friday." Crusoe gives the name to the man, and the man does not object (at least as far as we know from what Crusoe tells us).
But, is this not how Crusoe deals with every barrier in their relationship? The way that things are to be done is Crusoe's way, not anyone else's. Crusoe teaches Friday English, but does learn any of Friday's language. Crusoe does not point to a goat and say "This is a goat" and then signal to Friday to say what it is called in his language. Crusoe points to a goat and says "This is a goat-- end of discussion." Crusoe even clothes Friday in his way. Crusoe's reason for the donning of clothes was that the sun shone too brightly on his unprotected white skin. Yet, Crusoe cannot let go of the social convention that one cannot go running around half naked--only SAVAGES do that. Friday is obviously comfortable and "protected" by his "tawny" skin in this environment, but Crusoe dresses him anyway in accordance with European convention.
An important aspect that Crusoe replaces of Friday's is his religion. He converts Friday to Christianity with the same explanation that are used by missionaries--that of Providence:
... I had not only been moved myself to look up to Heaven and to seek to the Hand that had brought me there, but was now to be made an instrument under Providence to save the life of, for aught I knew, the soul of a poor savage, and bring him to the true knowledge of religion, and of the Christian doctrine, that he might know Christ Jesus, to know who is life eternal ... (Defoe, 217)
As expected, Friday is only too willing to embrace his master's beliefs. He does so well that Crusoe even remarks on how "The savage was now a good Christian, a much better than I..." (Defoe, 217). But, perhaps the most important thing that Crusoe does (and the thing that I find the most terrible) is that he does not even see Friday's needs as relevant enough to mention. The best example of this is when they leave the island before Friday's father and the other shipwrecked European sailors return from Friday's island (Defoe, Chs.23,24). Crusoe never even stops to think of how this will affect Friday, and we never hear of Friday's opinion on the subject. I find it very hard to believe that he would forget about his father out of his "love" for his master, especially when we are shown how emotional he becomes upon finding his father on the island (Defoe, Ch.21).
Thus, I have a problem believing that all of Friday's compliancy to Crusoe is done out of love. I believe that there is an aspect of fear working as well. Let us go back to the scene in which Crusoe saves Friday from his captors. Crusoe states that:
The poor savage who fled, but had stopped, though he saw both his enemies fallen and killed, as he thought, yet was so frightened with the fire and noise of my piece, that he stood stock still and neither came forward or went backward, though he seemed rather inclined to fly still than to come on; I holloed again to him, and made signs to come forward, which he easily understood, and came a little way, then stopped again, ..and I could then perceive that he stood trembling, as if he had been taken prisoner, and had just been to be killed, as his two enemies were (Defoe, 200).
In a book entitled Marvelous Possessions: The Wonder of the New World, the author, Stephen Greenblatt, discusses how 11 ... the experience of the marvelous, central to both art and philosophy, was manipulated by Columbus and others to the service of colonial appropriation" (Greenblatt). One of Greenblatt's central themes and concerns is that of "wonder" and its effect. He states that:
A moderate measure of wonder is useful in that it calls attention to that which is "new or very different from what we formerly knew, or from what we supposed that it ought to be" and fixes it in the memory, but an excess of wonder is harmful, Descartes thought, for it freezes the individual in the face of objects whose moral character, whose capacity to do good or evil, has not yet been determined. That is, wonder precedes, even escapes, moral categories. When we wonder, we do not yet know if we love or hate the object at which we are marveling; we do not know if we should embrace it or flee from it(Greenblatt, 20).
The above citation expresses the predicament that Friday is in when he is saved by Crusoe. He is left in awe by the power of Crusoe's gun. Even Crusoe himself states that "... that which astonished him most was to know how I had killed the other Indian so far off ..." (Defoe, 201). To Friday, this is something that cannot be believed without going over to the man and seeing the bullet hole for himself. He stands like " ... one amazed, looking at him, turned him first on one side, then on t'other..." (Defoe, 201).
This reaction of Friday's parallels once again with Greenblatt when he states that:
Wonder--thrilling, potentially dangerous, momentarily immobilizing, charged at once with desire, ignorance, and fear--is the quintessential human response to what Descartes calls a "first encounter" (p.358). Such terms, which recur in philosophy from Aristotle through the seventeenth century, made wonder an almost inevitable component of the discourse of discovery, for by definition wonder is an instinctive recognition of difference, the sign of a heightened attention, "a sudden surprise of the soul," as Descartes puts it (p. 362), in the face of the new. The expression of wonder stands for all that cannot be understood, that can scarcely be believed. It calls attention to the problem of credibility and at the same time insists upon the undeniability, the exigency of the experience (Greenblatt, 20).
I feel that Crusoe's "power" cannot be believed by Friday because he has no explanation for it. For all he knows, Crusoe could be a god. I feel that Friday bows to Crusoe not only out of love for saving his life, but out of the fear that Crusoe can take it away as mysteriously as he did the lives of his captors.
So could it, be possible that Crusoe has misinterpreted the "signs" that Friday has given him? or, at least, misinterpreted the motives behind them? Crusoe states that:
... I smiled at him and looked pleasantly and beckoned to him to come still nearer; at length he came close to me, and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground, and laid his head upon the ground, and taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head: this, it seems, was in token of swearing to be my slave forever (Defoe, 200).
According to Greenblatt, "... charades or pantomimes depend upon a shared gestural language that can take the place of speech" (Greenblatt, 89) . Even though I too saw Friday's bowing as an act of subservience, I thought of a couple of different meanings that it could have. It could have meant "I am indebted to you forever" or "I will love you forever." Owing someone your life does not necessarily mean that you are to be their "slave forever," as Crusoe seems to believe. Crusoe never once considers that Friday could be his "friend forever." He cannot even think of a non-European in those terms.
Thus, I apply the term of "Noble Savage" to Friday, as represented by Crusoe. Is that not the perfect way of presenting Friday to his readers without causing their dismay? Is not the "Christianizing" of Friday also one of Crusoe's crowning achievements on the island? Another one of his projects to keep his mind off of things? This may be so, but we will never know for sure because we have never seen anything from Friday's point of view. After all, everything else is done Crusoe's way or it is not done at all--so why should the telling of this story be any different?
Works Cited
Defoe, Daniel. Robinson Crusoe. Signet Classic: New York, 1960.
Greenblatt, Stephen. Marvelous Possessions: The Wonder of the New World. University of Chicago, 1991.
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