How did the story of Robinson Crusoe end? Robinson Crusoe: The Story We Read Wrong. Description of the work. main characters

Two or three days after Friday had settled in my fortress, it occurred to me that if I wanted him not to eat human meat, I should accustom him to animal meat. "Let him try goat meat," I said to myself and decided to take him hunting with me. Early in the morning we went with him into the woods, and walking two or three miles from the house, we saw a wild goat with two kids under a tree. I grabbed Friday's arm and signaled to him not to move. Then at a great distance I took aim, fired and killed one of the goats. Poor savage, not understanding how to kill creature, not approaching him (even though he had seen me kill his enemy before), was completely stunned. He trembled, staggered, and it even seemed to me that he was about to fall. He did not notice the kid I had killed and, imagining that I wanted to kill him, Friday, he began to feel himself for blood. Then he even lifted the hem of his jacket to see if he was hurt, and, making sure that he remained safe and sound, he fell on his knees in front of me, hugged my legs and talked to me about something in his own language for a long time. His speeches were incomprehensible, but one could easily guess that he was asking me not to kill him. Wishing to convince him that I had no intention of harming him, I took his hand, laughed and, pointing to the dead goat, ordered him to run after him. Friday fulfilled my order. While he was looking at the kid, trying to find out why he was killed, I again loaded the gun. Shortly afterwards, I saw in a tree, at a distance of a gunshot from me, a large bird, similar to our hawk. Wanting to explain to Friday what shooting with a gun is, I called my savage to me, pointed to him with my finger, first at the bird, then at the gun, then at the ground under the tree on which the bird was sitting, as if saying: “Look, now I I'll make it fall," and then fired. The bird fell and turned out to be not a hawk, but a large parrot. Friday, and this time was numb with fright, despite all my explanations. It was only then that I guessed what struck him especially when I fired the gun: he had never seen me load the gun before, and he probably thought that some kind of evil magic power was sitting in this iron stick, bringing death at any distance to a person, beast, bird, in general, to any living creature, wherever it is, near or far. Subsequently, more long time I could not overcome the astonishment in which each of my shots plunged him. It seems to me that if I would only let him, he would begin to worship me and my gun as gods. At first he did not dare to touch the gun, but on the other hand he spoke to him as if he were a living being, when he thought that I did not hear. At the same time, it seemed to him that the gun answered him. He subsequently confessed that he begged the gun to spare him. When Friday came to his senses a little, I suggested that he bring me the dead game. He immediately ran after her, but did not return immediately, since he had to search for a bird for a long time: it turned out that I did not kill her, but only wounded her, and she flew quite far. Finally he found her and brought her; I took advantage of his absence to reload my gun. I thought that for the time being it would be better not to reveal to him how it was done. I hoped that we would come across some more game, but nothing else came across, and we returned home. That same evening I skinned a slaughtered kid and gutted it carefully; then he made a fire and, cutting off a piece of goat meat, boiled it in an earthenware pot. It turned out to be a very good meat soup. After tasting this soup, I offered it to Friday. He liked the boiled food very much, only he was surprised why I salted it. He began to show me with signs that, in his opinion, salt is a nauseating, disgusting food. Taking a pinch of salt in his mouth, he began to spit and pretended to vomit, and then rinsed his mouth with water. To object to him, I, for my part, put a piece of meat without salt into my mouth and began to spit, showing that it was disgusting for me to eat without salt. But Friday stubbornly stood his ground. I never managed to get him used to salt. Only a long time later did he begin to season his dishes with it, and even then in very small quantities. Having fed my savage boiled goat meat and broth, I decided to treat him the next day to the same goat meat in the form of a roast. I roasted it over a fire, as is often done here in England. Two poles are stuck into the ground on the sides of the fire, a transverse pole is strengthened between them from above, a piece of meat is hung on it and turned over the fire until it is roasted. Friday liked the whole thing very much. When he tasted the roast, his delight knew no bounds. With the most eloquent gestures, he made me understand how much he liked this food, and finally declared that he would never eat human meat again, which, of course, I was extremely happy about. The next day I gave him the task of grinding and winnowing the grain, after showing him how it was done. He quickly understood what was the matter, and began to work very energetically, especially when he found out why such work was being done. And he found out that same day, because I fed him bread baked from our flour. Soon Friday learned to work no worse than me. Since now I had to feed two people, I had to think about the future. First of all, it was necessary to increase the arable land and sow more grain. I chose a large plot of land and began to fence it. Friday not only diligently, but very cheerfully and with obvious pleasure helped me in my work. I explained to him that this would be a new field for grain ears, because now there are two of us and it will be necessary to stock up on bread not only for me, but also for him. He was very touched that I was so concerned about him: he tried in every possible way to explain to me with the help of signs that he understood how much work had increased for me now, and asked me to teach him all kinds of things as soon as possible. useful work and he will try his best. That was the happiest year of my life on the island. Friday learned to speak English quite well: he recognized the names of almost all the objects that surrounded him, and the places where I could send him, thanks to which he carried out all my instructions very intelligently. He was sociable, liked to chat, and I could now abundantly reward myself for many years of enforced silence. But I liked Friday not only because I had the opportunity to talk with him. Every day I appreciated his honesty, his simplicity of heart, his sincerity more and more. Little by little I became attached to him, and he, for his part, loved me as much as he must have loved no one before. Once I took it into my head to ask him about his past life; I wanted to know if he was homesick and wanted to return home. At that time, I had already taught him to speak English so well that he could answer almost every question I had. And so I asked him about his native tribe: - And what, Friday, is this tribe brave? Has it ever happened to defeat enemies? He smiled and replied: - Oh yes, we are very brave, we always win in battle. - You always win in battle, you say? How did it happen that you were taken prisoner? - But ours still beat those, they beat a lot. - How did you say then that they beat you? After all, they took you and others prisoner? - In the place where I fought, there were many more enemies. They grabbed us - one, two, three and me. And ours beat them in another place where I was not. In that place, ours seized them - one, two, three, many, more than a thousand. Why didn't you guys come to your aid? - Enemies seized one, two, three and me and took us away in a boat, while ours did not have a boat at that time. - And tell me, Friday, what are your people doing with the pace, who will be captured by them? Do they also take them to some distant place and eat them there, like those cannibals I saw? - Yes, our people also eat a person ... everyone eats. "Where do they take them when they're going to eat them?" - Different places where they want. - Do they come here? - Yes, yes, and they come here. And to other different places. - Have you been here with them? - Yes. Was. There was... And he pointed to the northwestern tip of the island, where, obviously, his tribesmen always gathered. Thus, it turned out that my friend and friend Friday was among the savages who visited the distant shores of the island, and more than once had already eaten people in the same places where they later wanted to eat him. When, some time later, I plucked up the courage to lead him ashore (where I had first seen the piles of human bones), Friday immediately recognized the place. He told me that once when he came to my island with his tribesmen, they killed and ate twenty men, two women and one child here. He did not know how to say "twenty" in English, and in order to explain to me how many people they had eaten, he put twenty pebbles one next to the other. Continuing my conversation with Friday, I asked him how far it was from my island to the land where savages live, and how often their boats perished crossing this distance. It turned out that swimming here is quite safe: he, Friday, does not know a single case of anyone drowning here, but not far from our island there is a sea current: in the mornings it goes in one direction and always with a fair wind, and in the evening and wind and current turn in the opposite direction. At first it occurred to me that this current was dependent on the ebb and flow of the tide, and only much later did I discover that it was an extension of the mighty Orinoco River, which flows into the sea not far from my island, which, therefore, is directly opposite the delta of this river. The strip of land to the west and northwest, which I took to be the mainland, turned out to be the large island of Trinidad, lying opposite the northern part of the mouth of the same river. I asked Pyatnitsa a thousand different questions about this land and its inhabitants: whether the shores there are dangerous, whether the sea is stormy there, whether the people there are very ferocious and what kind of peoples live in the neighborhood. He willingly answered my every question and without any concealment told me everything that he knew. I also asked the names of the various tribes of savages living in those places, but he kept repeating only one thing: "Karibe, Karibe." Of course, I easily guessed that he was talking about the Caribs, who, judging by our geographical maps, live in this particular part of America, occupying the entire coastal strip from the mouth of the Orinoco River to Guiana and to the city of Santa Marta. In addition, he told me that far "beyond the moon", that is, on the side where the moon sets, or, in other words, to the west of his homeland, live white bearded people like me (here he pointed to my long mustache). According to him, these people "killed many, many people." I understood that he was talking about the Spanish conquerors, who became famous in America for their cruelty. "I asked him if he knew if I had any opportunity to cross the sea to the white people. He replied: - Yes, yes, it is possible : you have to sail in two boats. For a long time I did not understand what he wanted to say, but finally, with great difficulty, I guessed that in his language this meant a large boat, at least twice the size of an ordinary pirogue. Friday's words gave me great joy: from that day on, I had the hope that sooner or later I would break out of here and that I would owe my freedom to my savage.

Having lived alone for a quarter of a century on a desert island, Robinson saves their young captive from the cannibals and gives him the name of Friday. Their relationship immediately takes shape, like a master-servant relationship. Robinson had long dreamed of acquiring a servant. All twenty-five years of loneliness, longing for people have not changed anything in Robinson's worldview: he does not need a rational being so much as an assistant in the household. The first word Robinson teaches Friday is "Mr."

He must learn it English word before the names of the most necessary items. Robinson does not even try to find out the real name of the savage: he is “Friday” for him, since he was freed from cannibals and “acquired” by Robinson on that very day.

But "Robinson" Defoe probably would not table book for youth for two and a half centuries, if the author had limited himself to depicting a selfish and prudent bourgeois in it. For the bourgeois educator Defoe - Robinson is an ideal person. And he seeks to bring to this image as much as possible attractive human qualities. Cruel colonialists, exterminating native tribes, greedy hoarders, ready to cash in on human blood, are deeply disgusted by Defoe, and his Robinson is not like them. Defoe is trying to embody in him the ideal for his class, which was still progressive in the Enlightenment; but in essence, this ideal is also unattainable for the progressive bourgeoisie of that era, because it carries within itself the dream of a harmonious man and a hymn to physical labor - something that became alien to the bourgeoisie of the 18th century.

Robinson is brave and generous: he risks his life to save people unknown to him - Friday, his father, the captain of the ship. He is a good host. His relationship with Friday, their conversations grow into true friendship, Robinson begins to appreciate the natural mind and nobility of Friday, to appreciate in him a comrade, not a servant. What a lesson Defoe taught the British colonialists and slave traders by painting the charming image of Friday and this friendship between a virtuous English merchant and a dark-skinned native!

The religiosity of Robinson itself is very relative, alien to fanaticism.

Under the outward puritanical piety of Robinson and his author lies a very healthy perception of the world, and sometimes even a mocking attitude towards religion. Defoe does not miss an opportunity to oppose Robinson's puritanical reasoning with his own practicality or just a sober view of the world. Even at the beginning of his stay on the island, Robinson sees ears of barley and rice not far from his dwelling. With the richest tropical crops, they should soon provide him with the bread he needs so much. And Robinson falls to his knees, sending out passionate thanksgiving prayers for the miracle sent down. But then he remembers that he himself shook out an empty bag of bird food in this place. “The miracle has disappeared, and along with the discovery that all this is the most natural thing, it has cooled down significantly, I must admit, and my gratitude to the industry.” Only an educator, the predecessor of Diderot and Voltaire, could write like that.

On another occasion, in the eighteenth year of his stay on the island, Robinson suddenly sees the footprint of a bare human foot in the sand. With a touch of mockery, Defoe writes about how a purely puritanical thought occurs to his hero: this, apparently, is the footprint of the devil, who appeared on the island to tempt Robinson. But, having not yet thought through this hypothesis, Robinson is already rushing to his cave and begins to strengthen it against a possible attack: it is clear to him that savages have appeared on the island.

Of interest are the disputes between Robinson and Friday about religion, in which the "natural man", Friday, easily refutes the theological arguments of Robinson, who undertook to convert him to Christianity, and casts doubt on the existence of the devil. Friday cannot understand why the good and all-powerful God tolerates the devil. So Defoe (through Friday) criticizes one of the main doctrines of Puritanism and finds the most vulnerable spot of any religion - the question of the existence of evil.

Robinson himself, having learned from Friday about the tricks of the native priests, compares them with the Catholic (and, if you look, with the Anglican) clergy and says that deception is practiced by the priests of all religions without exception.

But the true charm of Robinson, the greatness of this image is manifested in the process of labor that changes nature. This is its universal significance. In the words of Marx, "all relations between Robinson and the things that make up his self-made wealth are simple and transparent."

Defoe depicts hard, hard, everyday work in the novel, sometimes leading to insignificant results. Within a year, Robinson manages to cut the stakes and erect a fence around his dwelling; for a long time he masters, not having necessary tools, table and chair. Troubles fall on Robinson, he often falls into despair. He experiences terrifying moments when the ship leaves, not noticing his signals. And yet, Robinson's enormous spiritual strength and willingness to work support him in his incredible life. In this pathos of labor, in this hymn to man, is the guarantee of the immortality of Defoe's book. Therefore, "Robinson" has such an educational value for children. Rousseau called this book the only one that Emil would read in his childhood.

The addiction to digital data is manifested in everything. The writer reports the exact amounts paid by Robinson for a particular product, the number of yards of matter, the exact dimensions of things and the distances between them. - Descriptions of labor processes are replaced by the logical reasoning of the hero himself. At the end of the first part (where Friday appears), the writer tries to solve the problem of dialogue, difficult for a novelist of those times, which still occupies an insignificant place in the general structure of the novel, but, nevertheless, it is a fairly lively dialogue that reflects the characters' characters - Robinson's calm efficiency and purposefulness and the liveliness, immediacy, natural intelligence of Friday.

The artlessness and accuracy of the descriptions created the impression of strict truthfulness. The novel was written anonymously, and for readers of that era, Robinson himself was its author. The book was taken as a true account of a stay on a desert island. But where contemporaries saw the accuracy and truthfulness of an eyewitness, we see extraordinary realistic skill.

It's a paradox, but Robinson Crusoe, which most Soviet people knew thanks to the children's retelling of Korney Chukovsky, is a completely different book than the one that Defoe wrote. And for this book to become completely different, one thing was enough - to remove God from it.

In the retelling, which appeared in 1935, the book not only loses its Christian content, not only turns into another superficial adventure novel, but also acquires a completely clear ideological message: a person can achieve everything on his own, thanks to his mind, with the help of science and technology he can cope with any hopeless situation, and he does not need any God for this.

Although it will become obvious to someone who reads Defoe's original text: without constant prayer, without mental communication with God (even if it is such a scanty one, in a Protestant format, without worship, without church sacraments), Robinson would quickly go crazy. But with God, man is not alone even in the most extreme circumstances. And this is not just an author's idea - it is confirmed real life. After all

Robinson's prototype, Alexander Selkirk, who spent four years on a desert island, really turned to faith, really prayed, and this prayer helped him keep his sanity.

From the prototype, Defoe took not only the external situation, but also a means to overcome the horror of loneliness - turning to God.

At the same time, with a look at the teachings of Christ, both Defoe and his hero are, to put it mildly, ambiguous. They professed Calvinism in one of its variations. That is, they believed in a kind of predestination: if you are a person who was originally blessed from above, then you are lucky, everything works out for you, but unsuccessful people (and even nations!) Should seriously doubt their ability to be saved. For us Orthodox Christians, such views are very far from the essence of the Good News.

Of course, it is possible to talk about such theological and moral problems of "Robinson Crusoe" when we know how and what Defoe actually wrote his novel about. And in our country, as already mentioned, it was not always easy or even possible to find out.

In order to fill in the most noticeable gaps in our understanding of Robinson Crusoe, "Foma" asked to tell in detail about the novel and its authorViktor Simakov, candidate filological sciences, teacher of the Russian language and literature of school No. 1315 (Moscow).

Twice lies - or effective PR

Daniel Defoe seems, at first glance, the author of one great book - Robinson Crusoe. Looking closer, we will understand that this is not entirely true: in about five years (1719-1724) he published about a dozen fiction books one after another, important in their own way: for example, Roxana (1724) became for many years a model of criminal novel, and The Diary of the Plague Year (1722) influenced the work of García Márquez. And yet, "Robinson Crusoe", like "Odyssey", "Divine Comedy", "Don Quixote", is a completely different level of fame and the basis for a long cultural reflection. Robinson became a myth, a titan, an eternal image in art.

On April 25, 1719, a book with a verbose title appeared in London bookstores - “The Life, Extraordinary and Amazing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, a sailor from York, who lived for 28 years all alone on a desert island off the coast of America near the mouths of the Orinoco River, where he was thrown by a shipwreck , during which all of the ship's crew except him perished, outlining his unexpected release by pirates; written by himself." In the original English title - 65 words. This title is also a sensible annotation to the book: what kind of reader will not buy it if the cover is America and pirates, adventures and a shipwreck, a river with a mysterious name and an uninhabited island. And also - a little lie: in the twenty-fourth year, "complete loneliness" ended, Friday appeared.

The second lie is more serious: Robinson Crusoe did not write the book himself, he is a figment of the author's imagination, who deliberately did not mention himself on the cover of the book. For the sake of good sales, he passed off fiction (fiction) for non-fiction (that is, documentaries), stylizing the novel as a memoir. The calculation worked, the circulation was sold out instantly, although the book cost five shillings - like a gentleman's full dress.

Robinson in Russian snows

Already in August of the same year, along with the fourth edition of the novel, Defoe released a sequel - "The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe ..." (here again, a lot of words), also without mentioning the author and also in the form of memoirs. This book was about world tour aged Robinson through the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean, China and snow-covered Russia, about a new visit to the island and the death of Friday in Madagascar. And some time later, in 1720, a real non-fiction about Robinson Crusoe came out - a book of essays on various topics, containing, among other things, a description of Robinson's vision of the angelic world. In the wake of the popularity of the first book, these two sold well. In the field of book marketing, Defoe then had no equal.

Engraving. Jean Granville

One can only wonder with what ease the writer imitates the easy artlessness of the diary style, despite the fact that he writes at a frantic pace. In 1719, three of his new books were published, including two volumes about Robinson, in 1720 four. Some of them are really documentary prose, the other part are pseudo-memoirs, which are now usually called novels (novel).

Is this a novel?

It is impossible to talk about the genre of the novel in the sense in which we now put this word into it at the beginning of the 18th century. During this period in England, the process of merging different genre formations (“true story”, “journey”, “book”, “biography”, “description”, “narrative”, “romance” and others) into a single concept of the novel genre and Gradually, an idea of ​​its independent value is formed. However, the word novel is rarely used in the 18th century, and its meaning is still narrow - it's just a little love story.

Engraving. Jean Granville

Defoe did not position any of his novels as a novel, but over and over again used the same marketing ploy - he released fake memoirs without indicating the name of the real author, believing that non-fiction is much more interesting than fiction. With such pseudo-memoirs - also with long titles - the Frenchman Gascien de Courtil de Sandra became famous a little earlier ("Memoirs of Messire d'Artagnan", 1700). Shortly after Defoe, Jonathan Swift seized the same opportunity in Gulliver's Travels (1726-1727), styled as a diary: although the book described events much more fantastic than Defoe's, there were readers who took the narrator's word for it.

Defoe's fake memoirs played a key role in the development of the novel genre. In "Robinson Crusoe" Defoe proposed a plot not just stuffed with adventure, but keeping the reader in suspense (soon the term "suspense" will be proposed in the same England). In addition, the narrative was quite solid - with a clear plot, consistent development of the action and a convincing denouement. At the time, this was rather rare. For example, the second book about Robinson, alas, could not boast of such integrity.

Where did Robinson come from?

The plot of "Robinson Crusoe" lay on prepared soil. During Defoe's lifetime, the story of the Scottish sailor Alexander Selkirk, who, after a quarrel with his captain, spent a little over four years on the island of Mas a Tierra in the Pacific Ocean, 640 km from the coast of Chile (now this island is called Robinson Crusoe), was widely known. Returning to England, he spoke more than once in pubs about his adventures and eventually became the hero of a sensational essay by Richard Steele (who, in particular, noted that Selkirk was a good storyteller). Looking closely at the history of Selkirk, Defoe, however, replaced the island in the Pacific Ocean with an island in the Caribbean, since there was much more information about this region in the sources available to him.

Engraving. Jean Granville

The second likely source of the plot is "The Tale of Haya, the son of Yakzan ..." by the 12th-century Arab author Ibn Tufayl. This is a philosophical novel (again, as far as the term can be applied to a medieval Arabic book) about a hero who has lived on an island since infancy. Either he was sent by a sinning mother across the sea in a chest and thrown onto the island (an obvious allusion to plots from Old Testament and the Koran), or “spontaneously generated” from clay already there (both versions are given in the book). Then the hero was fed by a gazelle, independently learned everything, subjugated the world around him and learned to think abstractly. The book was translated in 1671 into Latin (as The Self-Taught Philosopher), and in 1708 into English (as The Improvement of the Human Mind). This novel influenced European philosophy (for example, J. Locke) and literature (the type of storytelling that the Germans in the 19th century would call the "novel of education").

Defoe also saw a lot of interesting things in it. The plot about the knowledge of the surrounding world and the conquest of nature was well combined with the new Enlightenment idea of ​​a person who rationally arranges his life. True, the hero of Ibn Tufayl acts without knowing anything about civilization; Robinson, on the contrary, being a civilized person, reproduces signs of civilization in himself. From the sunken ship, he takes three Bibles, navigational instruments, weapons, gunpowder, clothes, a dog, and even money (although they came in handy only at the end of the novel). He did not forget the language, prayed daily and consistently observed religious holidays, built a fortress house, a fence, made furniture, a pipe for tobacco, began to sew clothes, keep a diary, started a calendar, began to use the usual measures of weight, length, volume, approved the daily routine : "In the foreground, religious duties and the reading of the Holy Scriptures ... The second of the daily activities was hunting ... The third was sorting, drying and preparing the killed or caught game."

Here, perhaps, you can see the main ideological message of Defoe (he is, despite the fact that the book about Robinson was clearly written and published as a commercial, sensational one): a modern person of the third estate, relying on his mind and experience, is able to independently arrange his life in full harmony with the achievements of civilization. This author's idea fits perfectly into the ideology of the Age of Enlightenment with its acceptance of Cartesian epistemology (“I think, therefore I am”), Locke's empiricism (a person receives all the material of reasoning and knowledge from experience) and a new idea of ​​an active person, rooted in Protestant ethics. The latter is worth looking into in more detail.

Tables of Protestant Ethics

Robinson's life is made up of rules and traditions defined by his native culture. Robinson's father, an honest representative of the middle class, extols the "middle state" (that is, the Aristotelian golden mean), which in this case consists in the reasonable acceptance of life's lot: the Crusoe family is relatively wealthy and it makes no sense to refuse "the position in the world occupied by birth" makes no sense. Citing his father's apology for the middle state, Robinson continues: "And although (thus ended his father's speech) he will never stop praying for me, but he declares to me directly that if I do not give up my crazy idea, God's blessing will not be on me" . Judging by the plot of the novel, it took Robinson many years and trials to understand what the essence of his father's warning was.

Engraving. Jean Granville

On the island, he again went through the path of human development - from gathering to colonialism. Leaving the island at the end of the novel, he positions himself as its owner (and in the second book, returning to the island, behaves like the local viceroy).

The notorious "average state" and burgher morality in this case are quite compatible with the bad idea of ​​​​the 18th century about the inequality of races and the admissibility of the slave trade and slave ownership. At the beginning of the novel, Robinson found it possible to sell the boy Xuri, with whom he escaped from Turkish captivity; after, if not for the shipwreck, he planned to engage in the slave trade. The first three words Robinson taught Friday are yes, no, and master.

Whether Defoe wanted it consciously or not, his hero turned out to be an excellent portrait of a man of the third estate in the 18th century, with his support for colonialism and slavery, a rational business approach to life, and religious restrictions. Most likely, Robinson is what Defoe himself was. Robinson doesn't even try to find out Friday's real name; the author is also not very interested.

Robinson is a Protestant. In the text of the novel, his exact confessional affiliation is not indicated, but since Defoe himself (like his father) was a Presbyterian, it is logical to assume that his hero, Robinson, also belongs to the Presbyterian church. Presbyterianism is one of the directions of Protestantism, based on the teachings of John Calvin, in fact - a kind of Calvinism. Robinson inherited this belief from a German father, an emigrant from Bremen, who once bore the surname Kreutzner.

Protestants insist that in order to communicate with God, priests are useless as intermediaries. So the Protestant Robinson believed that he communicates with God directly. By communion with God, as a Presbyterian, he meant only prayer; he did not believe in the sacraments.

Without mental communion with God, Robinson would quickly go insane. He prays every day and reads the Holy Scriptures. With God, he does not feel alone even in the most extreme circumstances.

This, by the way, correlates well with the story of Alexander Selkirk, who, in order not to go crazy from loneliness on the island, read the Bible aloud every day and sang psalms loudly.

One of the restrictions that Robinson sacredly observes (Defoe does not specifically dwell on this moment, but it is clearly visible from the text) looks curious - this is the habit of always walking dressed on an uninhabited tropical island. Apparently, the hero cannot be naked in front of God, constantly feeling his presence nearby. In one scene - where Robinson is sailing on a ship half sunken near the island - he entered the water “undressed”, and then, being on the ship, he was able to use his pockets, which means that he still did not undress completely.

Protestants - Calvinists, Presbyterians - were sure that it was possible to determine which of the people were loved by God and which were not. This can be seen from the signs, for which one must be able to observe. One of the most important is good luck in business, which greatly increases the value of labor and its material results. Once on the island, Robinson tries to understand his situation with the help of a table, in which he carefully enters all the pros and cons. Their number is equal, but this gives Robinson hope. Further, Robinson works hard and through the results of his work feels the mercy of the Lord.

Equally important are the numerous warning signs that do not stop the young Robinson. The first ship on which he set off sank (“My conscience, which at that time had not yet had time to completely harden with me,” says Robinson, “sternly reproached me for neglecting parental exhortations and for violating my duties to God and father,” - refers to the neglect of the granted life lot and paternal exhortations). Another ship was captured by Turkish pirates. Robinson set off on his most ill-fated journey exactly eight years later, to the day after escaping from his father, who warned him against unwise steps. Already on the island, he sees a dream: a terrible man descends to him from the sky, engulfed in flames, and wants to strike him with a spear for impiety.

Defoe persistently holds the idea that one should not commit daring acts and abruptly change one's life without special signs from above, that is, in essence, constantly condemns pride (despite the fact that Robinson's colonialist habits, he most likely does not consider pride).

Gradually, Robinson is more and more inclined towards religious reflections. At the same time, he clearly separates the spheres of the miraculous and everyday. Seeing ears of barley and rice on the island, he gives thanks to God; then he recalls that he himself shook out a bag of bird food in this place: “The miracle disappeared, and along with the discovery that all this is the most natural thing, it has cooled down significantly, I must admit, and my gratitude to Providence.”

When Friday appears on the island, the protagonist tries to instill in him his own religious ideas. He is puzzled by the natural question of the origin and essence of evil, which is the most difficult for most believers: why does God tolerate the devil? Robinson does not give a direct answer; after thinking for a while, he suddenly likens the devil to a man: “And you better ask why God did not kill you or me when we did bad things that offended Him; we were spared that we might repent and be forgiven.”

The protagonist himself was dissatisfied with his answer - the other did not come to his mind. In general, Robinson eventually comes to the conclusion that he is not very successful in interpreting complex theological issues.

AT last years life on the island gives him sincere joy something else: a joint prayer with Friday, a joint feeling of the presence of God on the island.

Robinson's legacy

Although Defoe saved the main philosophical and ethical content for the last, third book about Robinson, time turned out to be wiser than the author: it was the first volume of this trilogy that was recognized as the most profound, integral and influential book by Defoe (it is characteristic that the last one was not even translated into Russian).

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, in his didactic novel Emile, or On Education (1762), called Robinson Crusoe the only book useful for children's reading. The plot situation of an uninhabited island, described by Defoe, is considered by Rousseau as an educational game, to which - through reading - the child should join.

Engraving. Jean Granville

Several variations on the Robinson theme were created in the 19th century, including Robert Ballantyne's Coral Island (1857), Jules Verne's Mysterious Island (1874), and Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island (1882). In the second half of the 20th century, the "Robinsonade" is rethought in the light of current philosophical and psychological theories - "Lord of the Flies" by William Golding (1954), "Friday, or Pacific Limb" (1967) and "Friday, or Wild Life" (1971) by Michel Tournier , Mr. Fo (1984) by John Maxwell Coetzee. Surrealistic and psychoanalytic accents were placed in the film "Robinson Crusoe" (1954) by Luis Buñuel.

Now, in the 21st century, in the light of new reflections on the coexistence of a number of different cultures, Defoe's novel is still relevant. The relationship between Robinson and Friday is an example of the interaction of races as it was understood three centuries ago. Based on a specific example, the novel makes one wonder: what has changed over the past years and in what ways are the views of the authors definitely outdated? In terms of worldview, Defoe's novel perfectly illustrates the ideology of the Enlightenment in its British version. However, now we are much more interested in the question of the essence of man in general. Let us recall the aforementioned Golding's novel Lord of the Flies, in which the abodes of the island do not develop, as in Defoe's, but, on the contrary, degrade and show base instincts. What is he, a man, in fact, what is more in him - creative or destructive? In essence, here one can also see a cultural reflection on the Christian concept of original sin.

As far as the author's religious ideas are concerned, the average reader's notion of a golden mean will probably not raise objections, which cannot be said about the condemnation of daring deeds in general. In this regard, the author's philosophy can be recognized as bourgeois, petty-bourgeois. Such ideas would be condemned, for example, by representatives of romantic literature at the beginning of the 19th century.

Despite this, Defoe's novel continues to live. This is explained by the fact that "Robinson Crusoe" is a text, first of all, sensational, and not didactic, it captivates with images, plot, exoticism, and does not teach. The meanings that are embedded in it are present, rather, latently, and therefore it generates questions, and does not give complete answers. This is the key to a long life. literary work. Reading it over and over again, each generation thinks about the questions that arise in full growth and answers them in their own way.

The first Russian translation of Robinson Crusoe was published in 1762. It was translated by Yakov Trusov under the title "The Life and Adventures of Robinson Cruz, a natural Englishman." The classic, most often republished full translation of the text into Russian was published in 1928 by Maria Shishmareva (1852–1939), and since 1955 it has been reprinted many times.

Leo Tolstoy in 1862 made his retelling of the first volume of Robinson Crusoe for his pedagogical journal Yasnaya Polyana.

There are 25 adaptations of "Robinson Crusoe" (including animation). The first was made in 1902, the last - in 2016. Actors such as Douglas Fairnbex, Pavel Kadochnikov, Peter O'Toole, Leonid Kuravlyov, Pierce Brosnan, Pierre Richard starred in the role of Robinson.

Written in the genre of an adventure novel, the most famous work talented English journalist Daniel Defoe was a resounding success and served as an impetus for the development of such a direction in literature as traveler's notes. The plausibility of the plot and the reliability of the presentation - this is the effect the author tried to achieve, setting out the events in a mean, everyday language, more reminiscent of journalism in style.

History of creation

The real prototype of the protagonist, a Scottish sailor, as a result of a serious quarrel, was landed by a team on a desert island, where he spent over four years. By changing the time and place of action, the writer created an amazing biography of a young Englishman who found himself in extreme circumstances.

Published in 1719, the book made a splash and demanded a sequel. Four months later, the second part of the epic saw the light, and later the third. In Russia, an abbreviated translation of the edition appeared almost half a century later.

Description of the work. main characters

Young Robinson, drawn by the dream of the sea, against the will of his parents, leaves his father's house. After a series of adventures, having suffered a catastrophe, the young man finds himself on an uninhabited island, located far from sea trade routes. His experiences, steps to find a way out of the current situation, description of the actions taken to create a comfortable and safe environment on a lost piece of land, moral maturation, rethinking of values ​​- all this formed the basis of a fascinating story that combines the features of memoir literature and philosophical parable.

The protagonist of the story is a young man in the street, a bourgeois with traditional views and mercantile goals. The reader observes the change in his character, the transformation of consciousness in the course of the story.

Another striking character is the savage Friday, who was saved by Crusoe from the massacre of cannibals. The fidelity, courage, sincerity and common sense of the Indian conquer Robinson, Friday becomes a good helper and friend.

Analysis of the work

The story is told in the first person, in a simple, precise language, which allows revealing the inner world of the hero, his moral qualities, and an assessment of the events taking place. The absence of specific artistic techniques and pathos in the presentation, conciseness and specificity add credibility to the work. Events are transmitted in chronological order, but sometimes the narrator refers to the past.

The storyline divides the text into two components: the life of the central character at home and the period of survival in the wild.

Placing Robinson in critical conditions for 28 long years, Defoe shows how, thanks to energy, spiritual strength, hard work, observation, ingenuity, optimism, a person finds ways to solve pressing problems: he gets food, equips a home, makes clothes. Isolation from society and habitual stereotypes is revealed in the traveler best qualities his personality. Analyzing not only environment, but also the changes taking place in his own soul, the author, through the mouth of Robinson, with the help of simple words, makes it clear what, in his opinion, is actually important and paramount, and what can be easily dispensed with. Remaining a man in difficult conditions, Crusoe confirms by his example that simple things are enough for happiness and harmony.

Also, one of the central themes of the story is the description of the exotica of a deserted island and the influence of nature on the human mind.

Born on a wave of interest in geographical discoveries, Robinson Crusoe was intended for an adult audience, but today it has become an entertaining and instructive masterpiece of children's prose.

Imagine my astonishment when, one day, leaving the fortress, I saw below, near the shore (that is, not where I expected to see them), five or six Indian pirogues. The pies were empty. There were no people to be seen. They must have gone ashore and disappeared somewhere.

Since I knew that six people, or even more, usually sit in each pirogue, I confess, I was very confused. I never expected that I would have to fight with so many enemies.

“There are at least twenty of them, and perhaps there will be thirty. Where can I defeat them alone! I thought with concern.

I was indecisive and did not know what to do, but nevertheless sat down in my fortress and prepared for battle.

All around was quiet. I listened for a long time to see if the cries or songs of the savages would come from the other side. Finally, I got tired of waiting. I left my guns under the stairs and climbed to the top of the hill.

Sticking your head out was dangerous. I hid behind this peak and began to look through a telescope. The savages now returned to their boats. There were at least thirty of them. They built a fire on the shore and, obviously, cooked some food on the fire. What they were cooking, I could not see, I only saw that they were dancing around the fire with frantic jumps and gestures, as savages usually dance.

Continuing to look at them through a telescope, I saw that they ran up to the boats, pulled out two people and dragged them to the fire. Apparently, they intended to kill them.

Until this moment, the unfortunates must have been lying in boats, bound hand and foot. One of them was instantly knocked down. He was probably struck on the head with a club or a wooden sword, that common weapon of savages; immediately two or three more pounced on him and set to work: they cut open his stomach and began to gut him.

Another prisoner stood nearby, expecting the same fate.

Having taken care of the first victim, his tormentors forgot about him. The prisoner felt free, and apparently he had a hope of salvation: he suddenly rushed forward and started to run with incredible speed.

He ran along the sandy shore in the direction where my dwelling was. I confess that I was terribly frightened when I noticed that he was running straight towards me. And how could I not be frightened: at first it seemed to me that the whole gang rushed to catch up with him. However, I remained at my post and soon saw that only two or three people were chasing the fugitive, and the rest, having run a short space, gradually fell behind and were now walking back to the fire. It gave me back my energy. But I finally calmed down when I saw that the fugitive was far ahead of his enemies: it was clear that if he managed to run at such speed for another half an hour, they would by no means catch him.

The fugitives were separated from my fortress by a narrow bay, which I mentioned more than once, the very one where I moored with my rafts when I was transporting things from our ship.

“What will this poor fellow do,” I thought, “when he reaches the bay? He will have to swim across it, otherwise he will not get away from the chase.

But I was in vain worried about him: the fugitive, without hesitation, rushed into the water, quickly swam across the bay, climbed out to the other side and, without slowing down his pace, ran on.

Of his three pursuers, only two threw themselves into the water, and the third did not dare: apparently, he did not know how to swim; he stood on the other bank, looked after the other two, then turned and walked slowly back.

I noticed with joy that the two savages chasing the fugitive were swimming half as fast as him.

And then I realized that it was time to act. My heart burned.

“Now or never! – I said to myself and rushed forward. “Save, save this unfortunate man at any cost!”

Wasting no time, I ran down the stairs to the foot of the mountain, grabbed the guns left there, then with the same speed climbed the mountain again, went down the other side and ran obliquely straight to the sea to stop the savages.

As I ran down the hill by the shortest route, I soon found myself between the fugitive and his pursuers. He continued to run without looking back and did not notice me.

I called out to him:

He looked around and, it seems, at first he was even more frightened of me than of his pursuers.

I made a sign to him with my hand to come closer to me, and I myself walked at a slow pace towards the two fleeing savages. When the front one caught up with me, I suddenly rushed at him and knocked him down with the butt of a gun. I was afraid to shoot, so as not to alarm the rest of the savages, although they were far away and could hardly hear my shot, and even if they did, they still would not have guessed what it was.

When one of the fugitives fell, the other stopped, apparently frightened.

In the meantime, I continued to calmly approach. But when, coming closer, I noticed that he had a bow and arrow in his hands and that he was aiming at me, I involuntarily had to shoot. I took aim, pulled the trigger, and laid it down in place.

The unfortunate fugitive, in spite of the fact that I killed both of his enemies (or so it seemed to him), was so frightened by the fire and the roar of the shot that he lost the ability to move; he stood as if pinned to the spot, not knowing what to decide: to run or stay with me, although he would probably prefer to run away if he could.

I again began to shout to him and make signs for him to come closer. He understood: he took two steps and stopped, then he took a few more steps and again stood in his tracks.

Then I noticed that he was trembling all over; the unfortunate man was probably afraid that if he fell into my hands, I would immediately kill him, like those savages.

I again made a sign to him to come closer to me, and in general tried in every possible way to encourage him.

He came closer and closer to me. Every ten or twelve steps he fell to his knees. He obviously wanted to thank me for saving his life.

I smiled affectionately at him and, with the most friendly air, continued to beckon him with my hand.

Finally, the savage came quite close. He fell to his knees again, kissed the ground, pressed his forehead against it and, lifting my leg, put it on his head.

This was supposed to mean that he vowed to be my slave until the last day of his life.

I picked him up and, with the same gentle, friendly smile, tried to show that he had nothing to be afraid of me.

I pointed it out to the fugitive:

- Your enemy is still alive, look!

In response, he uttered a few words, and although I did not understand anything, the very sounds of his speech seemed pleasant and sweet to me: after all, in all the twenty-five years of my life on the island, I heard a human voice for the first time!

However, I did not have time to indulge in such reflections: the cannibal, stunned by me, recovered so much that he was already sitting on the ground, and I noticed that my savage was again beginning to be afraid of him. It was necessary to calm the unfortunate. I was aiming at his enemy, but then my savage began to show me signs so that I would give him a naked saber hanging from my belt. I handed him the sword. He instantly grabbed it, rushed to his enemy and with one wave cut off his head.

Such art surprised me very much: after all, this savage had never seen any other weapon in his life than wooden swords. Later I learned that the local savages choose such strong wood for their swords and sharpen them so well that such a wooden sword can cut off a head as well as a steel sword.

After this bloody massacre with his pursuer, my savage (from now on I will call him my savage) returned to me with a merry laugh, holding my saber in one hand, and the head of the murdered man in the other, and, having performed in front of me a series of some incomprehensible movements , solemnly laid his head and weapon on the ground beside me.

He saw me shoot one of his enemies, and it amazed him: he could not understand how a man could be killed at such a great distance. He pointed to the dead man and with signs asked for permission to run to look at him. I, too, with the help of signs, tried to make it clear that I did not forbid him to fulfill this desire, and he immediately ran there. Approaching the corpse, he was dumbfounded and looked at it for a long time in amazement. Then he bent over him and began to turn him on one side, then on the other. Seeing the wound, he carefully peered into it. The bullet hit the savage right in the heart, and little blood came out. There was an internal hemorrhage, death came instantly.

Having removed from the dead man his bow and quiver of arrows, my savage ran up to me again.

I immediately turned and walked away, inviting him to follow me. I tried to explain to him by signs that it was impossible to stay here, since those savages who are now on the shore could set off in pursuit of him at any moment.

He also answered me with signs that the dead should first be buried in the sand, so that the enemies would not see them if they ran to this place. I expressed my consent (also with the help of signs), and he immediately set to work. With surprising speed, he dug a hole in the sand with his hands so deep that a person could easily fit in it. Then he dragged one of the dead into this pit and covered him with sand; with the other, he did exactly the same - in a word, in a quarter of an hour he buried them both.

After that, I ordered him to follow me, and we set off. We walked for a long time, since I did not lead him to the fortress, but in a completely different direction - to the farthest part of the island, to my new grotto.

In the grotto I gave him bread, a branch of raisins and some water. He was especially glad about the water, because after a quick run he was very thirsty.

When he had strengthened his strength, I pointed out to him the corner of the cave where I had an armful of rice straw covered with a blanket, and by signs I signaled to him that he could camp here for the night.

The poor fellow lay down and instantly fell asleep.

I took the opportunity to get a better look at his appearance.

He was a good-looking young man, tall, well-built, his arms and legs were muscular, strong and at the same time extremely graceful; he looked about twenty-six years old, I did not notice anything gloomy or ferocious in his face; it was a courageous and at the same time gentle and pleasant face, and often an expression of meekness appeared on it, especially when he smiled. His hair was black and long; they fell on the face in straight strands. The forehead is high, open; skin color is dark brown, very pleasing to the eye. The face is round, the cheeks are full, the nose is small. The mouth is beautiful, the lips are thin, the teeth are even, white as ivory.

He slept no more than half an hour, or rather, did not sleep, but dozed, then jumped to his feet and came out of the cave to me.

Right there, in the pen, I was milking my goats. As soon as he saw me, he ran up to me and again fell to the ground in front of me, expressing the most humble gratitude and devotion with all kinds of signs. Having crouched down with his face to the ground, he again put my foot on his head and, in general, by all means available to him tried to prove to me his boundless humility and let me know that from that day on he would serve me all my life.

I understood much of what he wanted to tell me, and tried to impress upon him that I was perfectly pleased with him.

From the same day I began to teach him the necessary words. First of all, I told him that I would call him Friday (I chose this name for him in memory of the day I saved his life). Then I taught him how to pronounce my name, taught him how to say "yes" and "no" as well, and explained the meaning of these words.

I brought him milk in an earthenware jug and showed him how to dip bread in it. He immediately learned all this and began to show me with signs that he liked my treat.

We spent the night in the grotto, but as soon as morning came, I ordered Friday to follow me and led him to my fortress. I explained that I wanted to give him some clothes. He seemed to be very pleased, as he was completely naked.

As we passed by the place where the two savages who had been killed the day before were buried, he pointed out to me their graves and tried his best to convince me that we should dig up both corpses in order to immediately eat them.

Here I pretended to be terribly angry, that I was disgusted even to hear about such things, that I began to vomit at the mere thought of it, that I would despise and hate him if he touched the dead. Finally I made a decisive gesture with my hand, ordering him to move away from the graves; he immediately withdrew with the greatest obedience.

After that, we went up the hill with him, because I wanted to see if there were any more savages.

I took out a telescope and aimed it at the place where I had seen them the day before. But there was no trace of them: there was not a single boat on the shore. I had no doubt that the savages had left without even bothering to look for their two comrades who had remained on the island.

Of course, I was glad about this, but I wanted to collect more accurate information about my uninvited guests. After all, now I was no longer alone, Friday was with me, and from this I became much braver, and along with courage, curiosity woke up in me.

One of the dead was left with a bow and a quiver of arrows. I allowed Friday to take this weapon and since then he has not parted with it night or day. Soon I had to make sure that my savage was a master of bow and arrow. In addition, I armed him with a saber, gave him one of my guns, and I myself took the other two, and we set off.

When we arrived at the place where the cannibals were feasting yesterday, such a terrible sight met our eyes that my heart sank and my blood froze in my veins.

But Friday remained completely calm: such spectacles were not unusual for him.

The ground was covered in blood in many places. Large chunks of fried human meat lay all around. The whole coast was littered with human bones: three skulls, five arms, bones from three or four legs, and many other parts of the skeleton.

Friday told me by signs that the savages had brought four captives with them: they ate three, and he was the fourth. (Here he jabbed his finger in the chest.) Of course, I did not understand everything he told me, but I managed to catch something. According to him, a few days ago, among the savages, subject to one hostile princeling, there was a very big battle with the tribe to which he belonged, Friday. Alien savages won and captured a lot of people. The victors divided the prisoners among themselves and took them to different places to kill and eat, just like that detachment of savages who chose one of the coasts of my island as a place for a feast.

I ordered Friday to build a big fire, then collect all the bones, all the pieces of meat, dump them into this fire and burn them.

I noticed that he really wanted to eat human meat (and it is not surprising: he was also a cannibal!). But I again showed him by all kinds of signs that the very thought of such an act seemed disgusting to me, and immediately threatened him that I would kill him at the slightest attempt to violate my prohibition.

After that, we returned to the fortress, and without delay, I began to sheathe my savage.

First of all, I put on his pants. In one of the chests I took from the wrecked ship, I found a ready-made pair of linen trousers; they only had to be slightly modified. Then I made him a goat-skin jacket, using all my skill to make the jacket look better (I was already a fairly skilled tailor at that time), and made for him a hat of hare skins, very comfortable and quite beautiful.

Thus, for the first time, he was dressed from head to toe and seemed to be very pleased that his clothes were no worse than mine.

True, out of habit, he was uncomfortable in clothes, since he went naked all his life; his pants especially bothered him. He also complained about the jacket: he said that the sleeves pressed under the armpits and rubbed his shoulders. I had to change something, but little by little he got used to it and got used to it.

The next day I began to think about where I could put it.

I wanted to make him comfortable, but I was still not quite sure of him and was afraid to settle him at my place. I pitched a small tent for him free space between the two walls of my fortress, so that he found himself behind the fence of the courtyard where my dwelling stood.

But these precautions turned out to be completely unnecessary. Soon Friday proved to me in practice how selflessly he loves me. I could not but recognize him as a friend and ceased to beware of him.

Never has a man had such a loving, such a faithful and devoted friend. He showed neither irritability nor slyness towards me; always helpful and friendly, he was attached to me like a child to his own father. I am convinced that, if necessary, he would gladly sacrifice his life for me.

I was very happy that I finally had a comrade, and I promised myself to teach him everything that could benefit him, and first of all to teach him to speak the language of my homeland so that we could understand each other. Friday turned out to be such a capable student that nothing better could be desired.

But the most valuable thing about him was that he studied so diligently, listened to me with such joyful readiness, was so happy when he understood what I was getting from him, that it turned out to be a great pleasure for me to give him lessons and talk with him.

Since Friday was with me, my life has become pleasant and easy. If I could consider myself safe from other savages, I really, it seems, without regret, would agree to remain on the island until the end of my days.