LIFE, & o, OF O DE FOE -Ι7Ι9.
62 Defoe, The Life and Strange Surprising
Adventures of Mr. D- De Fauteuilestone of
London, Hosier, who has lived about fifty
Years in North and South Britain and the
various shapes he has appeared in, 8vo,
boards, 78 6d
1719
6
* : *
CEORCEA HOUCH
.
Hubbaru
Imag. Voy.
TPT
3.
it
*
Τ Η Ε
And Strange Surprizing
L I F E
ADVENTURES
Mr. D---- De F-,
LONDON, Hoſier,
,
0 F
0 F
W H 0
Has liv'd above fifty Years by
himſelf, in the Kingdoms of North and
South Britain. The various Shapes he
bas appear'd in, and the Diſcoveries
he has made for the Benefit of his
Country
IN A
DIALOGUE between Him,
Robinſon Cruſoe, and his Man Friday.
WITH
REMARKS Serious and Co-
mical upon the Life of Crusof,
Oui ous decipi, decipiatur,
Lumen Printed for J. ROBERTS ja 11
Uk-Lune 119.
Price
行者
​3
THE
PRE FACE
2
F ever the Story of any private
Man's Adventures in the World
I
were worth making pullick, and
were acceptable when publiſh d,
the Editor of this Account thinks this will
:
be fo.
The Wonders of this Man's Life exceed
all that (he thinks) is to be found Extant
the Life of one Man being ſcarce capable
of greater Variety.
The Story is told with greater Modeſty
than perhaps ſome Men may think neceſſary
to the Subje&t, the Hero of our Dialogue not
being very conſpicuous for that Virtue, a more
than common Aſſurance carrying him thro' all
thoſe various Shapes and Changes which he has
paſsid without the leaſt Bluſh. The Fabu-
lous Proteus of the Ancient Mythologiſt was
but a very faint Type of our Hero, whoſe
Clanges
2
iv The P R E F A C E.
C!:anges are much more numerous, and he
far more difficult to be conſtrain'd to his
own Shape.” If his Works should happen to
live to the next Age, there would in all pro-
bability be a greater Strife among the ſeveral
Parties, whoſe he really was, than among
the ſeven Græcian Cities, to which of them
Homer belong’d: The Diſfenters firſt would
claim him as theirs, the Whigs in general
an ibeirs, the Tories as theirs, the Non-
jurors as theirs, the Papiſts us theirs,
the Atheiſts as theirs, and ſo on to what
Sub-diviſions there may be among us ;
that it cannot be expected that I ſhould give
you in this ſhort Dialogue bis Picture at
length; no, I only fretend to preſent you
with him in Miniature, in Tweniy Fours,
and not in Folio. But of all theſe Things,
with ſome very ſurprizing Incidents in ſome
new Adventures of his own for the reſt of
his Life, I may perhaps give a farther Aca
count hereafter.
..
.
A
DIALOGUE
BE TV I XT
D----- F --e,
ROBINSON CRUSOE,
And his Man
F RIDA Y.
SCENE, a great Field betwixt Newing-
ton-Green and Newington Town, at
one a Clock in a Moon-light Morning.
Enter D---- F--- with two Pocket Piſtols.
D-l.
Fine pleaſurable Morning,
A
I believe about one a
Clock; and, I ſuppofe,
all the Lazy Kidnapping
Rogues are by this Time got drunk with
Geneva
a 2
(vi)
Generva or Malt-Spirits to Bed, and I
may pafs Home without any farther Ter-
ror. However, I am pretty well arm'd
to keep off their unfanctified Paws from
my Shoulder-----
Bleſs niy Eye-fight, what's this I ſee!
I was ſecure too ſoon here, the Philiſtines
are coine upon me; this is the Effect of
my not obeying the Secret Hint I had
not to come Home this Night. But",
however, here they ſhall have a couple
of Bullets in their Bellies ----- ha! two
of them, great tall Gigantick Rogues,
with ſtrange High-crown'd Caps, and
Flaps hanging upon their Shoulders, and
two Muskets a-piece, one with a Cut-
laſs, and the other with a Hatchet; e--g-d
I'll e’en run back again to the Green.
[Turns and runs.
Oh, plague upon that ſwift leg'd Dog,
he's got before me; I muſt now ſtand upon
my Guard, for he turns upon me and pre-
ſents his Musket -------
Gentlemen, what
would you have? would you murder
me? take what I have, and ſave my Life.
Cru. Why, Father D---n, doft thou
not know thy own Children? art thou ſo
frighted at Devils of thy own raiſing? I
am thy Robinſon Cruſoe, and that, my
Man Friday.
D---l. Ah! poor Cruſoe, how came you
bither? what do you do kere?
Cru,
( vii )
Cru. Ho, ho, do you know me now?
you are like the Devil in Milton, that
could not tell the Offspring of his own
Brain, Sin and Death, till Madam Sin
diſcover'd to him who they were. Yes,
it is Cruſoe and his Man Friday, who are
come to puniſh thee now, for making us
fuch Scoundrels in thy Writing : Come
Friday, make ready, but don't ſhoot till
I give the Word.
Fri. No ſhoot Maſter, no ſhoot; me
will ſhow you how we uſe Scribblers in
my Country.
Cru. In your Country Friday, why,
you
have no Scribblers there?
Fri. No Matter that Maſter, we have
as many Scribblers as Bears in my Coun-
try; and me will make Laugh, nie will
make D---l dance upon a Tree like Bru-
in. Oh! ne will make much Laugh, and
then me will ſhoot.
Du-l. Why, ye airy Fantoms, are
you not my Creatures ? mayn't I make of
you what I pleaſe ?
Cru. Why, yes, you may make of us
what you pleaſe; but when you raiſe Be-
ings contradictory to common Senſe, and
deſtructive of Religion and Morality;
they will riſe up againſt you in Foro Con-
ſcientia ; that Latin I learn’d in my Free-
School and Houſe Education.
D---.
( viii )
D---l. Hum, hum ----- well, and what
are your Complaints of me?
Cru. Why, that you have made me a
ſtrange whimſical, inconſiſtent Being, in
three weeks loſing all the Religion of a
Pious Education ; and when you bring
me again to à Senſe of the Want of Reli-
gion, you make me quit that upon every
Whimſy; you make me extravagantly
Zealous, and as extravagantly Remiſs; you
make me an Enemy to all Engliſh Sailors,
and a Panegyriſt upon all other Sailors that
come in your way: Thus, all the Englijo
Seamen laugh'd me out of Religion, but
the Spaniſh and Portugueſe Sailors were
honeſt religious Fellows; you make me a
Proteſtant in London, and a Papiſt in Bra-
fil; and then again, a Proteftant in my
own Iſland, and when I get thence, the
only Thing that deters me from return-
ing to Braſil, is meerly, becauſe I did not
like to die a Papiſt; for you ſay, that Po-
pery may be a good Religion to live in, liit
not to die in; as if that Religion could be
good to live in, which was not good to
die in; for, Father D---l, whatever you
may think, no Man is ſure of living one
Minute. But tho' you keep me thus by
Force a Sort of a Proteſtant, yet, you all
along make me very fond of Popiſh Prieſts
and the Popiſh Religion; nor can I for-
give you the making me ſuch a Whim-
ſical
( ix
ſical Dog, to ramble over three Parts of
the World after I was fixty five. There-
fore, I ſay, Friday, prepare to fhoot.
Fri. No ſhoot yet Mafter, me have
ſomething to ſay, he much Injure me too.
D---l. Injure you too, how the Devil
have I injur'd you?
Fri. Have injure me, to make me
ſuch Blockhead, ſo much contradiction,
as to be able to ſpeak Engliſh tolerably
well in a Month or two, and not to ſpeak
it better in twelve Years after; to niake
me go out to be kill'd by the Savages,
only to be a Spokeſman to them, tho' I
did not know, whether they underſtood.
one Word of my Language; for you
muſt know, Father D--, that almoſt
ev'ry Nation of us Indians ſpeak a diffe-
rent Language. Now Mafter ſhall me
ſhoot?
Cru. No Friday, not yet, for here will
be ſeveral more of his Children with
Complaints againſt him ; here will be the
French Prieſt, Will Atkins, the Prieſt in
China, his Nephews Ship's Crew, and-----
D---l. Hold, hold, dear Son Cruſoe,
hold, let me ſatisfy you firſt before any
more come upon me.
You are my
Hero, I have made you, out of no-
thing, fam'd from Tuttle-Street to Lime-
houſe-bole; there is not an old Woman
that can go to the Price of it, but buys
thy
( x )
thy Life and Adventures, and leaves it
as a Legacy, with the Pilgrims Progreſs,
the Pračtice of Piety, and God's Revenge
againſt Murther, to her Poſterity.
Cru. Your Hero! your Mob Hero!
your Pyecorner Hero! on a Foot with
Guy of Warwick, Bevis of Southampton,
and the London Prentice! for M-W---
has put me in that Rank, and drawn me
much better ; therefore, Sir, I ſay----
D--- Dear Son Cruſoe, be not in a
Paſſion, hear me out.
Crut. Well, Sir, I will hear you out
for once.
D---. Then know, my dear Child,
that you are a greater Favorite to me
than you imagine ; you are the true Al-
legorick Image of thy tender Father
DI; I drew thee from the Conſidera-
tion of my own Mind; I have been all
my Life that Rambling, Inconliſtent
Creature, which I have made thee.
I ſet out under the Banner of Kidder
minſter, and was long a noiſy, if not
zealous Champion for that Cauſe; and
tho' I had not that Free-School and Houſe
Learning which I have given you, yet
being endow'd with a wonderful Loqua-
ciouſneſs and a pretty handſome Afſu-
rance, being out of my Time, I talk'd
myſelf into a pretty large Credit, by which
I might, perhaps, have thriy'd in my
Way
(xi)
Way very well, but, like you at Braſil,
my Head run upon Whimſies, and i
quitted a Certainty for new Adven-
tures : Firſt, I ſet up for Scribbling of
Verſes, and dabbling in other Sort of Au-
thorizing, both Religious and Prophane.
I have no Call to tell you, whether this
Itch of Scribbling, or ſome other Project of
Lime Kilns or the like, oblig'd me to
quit à certain Court near the Royal-Ex-
change, and to play at Hide and Seek;
but this did not much trouble me, for it
put me on a Sort of diving more agree-
able to my Inclinations, forcing me to
ramble from Place to Place Incognito;
and, indeed, I thought myſelf foniething
like the great Monarchs of the Eaſt,
for I took care to be more ſeldom ſeen
by my Acquaintance, than they by their
Subjects
. My old Walk from my Court
to the Change was too ſhort for my
rambling Spirit, it look'd like a Seaman's
Walk betwixt Decks; and for that, and
fone other Reaſons which ſhall be name-
leſs, I purſu'd the Courſe which I told
you.
Well, all my Projects failing, I e'en
took up with the Vocation of an Author ;
which tho it promis'd but little in the
common Way, I took care to make it
more Beneficial to me ; the principal
Method of doing that, was to appear Zea-
b
lous
?
( xii
x )
SW
lous for ſome Party, and in the Party !
was ſoon determind by ny Education,
and ſcribbled on in a violent Manner; till,
by making myſelf a conſtant Penſioner
to all the Rich and Zealous of my Party,
I pickt up a good handſome Penny, with
little Expence to myſelf of Time or La-
bour ; for any Thing that is boldly Writ,
will go down with either Party ; but at
laſt, by a plaguy Irony, I got myſelf in
to the damnablé Nutcrackers; however,
that but encreas'd my Market, and
brought my Penſion in, at leaſt, five
fold. I writ on, till ſome of the wiſe
Heads of the contrary Party thought
me worth retaining in their $er-
vice; and, I confeſs, their Bribes were
very powerful. I manag'd Matters fo
well a great while, that both Sides kept
me in Pay; but that would not do, my
old Friends found that I had in reality
forſaken them, and that I 'trim'd my
Boat ſo ill, that they plainly ſaw to
which Side it inclin'd; and, therefore, a
certain Captain not far from Thames Street,
who had been niy Steward or Collector
in chief, comes to me, and like the Witch
of Endor, cried, God has left thee, Saul;
that is, the Money would be no more
given me by the Party, who had every
one diſcover'd that I was enter'd into
another Cauſe. I did all I could to ſatis-
fy
( xiii)
fy him and anſiver bis Objections, but all
to no purpoſe, Buenos Nocoiuis was the
Word, good Night Nicholas, they would
be no longer bubbled; ſo I let out entirely
for St. Germäns, or any other Port to
which my Proprietors ſhould direct me ;
but here again, like you, my Son Cruſoe,
in burning the Idol in Tartary, I went a
little too far, and by another Irony, in-
ſtead of the Niltcrackers, I had brought
nìyſelf to the Tripes at Paldington, but that
my good Friend that ſet me to work got
me a Pardon, and ſo, life was the Word ;
and I have never forſaken him for that
good Office
- and his Money, my
dear Son Cruſoe, for it is that which al-
ways fets me to Work; and which ever
Side the nioſt Money is to be got, that
Side is ſure of D.--. 'Tis truc, I made a
pretty good Penny among the Whigs, tho
nothing to wliat I have ſince done aniong
the Tories: Let me ſee, let nie ſee, I think,
I made by Subſcription for my Fire Diving
about ſome five hundred Pounds, and yet
I writ it in about three weeks or a
Month, ſix or ſeven hundred Verſes a
Day coming conſtantly out of this Pro-
lifick Head; as for the Senſe and Poe-
try of them, e'en let my Subſcribers look
to that, they had a Book, and a Book
ini Folio, and I had their Money, and lo
all Parties were contented. But what's
tili
b 2
( xiv )
***
this to the Tory Writers, where for a
Tranſlation one hall get you three or
four thouſand Pounds ſubſcrib'd; and for
an Original, ſeven or eight Thouſand, the
Tories therefore for my Money ; not that
value the Tories more than I do the
Whigs; but nothing for the Whigs will
fell, and every Thing for the Tories
does. You ſeem to take it amiſs, that I
made you ſpeak againſt the Engliſh Sea-
men, but that was only according to my
own Nature, for I always hated the Eng-
liſh, and took a Pleaſure in depreciating
and villifying of them, witneſs my True
Bern Engliliman, and my changing my
Name to make it ſound like French; for
my Father's Name was plain F--, but I
have adorn'd it with a de, ſo that I am
now, Mr. D----l De F--. Next, you
feeni concern'd that I make you fo favour-
able to Popery, and to ramble at ſuch
an Age about the World: Firſt, you muſt
know, that by ſpeaking favourably of
Popery, I lay up a Friend in a Corner,
and make all of that Religion fayourable
to me and what I write ; and ſhould the
Fox Hunters prevail, that Religion muſt
be the Mode ; if it never does, I at leaſt
paſs for a Moderate Man both with the
Papiſts and Proteſtant Fox Hunters; and
to give them the better Idea of me, and
the ſurer Hopes of having me a Convert,
I have
.
( xv )
I have written againſt my old Teachers
in the Shape and Form of a Quaker, as
in a Pamphlet to T. B. a Dealer in many
Words; and in the ſame Form I have at-
tack'd the B of B, one who is
equally hated by them. To tell you the
Truth, Son Cruſoe, tho' I am now paſs’d
ſixty five, I am juſt ſetting out for a Ram-
ble thro' all Religions, and therefore li-
quor my Boots firſt with Holy Water and
the Sacred Unctions of Popery; and next,
I don't know but I may ſtep to Mahome-
tiſm, and take a Trip with Tom. Coryat
to the Great Moguls Country, from
thence, perhaps, I may turn down to Siam
and China, and make a ſort of a Break-
faſt upon the Multitheiſm of thoſe Coun-
tries.
Cru. Multitheiſin, Father Dormim why
not Polytheiſm? why do you chufe rather
to coin a Word compounded of Greek
and Latin, whereas the other is in com-
mon Ule
D. Common; I hate all that's com-
mon, even to common Senſe_but no
Interruptions Son Cruſoe, no Interruptions;
from thence I may take a Jaunt to the
Greek Church, in a ſort of a Whimſical Cam
Yavan, over the Deſarts which I made you
paſs, if by the way I don't happen to catch
a Tartar, that is, take a Leap into the
Dark. By this Ramble thro'. all Relis
gions,
.
( xvi)
2
gions, I fhall be thoroughly qualified for
whatever Side may come uppermoſt ,
whether the Spaniſh Inquiſition, the Jane-
faries of Mecca; or any other Propagators
of particular Religions; for betwixt
you
and I, Son Cruſoe, I care not who Reigns,
whether the Czar of Muſcovy, or the
Emperor of Monomotopa. I defy them
to ſet up any Religion, to oppoſe which
I will be at the Pain of ſo much as a Flea-
bite. And now you have my Picture Son
Cruſoe, as well as my Juſtification in my
Draught of yours; I would not have you
therefore complain any more of the Conx
tradiction of your Character, ſince that is
of a Piece with the whole Deſign of my
Book. I make you ſet out as uidutiful
and diſobedient to your Parents; and to
make your Example deter all others, I
make you Fortunate in all your Adven'
tures, even in the moſt unlucky, and give
you at laſt a plentiful Fortune and a fafe
Retreat, Puniſhments fo terrible, that
fure the Fear of them mult deter all
others from Diſobedience to Parents, and
yenturing to Sea : And now, as for your
Friday, I did not niake you ſpeak broker
Engliſh to repreſent you as a Blockhead, in-
capable of learning to ſpeak it better, but
meerly for the Variety of Stile, to inter-
mix ſome broken Engliſh to make my
Lie go down the more glibly with the
Vul
( xvii)
Vulgar Reader; and in this, I uſe you na
worſe than I do the Bible itſelf, which
I quote for the very lame End only.
Cru. Enough, Enough, Father D-1,
you
have confeſt enough, and now pre-
pare
for your Puniſhment, for here come
all the reſt of our Number which we ex-
pected; come Friday, pull out the Books,
you have both Volumes, have you not
Friday?
Fri. Yes Maſter, and me will make
him ſwallow his own Vomit.
Cru. Here, Gentlemen, every one hold
a Limb of him.
D---l. Oh, oh, Mercy! Mercy!
Fri. Swallow, ſwallow, Father D,
your Writings be good for the Heartburn,
ſwallow, Father D------- ſo me have
çram'd dawn one Volume, muſt be have
the other now Maſter?
Cru. Yes, yes, Friday, or elſe the Doſe
will not be compleat; and fo perhaps
mayn't work and paſs thro' him kindly.
Fri. Come, Father Damn, t'other Pill,
or I think I may call it Bolus for the big-
neſs of it, it is good for your Health ;
come, if you will make ſuch large Com-
poſitions, you muſt take them for your
Pains.
D-. Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Cru. Now, Gentlemen, each Mạn take
his part of the Blanket and toſs him im-
moderately:
( xviii )
moderately; for you muſt know, Gen-
tlemen, that this is a ſort of Phyſick,
which never works well without à vio-
lent Motion. [They tofs bim luftily,
he crying out all the while.
Cru. Hold, Gentlemen, I think our
Buſineſs is done ; for by the unſavoury
Stench which aſſaults my Noſtrils, I find
the Dofe is paſt thro' him, and fo good
Morrow, Father D_N. Paſt three a
Clock and a Moon light Morning. [They
all vanilha
D-1 folus.
Bleſs me! what Company have I been
in? or rather, what Dream have I had ?
for certainly 'tis nothing but a Dream ;
and yet I find by the Effects in my
Breeches, that I was moft damnably
frighted with this Dream; nay, more than
ever I was in my Life; even more, than
when we had News that King William
defign'd to take into Flanders the Royal
Regiment. But this is a freſh Proof of
my
Obſervation in the ſecond Volume of
my Crufoe, that there's no greater Evidence
of an invifible World, than that Connexion
betwist ſecond Cauſes, (as that in my
Trowlers) and thoſe Ideas we have in our
Minds.
The End of the Dialogue.
.
AN
E PIST L E
TO :
D----- D'F-€ ,
Tlie Reputed Author
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
es
Mr.
Free
Have perus'd your pleaſant
Story of Robinſon Cruſoe; and
if the Faults of it had extend-
ed no further than the fre.
quent Soleciſms, Looſeneſs and Incorrect-
nefs of Stile, Improbabilities, and ſome-
times Impoſibilities, I had not given
B
you
be
.
$
( 2 )
you the Trouble of this Epiftle. But
when I found that you were not content
with the many Abſurdities of your Tale,
but ſeem'd to diſcover a Deſign, which
proves you as bad an Engliſhman as a
Chriſtian, I could not but take Notice
in this publick Manner of what you had
written ; eſpecially, when I perceiv'd that
you threaten'd us with more of the fame
Naturę, if this met with that Succeſs
which you hop'd for, and which the
Town has been pleas'd to give it. If
by this I can prevent a new Acceſſion of
Impieties and Superſtition to thoſe which
the Work under our Conſideration has
furniſh'd us with, I ſhall not think my
Labour loft.
I am far from being an Enemy to the
Writers of Fables, fince I know very
well that this Manner of Writing is not
only very Ancient, but very uſeful, I
might ſay facred, ſince it has been made
uſe of by the inſpir'd Writers themſelves;
but then to render any Fable worthy of
being receiv'd into the Number of thoſe
which are truly valuable, it muſt natu-
rally produce in its Event ſome uſeful
Moral, either expreſs'd or underſtood;
but this of Robinſon Cöuſoe, you plainly
inculcate, is deſignd againſt a publick
Good. I think there can be no Man fo
ignorant
(3)
ignorant as not to know that our Nayi-
gation produces both our Safety and our
Riches, and that whoever therefore ſhall
endeavour to diſcourage this, is fo far
a profeſt Enemy of his Country's Proſpe-
rity and Safety; but the Author of Ro-
binſon Cruſoe, not only in the Beginning,
but in many places of the Book, employs
all the Force of his little Rhetoric to
diſſuade and deter all People from going
to Sea, eſpecially all Mothers of Chil-
dren who may be capable of that Service,
from venturing them to ſo much Hazard
and ſo much Wickedneſs, as he repre-
ſents the Seafaring Life liable to. But
whatever Mr. F-2 may think of the
Matter, I dare believe that there are
few Men who conſider juſtly, that would
think the Profeſſion of a Yorkſhire Attor-
ney more innocent and beneficial to Man-
kind than that of a Seaman, or would
judge that Robinſon Cruſoe was ſo very
criminal in rejecting the former, and
chuſing the latter, as to provoke the
Divine Providence to raiſe two Storms,
and in the laſt of them to deſtroy ſo ma-
ny Ships and Men, purely to deter him
from that Courſe of Life, to which at
laſt he was to owe ſo ample a Reward of
all his Labcurs and Fatigues, as the End
of
B 2
.
1
(4)
of this very Book plainly tells us he met
with
goits
I know you will reply, that it was his
Diſobedience to his parents for which he
was punilh'd in all the Misfortunes he
met with, and that you frequently re-
mind us of the Conviction of his Con-
ſcience in this particular thro' the whole
Courſe of his Life. I would by no
Means be thought to encourage Dilobe,
dience to Parents; but the honouring our
Father and Mocber does not include a
Duty of blindly ſubmitting to all their
Commands, whether good or bad, bra-
tional or irrational, to the entire exclu-
ding of all Manner of free Agency from
the Children, which would in effect be
to make the Children of Freemen abſo-
lute Slaves, and give the Parent a Power
even beyond that of a Sovereign, to
whom both parents and Children are
ſubject. Tho' the Authority therefore of
Parents be great, it cannot extend to the
Suppreſſion of our Obedience to Realon,
Law and Religion; and when a Child
obeys theſe, tho' contrary to his Parents
Command, he is not to be eſteep'd dif-
obedient or culpable. To apply this to
the Caſe in Hand, Robinſon Cruſoe was
above eighteen Years of Age when he
left his Father's Houſe, and this after a
long
(5)
:
long Deliberation and Struggle with
that fecret Impulſe to a Seafaring Life,
to which Inpulſe you ſo often recom-
menda blind Obedience, whether ground
ed on Reaſon or not, and would perlivade
us that it proceeds tronī the ſecret Inſpira-
tion either of Providence, or ſome good
Spirit ; but here Robinſon had a great ma-
ny Reaſons to urge and juſtify himſelf; for
notwithſtanding the wiſe Harangue of the
Father to the Son of the great Advan:
tages of a middle State of Life ; yet I
cannot find that he himſelf thought that
what he was to leave his Son would be
fufficient to ſupport him in that middle
State, on which he had made fo te
dious an Encomium; for he propos'd to
put him out either to fonte Trade or
to an Attorney. But first, as to a Trade ,
either he propos'd to put him to a bene-
ficial Trade, or to one that was not lo;
it to a beneficial Trade, then he depart-
ed from his own Principle of a Media
crity, if to a Trade that was not ſo, his
Delign was extremely fooliſh, fince the
Cares and Solicitudes of that mean Pro-
feffion might prove, and would in pro
bability be as great, if not greater, than
thoſe of a ntore beneficiat Employment;
and this, indeed, would be contrary to
dre Deſign and Aim of all People who
put
(6)
put their Children to Trades, ſince they
always propoſe and hope, that the Trades
to which they put them will in the end
make them Rich and Proſperous. If
this was his Father's Deſign in putting
him to a Trade, he acted directly againſt
the Principle he laid down, of being con-
tented with what they had ; if it was not
his Deſign, he acted confeſſedly without
Reaſon, and therefore could not reaſona-
bly deſire an implicit Obedience to his
Will: But if inſtead of a Trade he de-
fign’d his Son for an Attorney, a Con-
fcientious Youth might well ſcruple to
obey him in that particular. You have
given him the Education of a Free,
School, beſides Houſe Learning, as you
are pleas'd to call it, which I confefs i
do not underſtand, it being a Term I
never met with before in all my Reading
and Converſation ; but by a Free School
Education till eighteen Years of Age,
he muſt have been perfect in all the Claf-
ficks, and fit for the Univerſity; and his
Converſation with thoſe Books might
well inſpire him with Notions abhorrent
of a Profeſſion in which there was nothing
generous, and I am afraid very little juſt
.
But becauſe you have faid it, we will
ſuppoſe that Robinſon Cruſoe was not de-
ter'd from being an Attorney by any of
theſe
(7)
theſe more noble Conſiderations, but by
a pure rambling Fancy, which renderá
bim incapable of taking up any Profef-
Gon that was more confin'd than that of a
Seafaring Perſon; yet, how could he ima-
gine that he ſhould raiſe his Fortune by
going to Sea in the Manner that he went?
that is, indeed, as a common Seaman,
contrary to his Friends Inclination, or any
Proviſion made by himſelf to turn and
improve by his Navigation ; but this
Difficulty vaniſhes, when we remember
what you tell us from his own Mouth,
that he never was in the right in his
Life. Omitting, therefore, the Oddneſs
of his running away at ſo well grown
an Age, tho' he had not done it in his
more early and giddy Years, we'll pro-
ceed: He is now ſet out, arriv'd at Hull,
and got on Board a Ship, without ſo
much as ever ſaying one Word to the
Maſter of her, who we muſt ſuppoſe ne-
ver ſaw him for about tbree Weeks, till,
after his Ship was caſt away, he met him
in Yarmouth, and was there informd by
his Son, who, and what he was; tho
preſently after he had heard this, he asks
him, who, and what he was, as if he
had known nothing of the Matter; and
plainly tells him that his Ship was caſt
away upon his Account, making his
Cafe
4
( 8 )
Caſe and that of Fones the fame, who
was actually in Diſobedience to the poſi-
tive Command and Order of God him-
felf. But you, indeed, every where are
pleas'd to make very free with the Holy
Scriptures, which you quote ás fluently,
as the Devil once did, and much to the
fame End; that is to make a Lie go
down for Truth. But more of this here-
after. Well, the Maſter of the Ship having
now underſtood who and what he was,
makes this fine Speech to him: And, young
Man, faid he, depend upon it, if you do
not go back, where-ever you go, you will
meet with nothing but Diſaſters and Diſap-
pointments, till your Father's Words are ful
filld upon you. Here he makes the Mala
ter of the Ship a Prophet, as well as he
had done his Father, which I ſhould as
little ſuſpect him to be, conſidering the
wicked Character you give of all Seamen,
as that a profeft Seaman ſhould make a
Speech, and urge the Storms for a Mo-
tive againſt any one's going to Sea. But
I muſt not dwell too long upon mere Ab-
ſurdities; I fhall therefore take no No-
tice of Robinſon's ſwooning away at the
Noiſe of a Gun tho' he knew not for
what end the Gun was diſcharg’d; yet
I cannot paſs in Silence his Coining of
Providences; that is, of his making Pro-
vidence
(9
vidence raiſe a Storm, caſt away Tome
Ships, and damage many more, meerly
to fright him from going to Sea. If this
be not a bold Impiety, I know not what
is, and an Impiety for which I can ſee
very little ground; for why ſhould he
imagine that the Storm was ſent to hin-
der him from going to Sea, more than
any other that were in it, and ſuffer'd
more by it? Nor, indeed, can I ſee any
reaſon why your Cruſoe ſhould think it
any more a Crime in him to go to Sea,
than in a hundred and fifty thouſand
niore, who conſtantly uſe the Sea in theſe
Nations, beſides ten times that Num-
ber in all the Nations of the World who
do the ſame. If Storms are ſent by
Providence to deter Men from Naviga-
tion, I may reaſonably ſuppoſe, that
there is not one of all that vaſt Num-
ber I have mention'd, to whom Provi-
dence bas not ſent the ſame Warning.
At this abſurd Way of Arguing, moſt of
the Communication and Traffick of Na-
tions would ſoon be at an end, and Ifan-
ders eſpecially would be entirely cut off
from the reſt of the World; and if your
Do&rine prevail’d, none would venture
upon Salt Water, but ſuch as cared
not for the Safety either of Body or
Soul, both which you all along en-
с
deavour
( 10 )
deavour to perſuade us are more in dan-
ger there than any where elſe. But fures
dear Sir, you have neither confiderd the
Wickedneſs, nor the Hazards of the Land;
for if you had, you would find that it
was morally impoſſible that the Seanien,
at leaſt, while on Shipboard, could be
guilty of the tenth part of the Crimes
which abound every where on Shore.
For the Seaman, however wicked he may
be in his Will, has not the Power in his
floating Cafle to reduce that Wicked-
neſs to Action; and to conclude that he
is ſo wicked in Will, requires fome ber-
ter Proof than you have been pleas’d any
where to give us. It is plains that the
Seafaring Men are generally (fon here we
fpeak only of Generals, and not of Parti-
culars) generally, I ſay, are more free,
open, diſintereſted, and leſs tricking and
deligning than thoſe who never go to Sea :
and tho you are pleas'd often to mention
the Wickedneſs of Cruſoe, whom, being a
Creature of your own, you might have
made as wicked as you pleas de This
very Guſoe, I ſay, does not appear to be
guilty of any heinous Crimess and it
would be very hard to perfwade us to
believe, that a Man, who ſeems in all
Things elſe innocent enough, ſhould be
ſo very abandon din Impiety, cas ne-
ver
:
Wher over
( H )
ver to pray and acknowledge the over-
ruling Providence of God in all the
Tranfactions of this world, and by con-
fequence in all that did or could hap-
pen to him. But after all, if
you
will
needs have him this impious Perſon; for
he is a Creature of your making, and not
of God's; you have given him Manners,
as the Critics call it, quite out of Na-
ture, and no ways neceſſary to your Fable.
But more of this hereafter.
We muſt now attend Monſieur Cruſoe
from Yarmouth to London, where he ar-
rives with what ſmall remainder of his
Yarmouth Collection he had left; and
tho' a Stranger in this great City, the
next thing we hear of him, is, that he
abounds in fine Cloaths and Money, be-
ing able to put on Board the Guinea
Man a Venture of forty Pounds, which
how he comes by the Lord knows, He
tells us, indeed, ſome time after, that he
got this Money of his Friends, but it is
not very 'probable, at leaſt it is not very
common, for People that have Money,
to truſt it to a young Fellow who had
run from his Father, and was likewiſe
under Age. This I ſay is not common;
nay, I believe, never did happen to any
Body in his Circumſtances, but to Rom
binfon Cruſoe, and may well be put into
the
C 2
X
( 12 )
the Number of the Miracles of his Life
Well, we'll ſuppoſe, with Robinſon him-
felf, that his father ſecretly encourag'd
bis Friends to ſupply him; yet certainly
his Father would have been very cautious
of letting him be entruſted with Money
entirely to manage it himſelf, ſince he
had given him no Reaſon to imagine
that his Prudence would diſpoſe of it to
the beſt Advantage; and, indeed, it was
very plain that he did not, ſince he laid
it out in fine Cloaths, and keeping Com-
pany with ſuch People, from whom he
could propoſe to derive very little Bene-
fit: And, 'I believe, he is the firſt young
Gentleman that ever thought, that to ſee
the World by Trayel, was to go to
Guinea amongſt the barbarous Negroes.
Well, let that paſs, Cruſoe has found a
Maſter of a Veſſel according to his own
Heart, and ſo embarks both his Cargo
and himſelf with him for Guinea, makes
a proſperous Voyage, his forty Pounds
having produc'd about three hundred;
two of which he puts into a Female
Friend's Hand, and with the third ſets
out for a ſecond Voyage to the African
Shore, but is taken by a Turkiſh Rover
and carried into Sallee'; where, after he
had remain'd in Bondage above two
Years, he makes his eſcape by throw-
ing
( 13 )
ing his Maſter's Kinſman into the Sea,
and carrying off his Maſter's Boat, a kind
of Long-Boat, and his Boy Xury; and
in this ſmall Veſſel goes above a thouſand
Miles thro' various Hazards and Adyen-
tures, to which I have nothing to ſay.
All that I ſhall remark, is, that you
ſeem very fond of all Occaſions of throw-
ing in needleſs Abſurdities to make the
Truth of your Story ſtill the more doubt-
ed. What occaſion elſe had you to make
Xury ſpeak broken Engliſh, when he ne-
ver convers’d with any Engliſh but Ro-
linſon Cruſoe? ſo that it had been more
natural to have made Robinſon ſpeak
broken Arabick, which Language he muſt
be forc'd in ſome Meaſure to learn ;
whereas Xury had no Motive in the
World to ſtudy ſo much Engliſh as he
makes him ſpeak; but this is a Pecca-
dillo and not worth dwelling upon. Well
then, we are now to ſuppoſe Robinſon
Cruſoe and Xury got as far almoſt as Cape
de Verd, when a Portugueſe Ship takes
them up and carries them to Braſil;
where, with the Money he had rais'd by
the Sale of his Boat, his Skins, and his
Boy, he ſettles himſelf as a Planter, and
accordingly turns Papiſt in Thankfulneſs
to Heaven for his great Deliverance; and,
indeed, he always retains fome Spice of
the
( 14 )
the Superſtition of that Religion, in that
vain Faith, which he not only himſelf
puts in ſecret Hints, as he calls tliem,
but earneſtly recommends to all others.
Well, having fix'd his Plantation, he
ſets out upon new Adventures, as Super-
Cargo to a Portugueſe Ship, bound to
the Coaft of Guinea to buy Slaves; and
tho'he afterwards proves ſo fcrupulous
about falling upon the Cannibals or Men-
Eaters, yet he neither then nor after-
wards found any check of Conſcience in
that infamous Trade of buying and ſel-
ling of Men for Slaves; elſe one would
have expected him to have attributed
his Shipwreck to this very Canſe.
He ſets out from Braſil, is taken in a
Storm, and at laſt caſt away upon an 11-
inhabited and in the Mouth of the Ri-
ver Oroonoquo, where he only eſcapes, all
the reſt being drown'd. But here I can't
omit one Obſervation of his, which is,
that the Waves buried him twenty or
thirty Foot in their own Body; I would
Exin know by what Art Robinſon could
didinguish between five Foot, and twen-
ty five or thirty. Well, be that as it
will, your Friend Robinſon is now got
on Shore, tho' bruiſed in Body and trou-
bled in Mind, and had, indeed, been in
very pitiful Condition, had not you
the
( 15 )
the next Day fent the Ship on Shore af
ter him; I mean, ſo near the Shore, that
Robinſon could eaſily get on Board her,
and furniſh himſelf with all Neceffaries
which his folitary Manſion requir'd; that
is, with Tools, Powder, Guns, Cutlaſſes,
Bullets, and other Shot, and Leady to
make more, as well as Cloaths, Linnen
and Woollen; beſides ſo large a Cars
go of Rum, that it laſted him, uncon.
ſum'd, above eight and twenty Years.
Tho' I ſhould have wonder'd how three
Engliſh Bibles came on Board a Portu-
gueſe Ship, had he not told us, that
they had come to him in a Cargo from
England; yet I muſt ſtill wonder, why
Robinſon ſhould put three on Board for
his Voyage to Guinea, when one was
likely to be more than he would make
ule of, if we may believe his own Account
of the little regard he had to any Reli-
gion. But it was neceſſary that he ſhould
have a Bible, to furniſh you with the
Means of Burleſquing the Sacred Writy
in the tedious Reflections you deſign d tol
put into his Mouth ; of which by and bylo
I ſhall not take Notice of his ſtriping
himſelf to ſwim on Board, and then fils
ling his Pockets with Bisket, becauſel
that is already taken Notice of in Pubs
lick; and in the laſt Edition, at leaſt, of
the
( 16 )
the Book, you have endeavour'd to ſalve
this Difficulty, by making him keep his
Breeches on; tho' why he ſhould do ſo I
can ſee no reaſon; and tho' he did do ſo,
I don't find how the Pocket of a Sea-
man's Breeches could receive any Biskets,
that being generally no bigger than to con-
tain a Tobacco Pouch, or the like. I can-
not pretend to dwell upon all the Abſur-
dities of this Part of your Book, I shall
only touch upon ſome few: And firſt, on
his ſtated Account of the Good and
Evil of his preſent Condition in Page 77
where be ſays, on the dark ſide of his
Account; I have no Cloaths to cover me.
But this is a downright Lie, according to
his own Account, by which he brought :
conſiderable Quantity of Linnen and
Woollen from on Board the Ship: And
then the next Head on the ſame ſide is,
I am without any Defence, or Means to re-
lift any Violence of Man or Beaſt. This is
likewiſe another plain Contradiction of
what he told us before, when he let us
know, that he had brought on Shore two
or three Barrels of Gunpowder, lix or fe-
ven Guns, and ſeveral Piſtols, with Shot
and Bullets, beſides Swords, Axes,
Hatchets, c. Next, I muſt obſerve, that
Robinſon, like other great Wits, has but
a very ſhort Memory; for in Page 66, he
tells
i
( 17 )
tells us, that the Storm had carried the
Wreck or Ship quite out of light ; or, as
he expreſſes it, It blew very hard all that
Night, and in the Morning when I look'd
out, behold no more Ship was to be ſeen;
and yet fix Months after, he tells us,
that looking towards the Wreck, it lay
higher out of the Water than it us’d to do.
I think the Contradiction is pretty plain,
if ſeeing a Thing and not ſeeing it be a
Contradiction.
Not to examine too nicely into Parti-
culars, I ſhall paſs on to Page 155, where
he again falls foul upon the Seamen and
a Seafaring Life. But, alas ! falling
early into the Seafaring Life, which of all
the Lives is moſt deſtitute of the Fear of
God, tho' his Terrors are always before
them; I ſay, falling early into a Seafaring
Life, and into Seafaring Company, all that
little Senſe of Religion which I had enter-
tain’d, was laugh'd out of me by mny Meſs-
mates, by a barden'd deſpiſing of Dangers,
and the views of Death, which grew ha-
bitual to me by my long Abſence from all
manner of Opportunities to converſe with any
thing but what was like myſelf, or to hear
anything that was good or tended towards it.
I have tranſcrib'd theſe Words of your
Hero, honeſt D-n, that I may ſhow
you what an ungrateful and lying Raſcal
D
he
( 18 )
he is; ungrateful in his Return of ſo many
Favours and ſo much Honeſty, which he
had receiv'd from the Maſters of both
the Portugueſe and Engliſh Ships. He be
ſpatters the whole Body of Seafaring Men,
as a Company of inpious Rogues, nay
the
moſt impious and abandon'd of all Man-
kind; and as for his Lying, it is plain, from
his charging them all with profeſt Infideli-
ty, and particularly of laughing him out
of his Fear of God; when, if we may
give Credit to his own Narration, he ne
ver kept Company with Seamen above
three Weeks in all his Life, and that was
from Hull to Yarmouth; and even thoſe
Seamen, Maſter and all included, ſent
up their Prayers to Heaven in their Dif-
treſs. But was Robinſon Cruſoe's Religion
ſo very little ſettled in him, by his Free-
School and Houſe Learning, even at
eighteen Years of Age, as to be laugh'd
out of it in three weeks time by a Com-
pany of ignorant Seamen? They might
perhaps laugh at his Fear of the Storm, they
being made intrepid upon that Account
by Uſe. But, honeſt D-N, I am afraid,
with all your Sagaciouſneſs, you do not
ſufficiently diſtinguiſh between the Fear
of God, and the Fear of Danger to your
own dear Carcaſs. The Fear of God is
an Excellence, a Virtue, a Duty; and, as
the
( 19 )
the Holy Scripture ſays, the Beginning of
Wiſdom; but the Fear of Danger is
mean, ſcandalous, unmanly, a Vice,
and the Beginning of Folly; and, indeed,
incompatible with that Fear of God, of
which you have talk'd ſo much. Forti-
tude is by all acknowledg'd a Virtue,
and of that Intrepidity is likewiſe ac-
knowledg’d a conſiderable Part; and from
hence flows that Contempt of Danger;
which you ſeem to impute to a want of
the Fear of God; whereas, it may with
much more Reaſon, and I hope with
much more Juſtice, be deriv'd from a
firm Confidence in, or a perfect Reſigna-
tion to the Divine Providence in all its
Diſpenſations. It is, indeed, as I have
obſerv'd, plain, that you are very much
miſtaken in your Notion of the Fear of
God, which is a ſort of a Filial Awe
not only conſiſtent with Love; but, in-
deed, a Child of its for Love makes
every one, who is poſſeſs’d by it, afraid
of being guilty of any Thoughts or Acm
tions, which may be diſpleaſing or of
fenſive to the Object belov'd; and this
you would be very ſenſible of, if in all
your Life you had ever lov'd any thing
better than yourſelf. But the Fear, which
you contend for, is a meer abject, wo-
maniſh Pulillanimity, or rank Cowardice,
D2
pers
و
( 20 )
perpetually terrified with thoſe Acci-
dents which all ſublunary Things are na-
turally ſubject to : A Fear, that has been
the Mother of all the moſt dreadful Mif-
chiefs to which Mankind has ow'd great
Part of his Unhappineſs. It has produc'd
both private and publick Murders, De-
vaftations and Ruin of Nations and Peo-
ple; for to this may we juſtly attribute
the inhumane Barbarities of the Spaniards
in the Weſt-Indies, who, ſtimulated by
this Fury, deſtroy'd above one and twen-
ty Millions of People according to their
own Writers: This Fear is the Ground
and Origin of all, or moſt of our Re-
venges; our ſupplanting one another, and
all that Injuſtice and Dishoneſty which is
too viſible in the Tranſactions of the
World: This Fear, therefore, being but
too much ſpread thro’Humankind, it has
been the Care and Study of the Wiſe and
Good of all Polite Nations to root it
as much as poſſible out of the Mind, or
at leaſt ſo far to abate it, as to render its
Effect leſs fatal to our Happineſs. And
yet this is the Fear which you endeavour
to eſtabliſh as the Fear of God, and
meaſure the Piety or Impiety of Men, by
the Share that they have of this; as if
Cowards only could be good Chriſ-
tians. But to return to Coufae, at his
coming
( 21 )
coming to Town, he ſays, he fell into
very good Company, and among the reſt,
into the Acquaintance of a Maſter of a
Guinea Ship, who was extreamly pleas'd
with his Converſation; which, as he
tells us himſelf, was not at that time
to be deſpis’d. Well, he goes to Guinea
with this honeſt Captain, was his Meſs-
mate, and learnt of him during his
Voyage the Art of Navigation; ſo that
he could not have ſo much Tinie upon
his Hands, as to be laugh'd out of his
Religion in his Converſation with the
common Seamen; nor do I think he had
the Opportunity of knowing their Senti-
ments in this particular. It muſt there-
fore be the Captain and his Mate, who
learnt him to deſpiſe God and Religion ;
and he muſt have a ſtrange Alacrity in
Sinking, if he could fall from thoſe ſet-
tled Notions, that a Religious Education
muſt needs have fixt in him, in one
Voyage to Guined ; for this is the only
time, except the Hull Voyage, that he
had convers’d'with Seafaring Men. But
if this were true, he ought not to lay the
Crime of the Captain and his Mate
upon
all the Body of Seamen, fince no Logick
will ever allow arguing from a Particular
to a General; and as it is bad Logick, ſo
it is worfe Religion, to lay the Crime of
Two
27.
( 22 )
Two upon a Million. Early in his next
Voyage he is taken by the Salleeman;
and for the greateſt Part of his fourth
Voyage, he had no Companion but poor
Xury. The Remainder of this Voyage he
made in a Portugueſe Ship, to the Maſter
of which he ow'd, not only his Life then,
but his Riches afterwards, and he was too
ignorant of the Portugueſe Tongue, to
make any Diſcovery of the Vices of that
Ship’s Crew, or of being corrupted by
them; nor could he in his fifth Voyage
from Braſil, to the Time of his being
caſt away, furniſh himſelf with any freſh
Obſervations of this kind, they being for
the moſt part in that Storm which
brought on their Shipwreck, in which he
only eſcap'd. So that upon the whole,
we find that Robinſon Cruſoe, even when
he pretends to repent, is for throwing
the Guilt of his Sin upon others, who,
as far as we can poſſibly diſcover, did
not at all deſerve the Charge; and I
dare believe, that he was in reality the
only Perſon among them, who ever liv'd
ſo many Years without ſaying his Prayers,
or acknowledging God and his Provi-
dence, and is likely therefore rather to
have been the Corrupter, than the Cor-
rupted. But it ſeems he is not yet conie
lo forward towards a true Repentance,
::
as
( 23 )
as to take the whole Guilt on hiinſelf,
which in reality no Body elſe had any
Share in. He ſays, indeed, his Repen-
tance was hinder'd by his Converſation
with none but ſuch as were worſe than
himſelf, and where he never heard men-
tion of any thing that was good. But,
dear D-n, this ſeems another grofs Fib
of your Friend Robinſon, as I hope I have
ſufficiently prov'd in what I have ſaid
up-
on this Head. I have been longer than I
defign'd upon theſe Remarks, and there-
fore ſhall only tranſiently touch upon
ſome few Occurrences of your Book: And
tho' Nonſenſe be too frequent thro' the
whole to merit a particular Remark as
often as it occurs, I can't paſs over
this in Page 164: And now I ſaw how
eaſy it was for the Providence of God to
make the moſt miſerable Condition, Mankind
could be in, worſe. How, Friend D-n!
worſe than the worſt, I thought, that be-
yond the ſuperlative Degree there was
nothing ; I am ſure that Robinſon's School
Learning could not teach him this, per-
haps he had it from his Houſe Learning,
with all the other falſe Grammar, which
is to be found almoſt in every Page, par-
ticularly the Nominative Caſe perpetually
put for the Accuſative. But this is not
worth ſtopping at. To proceed therefore:
Tho
Selain
( 24 )
Tho I cannot ſee how he could let the
Goat out of the Pit, when he ſays it was
lo fierce that he durſt not come near it; yet
let that paſs. He tells us, that he went
out for five or fix Days; he would have
done well to have fatisfied us, not only
how he carried his Proviſions for that long
Time, but alſo what became of his
Goats, who were not milk'd in ſo many
Days; whereas he afterwards tells us,
that three Days Abſence had lik'd to have
Spoild them on that very Account; he
would have done likewiſe well, to have
given his Reaſons why he thought the Sa-
vages more dangerous than the Devil.
Tho' I have a great deal to ſay upon
his Reflections, and their frequent Repe-
tition almoſt in the ſame Words; yet for
Brevity Sake, I ſhall ſay of them all, that
they ſeem brought in only to encreaſe the
Bulk of your Book; they are ſeldom Juſt
or truly Religious; but they have this
terrible Circumſtance, that they demon-
ftrate that the Author has not the Fear of
God before his Eyes. Ludere cum Sacris
is what he has not at all ſcrupl’d; as if he
eſteem'd it no Crimé to ſet off his Fable
with the Words of the Holy Scripture ;
nay, he makes a kind of Sortes Virgiliane
of the Bible, by making Cruſoe dip in-
to it for Sentences to his purpoſe. To
me
( 25 )
the the Impiety of this part of the
Book, in making the Truths of the Bi-
ble of a Piece with the fictitious Story of
Robinſon Cruſoe, is ſo horribly Shocking
that I dare not dwell upon it, but muſt
ſay, that they make me think that this
Book ought to be printed with Vaninus,
the Freethinker, and ſome other Atheiſti-
cal Tracts, which are condemn’d and
held in Abhorrence by all good Chrif-
tians.
It is an odd Whimſy of Cruſoe, to
think of making Malt, which yet he
knew not how to compaſs; whereas, he
might make good Wine with little or no
trouble. But you tell us that your
Friend Robinſon was never in the right in
his Life, and, I think, that you have
pretty well kept up that part of his Chaa
racter, in all that he ſays or does.
In Page 207, and ſeveral ſubſequent
Pages, as 2 34,296, and 342, he preſſes very
earneſtly our ſerious Regard to the ſecreť
Hints and Impulſes of the Mind, of which
we can give no Rational Account. But I
muſt tell him, that this is only the Effect
of a blind ſuperſtitious Fear, which ought
not to be minded by any Man of com-
mon Senſe or Religion. We read, indeed,
of the Demon of Socrates, who generally
gave him notice and warning of apy Evil
E
that
( 26 )
that threaten’d him: Cardan,a Modern Itar
lian, pretended to the ſame, but has been
laugh'd at for that Pretence by all the
Learned Men who n.ention it : There
have likewiſe been ſome Enthufiaftick
Papiſts, who have believ'd that ſome of
their Şaints had done them the ſame Fa-
vour; but for a Proteſtant to recommend
this Superſtition, is ſomething extraordi-
nary. But here the Dregs of Popery ſtill
hang about Mr. Cruſoe.
I would ask Mr. Cruſoe, how he could
ſee the faucer Eyes of the Goat in the
Çave, when he tells us it was ſo dark
that he could ſee nothing there; this is
not helpt by ſaying, that a Ray of the
Light ſtruck thro' the Mouth of the
Cave, for then there was Light, which
he fays there was not; and if there was,
then he might have ſeen the Goat's Bo-
dy as well as his Eyes.
He tells us that his Man Friday would
not eat Salt, but we ſee not how he him-
ſelf had any to eat; well, we'll ſuppoſe
he had made it out of the Sea Water.
He tvould have done well likewiſe to
have told us how Friday could make his
eſcape, ſince he aſſures us that the Victims
were all bound till executed; but pera
haps this Caution was made uſe of after
Friday had made his eſcape. He agrees
with
.
3
(27)
with the Spaniard and Friday's Father,
that they ſhould bring a Contract in
Writing, under the Hands of the other
Spaniards, tho' he knew they had neither
Pen, Ink, nor Paper ; nay, he had
done well if he had inform'd us, how he
could give them Inſtructions in Writing,
when his Ink was gone ſo many Years
before.
Well, Cruſoe at laſt, and his Man Fri
day, get away from his and into Eng-
land, and from thence he makes a
Voyage to Portugal, where having ſet-
tled all his Affairs and found himſelf a
Rich Man, in obedience to his ſecret
Hints, he reſolves not to go by Şea back,
but thro? Spain and France by Land, and
fo only croſs the Seas from Calais to Do-
uer. All that happens in this Land
Journey worth taking Norice of, is the
monſtrous Story of his Man Friday and
the Bedt ; they are pafling the Pyreneart
Mountains thro' a very great Snow, the
Roads were ſo infeſted with Wolves, that
two of them fell upon their Guide, and
wounded him and his Horſe, before Fri-
day could come up and ſhoot them; but
notwithſtanding this Wound of the Guide,
and the howling of the Wolves all about,
and that it was within two Hours of
Night, and they had near tliree Leagues
E 2
to
( 28 )
to ride in the Snow, he makes a matter
of thirty Paſſengers, and the wounded
Guide, ſtand ſtill in the Cold, to ſee
Friday make laugh, as he calls it, with
a Bear, that by chance came that Way.
Friday pulls off his Boots and claps on his
Pumps, runs to the Bear and takes up a
great Stone, which he throws at him; but
how Friday could pick up a great Stone
in a Place all cover'd deep with Snow,
I know not; nor can I tell, how Friday
came to know the Nature of the Bear,
ſince that is a Creature, which is never
found in ſuch a warm Climate, as Fri-
day's Country muſt needs be, ſince it was
ſo near the Equinox : I believe it is equal-
ly true, that the whole Company laugh'd
at Friday's managing the Beaſ; but, in-
deed, this Book ſeems calculated for the
Mob, and will not bear the Eye of a ra-
tional Reader. Well, Robinſon at laſt
gets again to London, marries, has three
Children; he is near fixty five Years of
Age, which one would think was old
enough to leave off Rambling, having
eſpecially a plentiful Fortune; yet he
tells us, that he takes a Trip, as it were
for Pleaſure, to his old Illand in America,
and thence to Braſil, and ſo rambles
about till ſeventy five Years of Age, and
how much longer I know not, an Ac-
count
( 29 )
count of which he promiſes in his next
Volume. I hope, dear D-N, that you
have taken more care of Probability and
Religion than you have in this; tho' I
am afraid you are too harden'd a Sinner in
theſe Particulars, to give us any Proof in
your Works of your ſincere Repentance,
which yet is heartily wiſh'd you, by
Your Friend and Servant, &c.
POSTSCRIPT.
Having juſt run thro' the firſt Volume
and clos'd my Letter, I was told that
the ſecond Volume was at laſt come out.
I was too much tir'd with the Badneſs of
the Road in my firſt Journey, to venture
upon another the ſame way, without
reſting to recover my Patience, of which
I was to have ſufficient uſe in my paſſing
thro' the ſecond Part. I am afraid that
Robinſon Cruſoe reſery'd ſo much Opiume
for his own Uſe, when he diſpos'd of the
reſt to the Merchant of Japan, that he
has ſcarce been thoroughly awake ever
fince; and has communicated that ſom-
niferous Quality of the Drug to his
Writing thro' the whole fecond Part,
which every where prepares you for
Sleep;
( 30
)
you tell
Sleep; to avoid a Lethargy therefore, 1
fhall not dwell upon it, and its perpetual
Succeſſion of Abſurdities, but only touch
upon ſome few, which may ſerve for
Samples of the whole. I cannot, how-
ever, omit taking particular Notice of
the Editor's Preface, becauſe it is not on-
ly written by the fame Hand, but alſo
very ſingular in its kind : You begin with
a Boaſt of the Succeſs of your Book, and
which you ſay deſerves that Succeſs by
its Merits, that is, Tbe ſurprizing Variety
of the Subject, and the agreeable Mana
ner of the Performance
. It's well
us fo yourſelf
, the judicious Reader elſe
muſt have been puzzeļd to find out the
Myſtery of its Succeſs
. For firſt, as to the
Variety of the Subject, it will be a hard
Matter to make that good, ſince it's ſpread
out into at leaſt five and twenty Sheets,
clog'd with Moral Reflections, as you
are pleas'd to call then, every where in-
fipid and aukward, and in many Places
of no manner of Relation to the Occa-
fion on which they are deliver’d, beſides
being much larger than neceſſary, and
frequently impious and prophane; and al-
ways canting are the Reflections which
you are pleas'd to call religious and uſe-
ful, and the brighteſt Ornaments of your
Book, tho’in reality they were put in by
you
i
( 31 )
you to lwell the Bulk of
up to a five Shilling Book, whereas,
the Want of Variety in yourSubject
would never have made it reach to half
the Pricę; nay, as it is, you have been
forc'd to give us the fame Reflections
over and over again, as well as repeat
the fame Fact afterwards in a Journal,
which you had told us before in a plain
Narration. So agreeable is the Manner
of your performance! which is render'd
more ſo by the excelliye Sterility of your
Expreſſion, being fore’d perpetually to
ſay the fame Things in the very felf fame
Words four or five times over in one
Page; which puts me in Mind of what
Hudibras ſays,
Would it not make one ſtrange
That ſome Mens Fancies should ne'en change,
But always make them do and ſay
The ſelf fame Things the ſelf Fame Way?
Another agreeable Thing in the Perfor-
mance is, that every Page is full of Sp+
leciſms or falſe Grammar. However, this
may be, for ought I know, a very agreet
able Performance to moſt of your Buy-
ers.
.: Your next Triumph is, that the Re-
proaches of your Book as a Romance,
and
( 32 )
and as being guilty of bad Geographiy,
Contradi&tions, and the like, have prov'd
Abortive (I ſuppoſe you mean ineffectu-
al) and as impotent as malicious; but
hére, as well as in other Places, you are
guilty of a great Abuſe of Words: For
firſt, they have not been impotent, ſince all
but the very Canaille are ſatisfied by them
of the Worthleſsneſs of the Performance;
nor can the expoſing the Weakneſs and
Folly of any aſſuming and ignorant Scrib-
bler' be properly callid malicious ; they
who malign eminent Worth, may, in-
deed, deſerve ſuch a Name; but what
hath been ſaid of, or done againſt ſuch an
incoherent Piece as Robinſon Cruſoe, can
at worſt be only call’d Indignation; and
that was what the eminent Satiriſt was
not aſham'd to own, as the Motive and
Support of his Verſes.
Si Natura negat facit Indignatio verſun.
And thus I may ſay of my preſent Let:
ter to you ; that if want of Genius for-
bid my Writing at all, that Defed is
largely ſupplied by Indignation, not Ma-
lice or Envy; for Folly and Ignorance
can never produce them. However, I
find that theſe Endeavours you feeni to
contemn as impotent, have yet had ſo
great
( 33 )
great a Forcę upon yourſelf, as to make
you more than tacitly confeſs, tliat your
Book is nothing but a Romance. You
ſay, indeed, The juſt Application of every
Incident, the religious and uſeful Inferences
drawn from every Part, are ſo many Teſti-
monies to the good Deſign of making it Pub,
lick, and muſt Legitimate all the Part that
тау
be called Invention of Parable in the
Story. But when it is plain that there are
no true, uſeful or juſt Inferences drawn
from any of the Incidents; when Reli-
gion has ſo little to do in any part of
theſe Inferences; when it is evident that
what
you call Religion, is only to mif-
lead the Minds of Men to reject the Dic-
tates of Reaſon, and embrace in its
Room a meer ſuperſtitious Fear of I
know not what Inſtin£t from unbodied
Spirits; when you impiouſly prophane
the very Name of Providence, by allot-
ting to it either contradictory Offices, or
an unjuſt Partiality: I think we may
juſtly ſay, that the Deſign of the Publi-
cation of this book was not ſufficient to
juſtify and make Truth of what you al-
low to be Fiction and Fable; what you
mean by Legitimating, Invention and Pa-
rable, I know not; unleſs you would
have us think, that the Manner of your
telling a Lie will make it a Truth. One
F
may
( 34 )
may ſay a great deal in Anſwer to what
you urge againſt the Abridgment of your
Book, but it is too abſurd to dwell
upon,
and againſt the Practice of all Ages and
all Nations : What think you, honeſt
D-n, of the Hiſtory of Juſtin? was not
that an Abridgnient of Trogus Pompeius,
whoſe long Hiſtory of the World is loft,
and the Abridgment of Juſtin remains to
this Day? nor can I find that ever he
was ſtigmatiz'd for it with a Crinte as
bad as Robbing on the Highway. What
think you of Darius Tibertus, a Modern
Italian, who abridg'd the Lives of Plu-
tarch in the Latin Tongue? what do you
fuppoſe of the Abridgment of the Vo-
luminous Hiſtory of Guarini? what of
the Latin Abridgment of Pliny? what
think you of the great Fontinel? (for I
think I may call him great, after what
Sir William Temple Iras laid of him) he
tells you himſelf, in his - Preface to his
Hiſtory of Oracles, that this Book is but
an Abridgment of van Dale, who writ a
prolix Treatiſe upon that Subject. But
not to dwell upon Foreigners, we have
a hundred Inſtances in our own Tongue
of the like Practice, in many of which
Bookfellers of undoubted Probity have
been concern'd ; indeed, there is this
to be ſaid, that moſt of theſe Abridg-
nents
(35)
ments have been of Books of a real
intrinſick Value ; but yours might for
me have continu'd unabridg'd, and ſtill
retain'd all its brighteſt Ornaments, as you
call them; but if the omitting of thoſe
be the only Fault of the Abridgment, I
can't but think his Work more valuable
than the Original, nor do I ſee that he
has done your Proprietor any damage,
ſince he baas left to your larger Volume
all thoſe Beauties you are fo fond of, and
may, indeed, be ſaid to be only an Ad-
vertiſer of them to thoſe that have them
not. If he has preſerv'd the Fable entire,
the Judicious will not want your clum-
fy and tedious Reflections to recom-
mend it ; for, indeed, by what you ſay,
you ſeem not to underſtand the very Na-
ture of a Fable, which is a fort of Wri-
ting which has always been eſteemid by
the wiſeſt and beſt of Men to be of great
uſe to the Inſtruction of Mankind, but
then this Uſe and Inſtruction Mhould nati-
rally and plainly ariſe from the Fable it-
ſelf, in an evident and uſeful Moral, either
expreft or underſtood; but this is too large
a Subject to go thro', and to ſhew that
by the Rules of Art you have not attain'd
any one End or Aim of a Writer of
Fables in the Tale that you have given
LS, I ſhall therelore proceed to thoſe few
F 2
Re-
( 36 )
you fay
.
Remarks, which I have made in a curſory
reading of your ſecond Part.
The firſt Thing I remark, is, that you
are at your Dreams again Page 3d and
4th ; for moſt of the Religion of
your
Book conſiſts in Dreams. The next Thing
I ſhall juſt hint at,
is what
about the three Pirate Sailors in the ſame
Page --So if I had bang’d them all, I had
been much in the right, and ſhould have
been juſtifiable both by the Laws of God and
Man, the contrary of which Aſſertion is
directly true, viz. That if you had hang’d
them all, you had been guilty of down-
right Murther by all the Laws of God
and Man; for pray, ſweet Siſ, what Au-
thority had Robinſon Cruſoe ſo much as to
fine, or inflict any Puniſhment upon any
Man
Some Follies, I find, are like ſome Dil-
tempers, catching: Thus, Madam Cruſoe,
by converſing with her wiſe Husband, ex-
travagantiy fancies his fantaſtick Whim-
fies to be the Impulſe of Divine Provi-
dence, ibid.
Againſt the next Edition of your
Book, profound Da, I wiſh you
would take the Pains to explain the fol-
lowing Piece of Nonſenſe, ſo far as to
make it intelligible; for I can meet with
no Body, no, not the moſt skill'd in the
ab:
( 37 )
abſtruſer Sciences, that can ſo much as
gueſs what you would be at. I tranſcribe
them for your ſerious Conſideration, No-
thing can be a greater Demonſtration of a fu-
ture State, and of the Exiſtence of an invi-
ſible World, than the Concurrence of ſecond
Cauſes with the Ideas of Things, which we
forin in our Minds, perfectly reſerv'd and not
communicated to any in the World, Page
10; and in Page 12, he is making it a
reſiſting of Providence, if he did not go
a rambling at about fixty five Years of
Age. I only note this en paſſant, to re-
mind you of what noble Offices
you
af-
ſign to the Divine Providence, by attri-
buting to the Impulſe of that all Things
that are irrational; a very pious Notion
of the eternal Divine Wiſdom! I ſhall
only obſerve on that odd Account, given
Page 20, of the extravagant Joy of the
French that were fav'd by Cruſoe, when
their Ship was burnt, that they were cer-
tainly a Ship-load of extreme Cowards or
Madmen ; for nothing but the Extremity
of Cowardice or Lunacy could ever pro-
duce fo general a Diſtraction. It is con-
feſs’d, that unexpected Deliverances will
have ſtrange Effects upon ſome very few
particular People, but then this Delive-
fance muſt be very ſudden and very un-
ex-
( 38 )
expected ; but this is not the Caſe here;
for all the Time the Ship was burning,
Cruſoe diſcharg'd Guns to let them know
that Relief was at Hand; and all the
Night after, when the Flame of the burnt
Ship was extinguiſh'd by the Sea, the
fame Cruſoe ſet out Lights upon his Ship,
and frequently diſcharg'd Guns to direct
the Boats loaded with the Crew of the
burnt Ship towards their Safety, which
they found could not be far off; and to-
wards which, by this Means, they might
every Minute make ſome approach; fo
that Hope was not gone, no not for one
Minute, which makes all thoſe extrava-
gant Effects of Joy utterly improbable;
nay, I may fay, inipoſſible.
I ſhall paſs Friday's ſpeaking broken
Engliſh twelve Years after he had been
with his Maſter, and almoſt as unintelli-
gibly, as after he had been with him
but twelve Days ; nor ſhall I ſtop long
upon the Spaniards Prognoſticating Hu-
mour, from Dreams and unaccountable
Whimſies, becauſe the Spaniard ſeems to
have learnt this by dwelling ſo long in
Cruſoe's Habitation; for he has the fame
Notion of ſecret Correſpondence betwixt
unbodied and embodied Spirits, which
Cruſoe every where avows. But, dear
Dam, you have forgot yourſelf, you
make
( 39 )
make a Spaniard ſpeak here, the moſt bi-
gotted of all Papiſts ; and therefore it
had been niore natural for him to have
attributed this ſecret Intelligence to Saint
Fago, or the Bleſſed Virgin, or even to
his Angel Guardian: But, indeed, you
frequently forget the Religion of your
Speaker, and make the Spaniard in your
firſt Part quote Scripture Inſtances, which
he could never be ſuppos'd to have read
in all his Life, or ever heard mention'd.
But to go on, for I will ſay nothing of
the Savages Landing in the Night to
make their Feaſt; for they are your Sa-
vages, and you may make them go
where and when you pleaſe, and for
what you pleaſe. I ſhall paſs, therefore,
on to Cruſoe's Learned Diſcourſe with the
French Popiſh Prieſt in Page 146, &c.
which has, indeed, as grofs Marks of
Falfhood and inartificial Fiction, as any
thing in your Book: You make the Prieſt
call the Living of the four Engliſhmen
with their Indian Wives (becauſe unmar-
ried according to the Laws and Cuſtoms
of any Chriſtian Country) Adultery. Had
Cruſoe call'd it ſo it might have been tole-
rable, and have paſs’d for the Ignorance
of a Seafaring Man; but to make a Prieſt
talk ſo, whole Trade it is to know the
diſtinct
..
( 40 )
diſtinct Names of every Sin, is a plain
Proof that all this came out of thy in-
ventive Noddle. For you muſt know,
Friend Day that all Carnal Com-
merce between two ſingle Perſons is cal-
led Fornication, and not Adultery; Adul.
tery is when a married Woman or a
married Man has this criminal Commerce
with any other but her Husband, or his
Wife: How, therefore, a Romiſ Prieſt
Should tell Cruſoe, that his Engliſhmen
without Marriage would live in continual
Adultery, is what you would do well
to make out ; for I am fatisfy'd, no Prieſt
in Chriſtendom would call it by any
other Name but Fornication. Nor has that
a better Face of Truth, which you make
the Popish Prieſt ſpeak about Idolatry,
Page 150; where, in the Perſon of the
Popish Prieſt, he complements Popery
with a known and intolerable Lie, where
he makes him expreſs his Zeal for bring-
ing the Indians over to the Chriſtian Re-
ligion in general; nay, even to the making
of them Proteſtants: Now it is very well
known, that the Papiſts in general, and
much more a zealous Popiſh Prieſt and
Miſſionary, do not allow any Heretick,
as they call all Proteſtants, any better
Place in the next World than that of
eter-
ay
( 41 )
eternal Damnation; ſo that unleſs he
brought the Pagans over entirely to Po-
pery, he muſt throw away all his Labour
and Pains, in his own opinion, as niuch
as if he had done nothing at all
. Of the
fame abſurd Nature is all that paſſes be
twixt the Prieſt and Atkins ; for tho' At
kins knows him not to be a Popiſh Prieſt,
he knows very well that Atkins is an
Engliſh Proteſtant Heretick, and, there-
fore, that he ſhall ſet him no nearer to
Salvation by the Repentance he per-
ſwaded him to, than if he had left him
where he found him. Well, Atkins's Wife
gets to be chriſten'd by this Means, and
is married to her Husband, as Jack of all
Trades is to the young Woman taken up
at Sea; but for the reſt, we hear no more
of their Marriage, than of Friday's be-
ing chriſtend himſelf, during his twelve
Years Service with that Zealous Teacher
of the Chriſtian Religion Robinſon-Gris-
ſoe.
I ſhall not quit this Popiſh Prieſt, till
I have ſaid fomething upon a Point, fou
which he is recommended to our Ad-
miration by this ſame Proteſtant Coufoe;
and that is, upon the Popiſh Miſſiona-
ries being ſent about the World to make
Converts from one Idolatry to another,
G
from
( 42 )
from a leſs to a greater ; that is, from
Paganiſm to Popery. Well, let us hear
what the Prieſt ſays in Page 151. It is
a Maxim, Sir, that is,' or ought to be
receiv'd among all Chriſtians, of what
Church or prétended Church ſoever, (viz.)
That Chriſtian Knowledge ought to be
propagated by all poſſible Means, and
on all poſſible Occaſions. 'Tis on this
Principle that our Church fends Miſſiona-
ries into Perſia, India, and China'; and
that our Clergy, even of the ſuperior Sort,
willingly engage in the moſt hazardous
Voyages, and ibe inoſt dangerous Reſidence
among Murtherers and Barbarians, to teach
them the Knowledge of the true God, and
to bring them over to embrace the Chriſtian
Faith.
There is ſcarce one Word of Truth in
all this Quotation; and it is only dreſt up
in Words, that are calculated to give the
Proteſtant Reader an agreeable Idea of
Popery, on purpoſe to ſmooth the Way,
as far as his little Abilities can do it, for
the Popiſh Superſtition to enter theſe
Kingdoms ; that the Popiſh Church does,
indeed, ſend Miſſionaries to theſe three
Places, mention'd in the Quotation, and
fome others, is certainly true. I do con-
fels that they will roam about the
World
-
nomen met
(43)
World to make one Proſelite, but then
it is as true, that they make this Proſe-
lite ten times more the Child of the Dea
vil than he was before, it is true, I ſay,
that they do fend their Clergy abroad,
but not their ſuperiour Clergy, as this
Quotation fallly afferts, but Feſuits and
ſome other regular Orders; nor is their
Buſineſs in reality to bring the Pagans to
the Knowledge of the true God and the
Chriſtian Religion, but to carry on a pri-
vate interloping Trade, by which they
bring in vaſt Treaſures into their particu-
lar Orders. What ſort of Chriſtians
they make, is evident from that great
Noiſe and Stir; which has been made
ſome Years before the Congregation De
Propaganda Fide in Rome itſelf; where it
has been prov'd, even by Roman Catho-
lics, that the Jeſuit Miſſionaries in China
have only incorporated the Heathen Re-
ligion of that place into that which the
Romish Church profeſſes; and that they
have admitted Confucius into the Kalen-
dar among the Saints, to be pray'd to, as
well as St. Peter and St. Paul, and the
Virgin Mary. Dear Da-, art thou not
now afhand of having brought in ſuch
notorious Fallities in the Defence of Po-
pery? If Zeal for the Propagating the
G1
Gof
( 44 )
Prieſt's Reaſoning, which yet is lo very
Gofpei of Chriſt were the Motive that
ſet theſe Itinerant Preachers to work, why
do they'not go to the poor Tartars, whole
Ignorance and Idolatry you do pretend
to deſcribe ? why do they not go to the
poor Laplanders and Samoides, where
there is nothing to be got; no Traffick to
he eſtabliſh'd beneficial enough to warm
their Zeal, and make it travel for the
Converſion of Souls in thoſe cold Coun-
tries? why do they ſeek all the richer
and more gainful Pare of the World for
their Miffion. But to go on with thefe
fort of Queries, would be to fwell my
Poſtfeript to a nuch greater Bulk than
I deſign. From that has been ſaid, I be-
lieve, it may be pretty plain, that this
fending of Miſſionaries of the Popiſh
Church, is a mere Political Trick, with-
out the leaſt Tincture of true Reli
gion.
I have been ſo long upon this, that
I fhall fiy nothing of honeit Robinſon's
being opprefs'd by the Power of the
weak and falſe as I have ſhow'd you ;
or proceed to a particular Confutation of
what the Prieſt advances upon Matri-
mony, tho' in many Things very- falſe,
But it is obfervable that Coufoe, after all
the
( 45 )
1
the Zeal of the Popiſh Prieſt againſt the
Pirates living with their Indian Wives
without Marriage, ſends from Brafil
ſeveral Women for the Uſe of the Spani-
ards; who were not before married; and
that without ſending any Prieſt with
them to marry them.
I ſhall paſs over, likewiſe, the Maid's
Diſcourſe upon Starving, becauſe I can-
not ſee that it is any ways entertaining
or inſtructive, but a very clumſy Pro-
duct of the moſt unphilofophical Head in
the World.
And I ſhall only ask you, how a Man
ſhould chuſe any particular Way or Voca-
tion of Life, if he muſt not take his own
Judgment; for this is plainly to tell uş,
that Man muſt chuſe no Way nor Voca-
tion at all, fince you will not allow'him
the only Means of chuſing which God
and Nature has given him: This is the
plain Engliſh of your Aſſertion in Page
218. From hence I fall skip to Page
302, where there is a very particular
Blunder or Contradiction ; for he firſt
tells you, that the Horſe the Chineſe Man
darin rid upon, was a poor lean Creature,
not worth above 30 or 40 Shillings; and
yet preſently after, in Page 304, he ſays,
that there was not a Horſe in the Reti-
nue
(46)
mue of the Mandarin, but was ſo cover'd
with Equipage, Mantles, Trappings, and
ſuch like Trumpery; that you cannot ſee
whether they are Fat or Lean :, In a Word,
we could ſcarce fee any thing but their Feet
and their Heads
Before I follow him out of China, I
Shall only add one Word or two on his
Account of that famous Kingdom, which,
contrary to all thoſe who have really been
there, he makes a moſt deſpicable Place;
where there is nothing of Politeneſs or
Learning; but that Singularity of yours
will never perſwade us to think, that the
Writer of it was ever nearer to Pequin
than London: And, therefore, I ſhall not
doubt but chat Sir William Temple fol-
low'd as jult Relations of this Country,
as any Mr. De Fme could pretend to
meet with, who makes it the moſt Po-
lite and magnificent Empire in the
World.
Well, I am quite tii'd with your Jour-
ney of the Caravan, and can but juſt
take Notice of Robinſon Cruſoe and the
Scotchman's burning one of the Tartarian
Gods, at the Hazard, not only of their
own Lives, but of all the reſt of the Cara-
van, which muſt certainly have follow'd,
had not the Ingenuity of a Tartar in their
Res
( 47 )
.:
Retinue turn'd off the Storm, and ſet the
ten thouſand Tartars upon a wrong Scent,
which ſhould lead them, at leaſt, five
hundred Miles out of their way. And
here I conclude, ſatisfied with having
check'd that Vanity which is ſo apparent
in both your Volumes, eſpecially in the
Preface to your laſt, by offering ſome
few only of that Multitude of Abſur-
dities and Profaneneſs of which both
Parts are full; for to have touch'd
upon
every one, would have ſwelld my Re-
marks to the Bigneſs of at leaſt one of
your Volumes. But ex pede Herculem,
ex ungue Leoném, a ſmall Sample is fuffi-
cient to give a Taſte of the whole.
The Chriſtian Religion and the Doc-
trines of Providence are too Sacred to be
deliver'd in Fictions and Lies, nor was
this Method ever propos'd or follow'd
by any true Sons of the Goſpel; it is
what has been, indeed, made uſe of by
the Papiſts in the Legends of their
Saints, the Lying Wonders of which
are by length of Time grown into ſuch
Authority with that wretched People,
that they are at laſt ſubſtituted in the
Place of the Holy Scriptures themſelves
.
For the Evil Conſequences of allowing
Lies to mingle with the Holy Truths of
Re-
( 48 )
i
Religion, is the certain Seed of Atheifmi
and utter Irreligion ; whether, therefore,
you ought to make a publick Recanta-
cion of your Conduct in this Particular, I
leave to yourſelf.
F 1 N 1 s.
مرور لمرور بملر
رو مرره . زمانی
506
( = =
4
دارد و مسار
, میں
بز
.
LIFE. K , OE D DE FOE -Ι7Ι9.