In the second chapter of the novel, Robinson uses personification and metaphor to exaggerate the might of the ocean:
I expected every wave would have swallowed us up, and that every time the ship fell down, as I thought, in the trough or hollow of the sea, we should never rise more.
This quote comes from the first storm that Robinson experiences. He personifies the ocean, describing it as a living force that is capable of swallowing up the ship and everyone aboard. This image of the swallowing ocean returns later in the hurricane that results in the shipwreck.
In the second storm that Robinson experiences, he says that the "sea went mountains high" and that this tempestuous experience makes his heart die. The metaphor of the ocean as mountainous returns several times throughout the novel.
Through this hyperbolic language, Robinson identifies the ocean as one of his fiercest opponents early on in the narrative. Not only does he emphasize that he had naively and grossly underestimated the power of the sea before his first voyage, he also makes it clear that he will be at the mercy of the ocean throughout the narrative and for the rest of his seafaring life.
Even in his most isolated periods on the island, Robinson takes comfort and pride in being the king of the island. In his journals, he uses kingship as an extended metaphor for his position of power. In his view, the island is his dominion. He even refers to one of his abodes as a castle, and another one as a country seat—"as most princes have."
The metaphor of Robinson as king is not simply a literary device, as the character genuinely sees himself as a sort of king or lord, with a sovereign right to his territory. This is evident in Chapter 7, when he explores the island and is impressed by his dominion:
I descended a little on the side of that delicious vale, surveying it with a secret kind of pleasure, (tho' mixt with my other afflicting thoughts) to think that this was all my own, that I was king and lord of all this country indefeasibly, and had a right of possession; and if I could convey it, I might have it in inheritance, as compleatly as any lord of a manor in England.
The diction in this passage sheds light on the degree to which Robinson actually sees himself as a sovereign presiding over the island. The word "delicious" in the first sentence speaks to Robinson's craving for ownership over the island. He goes on to admit that he surveys it with pleasure, expressing that he sees it as "all [his] own," and calls himself "king and lord...indefeasibly." In his view, his right of possession is so clear-cut that there is no chance that it would be challenged or overturned. Just as he reasons that he has a country seat like any prince would, he compares himself to lords in England, who have a right of inheritance to their manors.
In Chapter 22, once Robinson has human companions on the island, his view of himself as king is accentuated. Formerly, his subjects were animals. Now, he has power over real human subjects. Robinson relishes the reliance that these subjects have on him, and the hierarchy that he reigns over:
My island was now peopled, and I thought my self very rich in subjects; and it was a merry reflection which I frequently made, how like a king I look'd. First of all, the whole country was my own meer property; so that I had an undoubted right of my dominion. Secondly, my people were perfectly subjected....
The gradual gratitude he feels towards life on the island is inextricably linked to his colonial, power-hungry impulses. Robinson is able to feel content to live on the island first of all because he comes to see it as his property and second of all because he acquires real humans to reign over. He claims earlier in the novel that he is content to live on the island without human beings around him, but passages like this reveal his deep-seated need for hierarchies and other humans for his sense of self. The metaphor of Robinson as king reminds the reader never to forget that Robinson's life and beliefs are profoundly shaped by the ideas underpinning European colonialism.
Robinson uses a number of metaphors to describe the ocean throughout the novel. To emphasize the size of its waves, for example, he calls the sea mountainous and hilly. Additionally, after having lived on the island for a few years, he compares the ocean to a prison:
[...] and my very heart would die within me, to think of the woods, the mountains, the desarts I was in; and how I was a prisoner lock'd up with the eternal bars and bolts of the ocean, in an uninhabited wilderness, without redemption: In the midst of the greatest composures of my mind, this would break out upon me like a storm, and make me wring my hands, and weep like a child.
Living on a desolate island, Robinson is at the mercy of the ocean. Until the shipwreck occurred, he saw the ocean as a means of escape and adventure—it was a highway to other parts of Europe and the world. In his perspective, the ocean wasn't something that kept him in place, but rather something that made it possible for him to go elsewhere. After the shipwreck, however, he learns that the ocean has just as much power to imprison and confine. In a period when the ocean was associated with discovery, prosperity, and opportunity, Robinson is confronted by one of the downsides of this hubristic drive for exploration.
After several years on the island, Robinson has grown increasingly content with his life. He finds community in his animals and comfort in God, and expresses his gratitude for the food, tools, and other provisions he has access to. He even begins to tell himself that he prefers this life over one among other people.
This contentment is signaled by a metaphor in which he compares the island to a table:
"How mercifully can our great Creator treat his creatures, even in those conditions in which they seem'd to be overwhelm'd in destruction. How can he sweeten the bitterest Providences, and give us cause to praise him for dungeons and prisons. What a table was here spread for me in a wilderness, where I saw nothing at first but to perish for hunger!"
In the second sentence, he is referring to the anguish that he himself felt in his first few years on the island. During this time, Robinson came to compare the ocean to a prison, lamenting over the circumstances that had led him to be so confined. At this part of the novel, however, the tide has begun to turn. This change is partly a result of developments in his environment—as he has built enough tools and shelter to feel comfortable there—but most of all a result of internal developments, relating to his manner of seeing things. For one, Robinson has more wholeheartedly turned towards God. In addition, he has begun to appreciate the ways in which his life of isolation liberates him from many of the difficult parts of living in society.
In the third sentence, Robinson compares the island to a table. This table has, in his view, been set for him by none other than God. (In fact, the metaphor may be an allusion to the famous Twenty-Third Psalm, which includes the verse, "Thou [God] preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.") Because Robinson has begun to see his life in a new light, he is able to feel grateful for circumstances he used to bemoan. Thus, the metaphor in part exemplifies Robinson's gratitude.
However, the metaphor also speaks to another side of Robinson's manner of seeing things. From the Age of Exploration onwards, Europeans used Christianity to justify their exploitation of lands and enslavement of people in other parts of the world. When Robinson expresses that God has set this table—offered the island—to him, he is not merely expressing his gratitude for his place of residence. He is also suggesting that it is God's unequivocal will for him to be on an island in this part of the world, to make use of the resources it possesses, and to eventually subjugate the people he may encounter upon it. The metaphor both emphasizes Robinson's ability to be grateful for a lonely, harsh life and the way his mindset has been shaped by the assumptions of the colonial era.
Robinson twice refers to Providence's checker work, reflecting on his fate and God's decisions for him. Checker work is work that features a checkered pattern, where either the colors or materials vary alternately, like on a chess board. Fascinated by the frequency with which his fortunes keep changing throughout his life, Robinson uses the metaphor of "checquer work" to describe God's plans for him.
After finding the footprint on the shore in Chapter 14, Robinson is entertained and bewildered by his fear of humans. Cut off from humankind, one would think that seeing "one of [his] own species" would have felt like "the greatest blessing that Heaven itself...could bestow" for Robinson, yet it's the last thing he wants for himself:
"How strange a checquer work of Providence is the life of man! and by what secret differing springs are the affections hurry'd about, as differing circumstances present! To day we love what to morrow we hate; to day we seek what to morrow we shun; to day we desire what to morrow we fear."
He again invokes Providence's checker work in Chapter 26, the last chapter of the novel. Reflecting on the unexpected fluctuations in his life, he seems content with the narrative he has given to his reader.
"And thus I have given the first part of a life of fortune and adventure, a life of Providence's checquer-work, and of a variety which the world will seldom be able to shew the like of."
Because the novel is recounted posteriorly, the narrator is at all points aware of how things will turn out for him. Robinson the narrator knows as much at the end of the novel as he did in the beginning. Although he mostly does not reveal what will happen next, aside from certain instances of foreshadowing, Robinson does often marvel at providence and the changing tides of his life. Here, at the very end of the novel, he can finally discuss the story with the reader more openly, because he has disclosed everything he has to disclose. He anticipates the reader's awe at the range of events that has transpired, and agrees that his life has profoundly and unusually been shaped by "Providence's checquer-work."
Robinson uses "the great lamp of instruction" as a metaphor for knowledge of Christianity and his own understanding of civilization. In his view, people who know of the Christian God are enlightened by the great lamp. Everyone else suffers in a world of dimness.
"And this made me very melancholy sometimes, in reflecting as the several occasions presented, how mean a use we make of all these, even though we have these powers enlighten'd by the great lamp of instruction, the spirit of God, and by the knowledge of his Word, added to our understanding; and why it has pleas'd God to hide the like saving knowledge from so many millions of souls, who if I might judge by this poor savage, would make a much better use of it than we did."
Christianity and its supposed enlightenment were at the forefront of European colonization. Europeans like Robinson viewed Christianity as a justification for subjugating people in the Americas and Africa—as they saw it, they were not colonizing, but rather evangelizing and educating people. The idea went that these colonial subjects had been robbed of the great lamp of instruction that Europeans had access to, and that it was therefore the Christian duty of Europeans to share this access—gaining valuable territory and resources along the way.
The passage demonstrates that Robinson is perplexed by his initial interactions with Friday. Even if Friday has been robbed of the "great lamp," he still has
the same powers, the same reason, the same affections, the same sentiments of kindness and obligation, the same passions and resentments of wrongs; the same sense of gratitude, sincerity, fidelity, and all the capacities of doing good, and receiving good.
Although Robinson does not proceed far enough with this train of thought to radically overturn his assumption that Christianity is the only way to be truly enlightened, he does begin to question his entire belief system. He struggles to understand why some people have been given access to the great lamp while "so many millions of souls" are fundamentally cut off from it.
Even in his most isolated periods on the island, Robinson takes comfort and pride in being the king of the island. In his journals, he uses kingship as an extended metaphor for his position of power. In his view, the island is his dominion. He even refers to one of his abodes as a castle, and another one as a country seat—"as most princes have."
The metaphor of Robinson as king is not simply a literary device, as the character genuinely sees himself as a sort of king or lord, with a sovereign right to his territory. This is evident in Chapter 7, when he explores the island and is impressed by his dominion:
I descended a little on the side of that delicious vale, surveying it with a secret kind of pleasure, (tho' mixt with my other afflicting thoughts) to think that this was all my own, that I was king and lord of all this country indefeasibly, and had a right of possession; and if I could convey it, I might have it in inheritance, as compleatly as any lord of a manor in England.
The diction in this passage sheds light on the degree to which Robinson actually sees himself as a sovereign presiding over the island. The word "delicious" in the first sentence speaks to Robinson's craving for ownership over the island. He goes on to admit that he surveys it with pleasure, expressing that he sees it as "all [his] own," and calls himself "king and lord...indefeasibly." In his view, his right of possession is so clear-cut that there is no chance that it would be challenged or overturned. Just as he reasons that he has a country seat like any prince would, he compares himself to lords in England, who have a right of inheritance to their manors.
In Chapter 22, once Robinson has human companions on the island, his view of himself as king is accentuated. Formerly, his subjects were animals. Now, he has power over real human subjects. Robinson relishes the reliance that these subjects have on him, and the hierarchy that he reigns over:
My island was now peopled, and I thought my self very rich in subjects; and it was a merry reflection which I frequently made, how like a king I look'd. First of all, the whole country was my own meer property; so that I had an undoubted right of my dominion. Secondly, my people were perfectly subjected....
The gradual gratitude he feels towards life on the island is inextricably linked to his colonial, power-hungry impulses. Robinson is able to feel content to live on the island first of all because he comes to see it as his property and second of all because he acquires real humans to reign over. He claims earlier in the novel that he is content to live on the island without human beings around him, but passages like this reveal his deep-seated need for hierarchies and other humans for his sense of self. The metaphor of Robinson as king reminds the reader never to forget that Robinson's life and beliefs are profoundly shaped by the ideas underpinning European colonialism.
Robinson twice refers to Providence's checker work, reflecting on his fate and God's decisions for him. Checker work is work that features a checkered pattern, where either the colors or materials vary alternately, like on a chess board. Fascinated by the frequency with which his fortunes keep changing throughout his life, Robinson uses the metaphor of "checquer work" to describe God's plans for him.
After finding the footprint on the shore in Chapter 14, Robinson is entertained and bewildered by his fear of humans. Cut off from humankind, one would think that seeing "one of [his] own species" would have felt like "the greatest blessing that Heaven itself...could bestow" for Robinson, yet it's the last thing he wants for himself:
"How strange a checquer work of Providence is the life of man! and by what secret differing springs are the affections hurry'd about, as differing circumstances present! To day we love what to morrow we hate; to day we seek what to morrow we shun; to day we desire what to morrow we fear."
He again invokes Providence's checker work in Chapter 26, the last chapter of the novel. Reflecting on the unexpected fluctuations in his life, he seems content with the narrative he has given to his reader.
"And thus I have given the first part of a life of fortune and adventure, a life of Providence's checquer-work, and of a variety which the world will seldom be able to shew the like of."
Because the novel is recounted posteriorly, the narrator is at all points aware of how things will turn out for him. Robinson the narrator knows as much at the end of the novel as he did in the beginning. Although he mostly does not reveal what will happen next, aside from certain instances of foreshadowing, Robinson does often marvel at providence and the changing tides of his life. Here, at the very end of the novel, he can finally discuss the story with the reader more openly, because he has disclosed everything he has to disclose. He anticipates the reader's awe at the range of events that has transpired, and agrees that his life has profoundly and unusually been shaped by "Providence's checquer-work."
