In this, the seven and twentieth year of my captivity, I have been much
distressed by the monotony of my existence. My habitation is as complete
as I can wish; I have all the clothing to my need; and my subjects--my
man Friday and his father, and the Spaniard--keep me abundantly supplied
with food. When I was alone the necessity of husbandry gave me plenty to
do, but now I am oppressed by a great lack of matter for occupation,
both physical and mental. Questioning myself, I put the blame upon an
evil state of mind into which I have fallen, in no longer finding profit
in reading my bible and other books, or in meditating on this life and
that which is to come.
I am rich in that I want for no material thing; and I am idle, in that I
do naught to profit myself or my companions; so that, although
practically a solitary, I am, as you might say, an idle rich class, and
were I multiplied by thousands I should be a grievous burden on society.
Friday, perceiving the state of my mind, has set himself to entertain
me, and, being an ingenious fellow, will no doubt succeed. As a
beginning he took unto himself the management of our simple meals, and
he has contrived so to expand them, both in quantity of food and time
spent in consuming it, that a large part of my day is now given over to
eating. I drink a great deal of wine with my meals, and of rum also, a
great store of which I saved from the wreck; and these strong waters,
added to the great quantity of food consumed, produce in me a pleasant
torpor, which I find to be a satisfactory substitute for meditation.