But in the middle of all this felicity, one blow from unseen Providence
unhinged me at once; and not only made a breach upon me inevitable and
incurable, but drove me, by its consequences, into a deep relapse of the
wandering disposition, which, as I may say, being born in my very blood,
soon recovered its hold of me; and, like the returns of a violent
distemper, came on with an irresistible force upon me. This blow was the
loss of my wife. It is not my business here to write an elegy upon my
wife, give a character of her particular virtues, and make my court to
the sex by the flattery of a funeral sermon. She was, in a few words,
the stay of all my affairs; the centre of all my enterprises; the engine
that, by her prudence, reduced me to that happy compass I was in, from
the most extravagant and ruinous project that filled my head, and did
more to guide my rambling genius than a mother's tears, a father's
instructions, a friend's counsel, or all my own reasoning powers could
do. I was happy in listening to her, and in being moved by her
entreaties; and to the last degree desolate and dislocated in the world
by the loss of her.
When she was gone, the world looked awkwardly round me. I was as much a
stranger in it, in my thoughts, as I was in the Brazils, when I first
went on shore there; and as much alone, except for the assistance of
servants, as I was in my island. I knew neither what to think nor what
to do. I saw the world busy around me: one part labouring for bread,
another part squandering in vile excesses or empty pleasures, but equally
miserable because the end they proposed still fled from them; for the men
of pleasure every day surfeited of their vice, and heaped up work for
sorrow and repentance; and the men of labour spent their strength in
daily struggling for bread to maintain the vital strength they laboured
with: so living in a daily circulation of sorrow, living but to work, and
working but to live, as if daily bread were the only end of wearisome
life, and a wearisome life the only occasion of daily bread.
This put me in mind of the life I lived in my kingdom, the island; where
I suffered no more corn to grow, because I did not want it; and bred no
more goats, because I had no more use for them; where the money lay in
the drawer till it grew mouldy, and had scarce the favour to be looked
upon in twenty years. All these things, had I improved them as I ought
to have done, and as reason and religion had dictated to me, would have
taught me to search farther than human enjoyments for a full felicity;
and that there was something which certainly was the reason and end of
life superior to all these things, and which was either to be possessed,
or at least hoped for, on this side of the grave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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