The Man Who Was Robinson Crusoe

by Rick Wilson

  The Llandoger Trow is certainly one of the architectural gems in King Street along with the Georgian Bristol Old Vic theatre and vestigial traces of the city’s long maritime past. Diagonally opposite the pub is an early example of Bristol’s philanthropy, the St Nicholas Almshouse, the first multi-gabled building to be erected on a reclaimed marsh in 1652; while at the other end of the street is a second example – the infirm-looking group of Merchant Seamen’s Almshouses (from 1699) whose most visible outer wall bears the following poem:

  Freed from all storms, the tempest and the rage Of billows, here we spend our age. Our weather-beaten vessels here repair And from the Merchants’ kind and generous care Find harbour here; no more we put to sea Until we launch into Eternity And lest our Widows whom we leave behind Should want relief, they too a shelter find. Thus all our anxious cares and sorrows cease Whilst our kind Guardians turn our toils to ease May they be with an endless Sabbath blest Who have afforded unto us this rest.

  It is a convincing atmosphere and therefore very tempting to picture the two men huddled by candlelight in a corner of the pub – and to believe the bald statement on another of its wall mountings: ‘Many famous people have visited here and there appears to be no question that this is where Alexander Selkirk met Daniel Defoe of Robinson Crusoe fame.’

  And what do local people think? The main bookseller in St Nicholas Market told me, ‘What do I know about the Defoe-Selkirk meeting at the Llandoger Trow? Only that it’s true. It must be true. From my schooldays I’ve grown up all my life with it.’

  But perhaps this apparent certainty might be a little unfounded. Over the centuries ships’ crewmen of all sorts would have used the Llandoger Trow as their local and these might well have included Woodes Rogers and Alexander Selkirk. But it’s doubtful whether Defoe would have joined them there, as he was not keen on the good captain (or his well-received book) and had at one time called him and his fellow adventurer Captain William Dampier, ‘illiterate sailors.’

  So pinning down the meeting place is not quite as simple as that. ‘I wouldn’t like to rule out the Llandoger as the place, simply because it’s possible,’ says Gerry Brooke, who is an enthusiastic member of the local Long John Silver Trust which studies and promotes Bristol’s maritime history. ‘But there were a couple of pubs off Castle Street that had better claims, and unfortunately they’re not there anymore. The Selkirk connection with the Llandoger seems to be a mid-20th-century discovery.’

  His meaning is that the claim appears to have been something of a promotional ploy by previous post-war owners of the establishment, the Berni brothers, who were not shy about adjusting literary history to their commercial will. They even claimed that Robert Louis Stevenson wrote Treasure Island there, but he did half of that at Braemar in Scotland and the other half at Davos in Switzerland.

  Historian Steeds, an equally energetic member of the trust, agrees and offers this: ‘Despite Defoe’s recorded denial, I think the two men definitely met – and probably a few times. Selkirk wasn’t always at Woodes Rogers’ house and when he lodged at the Cock and Bottle Inn in the lane of the same name off Castle Street there was a pub there called The Star where Defoe stayed. It seems to me quite probable that they met in the latter, which was known for its convivial wit.’

  I think it is improbable that the two men could not have known each other. How could they have avoided meeting each other in the same street? But amid all The Star’s loud and witty banter, would an educated Englishman like Defoe have been able to understand the dialect of the Fifer? I believe he would for the author had not long returned south after spending some years in Edinburgh, firstly as an English government spy reporting on the Scots’ machinations before the 1707 Union; then in 1710 as editor of the Edinburgh Courant working from his Moubray House home, which was built in 1462 and still stands next to the John Knox House halfway down the Royal Mile. His ear would thus have been well attuned to Selkirk’s Scottish accent.

  Meetings between the two were also said to have taken place in a private house in Bristol – that of Mrs Damaris [or Daniel] in St James Square and Steeds claims that there were sworn affidavits by witnesses ‘who saw Defoe take Selkirk’s papers away.’ That there were indeed Selkirk ‘papers’ seems to be confirmed by my visit to Bristol Central Library where I found the following ‘Evidence of the meeting of Alexander Selkirk and Daniel Defoe’ on a couple of faded typewritten sheets with the prompting of a yellowing card-indexing system in a venerable wall-side cabinet.

  Extract from The Bristol Mirror, Saturday, March 1, 1851 To the Editor of the Bristol Mirror. Sir, – Having accidentally taken up an old paper of yours (October 20th, 1849), I found it stated, in a very interesting account of the Duke and Dutchess privateers, that my grandfather, Alderman Harford, ‘was the first person who proved that De Foe composed Robinson Crusoe from papers given him by Alexander Selkirk’ and that you would be glad of any further information on the subject.

  I have much pleasure in confirming the account there given, having often heard my father say, ‘that an old lady [Mrs Daniel, a daughter of the celebrated Major Wade] told my grandfather that Selkirk had informed her that he had placed his papers in De Foe’s hands.’

  My grandfather purchased many of the things which were sold on the return of the Duke and Dutchess, with the rich prize of the Manilla ship (mentioned by Woodes Rogers in his account of the voyage, in which Selkirk was found, on the island of Juan Fernandez); they are now in my possession, and consist principally of very handsome china, which was going to the Queen of Spain, with curious articles, in tortoise shell and Indian ink. Captain Rogers [then] lived at Frenchay, in the house now the residence of Mrs Brice.

  I am, Sir, your obedient servant, Henry Charles Harford.*

  Further items from this source suggest Selkirk did indeed have ‘papers’ and undertook meetings with Defoe. Extract from F Brown’s History and Antiquities of Nailsea Court (1876).

  … In these ships [the Duke and Dutchess] Captain W. Woodes Rogers also brought away Alexander Selkirk from Juan Fernandez, whose papers being put in the hands of Daniel Defoe were drawn out into the story of Robinson Crusoe.

  Extract from Gloucestershire Notes and Queries 1881.

  Mr Walter Wilson’s opinion is, that when Defoe was lodging at a public house in Castle Street, Bristol, he met with Capt. Rogers or Alexander Selkirk himself, and so got the framework of Robinson Crusoe.

  Extract from SH Evans’ The Book of Nailsea Court.

  Damaris [Daniel] married three times, in each case to men of wealth and standing ... When she was an old lady, living at 16 St James’ Square, the widow of her third husband, Thomas Daniel, she often told how Defoe and Selkirk met at her house.

  The question of whether or not Defoe and Selkirk ever met has been a big challenge for research talents for many years. I do not pretend to have the definitive answer, but I find the idea of the existence of Selkirk’s ‘papers’ quite electrifying and, try as I might, I can’t shake off the convincing circumstantial evidence for both their existence and the meetings between Defoe and Selkirk. Another development. Mark Steeds assures me he can match the circumstantial evidence with some of the references he has found over the years. Between pulling pints at the Beaufort Arms at Hawkesbury Upton, Gloucestershire, he managed to dig these out, and within a day of talking to him, I received the following email:

  ‘Further to our conversations of today, please find below some references that might be of some use to you.’

  From Bristol Past and Present Volume II (1881) page 137 – ‘Daniel Defoe and Robinson Crusoe’ The present spot has further associations with the memories of Robinson Crusoe. Nearly opposite the north-east end of St Peter’s Church [now just a shell after heavy bombing] is Cock and Bottle Lane, wherein stands the Star Inn, a tavern that in the last century was a sort of local Mitre to all the convivial wits of Bristol. This inn stands, or rather stood, for it has been lately altogether transformed, upon the site of the Northern Keep of th
e castle ... Our purpose in mentioning the inn, however, is to remark that among its guests in the early part of the last century was Daniel Defoe. He had fled from London to escape his creditors, and was known amongst his acquaintance in Bristol as the ‘Sunday Gentleman’, from the fact of his daring to appear in the streets only on that day. His biographer, Mr Wilson, states that a friend of his resident in the city relates, ‘that one of his ancestors remembered Defoe, and sometimes saw him walking in the streets of Bristol, accoutred in the fashion of the times, with a fine flowing wig, lace ruffles and a sword by his side.’ The same writer adds that ‘one Mark Watkins who left the Red Lion in Castle Street, which Defoe also used to visit, was wont to entertain his company in after times with an account of a singular personage who made his appearance in Bristol, clothed in goat skins, in which dress he was in the habit of walking the streets, and went by the name of Alexander Selkirk or Robinson Crusoe.’

  From Life of Selkirk, Isaac James, 1861.

  To place, says Mr Harford, beyond the dispute of any twelve impartial persons the fact that Selkirk placed his papers in Defoe’s hands, and that from them he wrote Robinson Crusoe, it was related by Mrs Daniel (a granddaughter of Major Wade, who was wounded in the battle of Sedgemoor) to Mr Joseph Harford, of Dighton Street, Bristol ... that ‘she knew him well, and that he told her such was the case.’

  From Bristol Past and Present Volume III(1882).

  We have already given some particulars of Defoe’s residence in Bristol. The following will not be without interest to those who have – as who has not? – found in his Robinson Crusoe one of the finest prose epics that the world has yet seen. Defoe, when in Bristol and in communication with Alexander Selkirk, used the Star Inn, Cock and Bottle Lane. Defoe, with all his talent, was ever in difficulty ... His Robinson Crusoe was, after many refusals, first published in the London Post; it began in the 125th number, and closed in the 289th. The publisher made £1,000 profit by it, and in forty years it went through forty editions; yet Defoe died, in 1731, not only poor, but insolvent.

  From Daniel Defoe, Master of Fictions by M. Novak, 2001.

  Defoe was to refer to Dampier and Woodes Rogers as ‘illiterate sailors’ in his Compleat English Gentlemen, arguing that an imaginative and creative student of geography could follow these two circumnavigators of the world while learning ‘a thousand times’ more than they put down in their texts ... Dampier had a good eye for detail and Rogers had the fascinating account of Selkirk to enliven his narrative; but, unburdened by the necessity to relate history and truth, Defoe could always draw upon his imagination to write an exciting series of adventures.

  Bristol and its Famous Associations by S Hutton, 1907.

  Robinson Crusoe – a work that will be as enduring as the English language itself, and of which Lander said, ‘Achilles and Homer will be forgotten before Crusoe and Defoe’ – was a frequent visitor to Bristol, his favourite haunt being the Star Inn, Cock and Bottle Lane, Castle Street.

  All of this has raised other questions in my mind. Let’s assume that Selkirk’s ‘papers’ did exist – as there are plenty of references to them – and that Defoe took them away to help in his Crusoe creation. He would surely have promised to return them; but it seems that he did not. It has to be said that, even then, even before he wrote his great classic, they must have been worth a pretty penny, for Selkirk was already famous through the book written by Woodes Rogers. And what form did they take, these ‘papers’? Were they loose or were they bound in a volume as a journal of the day would have been? It seems unlikely that he would have had two sets of notes about his adventures, so what was his wife talking about when (presumably acting on information imparted to her by Selkirk before he died) she asked for the return of his ‘journal’ in a letter to the then Duke of Hamilton around 1722. (See chapter 8)

  That Yr Grace’s Petitionr is the widdow of Alexander Selkirk who was left on the desolate island called Ferdinando where he continued alone four years and four months all which time he kept a journal of his observations as also of the Voyages he made with Capt. Dempiore as also in the Duke which took the Aquaperlea Ship in the South Sea which ship Yr Petitionr’s husband had in his charge as Commander to bring to England and upon his arrival his late Grace Yr most noble Father then desireing to see the abovesaid journal of Petitionr’s said Husband did leave it with him after which, proceeding again to leave on another voyage, died in the same.

  Were the ‘papers’ and ‘journal’ one and the same thing? We will probably never know, as Frances Selkirk did not get an answer from the Duke, and the current Duke of Hamilton has been unable to help find what, if they exist at all, must now be among the most valuable written documents on earth – whether or not they contributed minimally or greatly to the creation of Robinson Crusoe. I can say no more than this and allow readers to come to their own conclusion.

  Daniel Defoe was always broke. As an English spy in Scotland before and at the time of the 1707 Act of Union and a resident sometime thereafter, he would surely have made the acquaintance of the Duke of Hamilton, who was a prime mover in the debate – first on resisting the union and then accepting it. ‘I’m quite sure that Defoe the spy would have gone out of his way to make it his business to get to know the duke,’ says Scottish historian Mark Jardine. So did Defoe, in Bristol or London in 1713, have reason to seek out an old acquaintance, preferably a prominent and wealthy Scotsman, who might have been interested in buying the papers of a famous fellow Scot? I only ask ... and if I am wrong, I beg forgiveness from a great writer.

  We can get the measure of Defoe’s literary achievement by recalling the arrogant words of Captain Edward Cooke, the subordinate colleague of Captain Woodes Rogers who, on their return to England with their treasure ship, raced his senior colleague into print with a book that barely mentioned the rescue of Alexander Selkirk from Juan Fernandez. It was not well received, and when the Woodes Rogers’ account came out with its colourful chapter on the rescue, it revealed the stark difference between a writer and a non-writer, who could only record:

  To hear of a man’s living so long alone in a desert island seems to some very surprising and they presently conclude he may afford a very agreeable relation of his life, when in reality it is the most barren subject that nature can afford.

  Nine years later, having mulled over the story at great length and named it after his preacher friend Tomothy Cruso, the masterly Defoe was to sharpen up that difference a hundredfold, applying his fluid pen, vivid imagination and dozens of examples of seemingly authentic details to create an unforgettable adventure tale destined to live forever.

  As Stephen Collett wrote in Relics of Literature in 1823:

  It has been too much the fashion to calumniate De Foe, as having surreptitiously made use of the information given him by Alexander Selkirk, who, as every one knows, passed four years and four months on the then uninhabited island of Juan Fernandez, in the South Sea.

  The fact however is, that had it not been for the admirable manner in which De Foe dressed up the narrative in the immortal tale of Robinson Crusoe, Selkirk and his sufferings would have been long ago forgotten.

  So what exactly were his sufferings? As will become clear later in this book, they were quite short-lived and eventually overtaken by his melancholy enjoyments.

  Chapter 3

  The Village he left Behind

  Oh, but it’s pretty. When you descend into the heart of Alexander Selkirk’s Lower Largo today, down under the arches of the unused railway viaduct towards the little stone harbour that once pumped its piscatorial lifeblood, it’s not exactly like going back in time. One or two scenes remind you that this is the 21st century: the few leisure craft bobbing on the dock water; the first-corner shop with modest pretensions to be a mini superstore, the bumper-to-bumper parked cars, including gleaming high-range 4x4s, which line the snaking form of Main Street; and the occasional garden with resting, tarpaulin-wrapped yachts. Yet there can be no denying that the old-fashioned sh
ape and run of the largely white-walled village must still be very much as it was when the famous mariner grew up there.

  The location is like a romantic film set. You can easily imagine a period drama being played out here. The glittering expanse of the Forth estuary is visible from every close and garden, and huddled into the shoreline that follows the sandy, rock-punctuated crescent of Largo Bay, the street’s parallel lines of four-square little sandstone houses, with orange pantiled roofs or charming and original crowstep gables, are the stuff of picture postcards. Some are very smart, others unselfconsciously iffy around the edges in that inimitable Scottish way, with flaking paint and neglected grooming. And if the visitor needed reminding that this was a place by the sea, many boast evocative names like Beach House, Waterfront, Sea View, Sea Forth, Rock View, Seashell Cottage, and Inch View, for the mid-estuary island of Inchkeith is often in view from the shore and, on his return later in life, might well have served as a poignant reminder to Selkirk of the island paradise he once called home.

  On most clear days you can also see the seabird-white volcanic plug of the Bass Rock as a far-off dot to the south-east; and, looking across the great river the other way, if you are on high enough ground – nearby Largo Law, rising to a height of 1000 feet (305m), is conspicuous for many miles from all surrounding areas – you can just glimpse Scotland’s ancient capital of Edinburgh making its looming presence felt behind the famous road and rail bridges, just out of the picture.

  Visitor ... it’s a word that brings out mixed feelings among the village’s more permanent residents, for an increasing number of the characterful homes here have been bought by well-off incomers for occasional visits – no doubt taking in the occasional round of golf at St Andrews only 12 miles distant – while others proclaim themselves available for holiday lets. The indigenous residents are left to ponder and weigh the advantages of incoming wealth as opposed to private peace and tranquillity.