Craftsmanship is more than skill. It is a disposition, a state of mind, and a stance toward the world. The crafted object is idea and spirit made manifest. Robinson Crusoe was the craftsman par excellence. No one has more vividly described the inner world of the craftsman than Daniel DeFoe in his classic tale of the shipwrecked man on his island. Crusoe cured his solitude. He cured it with manual effort and small acts of creation. The most radically isolated of men, he lived in peace. 

Here is DeFoe on Crusoe’s work to make an umbrella:

“After this I spent a great deal of Time and Pains to make me an Umbrella. I was indeed in great want of one; I had seen them made in the Brasils, where they are very useful in the great Heats which are there. And I felt the Heats every jot as great here, and greater too, being nearer the Equinox; besides, as I was oblig’d to be much abroad, it was a most useful thing to me, as well for the Rain as for the Heats. I took a world of Pains at it and was a great while before I could make anything likely to hold; nay, after I thought I had hit the Way, I spoil’d two or three before I made one to my Mind; but at last I made one that answered indifferently well: The main difficulty I found was to make it to let down. I could make it spread, but if it did not let down too, and draw in, it was not portable for me any Way but just over my Head, which wou’d not do. However, at last, as I said, I made one to answer, and covered it with Skins, the Hair Upwards, so that it cast of the Rains like a Penthouse, and kept off the Sun so effectually, that I could walk out in the Hottest of the Weather with greater Advantage than I could before in the coolest, and when I had no need of it, cou’d close it and carry it on my Arm.

Thus I liv’d mighty Comfortably, my Mind being entirely composed by resigning to the Will of God, and throwing my self wholly upon the Disposal of his Providence. This made my life better than sociable, for when I began to regret the want of Conversation, I would ask myself whether thus conversing mutually with my own Thoughts, and, as I hope I may say, with even God himself by Ejaculations, was not better than the utmost Enjoyment of humane Society in the World.

                                                                               —- Comments —-

N.W. writes:

One of my favourite books on craftsmanship is Charles Sale’s The Specialist, a delightful narrative by an old country carpenter on the intricacies of outhouse construction. The carpenter, Lem Putt, relates all of the tricks of the trade he acquired constructing outhouses over the years. As well as providing us thorough instructions on the proper manner of how to construct a privy, Lem also relates a number of humourous anecdotes involving neighbors who didn’t heed his advice. Given his careful consideration of materials, form, and function I’ve often thought that this book could make an excellent companion in explaining Aristotle’s four cause’s, though it must be admitted that an understanding of the teleological could become lost in translation.

Alex A. writes:

The true craftsman is dedicated to achieving the highest standards of handiwork whether anyone can see and appreciate it or not.

I have often visited Southwell Minster, which is not far from where I live. It’s an almost unspoiled masterpiece of Norman and Early English architecture with hundreds of medieval carvings in stone decorating the nave, choir, and chapter house. To see many of these figures and decorative patterns clearly requires binoculars (or climbing a ladder), but they are all carved with exquisite craftsmanship. (I’ve attached a couple of photographs to illustrate the beauties of Southwell, inside and out).

These lines from Longfellow seem apposite:

     In the elder days of art,
     Builders wrought with greatest care
     Each minute and unseen part;
     For the Gods see everywhere.  
 

 Kimberly writes:

In St. Louis de Montfort’s “Letter,” “Friends of the Cross,” he gives fourteen rules to follow in order to carry one’s own cross. The first one is to do all of your duties to the best of your ability, simply stated. I love this rule. It seems to be Crusoe’s standard out of necessity. No wonder he became a Christian!

This example you pulled makes his parallel to the housewife more clear to me than before. I have the same little arguments with myself that he does at times. Of course, I’m not all alone all the time, but I’m not crafting umbrellas, either. I’m crafting children!

Laura writes:

Children, home and marriage – these all involve craftsmanship. And they bring home Alex A.’s words: 

The true craftsman is dedicated to achieving the highest standards of handiwork whether anyone can see and appreciate it or not.

That is well said, relevant to the work of the masons who built Southwell and to modern-day masons who turn children into full human beings or who make an ordinary sexual bond into something more artful than its individual parts.

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