Curative Work: Dana's Two Years Before The Mast

In narrating his voyage out from Boston on the Pilgrim and his voyage home on the Alert, Richard Henry Dana, Jr., encourages an ambivalent interpretation of the experience. As one possibility, contagious sickness and forms of bondage characterize the culture of home, whereas the sailor's condition and less civilized sites offer health, romance, and freedom. But an opposite possibility is that the ship resembles an unhealthy prison and the foreign settings are spoiled, and so hope resides in the curative power still emanating from the civilization of home. The two possibilities may relate to the Goethean-Carlylean pattern of Bildung, whereby the protagonist initially rebels and escapes from home but later repents and returns, recognizing that his America must be "here or nowhere" (Carlyle 1899, 156),¹ in Massachusetts rather than in California. Dana indeed desires first to become entirely the sailor but then in terror before that eventuality desires to return to his identity as a Harvard scholar. With respect to the motif of literacy, the initial effort to live fully amid the bracing energies of winds and sea gives way to an appreciation of the curative force of reading and writing books. Yet the two phases are not after all so neatly opposed and divided between two halves of the story. They coexist in a tension that is sometimes also resolved.

In 1842, two years after publishing Two Years before the Mast, Dana began to compose "An Autobiographical Sketch, 1815–1841." This "Sketch" (1968) creates a context for the previously published work that justifies the first of the two interpretations. His early life has already featured, in the "Sketch," many incidents of wandering away from home and of rebellion against the restrictions and injustices of society. The turbulent young protagonist especially resents the tyranny of the schoolmasters who administer floggings and later the tyranny of the authorities at Harvard College who unfairly punish a classmate. In response to this latter incident, Dana's own rebellion leads to his suspension from the college for a term, an event that he welcomes as a liberation from an oppressive educational system. The inevitability of his future career as a lawyer also weighs heavily upon him and probably worsens an incapacitating crisis of 1834. Specifically, the crisis begins with a contagious disease: he catches measles, an illness that triggers a hereditary tendency toward degenerating eyesight, and reading becomes insupportably painful for him. The revulsion against books derives, as Thomas Philbrick suspects, from both physical and psychological causes (1981, 10).² Dana seeks an occupation that will remove him not only from the necessity of reading but from the debilitating, literate civilization of New England. At this juncture the lure of a sea voyage becomes irresistible:

I had many offers of free passage, but I knew a passenger's life would be insupportable without books. Partly from these considerations, but aided very much by the attractiveness of the romance & adventure of the thing, I determined to go before the mast, where I knew that the constant occupation would make reading unnecessary.

(Dana 1968, 1:26–27)

As opposed to the culture associated with books, the sailor's life offers health as well as romance and freedom. Omitting, then, as unnecessary any account of the intervening events narrated in Two Years before the Mast, the "Autobiographical Sketch" resumes the narrative by restating the opposition:

I will take this journal up, again, from the place where my published narration ends. Upon our arrival at Boston on 22 of Sept 1836, . . . I was very much struck with the pallid & emaciated appearance of the gentlemen I met with, when compared with the rough, sun burnt, hardy faces which I had solely seen for the last five months. If I had been [told] that there had been a famine or fever in the city & that these persons were recovering its effects, I should have said that their appearances indicated it plainly enough. The women looked like mere shades.

(Dana 1968, 1:28)

In the penultimate chapter of Two Years, one of the pallid, apparently fever-stricken Bostonians had observed, on meeting the...