mardi 1 avril 2014

Crèvecœur in French and English versions

At the ASECS conference in Williamsburg, VA I was one of several presenters on a panel to honor my colleague Dennis Moore and the publication of his new edition of J. Hector St. John de Crèvecœur's Letters from an American Farmer and other essays (Harvard UP).

I spoke about how some of the Letters, notably #12, "Distresses of a Frontier Man" also exist in French versions in Lettres d'un cultivateur Américain, which Crèvecœur published in a two volumes in 1784 and then in an expanded three volume set in 1787. There was a lot of interest when I explained that whereas the English version, published in London during the American Revolution, makes a veiled or implicit loyalist position on the war, the French version takes a more propagandist anti-British stand. Here's an abridged version of a paper I first delivered at a conference in 1994.

Crèvecœur's Political Translation in Lettres d'un Cultivateur Américain
                                                                        
Crèvecœur was a profoundly political and autobiographical writer, and his political opinions were volatile and self-interested and reflected his own experience.  I will argue this point with reference to the French editions entitled Lettres d'un Cultivateur Américain, published in 1784 and 1787. In the French Lettres, using the same tools of sentimental propaganda and often with the same stories already published in the English Letters, Crèvecœur reversed the position that his texts appeared to support, from loyalist to patriot.  Although this political translation can be explained by the opinions of the audiences in England and France for which Crèvecœur and his publishers were working, I believe that the polar reversal shows that Crèvecœur held passionate anti-war beliefs that were at once sentimental and cynical, but neither patriotic nor loyalist.  The climax of my argument involves a close reading of two stories of frontier families which Crèvecœur translated closely from English into French, while artfully reversing their political message.  Before getting to that, I would like to summarize the history of Lettres d'un Cultivateur Américain. 
            The tragic and fortunate outline of Crèvecœur's life from 1779 to 1784 is fairly well known.  Ironically, much of the information related in capsule biographies is drawn from the 1787 edition of Lettres, but it has been repeated so many times that some who learn this information still know nothing of the French edition.  Crèvecœur left his farm at Pine Hill, in Orange County, New York, in 1778 and went to New York City, where he was imprisoned by the British forces controlling the city.  Major-General James Pattison sent to his commander Sir Henry Clinton a letter telling of the papers found in a trunk confiscated from Crèvecœur.  This letter is the first review of the now-famous text, and Pattison reported that the political cast of this "irregular journal of America, & a State of the Times of some Years back" was "to favor the side of the Government and to throw Odium on the Proceedings of the Opposite Party, and upon the Tyranny of their Popular Government."  (quoted by Howard Rice, p58)  This is also the first time that Crèvecœur's politics conveniently suited his audience.  If his letters had favored the revolutionary party, he would no doubt not have been able to set sail in 1780 for England. The ship crossed through a French blockade, but was wrecked on the coast of Ireland.  Crèvecœur, his son, and his famous trunk were all saved.  In May, 1781, he sold some of his manuscripts to London Publisher  Davis and Davies, who brought out the first edition of 15 Letters from an American Farmer.  It was an immediate success, and was followed by editions in Dublin and Belfast, Leyden and Leipzig.  The reception of the work by English reviewers, which has also attracted a good deal of critical attention, included some doubt of its authenticity and some criticism for an overly optimistic portrayal which would encourage greater emigration. 
            In August 1781 Crèvecœur landed in Caen, Normandy.  More dramatic events of his biography from the latter part of 1781 are also culled from the Lettres, this time the 1787 edition.  The first letters of the third volume, which appeared for the first time in 1787, tell of how he rescued five american soldiers who landed in a sixteen foot boat on the Norman coast near Crèvecœur's family home, after escaping from a British prison near Portsmouth.  The author who'd just sold a manuscript with a loyalist bent was now aiding patriot POWs.  He arranged for their passage from L'Orient in Brittany back to America in December, 1781.  Crèvecœur writes that he was concerned about his family still on the farm and wished to send them some money, and that the five soldiers gave him the name of Gustave Fellows as a useful contact.  Crèvecœur sent with the five a bill of exchange in Fellows' name.  The 1787 story continues with Crèvecœur's arrival in New York after being named French Consul in 1783.  He learns of his wife's death and the burning of his farm, but also that his two other children survived and are staying in Boston.  He hurries to Boston through the snow and discovers that the honest Gustave Fellows had received his letter of two years earlier and travelled all the way to Fishkill, New York, also in winter, to rescue the two children Fanny (América-Frances) and Philip (Philippe-Louis).  This tale of happy coincidences (and Crèvecœur stresses that it all began with the chance that led the five soldiers in their boat to the spot on the coast where he was) is repeated as fact by Crèvecœur's biographers Allen and Asselineau (p112-15), and in the introduction by Albert Stone to the popular Penguin edition. (13)  I do not wish to question the truth of this account, but merely to point out that scholars who believe the English Letters to be a clever fiction nevertheless accept the French Lettres as biographical fact.
            Admittedly, internal evidence in the French edition links the Lettres more closely to their author than the Letters. Nearly every lettre is headed by a place and date.  These generally corraborate what is known from other sources about Crèvecœur's movements.  Many are signed "Comté d'Orange" or Orange County, NY where his Pine Hill farm was, and only a few [“Femme des Frontières” is the only one I've found so far] are headed "Comté de Carlisle" Pennsylvania where James' farm is located.  The French editions also include many letters from others copied into the text, such as Fellows' reply to Crèvecœur's plea for help (which did not reach him until he arrived in America), an anonymous settlement narrative "Origine de l'etablissement de Socialburg" translated from a 1757 manuscript, and speeches by George Washington.  The dates and places encourage the reader to consider the book an epistolary travel narrative from America, similar to many published in the eighteenth century, including the book by Thomas Anburey, who as a lieutenant in the British Army under General Burgoyne would have been responsible for the persecution of Crèvecœur's "Femme des Frontieres" as we shall see below.   These epistolary travel writers often blended a few fabulous anecdotes into a predominantly factual account, and who were likewise cited as fact and spurned as fantasy, sometimes by the same historians.  
            The best biographical and historical study of Crèvecœur's texts was published in 1933 by Howard C. Rice.  Rice was an American scholar who also edited and translated the Marquis de Chastellux' Travels in North America in the Years 1780, 1781, and 1782.  However,  he wrote in French Le Cultivateur Américain: Etude sur l'oeuvre de Saint John de Crèvecoeur  (Paris: Honoré Champion).  This work came shortly after the publication of the rediscovered Sketches in 1925, and Rice also had access to the English manuscripts of the Letters, owned by the Crèvecœur family. Rice reveals, for instance, the suppression in the 1782 Davis and Davies edition of passages in the Letters which would have weakened the farmer James persona, including direct plagiarisms from Raynal and autobiographical comments such as in the second Letter where James expresses his contentment at not having become a minister or lawyer.  (Rice p61, it would have appeared on p52 of Penguin at end of paragraph)  Using the dates in the French editions, Rice is able to sort Crèvecœur's writings into five periods or categories, based not on some epistemic shift or political coming of age, but on the events in Crèvecœur's life as he was writing. 
The first covers the years 1769-70 and includes conventional travel writings such as the Nantucket chapters in the Letters and descriptions of Bermuda, Jamaica, and of all the colonies on the coast between New York and Newfoundland.  It's possible but not likely that Crèvecœur visited all these places himself. For another example, he third volume of the 1787 Lettres also includes an account of Ohio and Kentucky.  It suggests that in 1767 Crèvecœur undertook a trip down the Ohio to St. Louis and back across the Great Lakes by the old French fur trade route.  He says he as accompanied by Robert Hooper and some other Englishmen, and describes the trip in an unpublished "Mémoire sur la Région située à l'ouest des Montagnes d'Alléghany: arrosée par les rivières Ohio, Mississippi, Illinois, Cherokée, etc."  (Rice p15)  The narrative in the 1787 Lettres, however, is dated 26 August, 1784 and purports to be based on a later journey.
The second group of writings, 1773-75 is more derivative of Raynal, whose Histoire des Deux Indes Crèvecoeur could have read after 1770 and whose physiocratic, deist, and abolitionist ideas are evident in the general descriptions of the American colonies in "What is an American?" and "Reflections on the Manners of the Americans." 
The third group includes the bucolic or pastoral sketches based on life around the farm: "Thoughts of an American Farmer On Various Rural Subjects," "On the Situation, Feelings and Pleasures of an American Farmer,  and the famous "Snow Storm" sketch.  These date from 1774-75. 
Fourth we have the war stories.  The pro-loyalist English ones obviously date from 1777-78 and this includes three of the five English essays rediscovered with but not included in the Sketches,  "The Grotto," "Ingratitude Rewarded," and "The Commissioners."
The fifth group consists of the accounts of his incarceration in New York during the winter of 1779-80 and published at the end of the first volume of Lettres.  Rice believes that this fifth group was written by Crèvecœur in prison in English, but notes that these have never been published in English, but only in French, and that the manuscripts have not survived.  Rice does not add as a potential sixth group the autobiographical letters I discussed above, written in 1784 or later and included only in the 1787 edition. 
            Thus far I've given a lot of dates and facts, but little sense of the astonishing reversal of the political purpose in the Letters and the Lettres.  I'd now like to proceed to a close reading of two pairs of letters which are in large part translations of sentimental anecdotes concerning the Frontier Man and Woman, but in which the political translation is achieved by the addition or alteration of important circumstantial details. 
            The famous "Distresses of a Frontier Man" is the only one of the fifteen letters published in 1782 in which the utopia created by farmer James is threatened by the Revolutionary War.  Exactly whom it is that the Frontier Man fears, Tory, Patriot, or Indian mercenaries is left ambiguous, however.  At one point he speaks in a kind of social scientist's code which suggests he's leaning toward the patriots, "As a member of a large society which extends to many parts of the world, my connexion with it is too distant to be as strong as that which binds me to the inferior division in the midst of which I live." (203)  But the most inflammatory passage condemns the Tories: "Must I then, in order to be called a faithful subject, coolly and philosophically say it is necessary for the good of Britain that my children's brains should be dashed against the walls of the house in which they were reared; that my wife should be stabbed and scalped before my face; that I should be either murdered or captivated;" (207)  Yet this sardonic question attacks the very justification of the war more than it does the loyalist cause.  The Frontier Man condemns the breakdown in trust and civility which has led to an apocalyptic mood reminiscent of the captivity narrative. He fears the woods and the barbarity therein, a threat which is not associated with either political party: "You know the position of our settlement; I need not therefore describe it.  To the west it is inclosed by a chain of mountains...From the mountains we have but too much reason to expect our dreadful enemy; the wilderness is a harbour where it is impossible to find them." (201)  All three of these passages are translated in "L'Homme des frontières" in the second volume of the French editions.  But the French version soon departs from the English one. 
            In the English version, the Frontier Man's fear leads him to interrogate the rational Enlightenment ideals which had been advanced in the first fourteen letters, and which now help him neither to choose his party nor to save his skin: "After all, most men reason from passions; and shall such an ignorant individual as I am decide and say this side is right, that side is wrong?  Sentiment and feeling are the only guides I know.  Alas, how should I unravel an argument in which Reason herself has given way to brutality and bloodshed!" (204)  Reason and Nature no longer dictate a political stance, "Self-preservation is above all political precepts and rules," (210) and so whereas when Mary Rowlandson was taken from rationality and civility into "barbaric" Native American life the propaganda message for King Philip's War was crystal clear, the Frontier man is forced to reject politics, abandon his outpost of civility and seek a safer life among the Indians.   Reason parts way from Nature; the former created the outrages of the war, and the latter is retained only in the instinct for survival and by the noble savages in this text which neatly signals the transition from the Enlightenment to Romanticism. 
            The French version departs entirely from the English before the point where the Frontier Man begins his plans for a new life among the Indians.  For "l'homme des frontieres," the terrors of savagery are British.  The passage about his children's brains being dashed against the walls continues in French toward these words:

S'il étoit possible que la Grande-Bretagne eût transporté des lions d'Afrique, & les eût déchainés dans nos bois, ils nous dévoreroient sans doute pour se repaître de nos cadavres; mais leur appétit d'exigeroit point autant que Brandt & Butler; en ont immolé à la teneur de leurs Commissions." (II: 269) 
[If it were possible that Great Britain had transported lions from Africa, and set them loose in our forests, they would devour us no doubt to sate their hunger on our corpses, but their appetite would not demand nearly so much as Brandt and Butler have destroyed in carrying out their orders.]

Joseph Brandt, the Mohawk leader who is still today heroized in Canada, and Butler, the British commander of troops "non moins barbares, vêtus à la sauvage." (II: 274) are depicted as bloodthirsty savages.  The connection between British colonialism and African and Indian barbarity continues when Crèvecœur inserts one of several references in the Lettres to recent British atrocities in India, "Ils connoissent bien peu le coeur humain, ou ils nous prennent pour des habitants du Bengale, dont toute la vengeance consistoit à venir mourir aux pieds de ceux qui les affamoient." (II: 270-71) [They know so little the human heart, or else they take us for the inhabitants of Bengal, for whom vengeance consisted in coming to eat at the feet of those who had starved them.]
            "L'Homme des frontières" is more propagandistic and less interesting than the fantasy of a utopian Indian captivity in the English Letters.  Crèvecœur did not abandon the story of running off to join the Indians, however.  A loose translation of the second part of "Distresses of a Frontier Man" turns up two letters later in the second volume, in "Lettre Ecrite pas Francis _H_UR, Irlandois, Colon de l'Etablissement de Cherry-Valley."  As an Irishman, Francis has already been once a victim of British colonialism, and fled to this town in New York where he has cleared a hundred acres and built a valuable farm.  At first he was confident that hidden in the American woods, the British would not able to find and destroy his farm, but he was wrong.  Francis is a simple man who does not espouse the philosophical ideals of his Anglophone counterpart, but like him, in time of danger, "La preservation de nous-mêmes est le premier des préceptes, c'est un sentiment supérieur, même aux opinions les plus chères;" (II: 333)  [Self-preservation is the first principle, its a superior sentiment, even to the most dearly held opinions]  The plan for a new life among the Indians is not a direct translation, but a rearranged version of most of the same elements as in the English version, including the comparison with the ancient Picts, the horror of intermarriage, the plan to teach the Indians to construct mills, and the intent to pay his children for their labor to prevent them from becoming savage hunters.  The French version adds greater historical specificity, however.  Francis recognizes that in seeking asylum among the Iroquois, he is appealing to the same nations who provide many troops for Brandt and Butler, but he relies upon payment in the form of a wampum belt, his knowledge of the language, and contact with a coureur de bois. 
            Now I'd like to switch to the Frontier Woman, and compare that brief piece in the Sketches with "La Femme des Frontières" in the first volume of the French edition.  Nearly all of the English version is translated into the French, but again, specific additions of names and places fix the blame on the British for what in English was attributable to the Patriots, if only by the context of other anti-revolutionary Sketches.  In the English, the piece begins with the narrator's encounter of "an ancient acquaintance" who confesses remorsefully to atrocities committed by his band of soldiers.   In the French there is an additional paragraph at the start which both gives the Frontier Woman a name, Mademoiselle Macrea, and which opens "Quelle destruction terrible n'a pas causé l'Armée du Général Burgoyne, depuis son arrivée à Tyconderoge" (I: 335)  [What terrible destruction has not been perpetrated by the army of General Burgoyne since his arrival at Ticonderoga?]  It's not clear that Mademoiselle Macrea, who was planning to marry a British officer, is the Frontier Woman in the subsequent anecdote told by the acquaintance, but that is the implication. (The name alludes to the legend of Jane McCrea, a colonial woman who falls in love with a British soldier, and is killed by Indians as she travels to visit her lover. It is best known today from John Vanderlyn's painting Death of Jane McCrea, but Crèvecœur probably knew it from Michel René Hilliard d'Auberteuil's 1784 romance novel. I reprinted that in the anthology I edited. American Captivity Narratives.)

            The text of the story of the soldier acquaintance is translated directly, including the befuddling line "Her husband had been a rebel, and no rebel's wife should be spared." (404)  The presence of this sentence in the English implies that it is a British regiment which attacks the Frontier settlement and slaughters the farm families, which would contradict the dominant political purpose of the Sketches.  In the French version, however, this fits with the resumption of the text after the soldier's story, which begins "C'est ainsi que la Grande Bretagne nous traite." (I: 341) [This is how Great Britain treats us.]  and again reviles Joseph Brandt.  The two versions diverge for about a page, the content of which is not very significant.  They then rejoin for the final page, only there is an important addition to the French text.  After this non-polarized anti-war sentence on page 406 of the Penguin edition, "Had a proper moderation, so useful and so necessary in the most just wars, been prevalent, it would have saved from ruins a great many innocent families." the French adds, "dont le sang a cimenté, d'une façon plus forte encore, la haine implacable de l'Amérique envers l'Angleterre." [the blood of which has cemented, in an even stronger manner, the implacable hatred of America toward England.]  Although I would have to look at the manuscript for proof, the presence of this one sentence in English suggests that not all the sketches from the 1778-79 period, Rice's fourth group, are pro-loyalist, or alternatively that the English text from the Sketches is a censored version of a French essay which was actually written first, though presumably not as early as September 10, 1778, at Carlisle County, Pennsylvania, the heading which the letter carries in the French edition.

            How should this exposure of the mercenary literary technique of Crèvecœur change our perception of his literary stature?  The greater historicity of some sections of the Lettres may promote a judgement that the French work lacks the creative genius of the canonical Letters. I believe that Crèvecœur's mercenary instincts do not make him less of a novelist and more of a hack, but rather more of both, for ambiguous political statements are part of the novel's heritage.  Daniel Defoe, the consensus choice for first novelist, is after all notorious for supporting and betraying Whig and Tory causes in his writings at the same time.  Lennard Davis has written "Defoe's career was one in which his political ideology seemed to change with the winds of power and opportunity, and his writings always had the nature of a disguise, a fiction contrived for whoever would pay." (168) and "This contradiction in Defoe is at the root of the contradiction of the novel." (173)  The same holds true for Crèvecœur, who apparently brazenly reversed his position on the American Revolution between 1781 and 1784 as he translated and refashioned his work from English back into his native French.  That his propagandist politics is part of his fictional creation should not lead readers to brand him a mercenary or hypocrite, but to admire the sentimental ethical message of his writings, which deliver a humanistic and pacifist appeal through representations of the violent excesses to which men are led by their political convictions.

Crèvecœur, J. Hector St. John.  Letters from an American Farmer / Sketches of Eighteenth-Century America.  Ed. Albert E. Stone.  Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1986.
______.  Lettres d'un Cultivateur Américain addressées à Wm. S___on, Esquire, 1770-1786, traduites de l'Anglois.  Paris: Chez Cuchet, 1787.
Davis, Lennard, Factual Fictions: The Origins of the English Novel. New York: Columbia UP, 1983.
Rice, Howard.  Le Cultivateur Américain: étude sur l'œuvre de Saint John de Crèvecœur.  Paris: Librairie Ancienne Honoré Champion, 1933.

mardi 4 mars 2014

French Metis in the Willamette Valley

I wrote for our local newspaper, the Register Guard, a piece about the Quebecois in early Oregon, particularly on the French Prairie. Here's the link to Oregon's early pioneer history has a French accent. A relevant photo from the trip Josh and I took to St. Paul back in mid February:





This is the first of twelve panels listing the people buried in the cemetery (according to parish records, the gravestones are all gone.

dimanche 23 juin 2013

John Day

John Day and the Astoria expedition:

Last week Josh and I floated down the John Day river in eastern Oregon. I was the third trip I've made on the river, but the first time I really wondered who John Day was and why this river was named for him. The river is notable in Oregon history mainly for the brief gold rush to Canyon City in 1862. Canyon City is near the town of John Day on the south fork of the river, well upstream of the part we floated. Prospectors traveled there on a route from the Dalles which crossed the John Day River downstream of Clarno (below the section we floated). Interpretive signage, such as in Antelope, recalls this period, and the stagecoach that ran along this route.

I took along on our trip the book Astoria, by Washington Irving, because I believed that the overland Astoria expedition may have traveled down the river in 1811 or 1812. It turns out they did not. They attempted to canoe down the Snake River, until they encountered rapids which destroyed their boats and supplies, and took the lives of a couple members of the expedition. Without going into the gory details, suffice it to say that the survivors split into several small groups and proceeded on foot from the Snake overland across Northeast Oregon to rejoin the Columbia somewhere between the Dalles and the tri-cities area. So they presumably cross the Blue Mountains or the Wallowas. In Astoria the geography is extremely vague, since when Irving wrote the Oregon Trail had still not been plotted and rutted, and the region was little-known except to Native people.

John Day joined the expedition during its voyage up the Missouri River in the autumn of 1810. He is introduced as:

a hunter from the backwoods of Virginia, who had been several years on the Missouri in the service of Mr. Crooks, and of other traders. He was about forty years of age, six feet two inches high, straight as an Indian; with an elastic step as if he trod on springs, and a handsome, open, manly countenance. It was his boast that, in his younger days, nothing could hurt or daunt him; but he had "lived too fast," and injured his constitution by his excesses. Still he was strong of hand, bold of heart, a prime woodman, and an almost unerring shot. He had the frank spirit of a Virginian, and the rough heroism of a pioneer of the west.

You see here the kind of heroic physiognomy that Irving bestows on his favorite men. The status of a "Virginian" is elite, as with Daniel Boone, even decades after the man departs Virginia. He has the virtues of the Indian without, of course, the weaknesses. But he does have a weakness, or at least Irving plants the doubt that foreshadows what will happen later.

In reading Astoria I was paying attention to how Irving describes the Canadien voyageurs (who made up the majority of the men on both the overland and the maritime expedition to Oregon), and the contrasts between how Irving treats the voyageurs and how he describes the anglos, such as in his portrait of John Day. The maritime travelers, including Gabriel Franchère, whom I blogged about last spring when I was reading his narrative in French, were hired at Montreal, and the overland voyageurs signed contracts at Montreal, at Mackinac, and at St. Louis. They were hired to perform the grunt labor of the expedition, the paddle the canoes or pirogues and to carry the pelts and supplies across portages or overland. Most of these Canadiens (unlike Franchère) were illiterate, and so left no record of their own thoughts and experiences on the expedition. Irving rarely mentions their names; they are a mass of labor, not worth distinguishing as individuals. Here's a typical passage from chapter 17, when the anglo leaders Ramsay Crooks and McLellan are worrying about threats from the Teton Sioux whom they will have to pass as they continue up the Missouri:

All these causes of uneasiness were concealed as much as possible from the Canadian voyageurs, lest they should become intimidated; it was impossible, however, to prevent the rumors brought by the Indians from leaking out, and they became subjects of gossiping and exaggeration. The chief of the Omahas, too, on returning from a hunting excursion, reported that two men had been killed some distance above, by a band of Sioux. This added to the fears that already began to be excited. The voyageurs pictured to themselves bands of fierce warriors stationed along each bank of the river, by whom they would be exposed to be shot down in their boats: or lurking hordes, who would set on them at night, and massacre them in their encampments. Some lost heart, and proposed to return, rather than fight their way, and, in a manner, run the gauntlet through the country of these piratical marauders. In fact, three men deserted while at this village. Luckily, their place was supplied by three others who happened to be there, and who were prevailed on to join the expedition by promises of liberal pay, and by being fitted out and equipped in complete style.

The voyageurs are said to be strong, tireless, jolly, and forebearing, but fearful and vain. They are expendable and replaceable.  The "style" they enjoy is not elaborate, it can be satisfied with feathers in their caps. Nicole St-Onge has studied the account books of the overland expedition, kept by the Irish clerk John Reed, which reveal the voyageurs unwritten predilections better than any other surviving sources. They held out for higher pay than was typical for voyageurs who worked along well-established routes, but many of them also spent their wages quickly on liquor, clothing, and rare feathers.

To get back to John Day, his most significant role in the Astoria is when he and Ramsay Crooks succeed, just barely, in reaching the Columbia near Walla Walla. "Mr. Crooks remained here twenty days, detained by the extremely reduced state of John Day, who was utterly unable to travel, and whom he would not abandon, as Day had been in his employ on the Missouri, and had always proved himself most faithful." The Walla Wallas help them, but when they proceed down the Columbia, they are robbed by locals near Celilo Falls, and "stripped naked" with neither rifles nor flint and steel. They return to Walla Walla for charity. They finally succeed in reaching Astoria on the 11th of May, 1812.

But on the return voyage the party again encounters starvation and cold weather along the Snake River, and it proves too much for John Day:

the poor fellow's wits had been partially unsettled by the sufferings and horrors through which they had passed, and he doubted whether they had ever been restored to perfect sanity....The sight of any of the natives put him in an absolute fury, and he would heap on them the most opprobrious epithets; recollecting, no doubt, what he had suffered from Indian robbers.
On the evening of the 2d of July he became absolutely frantic, and attempted to destroy himself. Being disarmed, he sank into quietude, and professed the greatest remorse for the crime he had meditated. He then pretended to sleep, and having thus lulled suspicion, suddenly sprang up, just before daylight, seized a pair of loaded pistols, and endeavored to blow out his brains. In his hurry he fired too high, and the balls passed over his head. He was instantly secured and placed under a guard in one of the boats. How to dispose of him was now the question, as it was impossible to keep him with the expedition. Fortunately Mr. Stuart met with some Indians....the Indians executed their task faithfully, and landed John Day among his friends at Astoria; but his constitution was completely broken by the hardships he had undergone, and he died within a year.

John Day apparently suffered from a form of PTSD, a rare flaw in character for an heroic Virginian. Oddly enough, other sources claim that he lived until 1819 or 1820.

lundi 16 juillet 2012

Monuments, Memorials and Site Inscriptions

In what I've read of academics writing about monuments and memorials, I find little agreement about the definitions of those two terms. A memorial invokes memory, obviously, but it need not necessarily be dedicated to the memory of a deceased individual. A monument is, well, big, it is built to be noticed. Art historian Michael J. Lewis proposes that, “a monument is the expression of a single powerful idea in a single emphatic form, in colossal scale and permanent materials, made to serve civic life. (Materials and size distinguish monuments from memorials, of which monuments are a subset).” (2). Lewis was writing in Imprimis, a free pamphlet distributed by the right-wing ideologists at Hillsdale College in Michigan. The title of his piece “The Decline of American Monuments and Memorials” critiques the new Martin Luther King memorial and the plans for a Dwight D. Eisenhower memorial.

In studying Quebec City I have come to focus on the connection between monuments, memorials, and place. This relationship is not obvious, for whereas a gravestone is meant to mark the site where that person is buried, a memorial need not mark any particular site. Kirk Savage, the author of two fine books about the monuments and memorials of Washington, D.C., in writing of the Lincoln Memorial, says “the monument is not, properly speaking, a sacred site. Typically it holds no relic or spiritual trace of a past presence. The site of the Lincoln Memorial, for instance, did not even exist in Lincoln’s lifetime; it sits quite literally on mud dredged from the Potomac River bottom” (6). Savage goes on to explain how in the 19th century the National Mall was a park with many trees and winding paths, but few museums or monuments. The city had plenty of statues of great men, but they were dispersed around the city such as in the circles where radiant streets meet. In the late 1800s and early 1900s a modernist plan cut down all the trees and added the reflecting pool, a series of new museums that continues today, and streets and parking for cars, changing “public grounds” into “public space.” Public space is abstract, relational, and visual. For instance the new plan emphasized the axis running through the Capitol and the Lincoln Memorial and RFK stadium at the eastern end. This made possible the huge marches and celebrations for which the Mall is famous. With all those trees still in place few people could have watched MLK give his “I have a dream” speech or Barack Obama take oath of office at his inauguration.

So the many memorials in DC create a network or hierarchy of place and power, in that the relative significance of the person can be discerned from the size and location of the monument, but few of them actually commemorate events that occurred at that location. Washington DC was built from scratch to be the capital city, it did not arise from an important pre-national event, as Quebec City did.

I want to analyze instead the ways in which much smaller monuments or memorials commemorate events and persons connected with the spot which they mark. I will call it a site commemoration or site inscription. Among the most common is the now-cliché "George Washington slept here" or more general "so-and-so lived here." However, these are often intended less to honor the historical individual than to enhance the value of the building on which the plaque is mounted. I am specifically interested in site inscription as a simple marker on the (presumptive) site of an event, a non-monument that has no statue, no representational or artistic content, only a sign or plaque, often mounted on a rough stone, with simple text such as the “Here Wolfe fell” and the "Montcalm, Vaincu, Blessé a mort ici" that I discussed in an earlier post. The site inscription doesn’t really qualify as a monument (because it is too small) nor as a memorial (since it doesn’t necessary involve death nor a single person).  

At a site inscription there’s nothing to touch, nor to look at, no palpable connection to a person or event. There's no mortal remains and no relic (although such relics connected with the site may be found elsewhere). The site inscription invokes (or tries to invoke) among viewers an act of commemoration that resembles the reverence and singularity of a gravesite, without the metonymic relic. The marker doesn’t try to manufacture an aura (as at the Lincoln memorial) but only invoke one, as if the aura already inhered in the site or place. I think Native American “sacred sites” and the New Age religiosity about “sacred spaces” may have helped to sustain this effect and make it more influential. This abstraction is akin to the simplicity of radical protestant houses of worship, Quaker meeting house. The power must reside in the minds and memories of the viewers. At many such markers there are no scheduled events to bring together the community of commemorators, and so it must be an an individuated ritual or invoke an imagined community. It is up to the visitor to determine how to feel or whether to care, but the political interpellation (to use Althusser’s term) is usually pretty obvious.

One of the most provocative of these site inscriptions in Quebec is at the base of the Cote Gilmore, next to a stoplight on the busy Boulevard Champlain, the former Anse à Foulon before the anse or cove was filled in to build an industrial port. This granite boulder bears a plaque reading: “The first Reigning Sovereign / who ever set foot upon Canadian soil, / King George VI, / Made his first landing here, at Wolfe’s Cove, / Together with / Queen Elizabeth, / on the 17th of May, 1939.” (with French text below, of course). This is a powerfully imperial Anglo gesture and I can imagine how it might have provoked a francophone response (although I don’t yet know when it was erected). If the King visited of course he had to come ashore, and why does it matter where? Because it was the same spot where Wolfe came ashore the morning of Sept. 13, 1759 for the battle that secured the conquest of New France.



Halfway up the Côte Gilmore, a street so steep it is closed in winter and poses a challenge to avid cyclists in summer, is this monument. I think the two go together, and invite the tourist to climb the hill as a reenactment of Wolfe's conquest, even as it implies King George himself did in 1939. As Serge Tisseron writes in a study of monuments: “entrer dans le monument ou, mieux encore, l’escalader, permet de nous l’approprier et de nous l’assimiler bien mieux que de seulement le regarder.”

He was thinking of massive monuments such as the Eiffel Tower or Statue of Liberty, but I think the same holds true for site inscriptions that trace sequential commemorations. The archetype would be the via dolorosa in Jerusalem, following the fourteen (originally only eight) stations of the cross, each of which is marked with one or more plaques or signs. The tourist or pilgrim cannot see direct evidence of what happened on that site, and in some cases the location or event is disputed, but site inscriptions ask the viewer to commit to an act of memory, and a sequence of inscriptions is more effective at putting the visitor through an initiation ritual, at installing a sense of loyalty or belief.

dimanche 27 mai 2012

Gabriel Franchère

I titled my blog Oregon and Quebec and in one post I acknowledged that many readers (both readers?) likely believe the two places are far apart and have little to do with one another. But one of my goals is to show that in fact many of the earliest Euro-American residents of Oregon came from Quebec. The first Catholic bishops of the Oregon territory were Quebecois. The earliest comprehensive glossary of the Chinook jargon, the trade language used by Indians and trappers in the Oregon territory, was published in Montreal (written by Rev. Modeste Demers, revised by Rev. F. N. Blanchet, in 1870). And among the founders of Astoria, Oregon in 1811, the trading post financed and named for the fur trading magnate John Jacob Astor, was Gabriel Franchère, a Montrealer. He is particularly noteworthy because he wrote a travel narrative that is the best record of the expedition, and was the primary source for Washington Irving's Astoria.

Franchère sailed from New York in September 1810 on the Tonquin, and stopped at the Islas Malvinas or Iles Malouines before rounding Cape Horn, and for a lengthy stopover in Hawaii after the horn. In late March they reached the Columbia, and with great difficulty and the loss of eight men in their launches, crossed the bar. For me, homesick for the Willamette Valley, a great charm of this text is Franchère's reaction to the climate and the vegetation. The enormous trees, the spring flowers, and the success of his garden: “les navets etaient d’un grosseur extraordinaire; nous en mesurames un qui portoit 33 pouces de circonférence et pesoit quinze livres et demie. De douze patates que nous plantames, le produit fut de 90, que nous conservames avec soin pour l’année suivante." But at leaner times Franchère was forced to trade for horses and dogs; the animals that the Indians themselves did not care to eat.

Astor's scheme was inspired by the fact that as the Hudson's Bay company and especially the Montreal based Northwest Company stretched their networks farther and farther into the Rocky Mountains, they pushed against the limits of the yearly routine around which the trade had always been organized. The voyageurs would leave the posts in the spring with furs trapped over the winter, deliver them to Montreal, and return to the posts in the fall with the essential goods Indian trappers needed for the winter. It was not feasible to make this round trip from the upper Saskatchewan River in one season. Moreover, one of the richest markets for beaver, mink, and other furs was now in Canton (China). So a Pacific Coast fur factory could be very lucrative. Trade goods might be supplied in large ocean-going vessels, and furs collected from the western slopes of the Rockies, and shipped directly across the Pacific, along with the seal and otter skins collected along the coast. At last the transcontinental trade that explorers had dreamed of since the sixteenth-century could become a reality!

Astor sent a ship around the Horn, and a separate expedition overland, along the same route used by Lewis and Clark some six years earlier. But at the same time the NW Company traders, including David Thompson, were exploring the Columbia Valley with the same goal as Astor. And on july 23, 1811, Thompson himself showed up in Astoria: “Ce monsieur voyageoit plutot en qualité de géographe qu’en commercant de pelleteries. Durant un séjour de 7 à 8 jours qu’il fit avec nous, il eut occasion de prendre plusieurs observations, étant muni d’un bon quart de nonnante. Et il me parut qu’il tenoit un journal régulier” One thing that amazes me in this book is how the traders and explorers all seem to find each other in this enormous country. When I go hiking I usually have a map and look at it every mile or so. These guys followed directions on a very large scale; something like "ascend the Columbia to its headwaters, turn east, cross over a pass, and..." This was the route Franchère followed home, where he arrived on Sept. 1, 1814.

Franchère was extremely lucky to survive, but not lucky enough to find his fortune. While he stayed at Astoria to build the trading post, the Tonquin set sail to explore the coast, and near Nootka on Vancouver Island was attacked by the Indians and burned. Only one man survived, escaped from captivity and returned to Oregon to tell the tale. The party that crossed overland to Oregon suffered horrible privations. When the War of 1812 broke out and Britain and the United States became enemy powers, the competition for Astoria was no longer merely commercial but political. The Astorians surrendered to the more numerous NW Co. men, and “C’est de cette maniere que je perdis en un instant mes espérances de fortune après avoir franchi les mers et enduré toutes les fatigues et les privations auxquelles je fus exposé en formant l’établissement.”


Franchère kept a diary during his voyage, and wrote a narrative upon his return. In 1820 the editor Michel Bibaud published Relation d'un voyage à la côte du nord-ouest de l'Amérique Septentrionale, dans les années 1810, 11, 12, 13, et 14. This text was used by Irving, along with interviews with Franchère and other members of the expedition. Then an English translation appeared in 1854, and several others after that. But the original manuscript, held now at the Toronto public library, remained unpublished until 1969, when the Champlain Society released it in a bilingual edition. I've purchased a less-expensive French edition from LUX of Montréal.


I look forward to reading Astoria when I get back to Oregon, and perhaps to studying how Irving and others changed Franchère's original narrative. It's final lines are mémorable enough, and Franchère finally reaches his hometown, after paddling all the way from the Rockies. "Enfin après avoir desscendu ce dernier rapide nous mimes pied à terra à Montréal après le coucher du soleil, après quatre ans, un mois, et six jour d’absence. Je m’acheminai immédiatement vers la maison paternelle, ou l’on ne s’attendoit guère à me revois, les nouvelles leur étant parvenues que j’avais été massacré avec M. McKay et l’équipage du Tonquin. Je me retrouvai ainsi au millieu de ma famille et de mes amis, par un effet de la divine providence, qui voulut bien me preserver...”


vendredi 18 mai 2012

Update on Student Strikes

The student strike is at an impasse. On Monday the provincial education minister, Line Beauchamp, resigned. She was deputy prime minister under Jean Charest as well. Charest's defense is that his government promises to add $39 million in bursaries, so low-income students will not be hurt by the $1,778 tuition hike, and says Quebec will still have the lowest tuition in Canada and the best student-aid program. But a hard-core group of protesters turns out nearly every night here and even more in Montreal, and the Montrealais are getting really tired of it, particularly when a smoke bomb in the metro there delayed trips for thousands of commuters last week. I saw reference to another subway disruption yesterday but can't confirm that.
The worst incident in terms of injuries was at the liberal party conference, which had been moved from Montreal to the small town of Victoriaville. The liberal party holds the majority in the "national" assembly, under Premier Jean Charest. So Charest was trying to avoid tying up Montreal, but the student organizations rented a bunch of motorcoaches and turned out in force in Victoriaville. Confrontations with riot police led to one policeman and several students being badly injured. One student lost an eye. 

After that the student associations met with the liberal party leaders and reached a tentative agreement. It proposed small tuition and fee increases for next year, something like $150, and would convene a special committee with members from university administration, faculty unions, and student groups, which would be charged with looking for cost savings in university budgets that could be used to offset the proposed increases, possibly reducing the increase to zero. But as my local host pointed out, administrators have been trained their entire career never to admit that they have been spending too much, and so that committee was never going to succeed. The proposal was sent to student groups for a vote and they all voted it down.

But as I started to write this I had not caught up on the latest news from just last night! The Assembly convened at 8 pm for a special session to debate a bill that would make it illegal for student associations to form picket lines preventing the classmates from attending classes. It would impose steep fines. This news prompted students in Montreal to march around the city until 3 am when they finally got tired and dispersed.

The merit of the student protest I think is that they have turned attention toward the Universities' bloated administrative costs, and claimed that tuition hikes are not necessary even if the province faces a budget crisis. I have no idea how administrative bloat here compares to schools in the US, but at least I get the sense that the students are concerned about educational value for the money, rather than expecting posh dorms and health clubs, and free tickets to big-time sporting events.

The peculiarities of Quebec politics have helped sustain the strike, even as a large majority of older Quebecois have come to oppose the students. The separatist Parti Quebecois, out of power in the province since I think 2001 or 2002, has embraced the students' cause and on the floor of the Assembly the PQ members wear the red square, symbol of the student movement. The students use slogans from the separatist movement like "maítres chez nous" and this ideology helps them justify the fact that even after the hikes tuition in Quebec would be much lower than in the other provinces. It doesn't look like this alliance will help the PQ win a majority in the next election, but voters may also turn against Charest's Liberals because they have failed to resolve the crisis by now.

The spring term is lost for those students who were on strike, which is roughly a third of all students. Now people are concerned that the strike could continue into the fall. The severity of the student debt problem here seems minor compared to the USA. A student here quoted in the newspaper was outraged at the prospect of a $30,000 debt upon graduation, but students in the US often have more than $75,000 and I don't see how anyone here could run up that much, with tuition at $3000/year or less. Plus, unemployment here is lower than in the US, and many jobs go begging in the remote mining and oil patch regions. Would you want to spend the winter in an iron mine in Labrador?

mercredi 16 mai 2012

The translations of Montcalm

The re-burial of the remains of the "Braves" found near the Dumont mill site in Ste-Foy was called a "translation" (the word is the same in French) referring to the ceremony of re-intering the relics of a saint. In looking at the major monuments to Louis-Joseph de Montcalm, I'd like to again emphasize the function of translation.

We've seen how the obelisk in the jardin des gouverneurs, the paired statues above the entrance to the Parliament building, and the pair of markers for their death spots on the Plains of Abraham all grant Montcalm and Wolfe the status of equals, of twins whose shared sacrifice undergirds Canadian nationalism. One might say they were not twins separated at birth, but twins united in death. And the twinning of the two heroes goes along with the continuous acts of French-English translation that are also part of Canadian nationalism.

The monuments to Montcalm alone define a different type of translation; that of re-membering and re-burying a saintly hero, and moving his image back and forth between Quebec and France.


This is Léopold Morice's Monument to Montcalm, cast in 1910 and erected in 1911 facing the Grande Allée a few meters away from the Plains. The plans for the monument began, presumably at the time of the 1908 tri-centennial celebrations and the founding of the National Battlefields Commission. Today it stands in front of the concrete monstrosity of the Loews hotel and back to back with a bronze statue of Charles de Gaulle at the other end of a short median.

I don't think the statue really does the hero justice. The expression on his face and his pose, with both arms stretched out, suggests that the allegorical angel come to crown him with laurels has suddenly bumped into him and may topple him over. He straddles a cannon that lies on the ground in a position where it cannot possible aid him in battle. But let's look at the inscription on his pedestal.

The polished curved surface is hard to read. It says simply
    Montcalm
La France
         Le Canada

Another copy of this statue was unveiled in 1910 at Montcalm's birthplace, the Chateau de Vestric, in Vestric-Candiac, France, just south of Nimes. I've not seen a photo of that one, but its existence, and the inscription here in Quebec, suggests an emphasis on his French identity and the connection he provides between Quebec and France. This even though some of the major histories of the Seven Years War by Quebecois, including Guy Frégault and François-Xavier Garneau, tended to criticize Montcalm's battlefield leadership and favor that of the Canadian-born governor Vaudreuil.

Here is the plaque on the house now standing on the site of the house where Montcalm died, the day after the battle in 1759. This is one of the few inscriptions in the city that is not bi-lingual. It emphasizes his French birth. It was put there only in 1999, on the 240th anniversary of his death. The house faces Rue du Parloir, the short street where the cars of parents of Ecole des Ursulines students line up twice a day. Montcalm's remains were interred in chapel of the Ursulines until 2001, when a translation ceremony was held to move them to the cemetery of the Hôpital général de Québec, in the lower town. A nun at the Ursulines chapel recalled the event and said they had to dig a big hole in the floor, and that only part of his skull remained. However small the remains, they were carried in carriage pulled by four black horses and in a procession to the new site. I need learn the reasons for this move, but at the same time a new monument was built there to the memory of soldiers who died during the Seven Year War and had been buried in an unmarked mass grave in that cemetery.

Montcalm got a new mausoleum as you see here, but the effect was nonetheless to democratize the hero by putting him alongside some of his troops.The plaque in the foreground reads in part: "Il repose desormais auprès de ses soldats tombés avec luis devant Québec pour la défense de la Nouvelle-France." Inside, too dark for photos yesterday, is another inscription explaining that at the ceremony his descendant laid a stone from the ancestral castle at Saint-Véran, France next to his relics. So we see how the fetishism of objects inheres not only in holy relics, but even in buildings, stone, monuments, etc. To translate remains is to transfer the magical power of heroism or ownership, from one place to another. These "restes" carry a magical aura, that apparently can be felt by the remains of the soldiers who must be comforted at the thought that their leader now lies close to them.