Northern Nut Growers Association - "Northern Nut Growers Association Report of the Proceedings at the Twenty Fourth Annual Meeting"

Lewis Hodus - "Buddhism and Buddhists in China"

Nathaniel Hawthorne - "The Dolliver Romance"

Bartolome de las Casas - "A Brief Account of the Destruction of the Indies"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

France and England in North America, a Series of Historical Narratives, Part Third

F >> Francis Parkman >> France and England in North America, a Series of Historical Narratives, Part Third




Holding a north-easterly course, the travellers crossed the Brazos, and
reached the waters of the Trinity. The weather was unfavorable, and on one
occasion they encamped in the rain during four or five days together. It
was not an harmonious company. La Salle's cold and haughty reserve had
returned, at least for those of his followers to whom he was not partial.
Duhaut and the surgeon Liotot, both of whom were men of some property, had
a large pecuniary stake in the enterprise, and were disappointed and
incensed at its ruinous result. They had a quarrel with young Moranget,
whose hot and hasty temper was as little fitted to conciliate as was the
harsh reserve of his uncle. Already, at Fort St. Louis, Duhaut had
intrigued among the men; and the mild admonition of Joutel had not, it
seems, sufficed to divert him from his sinister purposes. Liotot, it is
said, had secretly sworn vengeance against La Salle, whom he charged with
having caused the death of his brother, or, as some will have it, his
nephew. On one of the former journeys, this young man's strength had
failed; and, La Salle having ordered him to return to the fort, he had
been killed by Indians on the way.

The party moved again as the weather improved; and, on the fifteenth of
March, encamped within a few miles of a spot which La Salle had passed on
his preceding journey, and where he had left a quantity of Indian corn and
beans in _cache_; that is to say, hidden in the ground, or in a hollow
tree. As provisions were falling short, he sent a party from the camp to
find it. These men were Duhaut, Liotot, [Footnote: Called Lanquetot by
Tonty.] Hiens the buccaneer, Teissier, l'Archeveque, Nika the hunter, and
La Salle's servant, Saget. They opened the _cache_, and found the contents
spoiled; but, as they returned from their bootless errand, they saw
buffalo; and Nika shot two of them. They now encamped on the spot, and
sent the servant to inform La Salle, in order that he might send horses to
bring in the meat. Accordingly, on the next day, he directed Moranget and
De Marie, with the necessary horses, to go with Saget to the hunters'
camp. When they, arrived, they found that Duhaut and his companions had
already cut up the meat, and laid it upon scaffolds for smoking, though it
was not yet so dry as, it seems, this process required. Duhaut and the
others had also put by, for themselves, the marrow-bones and certain
portions of the meat, to which, by woodland custom, they had a perfect
right. Moranget, whose rashness and violence had once before caused a
fatal catastrophe, fell into a most unreasonable fit of rage, berated
and menaced Duhaut and his party, and ended by seizing upon the whole
of the meat, including the reserved portions. This added fuel to the
fire of Duhaut's old grudge against Moranget and his uncle. There is
reason to think that he had nourished in his vindictive heart deadly
designs, the execution of which was only hastened by the present outbreak.
He, with his servant, l'Archeveque, Liotot, Hiens, and Teissier, took
counsel apart, and resolved to kill Moranget that night. Nika, La
Salle's devoted follower, and Saget, his faithful servant, must die
with him. All were of one mind except the pilot, Teissier, who neither
aided nor opposed the plot.

Night came; the woods grew dark; the evening meal was finished, and the
evening pipes were smoked. The order of the guard was arranged; and,
doubtless by design, the first hour of the night was assigned to Moranget,
the second to Saget, and the third to Nika. Gun in hand, each stood his
watch in turn over the silent but not sleeping forms around him, till, his
time expiring, he called the man who was to relieve him, wrapped himself
in his blanket, and was soon buried in a slumber that was to be his last.
Now the assassins rose. Duhaut and Hiens stood with their guns cocked
ready to shoot down any one of the destined victims who should resist or
fly. The surgeon, with an axe, stole towards the three sleepers, and
struck a rapid blow at each in turn. Saget and Nika died with little
movement; but Moranget started spasmodically into a sitting posture,
gasping, and unable to speak; and the murderers compelled De Marie, who
was not in their plot, to compromise himself by despatching him.

The floodgates of murder were open, and the torrent must have its way.
Vengeance and safety alike demanded the death of La Salle. Hiens. or
"English Jem," alone seems to have hesitated; for he was one of those to
whom that stern commander had always been partial. Meanwhile, the intended
victim was still at his camp, about six miles distant. It is easy to
picture, with sufficient accuracy, the features of the scene,--the sheds
of bark and branches, beneath which, among blankets and buffalo-robes,
camp-utensils, pack-saddles, rude harness, guns, powder-horns, and bullet-
pouches, the men lounged away the hour, sleeping, or smoking, or talking
among themselves; the blackened kettles that hung from tripods of poles
over the fires; the Indians strolling about the place, or lying, like dogs
in the sun, with eyes half shut, yet all observant; and, in the
neighboring meadow, the horses grazing under the eye of a watchman.

It was the nineteenth of March, and Moranget had been two days absent. La
Salle began to show a great anxiety. Some bodings of the truth seem to
have visited him; for he was heard to ask several of his men, if Duhaut,
Liotot, and Hiens had not of late shown signs of discontent. Unable longer
to endure his suspense, he left the camp in charge of Joutel, with a
caution to stand well on his guard; and set out in search of his nephew,
with the friar, Anastase Douay, and two Indians. "All the way," writes the
friar, "he spoke to me of nothing but matters of piety, grace, and
predestination; enlarging on the debt he owed to God, who had saved him
from so many perils during more than twenty years of travel in America.
Suddenly," Douay continues, "I saw him overwhelmed with a profound
sadness, for which he himself could not account. He was so much moved that
I scarcely knew him." He soon recovered his usual calmness; and they
walked on till they approached the camp of Duhaut, which was, however, on
the farther side of a small river. Looking about him with the eye of a
woodsman, La Salle saw two eagles, or, more probably, turkey-buzzards,
circling in the air nearly over him, as if attracted by carcasses of
beasts or men. He fired both his pistols, as a summons to any of his
followers who might be within hearing. The shots reached the ears of the
conspirators. Rightly conjecturing by whom they were fired, several of
them, led by Duhaut, crossed the river at a little distance above, where
trees, or other intervening objects, hid them from sight. Duhaut and the
surgeon crouched like Indians in the long, dry, reed-like grass of the
last summer's growth, while l'Archeveque stood in sight near the bank. La
Salle, continuing to advance, soon, saw him; and, calling to him, demanded
where was Moranget. The man, without lifting his hat, or any show of
respect, replied in an agitated and broken voice, but with a tone of
studied insolence, that Moranget was along the river. La Salle rebuked and
menaced him. He rejoined with increased insolence, drawing back, as he
spoke, towards the ambuscade, while the incensed commander advanced to
chastise him. At that moment, a shot was fired from the grass, instantly
followed by another; and, pierced through the brain, La Salle dropped
dead.

The friar at his side stood in an ecstasy of fright, unable to advance or
to fly; when Duhaut, rising from his ambuscade, called out to him to take
courage, for he had nothing to fear. The murderers now came forward, and
with wild looks gathered about their victim. "There thou liest, great
Bashaw! There thou liest!" [Footnote: "Te voila grand Bacha, te voila!"--
Joutel, 203.] exclaimed the surgeon Liotot, in base exultation over the
unconscious corpse. With mockery and insult, they stripped it naked,
dragged it into the bushes, and left it there, a prey to the buzzards and
the wolves.

Thus, in the vigor of his manhood, at the age of forty-three, died Robert
Cavelier de la Salle, "one of the greatest men," writes Tonty, "of this
age;" without question one of the most remarkable explorers whose names
live in history. His faithful officer Joutel thus sketches his portrait:
"His firmness, his courage, his great knowledge of the arts and sciences,
which made him equal to every undertaking, and his untiring energy, which
enabled him to surmount every obstacle, would have won at last a glorious
success for his grand enterprise, had not all his fine qualities been
counterbalanced by a haughtiness of manner which often made him
insupportable, and by a harshness towards those under his command, which
drew upon him an implacable hatred, and was at last the cause of his
death." [Footnote: _Journal Historique_, 202.]

The enthusiasm of the disinterested and chivalrous Champlain was not the
enthusiasm of La Salle; nor had he any part in the self-devoted zeal of
the early Jesuit explorers. He belonged not to the age of the knight-
errant and the saint, but to the modern world of practical study and
practical action. He was the hero, not of a principle nor of a faith, but
simply of a fixed idea and a determined purpose. As often happens with
concentred and energetic natures, his purpose was to him a passion and an
inspiration; and he clung to it with a certain fanaticism of devotion. It
was the offspring of an ambition vast and comprehensive, yet acting in the
interest both of France and of civilization. His mind rose immeasurably
above the range of the mere commercial speculator; and, in all the
invective and abuse of rivals and enemies, it does not appear that his
personal integrity ever found a challenger.

He was capable of intrigue, but his reserve and his haughtiness were sure
to rob him at last of the fruits of it. His schemes failed, partly because
they were too vast, and partly because he did not conciliate the good-will
of those whom he was compelled to trust. There were always traitors in his
ranks, and his enemies were more in earnest than his friends. Yet he had
friends; and there were times when out of his stern nature a stream of
human emotion would gush, like water from the rock.

In the pursuit of his purpose, he spared no man, and least of all himself.
He bore the brunt of every hardship and every danger; but he seemed to
expect from all beneath him a courage and endurance equal to his own,
joined with an implicit deference to his authority. Most of his disasters
may be ascribed, in some measure, to himself; and Fortune and his own
fault seemed always in league to ruin him.

It is easy to reckon up his defects, but it is not easy to hide from sight
the Roman virtues that redeemed them. Beset by a throng of enemies, he
stands, like the King of Israel, head and shoulders above them all. He was
a tower of adamant, against whose impregnable front hardship and danger,
the rage of man and of the elements, the southern sun, the northern blast,
fatigue, famine, and disease, delay, disappointment, and deferred hope,
emptied their quivers in vain. That very pride, which, Coriolanus-like,
declared itself most sternly in the thickest press of foes, has in it
something to challenge admiration. Never, under the impenetrable mail of
paladin or crusader, beat a heart of more intrepid mettle than within the
stoic panoply that armed the breast of La Salle. To estimate aright the
marvels of his patient fortitude, one must follow on his track through the
vast scene of his interminable journeyings, those thousands of weary miles
of forest, marsh, and river, where, again and again, in the bitterness of
baffled striving, the untiring pilgrim pushed onward towards the goal
which he was never to attain. America owes him an enduring memory; for in
this masculine figure, cast in iron, she sees the heroic pioneer who
guided her to the possession of her richest heritage. [Footnote: On the
assassination of La Salle, the evidence is fourfold: 1st, The narrative of
Douay, who was with him at the time. 2d, That of Joutel, who learned the
facts immediately after they took place, from Douay and others, and who
parted from La Salle an hour or more before his death. 3d, A document
preserved in the Archives de la Marine, entitled _"Relation de la Mort du
Sr. de la Salle suivant le rapport d'un nomine Couture a qui M. Cavelier
l'apprit en passant au pays des Akansa, avec toutes les circonstances que
le dit Couture a apprises d'un Francais que M. Cavelier avoit laisse aux
dits pays des Akansa, crainte qu'il ne gardat pas le secret,"_ 4th, The
authentic memoir of Tonty, of which a copy from the original is before me,
and which has recently been printed by Margry.

The narrative of Cavelier unfortunately fails us several weeks before the
death of his brother, the remainder being lost. On a study of these
various documents, it is impossible to resist the conclusion that neither
Cavelier nor Douay always wrote honestly. Joutel, on the contrary, gives
the impression of sense, intelligence, and candor throughout. Charlevoix,
who knew him long after, says that he was "un fort honnete homme, et le
seul de la troupe de M. de la Salle, sur qui ce celebre voyageur put
compter." Tonty derived his information from the survivors of La Salle's
party. Couture, whose statements are embodied in the _Relation de la Mort
de M. de la Salle_, was one of Tonty's men, who, as will be seen
hereafter, were left by him at the mouth of the Arkansas, and to whom
Cavelier told the story of his brother's death. Couture also repeats the
statements of one of La Salle's followers, undoubtedly a Parisian boy
named Barthelemy, who was violently prejudiced against his chief, whom he
slanders to the utmost of his skill, saying that he was so enraged at his
failures that he did not approach the sacraments for two years; that he
nearly starved his brother Cavelier, allowing him only a handful of meal a
day; that he killed with his own hand "quantite de personnes" who did not
work to his liking; and that he killed the sick in their beds without
mercy, under the pretence that they were counterfeiting sickness, in order
to escape work. These assertions certainly have no other foundation than
the undeniable strictness and rigor of La Salle's command. Douay says that
he confessed and made his devotions on the morning of his death, while
Cavelier always speaks of him as the hope and the staff of the colony.

Douay declares that La Salle lived an hour after the fatal shot; that he
gave him absolution, buried his body, and planted a cross on his grave. At
the time, he told Joutel a different story; and the latter, with the best
means of learning the facts, explicitly denies the friar's printed
statement. Couture, on the authority of Cavelier himself, also says that
neither he nor Douay were permitted to take any step for burying the body.
Tonty says that Cavelier begged leave to do so, but was refused. Douay,
unwilling to place upon record facts from which the inference might easily
be drawn that he had been terrified from discharging his duty, no doubt
invented the story of the burial, as well as that of the edifying behavior
of Moranget, after he had been struck in the head with an axe.]

The locality of La Salle's assassination is sufficiently clear from a
comparison of the several narratives; and it is also indicated on a
contemporary manuscript map, made on the return of the survivors of the
party to France. The scene of the catastrophe is here placed on a southern
branch of the Trinity.

La Salle's debts, at the time of his death, according to a schedule
presented in 1701 to Champigny, Intendant of Canada, amounted to 106,831
livres, without reckoning interest. This cannot be meant to include all,
as items are given which raise the amount much higher. In 1678 and 1679
alone, he contracted debts to the amount of 97,184 livres, of which 46,000
were furnished by Branssac, fiscal attorney of the Seminary of Montreal.
This was to be paid in beaver-skins. Frontenac, at the same time, became
his surety for 13,623 livres. In 1684, he borrowed 34,825 livres from the
Sieur Pen, at Paris. These sums do not include the losses incurred by his
family, which, in the memorial presented by them to the king, are set down
at 500,000 livres for the expeditions between 1678 and 1683, and 300,000
livres for the fatal Texan expedition of 1684. These last figures are
certainly exaggerated.




CHAPTER XXVII.
1687, 1688.
THE INNOCENT AND THE GUILTY.

TRIUMPH OF THE MURDERERS.--JOUTEL AMONG THE CENTS.--WHITE SAVAGES.
--INSOLENCE OF DUHAUT AND HIS ACCOMPLICES.--MURDER OF DUHAUT AND
LIOTOT.--HIENS, THE BUCCANEER.--JOUTEL AND HIS PARTY.--THEIR ESCAPE.
--THEY REACH THE ARKANSAS.--BRAVERY AND DEVOTION OF TONTY.--THE
FUGITIVES REACH THE ILLINOIS.--UNWORTHY CONDUCT OF CAVELIER.--HE
AND HIS COMPANIONS RETURN TO FRANCE.


Father Anastase Douay returned to the camp, and, aghast with grief and
terror, rushed into the hut of Cavelier. "My poor brother is dead!" cried
the priest, instantly divining the catastrophe from the horror-stricken
face of the messenger. Close behind came the murderers, Duhaut at their
head. Cavelier, his young nephew, and Douay himself, all fell on their
knees, expecting instant death. The priest begged piteously for half an
hour to prepare for his end; but terror and submission sufficed, and no
more blood was shed. The camp submitted without resistance; and Duhaut was
lord of all.

Joutel, at the moment, chanced to be absent; and l'Archeveque, who had a
kindness for him, went quietly to seek him. He found him 011 a hillock,
looking at the band of horses grazing on the meadow below. "I was
petrified," says Joutel, "at the news, and knew not whether to fly or
remain where I was; but at length, as I had neither powder, lead, nor any
weapon, and as l'Archeveque assured me that my life would be safe if I
kept quiet and said nothing, I abandoned myself to the care of Providence,
and went back in silence to the camp. Duhaut, puffed up with the new
authority which his crime had gained for him, no sooner saw me than he
cried out that each ought to command in turn; to which I made no reply. We
were all forced to smother our grief, and not permit it to be seen; for it
was a question of life and death; but it may be imagined with what
feelings the Abbe Cavelier and his nephew, Father Anastase, and I regarded
these murderers, of whom we expected to be the victims every moment."
[Footnote: _Journal Historique, 205._] They succeeded so well in their
dissembling, that Duhaut and his accomplices seemed to lose all distrust
of their intentions; and Joutel says that they might easily have avenged
the death of La Salle by that of his murderers, had not the elder
Cavelier, through scruple or cowardice, opposed the design.

Meanwhile, Duhaut and Liotot seized upon all the money and goods of La
Salle, even to his clothing, declaring that they had a right to them, in
compensation for the losses in which they had been involved by the failure
of his schemes. [Footnote: According to the _Relation de la Mart du Sr. de
la Salle,_ the amount of property remaining was still very considerable.
The same document states that Duhaut's interest in the expedition was half
the freight of one of the four vessels, which was, of course, a dead loss
to him.] They treated the elder Cavelier with great contempt, disregarding
his claims to the property, which, indeed, he dared not urge; and
compelling him to listen to the most violent invectives against his
brother. Hiens, the buccaneer, was greatly enraged at these proceedings of
his accomplices; and thus the seeds of a quarrel were already sown.

On the second morning after the murder, the party broke up their camp,
packed their horses, of which the number had been much increased by barter
with the Indians, and began their march for the Cenis villages, amid a
drenching rain. Thus they moved onward slowly till the twenty-eighth, when
they reached the main stream of the Trinity, and encamped on its borders.
Joutel, who, as well as his companions in misfortune, could not lie down
to sleep with an assurance of waking in the morning, was now directed by
his self-constituted chiefs to go in advance of the party to the great
Cenis village for a supply of food. Liotot himself, with Hiens and
Teissier, declared that they would go with him; and Duhaut graciously
supplied him with goods for barter. Joutel thus found himself in the
company of three murderers, who, as he strongly suspected, were contriving
an opportunity to kill him; but, having no choice, he dissembled his
doubts, and set out with his ill-omened companions. His suspicions seem,
to have been groundless; and, after a ride of ten leagues, the travellers
neared the Indian town, which, with its large thatched lodges, looked like
a cluster of huge haystacks. Their approach had been made known, and they
were received in solemn state. Twelve of the elders came to meet them in
their dress of ceremony, each with his face daubed red or black, and his
head adorned with painted plumes. From. their shoulders hung deer-skins
wrought and fringed with gay colors. Some carried war-clubs; some, bows
and arrows; some, the blades of Spanish rapiers, attached to wooden,
handles decorated with hawk's-bells and bunches of feathers. They stopped
before the honored guests, and, raising their hands aloft, uttered howls
so extraordinary, that Joutel had much ado to preserve the gravity which
the occasion demanded. Having next embraced the Frenchmen, the elders
conducted them into the village, attended by a crowd of warriors and young
men; ushered them into their town-hall, a large lodge devoted to councils,
feasts, dances, and other public assemblies; seated them on mats, and
squatted in a ring around them. Here they were regaled with sagamite, or
Indian porridge, corncake, beans, and bread made of the meal of parched
corn. Then the pipe was lighted, and all smoked together. The four
Frenchmen proposed to open a traffic for provisions, and their
entertainers grunted assent.

Joutel found a Frenchman in the village. He was a young man from Provence,
who had deserted from La Salle on his last journey, and was now, to all
appearance, a savage like his adopted countrymen, being naked like them,
and affecting to have forgotten his native language. He was very friendly,
however, and invited the visitors to a neighboring village, where he
lived, and where, as he told them, they would find a better supply of
corn. They accordingly set out with him, escorted by a crowd of Indians.
They saw lodges and clusters of lodges scattered along their path at
intervals, each with its field of corn, beans, and pumpkins, rudely
cultivated with a wooden hoe. Reaching their destination, which was not
far off, they were greeted with the same honors as at the first village;
and, the ceremonial of welcome over, were lodged in the abode of the
savage Frenchman. It is not to be supposed, however, that he and his
squaws, of whom he had a considerable number, dwelt here alone; for these
lodges of the Cenis often contained fifteen families or more. They were
made by firmly planting in a circle tall straight young trees, such as
grew in the swamps. The tops were then bent inward and lashed together;
great numbers of cross-pieces were bound on, and the frame thus
constructed was thickly covered with thatch, a hole being left at the top
for the escape of the smoke. The inmates were ranged around the
circumference of the structure, each family in a kind of stall, open in
front, but separated from those adjoining it by partitions of mats. Here
they placed their beds of cane, their painted robes of buffalo and deer
skin, their cooking utensils of pottery, and other household goods; and
here, too, the head of the family hung his bow, quiver, lance, and shield.
There was nothing in common but the fire, which burned in the middle of
the lodge, and was never suffered to go out. These dwellings were of great
size, and Joutel declares that he has seen one sixty feet in diameter.
[Footnote: The lodges of the Florida Indians were somewhat similar. The
winter lodges of the now nearly extinct Mandans, though not so high in
proportion to their width, and built of more solid materials, as the rigor
of a northern climate requires, bear a general resemblance to those of the
Cenis.

The Cenis tattooed their faces and some parts of their bodies by pricking
powdered charcoal into the skin. The women tattooed the breasts; and this
practice was general among them, notwithstanding the pain of the
operation, as it was thought very ornamental. Their dress consisted of a
sort of frock, or wrapper of skin, from the waist to the knees. The men,
in summer, wore nothing but the waist-cloth.]

It was in one of the largest that the four travellers were now lodged. A
place was assigned to them where to bestow their baggage; and they took
possession of their quarters amid the silent stares of the whole
community. They asked their renegade countryman, the Provencal, if they
were safe. He replied that they were; but this did not wholly reassure
them, and they spent a somewhat wakeful night. In the morning, they opened
their budgets, and began a brisk trade in knives, awls, beads, and other
trinkets, which they exchanged for corn and beans. Before evening, they
had acquired a considerable stock; and Joutel's three companions declared
their intention of returning with it to the camp, leaving him to continue
the trade. They went, accordingly, in the morning; and Joutel was left
alone. On the one hand, he was glad to be rid of them; on the other, he
found his position among the Cenis very irksome, and, as he thought,
insecure. Besides the Provencal, who had gone with Liotot and his
companions, there were two, other French deserters among this tribe, and
Joutel was very desirous to see them, hoping that they could tell him the
way to the Mississippi; for he was resolved to escape, at the first
opportunity, from the company of Duhaut and his accomplices. He therefore
made the present of a knife to a young Indian, whom he sent to find the
two Frenchmen, and invite them, to come to the village. Meanwhile, he
continued his barter, but under many difficulties; for he could only
explain himself by signs, and his customers, though friendly by day,
pilfered his goods by night. This, joined to the fears and troubles which
burdened his mind, almost deprived him of sleep, and, as he confesses,
greatly depressed his spirits. Indeed, he had little cause for
cheerfulness, in the past, present, or future. An old Indian, one of the
patriarchs of the tribe, observing his dejection, and anxious to relieve
it, one evening brought him a young wife, saying that he made him a
present of her. She seated herself at his side; "but," says Joutel, "as my
head was full of other cares and anxieties, I said nothing to the poor
girl. She waited for a little time; and then, finding that I did not speak
a word, she went away."

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