Jean-Nicolas Démeunier and his translation of Cook’s A Voyage to the Pacific Ocean

It is well known that the eighteenth century had a craving for travel literature. To satisfy the demand of a growing readership, booksellers and printers would carry travel books written in their original languages but also, and mostly, in translation. Translation enhanced dissemination of knowledge^[1] and is part of the field that Charles Withers calls “book geography” which “addresses [...] the displacement of texts, reading, and reviewing practices in different physical and social spaces and the questions of meaning and epistemic significance that arise from such matters of geography.”^[2] As French was the lingua franca of the day in Europe, the French translation of James Cook’s Voyage to the Pacific Ocean was therefore read not only in France but also in other countries. However, the role of translation does not limit itself to the dissemination of knowledge. As translation specialist Susan Bassnett observed, “it is [...] recognized that colonialism and translation went hand in hand”.^[3] One may then wonder at what happens when the very colonial genre of travel literature^[4] is translated and re-enters, so to speak, the realm of book geography. We argue that translation is a process that not only reveals but also amplifies the colonial dimension of travel narratives.^[5] It is an active agent of the making of coloniality.^[6] The purpose of this article is not to trace the circulation of the translated text in Europe and elsewhere but to address the translation process itself while replacing it in its historical context. We will first present the translator and his translations of travel accounts before his work on Cook’s Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, while alluding to the place of travel books within the editorial context of the late 18th century. Then, we will examine the construction of the translator’s ethos through his translations of travel accounts and how it serves to establish the conditions necessary in the target culture for the reception of such a colonial discourse. Finally, we will confront the ethos developed in the translation of the third voyage to actual translation practices at work in this work.

1. Démeunier and his translation before Cook’s Voyage to the Ocean

Jean-Nicolas Démeunier (1751-1814) seems to have had a dual career in his life: as a man of letters and as a politician when the French Revolution broke out. We will only consider the first aspect of his career. However, it must be clear that he does not stop his translation activity during the Revolution; his translation of George Vancouver’s A Voyage of Discovery to the North Pacific Ocean was indeed published in 1798.^[7]

Originally from the region of Franche-Comté, Démeunier was formally educated at Besançon’s seminary but did not become a priest. He embraced law instead and moved to Paris around 1771. Fourteen years later, when Démeunier tackles the transposition into French of James Cook’s A Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, it appears that he is not a newcomer to the translation of travel writing. When the French version is published in 1785, Démeunier has already produced six translations of travel accounts and geographical books^[8] and, as he shares in the translator’s preface of his latest work, he contributed to the translation in French of Cook’s first voyage: “Il y a quelques fautes dans la traduction du second voyage de Cook et la portion du premier dont j’avais été chargé [...]”.^[9] It seems that the translation of geographical literature (broadly defined) constitutes Démeunier’s début on the public scene and his literary specialty. Out of fifteen translations which are attributed to him by the Bibliothèque nationale de France, eight fall into this category. Travel, and more precisely travel knowledge, also constitutes the main source of information that he used to compose L'Esprit des usages et des coutumes des différens peuples, ou observations tirées des voyageurs et des historiens which was published in 1776, shortly after his first translations. For this Montesquieu-inspired book, Démeunier drew most of his knowledge from the Abbé Prévost’s Histoire générale des voyages.^[10] The fact that Prévost’s collection was a translation itself (at least for the first half) of an English collection may have encouraged Démeunier in his translation work as he was quite well placed to appreciate the value of having translated material at the ready for his own project. Quite interestingly, the publisher/bookseller of L’esprit des usages, happens to be Noel Pissot, who had already published his translation of Brydone’s travels to Sicily and Malta in 1775 and who is very much engaged in the publication of travel books.^[11] Another important bookseller was also involved in this translation, Charles-Joseph Panckoucke. He distinguished himself in the travel literature industry in the last quarter of the eighteenth century. He is known for having developed the first publishing empire in France while betting, among many other things, on the editorial success of travel literature.^[12] In 1769 he buys the full royal privilege of Prévost’s Histoire générale des voyages^[13] and in 1775 meets with Jean-François de la Harpe to develop the project of the abridged version of Prévost’s collection which will see the light in 1780.^[14] Panckoucke will also publish Cook’s first and second accounts. Démeunier and Panckoucke’s relationship is further heightened by the fact that Panckoucke bought the privilege for Cook's Voyage to the Pacific Ocean from the translator himself in 1783.^[15] In all he will publish three translations of travel books by Démeunier and their collaboration will also include Démeunier’s significant contribution to the Encyclopédie méthodique where he is in charge of volumes dedicated to the “économie politique et diplomatique”.^[16]

At the time of this productive collaboration, Démeunier has made his way socially. He is now the Secretary to Monsieur (Louis XVIII) and has also been appointed as royal censor.^[17] The timing of his contribution to the Encyclopédie méthodique is of note as it was published one year removed from his translation of Cook’s voyage. Besides being well-connected, Démeunier appears to be a busy man of letters. For a translator in the eighteenth century, such a career is rare enough to be of note. Other translators like Marc-Antoine Eidous who tried to make a living from this profession never achieved this level of success and social recognition (Eidous is known for forty translations,^[18] including nine related to travel books). Most remained invisible. Démeunier’s involvement in the publishing world of travel books was certainly well-known by his contemporaries, which contributed to his credibility among readers. Also, and unlike most translators at the time, his name appeared on the title page of two books and in one privilege,^[19] which would have prepared the readership for his translation of Cook’s third voyage, where he only appeared under his initial. We can venture a guess that at this particular moment, and to use Dominique Maingueneau’s terminology,^[20] Démeunier had a well-established pre-discursive ethos as a translator. As we will see, the texts will confirm this impression.

2. The ethos of the translator

The concept of ethos in translation studies is getting more attention now^[21] and it seems timely to apply it to translators of travel literature.^[22] This ethos, sometimes described as the figure of the translator,^[23] frames the translated text on the basis of a relationship between the translator and the reader and, of course, it is destined to frame the reception of the text itself. This ethos is somewhat different from that of an author. It has been observed that

[...] translators and interpreters are particularly interesting because they are bound by a pre-existing text, or message, that needs to be translated for a new audience or readership. Translators work ‘translatively’ in the sense that their subjectivity is ostensibly hidden behind the main text and emerges in the liminal spaces of stylistic preferences, prefaces, footnotes, or reviews.^[24]

It is in the paratext that the translator shares his vision of the source text and his approach of the translation, usually under the form of comments that can sometimes be prescriptive. As such, they can be taken as principles establishing an ethics, understood as a system of explicit principles.^[25] Whether these translators adhere to them or not is a different story.

In the case of translators like Démeunier who had the opportunity to translate several texts belonging to the same genre, it is necessary to consider previous representations of the same phenomenon as part of this projection. The image therefore is not based on one occurrence but is actually constructed over time.^[26] Variations are therefore part of the image of the translator.

Démeunier’s translations of travel books are always accompanied with paratextual segments. They include four “préfaces du traducteur”, two “avertissements du traducteur”, one “avertissement” and one “avertissement de l’éditeur” where the translation process is discussed at length. The repetition of this practice displays a preoccupation on his part for the reception of his work. At the same time, the content of these liminal pieces is somewhat repetitive. Eight themes seem to manifest themselves:

• the author of the source text (in order to establish his importance and relevance)
• the interest of the text (the advancement of knowledge and the current economic and political competition with England)
• the ideological bias of the source text
• problems of translation (nautical terms and toponyms)
• the composition of the target text (the inability to change anything from the source text)
• the lack of information of the source text
• the omissions (factual elements deemed unimportant or cumbersome)
• the overall quality of the translation (the topos of the humility of the translator)

Discourses including some, if not all, of these themes aim of course at establishing a relationship of trust between the translator and the reader.

The following table cross-checks these themes with Démeunier’s paratextual discourses found in his translations of travel books before the translation of Cook’s third voyage (the X signals the presence of a theme; the question mark after an X designates themes that the reader can infer or suppose in connection with one explicit theme).

As we can see, mentions of the author and of the interest of the source text seem compulsory. Mostly laudatory, they aim at establishing the interest of the translation: the author of the original is usually enlightened, zealous, well-prepared, etc. The text itself serves the grand purpose of the enlightenment in providing new and useful knowledge about the world. The remaining themes seem to underline the translator’s capability and resourcefulness as well as the framing of the translation for a new audience. On the one hand, the translator shows himself capable of identifying missing information and providing a solution; he also seeks the help of specialists if necessary in order to clarify terms. On the other hand, he anticipates the impact of what is perceived as ideological bias in the source text and addresses it; he also removes information that he deems not necessary. He triages the information and retains what he believes is suitable for his audience. In doing so, he establishes himself as a legitimate agent of mediation and this in return reflects positively on the message that he is circulating. Démeunier refers to the composition of the original and complains twice indirectly about the fact that translators cannot alter the structure of the source text. The original design is explicitly presented as the author’s purview; the translator, it would seem, is not allowed to trespass. In the third, he admits to having made many changes to the English text. If the auctorial rule is not completely binding, Démeunier makes sure that the reader is aware of his modifications and of their supposed necessity. These themes and principles, in their relation to the ethos of the translator, help the reader to create the “garant”, as Maingueneau calls it,^[27] which exemplifies the conscientiousness and probity of the translator as well as his dedication to the Enlightenment ideals. For any reader about to read the French version of Cook’s Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, Démeunier, as a public man of letters involved in the transmission of travel literature, seemed to benefit from impeccable credentials.

3. The translation of the third voyage

When comparing both versions, one is first struck by three major differences. The first appears on the title page. The French title differs from its English counterpart by the addition of the phrase “Troisième voyage de Cook” and its positioning as the main title. The original title is relegated to a sub-title.^[28]

Source: https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k10733462/f11.item

Source: https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/item/29903#page/4/mode/thumb

The way that the English navigator’s name is simply mentioned on its own, without any formal introduction like the mention of his title, shows a high level of familiarity expected from the readership with the subject. It also points to the edification of Cook as the main character and hero of the narrative. It must be said that this translation choice is very different from the one retained in the translations of the previous voyages where the main translator, Jean-Baptiste Suard, did not change anything.^[29] In fact, this French title is (for its main part) similar to the one retained for the translation of John Rickman’s Journal of Captain Cook’s last Voyage, published in English in 1781. It was released in French in 1782 as Troisième voyage de Cook ou Journal d’une expédition faite dans la mer pacifique du sud et du nord en 1776, 1777, 1778, 1779 et 1780. It is no surprise to see this version published by Pissot and Laporte. The translator left a preface but there is no indication of his identity. The Bibliothèque nationale de France attributes it to Démeunier^[30] and so does the Correspondance littéraire, philosophique et critique de Grimm.^[31] This titling similarity clearly confers to the translation of the official account a serial effect and points to the commercial godsend of Cook’s death for the publishing industry specialised in travel literature. The second difference concerns the image of the medal commissioned by the Royal Society in 1784. Absent from the 1784 English original first edition of the account, it is found on the title page of the French version as well as in the second edition of the English version published in 1785. In both cases, it adds a visual representation of the character that gives him a more physical presence. The third most obvious difference is the addition of a plate placed after the title page of the French version depicting the death of Captain Cook. This illustration is a reproduction of a famous piece by John Webber completed in 1784 and its placement at this particular spot is clearly specified in the list of plates and maps that follows.^[32] It is also accompanied by a cross-reference to the portions of the text where the death will be narrated, thus acquiring extra significance as it seems to prescribe a teleological reading of the account culminating in the narrative and description of the death of Captain Cook. This version is actually not the first publication in French of an illustrated book related to Cook’s third voyage: John Rickman’s Journal contains one notable illustration of Cook’s death which, if quite different from Webber’s, is also placed before the title page both in English and in French.

The French version of the official account seems to fit a model and, because of the competition between booksellers, appears to be designed to create confusion vis-à-vis its predecessor. The title change and the addition of these two pictorial representations of the navigator definitely place Cook as the focal point of the narrative while contributing to Cook’s heroization process. As such, the translation clearly fits into the mass of publications that followed the announcement of his death and that developed this process.^[33] Everything seems to be subsumed under the heroic figure of Cook and therefore under its protective aura. At a time when the anti-colonial Histoire des Deux Indes by Abbé Raynal has been in circulation for over a decade, the colonial dimension of Cook’s travels is here left unchallenged and masked by the fusion of a man made hero and the ideals of the Enlightenment.^[34] The opening lines of the translator’s preface are very clear: “La géographie du globe était couverte de ténèbres, lorsque l’immortel Cook a commencé ses voyages autour du monde. Ses deux premières expéditions nous ont fait connaître une multitude de côtes et d’îles nouvelles, et la troisième a encore peut-être été plus heureuse à cet égard.”^[35] The words used to describe his personality or his actions do not leave any room for doubt: Cook was able to determine the position of territories with “précision merveilleuse”.^[36] The reader will be “pénétré d’émotion en voyant le zèle et la persévérance de M. Cook”^[37] while also admiring Cook’s extraordinary skills as a sailor and as a man of science who was able to prevent scurvy. The reader will then acknowledge Cook’s “générosité et bienveillance” because he transported European animals and plants to the Pacific islands.^[38]Finally, the reader will be touched by the narrative of Cook’s death: “[...] je présume qu’on ne pourra lire sans un attendrissement profond les détails de la mort de ce grand homme, assassiné par des sauvages qui l’avaient d’abord adoré comme un dieu”.^[39]This passage seems in fact to serve Démeunier’s own pessimistic vision of humankind which he first developed in his Esprit des usages.^[40] The “savages” occupy the last stage of Démeunier’s classification of humanity, after the “barbarians” and the “civilized”.^[41] However, the death of Cook, coupled with the evocations in the following paragraph of a human sacrifice witnessed by Cook and the fact that varied indigenous populations in the vast Pacific Ocean are able to communicate among themselves, lead him to this general statement: “les hommes sont plus ou moins corrompus à chacune des époques de la vie sauvage et de la civilisation”.^[42] Cook’s observations confirm Demeunier’s theory which in return validates Cook’s account.

Regarding the translator’s ethos in this preface, it definitely overlaps with the pre-discursive ethos analyzed above. After the evocation of the author, Démeunier makes sure to frame the interest of the account before tackling the subject of translation problems. This section is quite developed in comparison to the preceding one. Nautical and natural history terms seem to be the focus of his concerns. As for the lack of information, we need to look at another section of the paratext that is often used by translators to add content. Démeunier added seventy-two footnotes to the four volumes of the French translation.^[43] Twenty-nine of them are clearly labelled as “note du traducteur”. The fact that the translator uses the “I” pronoun in his notes could be an issue as to their attribution given that the first person is also used by the narrative voice of the original version. However, the topic of and the formulas used in these footnotes prove to be void of any ambiguity.^[44] One comment used a few times with little variation reinforces the complaint made in the preface regarding the translation of natural history terms: “C’est aux naturalistes à consulter les livres anglais”.^[45] Indeed, bird and fish names constitute the bulk of the contents of these footnotes, followed by factual references addressing several issues: some discrepancies in the contents of Cook’s account,^[46] cultural differences in terms of scientific measuring,^[47] or clarifications of certain expressions used in the local idiom.^[48] The fact that he comments on the difficulty of translating, often admitting his failure at it because of a lack of secondary sources,^[49] allows the reader to be included in the translation process and develops an impression of honesty. The very limited number of footnotes addressing factual accuracy and their limited scope also reflect the translator’s humility vis-à-vis the original – one of the oldest tropes used by translators if not the first. The attitude projected in these notes matches the assertions made in the translator’s preface and Démeunier appears to be an exemplary and trustworthy cultural mediator.

However, when comparing both texts, we notice that Démeunier altered some portions of the source text in a way that degrades the representation of Otherness. One example found in the first volume clearly manifests a racially prejudiced reading and a rendering of the source text by Démeunier. It is the depiction of the population of Tasmania (or rather the southeast portion of the island) which, in the source text, is attributed to William Anderson, the surgeon on the Resolution. First, Démeunier uses the French word “race” where the English author used “stock”.^[50] That said, the English word “race” is also used throughout the account of the third voyage as well as in the instructions and in the introduction. In this particular instance, the author evokes the “human race”, pointing at a universal understanding of this notion however contradicted by the multiple references to a variety of “races” in the account.^[51] The growing popularity of the term is clearly indicative of the racialization of the world set in motion by white Europeans through the adoption of a “scientific” vocabulary.^[52] Démeunier then modifies the language used to describe the local population while inscribing it in his theoretical model of humankind. Where the source text evokes the “situation”^[53] of this population, Démeunier writes about their “point de civilisation”^[54] to indicate that they have not reached the stage of the “civilized”. Where the English text mentions their supposed lack of reaction to the sight of white Europeans and their “general inattention” in order to demonstrate “their not possessing any acuteness of understanding”,^[55] the French has “l’engourdissement de leur esprit”.^[56] While the first sentence, although negative, leaves room for the possibility of acquiring the faculty perceived as lacking, the French sentence clearly considers the perceived deficiency as a physiological condition. The “engourdissement”’s literal meaning describes a physical phenomenon (the numbness of a limb) which is also figuratively applied to the mind and associated with idleness: “On dit figurément, L'oisiveté engourdit l'esprit”.^[57] This choice of word manifests an extra level of bias with this connotation that eventually inscribes this depiction in the long European tradition of associating black people with laziness^[58] and its application to non-white populations.^[59] This connotation is prolonged further down in the French version when Démeunier decides to add an adverb in the description of their posture: where the English text has “one hand grasping (across the back) the opposite arm which hangs down by the projecting side”,^[60] the French has “l’une des mains traversant le dos et saisissant l’autre bras qui tombe nonchalemment”.^[61] The posture is clearly interpreted and transposed in psychological terms building from the previous connotation. The last significant modification also highlights the translator’s prejudiced angle regarding the perception of non-white phenotypical traits. The English author distinguishes between the local population’s natural colour (“dull black”) and the fact that they would accentuate it by way of colouring their body so that “[…] a mark was left behind on any clean substance, such as white paper, when they handled it”.^[62] The French translator expresses another layer of bias as he develops an isotopy of filthiness directly related to the perceived colour of the local population. The “dull black” becomes “noir sale” and the “mark” left by their touching a white piece of paper is interpreted as the action of soiling: “dès qu’ils touchaient quelque chose de propre, ils le salissaient”.^[63]

This translation is not the result of a random translator’s textual experiments in a secret laboratory. It is at the crossroads of many influences and aspirations, including those of the book market, but also of a colonial and racialised ideology. The textual and visual modifications noted from the very first pages reveal Démeunier’s favourable bias towards the account itself and his main character. However, this perspective goes beyond the textual boundaries: it is informed by the editorial context of the day and it also informs it in return in creating a new and validated representation of Cook’s voyage. The relationship of trust that the translator’s ethos aims at installing has of course a direct impact on the reader’s representation of the translator but also on the way that they will read the text. The close reading of a somewhat small portion of the text leaves no doubt as to the amplified contribution of French translation to the making of coloniality in Europe in the eighteenth century. To a reader only aware of the French version, the alterations remained invisible and the Troisieme voyage de Cook was truth manifest.