The voyages of Cook and Bougainville, through the eyes of their fellow travelers

The following article deals with two accounts of state-sponsored voyages undertaken in the early careers of renown navigators Louis-Antoine de Bougainville and James Cook in the 1760s. As was then becoming the norm, their expeditions included a variety of objectives, meaning that a number of specialists, scientists and even artists accompanied them, with the task of collecting useful information that the ship captain could not be expected to obtain on his own. There were also less glamorous but equally necessary members on board, including doctors, cooks and chaplains, and it is on such lesser-known testimonies that this article focuses. In the case of Bougainville, I’ll be dealing with the only published report of his first trip to the Malvinas, conducted in the early 1760s, written by the ship’s naturalist and chaplain, Antoine-Joseph Pernety.^[1] As for Cook, he was accompanied during his first trip by William Monkhouse, of whom little is known other than that he was the ship’s surgeon on the first trip to the South Seas. His journal describes the Endeavour’s infamous arrival in Poverty Bay, New Zealand, during which several Maori were killed.

The purpose of this article is to compare two instances of European expansion during the second part of the eighteenth century, while highlighting certain elements of violence that characterised the arrival of the explorers in territories which they considered they had a legal and moral right to control. The comparison of these two texts is based on the fact that they concern the two main European navigators of the time – each document offering a unique yet essential perspective on a key moment of the Franco-British rivalry. The decade following the Seven Year War was indeed seen by both French and British authorities as an opportunity to expand their interests throughout the globe, which led to numerous actions involving varying degrees of violence

This juxtaposition of the British and French perspectives, while limited in time and scope, allows for a concrete analysis of the violence of the European great explorations, both as symbolic acts of appropriation and as physical aggressions, at a time when travelers such as James Cook and Louis-Antoine de Bougainville were about to become household names. The lesser known testimonies of Pernety and Monkhouse offer a different perspective than that of their superiors, since both Bougainville and Cook can be assumed to have attempted to project a positive image of themselves and of their travels. In both cases, a darker side of the great explorations is told. While Monkhouse’s account tells of attacks against the native population, Pernety’s book offers insights on the written strategies of the colonial battle, as well as on the rapid destruction of the animals and the environment of the Malvinas.

For the purpose of the article, I’ll be using the following definition borrowed from Yves Michaud’s book Violence et politique:

Il y a violence quand, dans une situation d’interaction, un ou plusieurs acteurs agissent de manière directe ou indirecte, massée ou distribuée, en portant atteinte à un ou plusieurs autres à des degrés variables soit dans leur intégrité physique, soit dans leur intégrité morale, soit dans leurs possessions, soit dans leurs participations symboliques et culturelles.^[2]

Although Michaud himself warns of the dangers of such a positivist conception of violence, this definition remains broad yet precise enough to account for the arrival of both Bougainville and Cook on the coasts of the Malvinas and New Zealand. The writings of Pernety and Monkhouse indeed point to the sometimes brutal interactions initiated by the Europeans within their new surroundings, against both human and non-human populations.

1. Antoine-Joseph Pernety’s account: a brief tale of environmental destruction

Antoine-Joseph Pernety was, to say the least, a colourful character. Before and after embarking with Bougainville on his first trip to the Malvinas, he led an eventful life, full of twists and turns: he was a clergyman, a learned scholar, an avid alchemist, as well as a mystic. After returning from his travels across the Atlantic Ocean, he renounced his status as a Benedictine monk in order to found an academy of alchemy in Avignon.

Pernety’s life story also includes being a free mason and converting several members of the Prussian royal family to his cult, before returning later in life to his original catholic faith.^[3] His most lasting contribution however remains the report he published in 1770 regarding Bougainville’s first trip to the Malvinas. Titled Histoire d’un voyage aux isles Malouines fait en 1763 et 1764,^[4] this text is the only published source on this specific trip and as such, carries considerable historical weight. It includes numerous descriptions of life on the boat, as well as a narration of the official French takeover of the islands and of visits to other destinations during that trip, such as the city of Montevideo.

Most importantly perhaps, Pernety tells of the attempt by France to create an outpost for the discovery of Terra Australis Incognita. Indeed, when in 1763 Bougainville embarked on his journey to the Malvinas, it was with the stated objective of eventually making his way to the long-sought fifth continent, quite similarly in fact to James Cook’s missions shortly after.^[5] The project seemed to be successful at first, and Bougainville returned to the Malvinas two years after his first trip in order to evaluate the progress made by the small colony. However, when in 1766 he began his voyage around the world, his first step was to officially cede the islands to the Spanish authorities.^[6]

A notable difference between Pernety’s and Bougainville’s accounts resides in the style used by each writer. While Bougainville’s prose is elegant and humourless, Pernety’s writing is striking in its liberty of tone and pleasantness. He treats his reader to various anecdotes and frequently pursues aesthetic or comical effects unsought by Bougainville. For example, while Bougainville’s narration of the ship’s crossing of the Atlantic is rather short and technical even in its rewritten version, Pernety is constantly interrupting his narration of the navigation to contemplate a sunset^[7], gossip about the Acadian passengers on board^[8], or even lament the fact that a battle with an enemy ship was narrowly avoided^[9].

Whereas Bougainville’s account specifically steers clear of elements that may recall the world of romance in order to project seriousness and authenticity, Pernety is constantly attempting to entertain, as when he describes at great length the amusing ceremonies organized by the sailors while crossing the Equator^[10]. While denouncing these customs as absurd, he does not spare the reader any of the saucy details^[11]. Hence, while Bougainville’s text remains largely focused on scientific objectivity and usefulness, Pernety’s account can be read as a novel, full of interesting characters sailing towards an exotic destination and going through various adventures along the way. Although he does not go so far as to actually make up events, he does undoubtedly exhibit a strong attraction towards romantic themes and situations.

Furthermore, without renouncing his quest for scientific validity, Pernety’s writing is that of a man speaking on his own behalf as well on as that of his country^[12]. In the fourth chapter, for example, the author recounts the ship’s brief stay in Saint Catherine (Brazil), and describes his stay in decidedly undiplomatic, even petty fashion. He complains for instance about the food, pokes fun at the local clergymen for being unable to understand Latin^[13] and offers lively portraits of the local population as well as of the Portuguese settlers^[14]. These various elements are certainly not essential to the main plot, yet they are key to attracting nonspecialized readers towards what could otherwise be a rather dry account of the French arrival on the uninhabited islands of the Malvinas.

In short, while the Voyage autour du monde chronicles an essentially failed project, in an often subdued and technical fashion, Pernety’s light-hearted prose reflects the optimism that animated the Malvinas expedition before the French had to turn over their new settlement to Spain. Perhaps a more substantial difference between the two writers though is that Pernety advocates a pacific conquest. From this perspective, the takeover of the Malvinas seemed quite ideal, as it was not inhabited by any human beings. Despite Pernety’s general pleasantness and peaceful message however, the violence inherent to the European colonial enterprise is detectable in his text, particularly when he deals with the French arrival on the islands.

In fact, the potential for violence is hinted at as early as the Discours préliminaire, despite the following opening statement: “L’Ambition des particuliers n’est point la même que celle des Rois; l’une aspire à tout envahir, l’autre se borne à tout connoître”.^[15] While insisting on the virtues of Bougainville and Pernety’s disinterested quest for knowledge, the editor calls for the peaceful takeover of the Malvinas. Yet he also traces a history of previous European explorations of the Malvinas which, beyond its purely informative function, aims to show that Bougainville’s territorial claims may not be disputed by the British or Spanish authorities. Of course, it was not then uncommon for authors of travel accounts to use the preface to support their position against the ambitions of rival powers and none other than Bougainville did it in his own Disours préliminaire.^[16] In this sense, Pernety’s preface forms an essential part of the colonial battle: while the aim of the voyage was to seek useful knowledge, his travel account remained essential for supporting the territorial claims of the French crown. In such a context, even a writer calling for peaceful takeover such as Pernety was but a pawn in the colonial competition.

If one moves from the preface to the heart of Pernety’s book, the arrival of the French in the islands begins with an idyllic description of what Pernety considers to be virgin territory with unlimited potential: “L'Entrée de la baie est admirable, & nous y entrâmes à pleines voiles, comme dans le plus beau port de l'Europe”.^[17] Pernety’s apparent will to domesticate these natural surroundings is confirmed in the following paragraph: “Cette baie [...] peut contenir au moins mille vaisseaux”.^[18] The success of the mission, in Pernety’s mind, seemed to depend on the future ability of the French to build a port worthy of the bay’s potential – one able to house over a thousand ships.

After describing the bay, Pernety tells of the explorers encountering the first signs of life on the islands. Their reaction, according to his account, is to promptly begin shooting at all the animals they encounter, including those that are harmlessly roaming amongst them. This is understandable in the context of hunting for survival, yet Pernety’s full account shows a general pattern recklessness, both before and during the stay in the Malvinas, going beyond the explorers’ basic needs for food and shelter. For instance, the Malvinas are composed of two main islands, as well as several islets, and when the explorers’ first search for wood is unsuccessful, Bougainville orders his men to set fire to one of these smaller islands, killing hundreds of penguins in the process. On this subject, Pernety writes:

On avoit d’abord nommé l’Isle aux Pinguins, cette Isle à laquelle M. de Bougainville avoit mis le feu, parce qu’il avoit trouvé sur cette Isle, une grande quantité de ces animaux. En effet, il y en avoit un si grand nombre, que plus de deux cents périrent dans les flames.^[19]

The island, which the settlers at first call “île aux Pinguoins”, is subsequently named “île brûlée”, in what amounts to a commemoration of the destruction just committed. Furthermore, Pernety himself explicitly acknowledges the carelessness of French attacks on the local environment, although his complaints fall on deaf ears. Indeed, after having burned hundreds of penguins, Bougainville orders that several parts of the main islands be set on fire – an action to which Pernety strongly objects: “Je représentai que tout le pays était couvert de foin [...] que d’ailleurs ce feu détruirait tout le gibier. On n’eut point d’égards à mes représentations; & dès le soir on mit encore le feu en plusieurs endroits de la terre-ferme”.^[20]

By characterizing such interventions as violent, I may be accused of applying invalid or anachronic categories to this historical document. What is striking however in Pernety’s narration, beyond the quick and ruthless disposal of the animals and environment, is the indifference to suffering shown by the explorers, of which there are several examples. One occurs when they are on their way to the Malvinas and are described to be amusing themselves at length with a wounded shark.^[21] Another can be found later in the book, in the chapter entitled Histoire Naturelle des Isles Malouines, when Pernety offers the following description of his interactions with sea lions:

Pendant que ces animaux tenoient leur gueule béante, deux jeunes gens s’amusaient à y jeter de gros cailloux [...] Leurs yeux sont les plus beaux du monde, & leur regard n’a rien de féroce. J’observai qu’en expirant, leurs yeux changeoient de couleur & que le cristallin en devenait d’un verd admirable.^[22]

The narration of the harm done to the local animals is shortly followed here by a description of the beauty of their death. Without passing judgement on Pernety and his companions, one may at the very least note that these men, much like us today, held ambivalent views on animals and the appropriate way to treat them. On this topic, Renan Larue in Le Végétarianisme des Lumières writes: “le spécisme de nos sociétés actuelles ressemble fort à celui qui se manifeste au siècle des Lumières”.^[23] In his book he also mentions the debates of the time surrounding hunting, as well as the various condemnations of cruelty against animals by thinkers such as Voltaire and Rousseau. So, while a healthy dose of historical relativism is necessary when one studies such episodes from the past, it is worth at least taking a look at the often brutal treatment of animals during these expeditions, while remaining aware that the values and criteria of the time were often quite different than our own. In this sense, Pernety himself seems to be fairly representative of the mentalities of his time regarding the treatment of animals. He often proves to be quite indifferent to unnecessary suffering, while in other instances he playfully engages in anthropomorphic humour, at one point for example comparing the penguins to altar boys.^[24]

It should also be noted that Pernety and his companions do at certain points of the narration express compassion for the suffering of animals, for example when they abandon a couple of sick horses on the beach and pray that the animals will not be devoured during the night by fierce beasts.^[25] Ultimately though, Pernety himself saw nothing fundamentally wrong with the takeover, concluding the first volume of his account as follows: “C'est ainsi que la France a acquis un droit légitime à la souveraineté des Isles Malouines. Elles n'ont point été enlevées à des hommes : c'est une conquête que l'industrie a faite sur la nature”.^[26] Bougainville himself proved more cynical, or philosophical, in his own journal, writing of the local animals:

Ce fut un spectacle singulier de voir, à notre arrivée, tous les animaux, jusqu’alors seuls habitants de l’île, s’approcher de nous sans crainte et ne témoigner d’autres mouvements que ceux que la curiosité inspire à la vue d’un objet inconnu. Les oiseaux se laissaient prendre à la main, quelques-uns venaient d’eux-mêmes se poser sur les gens qui étaient arrêtés; tant il est vrai que l’homme ne porte point empreint un caractère de férocité qui fasse reconnaitre en lui, par le seul instinct, aux animaux faibles, l’être qui se nourrit de leur sang. Cette confiance ne leur a pas duré longtemps: ils eurent bientôt appris à se méfier de leur plus cruel ennemi.^[27]

Without establishing a moral equivalency between the killing of animals and humans during the great explorations, one may agree with Robert Delort and François Walter, who in their book Histoire de l’environnement européen, draw a parallel between the attacks on nature and the attacks on human beings committed throughout the history of European colonization, in the name of a coherent vision shaped by geographic, religious and linguistic factors^[28]. In that spirit, I will now turn to William Monkouse’s journal, which shows perhaps even more evidently than Pernety’s book that the violence of the exploratory process was constantly present, ready to be triggered at the slightest stimulation.

2. William Monkhouse’s journal: attacks against the Maori population

Unlike the handful of famous scientists who took part in Cook’s three trips around the world, William Monkhouse was but one of the numerous crew members present on these ships whose names have long been forgotten since. Yet, as the Endeavour’s surgeon, his role was quite meaningful at the time, and his thoughts and account are still available to us today, thanks to the short portion of his journal which remains in existence. It should be noted additionally that Monkhouse is mentioned several times in James Cook’s own journals. Unfortunately for him, he never did make it back to Europe, having fallen sick and died in Batavia, along with several of the other crew members.

Monkhouse’s account chronicles the first voyage of James Cook, which began shortly after Bougainville returned from his circumnavigation. The secret instructions handed to the captain before the expedition called for peaceful and friendly relations with the locals.^[29] One of the reasons for this may have been quite pragmatic: the explorers were not equipped with enough men or firepower to cope with large-scale resistance. More importantly, this phase of exploration was not motivated by a full-blown will to conquer the world, which would come later. Cook’s expeditions were rather missions meant to explore territories which Britain did not yet control. However, in the episode described by Monkhouse, as in others, the explorers did in fact use their firearms against the natives.

Monkhouse’s journal recounts a fateful couple of days of early October 1769, full of killings which are also documented in the journals of James Cook and Joseph Banks. The first shooting takes place when a small group of islanders is deemed to be threatening a group of British sailors with spears. As is often the case with historical documents produced by European explorers, there is one side of the story here, and it’s difficult for the reader to determine how real the actual threat was. Given the disproportion of weapons, however, one may at the very least question the theory of self defense offered by the explorers themselves. Furthermore, there have recently been interpretations of this episode that indicate that the Europeans misunderstood the symbolic nature of the encounter. According to the New Zealand government website New Zealand History, “it seems likely that the local people were undertaking a ceremonial challenge, but the Europeans believed themselves to be under attack”.^[30]

Whatever the exact causes of the shootings may have been, the journals of both Banks and Cook reflect that they felt uneasy about the violence unleashed during these first encounters, as will shortly be shown. Monkhouse’s narration, on the other hand, offers a rather dispassionate take on the killings, almost entirely devoid of moral considerations. For example, after learning of the killing of the Maori warrior, Monkhouse tells of following the trail of blood to go get a good look at the body, and offers a cold, ethnological observation, taking great interest for instance in the tattoos and clothes worn by the victim: “He was a short, but very stout bodied man – measured about 5 f. 3 I. Upon his right cheek and nose were spirals of tattaou or punctuation of the skin – he had three arched tattaous over his left eye drawn from the root of his nose towards the temple; each arch about four lines broad.”^[31] After carefully examining the corpse, he ends the day’s entry abruptly, writing: “The ball had passed from the sixth rib on the left side thro’ the right shoulder blade. Some nails and beads were put upon the body, and we took our leave of the shore”.^[32]

What is not revealed in Monkhouse’s journal are his feelings and emotions while examining the deceased man: the narrator focuses instead on a rational and detailed description of the body – not unlike the ones used by Pernety to describe the various animals he killed^[33]. In both cases, suffering and death are seen primarily as interesting phenomena to be explained scientifically or even poetically, not to be dwelled upon. This is confirmed in the next day’s entry, when Monkhouse goes on to tell of the killing’s bloody aftermath.

The morning after the shooting, a group of Maori return to confront the Europeans, gathering on the beach to perform a war dance. This is described by Monkhouse as a pleasant spectacle, provided he remain at a safe distance. For the contemporary reader, however, the brutality of the killing that has occurred the previous day is reinforced by the focus on the aesthetic qualities of what the Europeans simply see as a curious and interesting spectacle. As when Pernety describes the accidental burning of hundreds of penguins and immediately follows this by evoking the natural beauty of the Malvinas, or when he writes about the beauty of the sea lions’ dying eyes, just after describing two sailors throwing rocks at them, the transition from a passive description of violence to an insistence on the aesthetic beauty is made here quite seamlessly by Monkhouse.

After the dance, the Europeans begin a series of negotiations aimed at restoring the good will of the natives. Soon, this objective seems to be attained and the Europeans and Maori are described by Monkhouse as mingling in friendly fashion on the boat. Yet the atmosphere clearly has the explorers feeling uncomfortable, and they strive to control the exchange using their bayonets and muskets, worrying that the locals are showing too much enthusiasm, and eventually disaster strikes again as one of the islanders is said to attempt to steel a sword. While he tries to escape with this prize, he is shot at and dies shortly after. Monkhouse does mention it, but based on the other journals, Joseph Banks was the one to suggest the shooting, in order to punish the Maori for their insolence, while Cook ordered the killing. Regardless of the actual explanation, Monkhouse goes on with his tale unfazed, simply describing how this new shooting causes a new crisis:

Matters were now in great confusion – the natives retiring across the river with the utmost precipitation, and some of our party unacquainted with the true state of things begun to fire upon them by which two or three were wounded – but this was put a stop to as soon as possible.^[34]

After this incident and later throughout the day, several of the natives are injured and die, some by drowning. At no point during the narration does Monkhouse express remorse for these deaths, and he in fact insists on the great humanity of the explorers who did all they could to put a quick end to the violence. Banks’ and Cooks’ journals, on the other hand, reveal that they were clearly disturbed by these killings, perhaps because of their direct responsibility in ordering them. Cook, for instance, writes the following in his journal:

I am aware that most humane men who have not experienced things of this nature will censure my conduct in firing upon the people in this boat nor do I my self think that the reason I had for seizing upon her will at all justify me. And had I thought that they would have made the least resistance I would not have come near them, but as they did, I was not to stand still and suffer either myself or those that were with me to be knocked on the head.^[35]

As for Banks, his conclusion is more concise yet reveals that he was equally disturbed: “Thus ended the most disagreeable day my life has yet seen, black be the mark for it and heaven send that such may never return to embitter future reflection”.^[36] Unlike Monkhouse, Cook and Banks clearly had qualms about the violence they had committed, yet still saw it as an unfortunate side effect, rather than as a symptom of their broader colonial mission. Such an interpretation certainly deserves to be questioned today.

3. The complicated legacy of the European voyages of exploration

In comparing Pernety’s and Monkhouse’s texts, I have highlighted certain acts of violence committed by European explorers when they arrived in lands they ultimately sought to control. To claim that this violence was in fact an inherent part of the larger colonial project then unfolding is to reject the vision promoted by the explorers themselves, who considered their aggressions as exceptions rather than as the general rule of their encounters. Whether it be in the writings of Pernety or Monkhouse, Bougainville or Cook, specific acts of violence were indeed described by those who committed them as distinct from the broader, nobler missions they felt they were invested with. In such a context, one of the important tasks of a scholar today may be to consider the perspective of the victims of colonization, which has all too often been neglected in academic circles if only because of a lack of written sources. Broader attention may be paid for instance to the oral traditions of native populations, and such research has in fact become more frequent with the advent of postcolonial studies.^[37] As for the animals, their inability to speak obviously limits our ability to tell their story in other terms than our own. Yet the perspective offered by Pernety and Bougainville is already quite instructive of itself, reinforcing the fact that Bougainville and Cook’s legacies, while undoubtedly positive in many regards, must also be analysed in terms of the violence they actively took part in. From that perspective, both Pernety’s and Monkhouse’s testimonies offer us important insight into the ecological destruction and disregard for life which was a recurring feature of European expansion, even before a more systematic form of violence was to be unleashed by the colonial powers of the nineteenth century.