Corps de l’article

Miami-Illinois is an Algonquian language spoken by the Miami (myaamia) and Illinois (inoka), whose traditional homelands are situated to the south of the Great Lakes. In the 19th century these nations relocated west of the Mississippi, and the Peoria (peewaalia) tribe absorbed other Illinois groups[1]. By the middle of the 20th century, the last native speakers of Miami-Illinois had died, and the language went unspoken for half a century. Beginning in the 1990’s language revitalization efforts were undertaken. One consequence of this was the creation in 2012 of the Miami-Illinois Digital Archive (MIDA). This was the result of a long-standing collaboration between the Miami Tribe of Oklahoma and Miami University’s Myaamia Center[2]. Its primary purpose is to facilitate linguistic analysis and the development of educational materials, though it also provides a powerful tool for those interested in the history of Indigenous peoples and their interactions with colonial powers. The MIDA currently holds two early modern Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries and two modern vocabularies. The French sources were compiled by Jesuits working in the Pays des Illinois, or Illinois Country. The modern sources consist of a 12–page vocabulary compiled by John Heckwelder around 1792 and Charles Trowbridge’s manuscript “Observations respecting the language of the Miami Indians”, written in 1824–25[3]. While the existence of the early modern dictionaries has been known for over a century, they have not been part of the main corpus of sources which scholars have used to write the history of colonial North America. This is due, in large part, to problems of accessibility, language and analysis. These problems are greatly alleviated by the MIDA, which allows scholars to search the manuscripts and provides translations of the original French and Latin.

The paper will consider how this database can be used by historians as a powerful complement to the traditional corpus of primary source material. In particular, it will explore the role that these sources can play in providing a voice to Indigenous actors that otherwise can only be heard through the accounts of European or Euro-American authors. It will also address the epistemological difficulties that are encountered when using these sources. In order to develop the above points, the paper will focus on the Illinois conception of criminal justice, with particular focus on the intervention of Kaskaskia (kaahkaahkia) chiefs in the 1723 trial of André Perillaud at Fort de Chartres. This case has been discussed in the historiography of the Pays d’en Haut, as the French called the area surrounding the Great Lakes. However, it will be argued that using the MIDA allows the development of a more nuanced understanding of this case. The paper focuses on the Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries as these were contemporary to the Perillaud case.

The Miami-Illinois-to-French Dictionaries

The Illinois Country was an area which roughly corresponded to the modern State of Illinois. The Mississippi, Illinois, Kaskaskia, Ohio and Wabash Rivers formed its main thoroughfares, linking the area to New Orleans in the south and the Great Lakes to the north. This area was named after its inhabitants, whom the French called the Illinois and who called themselves inoka. The name Illinois appears to have its origins in the Miami-Illinois word irenȣeȣa[4], meaning “he speaks the regular way”[5]. It was probably used by the Miami (myaamia) to refer to the Illinois, who shared the same language, before being taken up by the Ottawa[6]. From them this exonym was adopted by the French and used to refer to five distinct groups: the Cahokia (kaawakia), Kaskaskia (kaahkaahkia), Michigamea, Peoria (peewaalia), and Tamaroa. These groups shared a common culture yet remained politically independent. While there were sporadic contacts between the French and Illinois in the latter half of the 17th century, it was the 1673 expedition of Jacques Marquette and Louis Jolliet down the Mississippi which established a deeper relationship between these peoples, as Marquette returned two years after this to establish a mission amongst the Illinois. Because of their missionary efforts the Jesuits not only took pains to learn Miami-Illinois, but also recorded their observations on the language for future consultation. There are three extant early modern Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries, all compiled by Jesuits. The largest manuscript was compiled in the 1690’s. This dictionary was traditionally attributed to the Jesuit linguist Jacques Gravier, who worked on Miami-Illinois grammar[7]. However, the scribe has been recently identified as the Jesuit lay brother Jacques Largillier, though the dictionary must be considered as a collective work[8]. The second manuscript, chronologically, was compiled by Pierre-François Pinet. It was discovered in 1999 in the Archives de la Compagnie de Jésus at Saint-Jérôme, Quebec[9]. This is not, at present, part of the MIDA and so will not be discussed here. The final dictionary is that of Antoine Robert Leboullenger, dating from the 1720’s. Shorter than the Largillier manuscript, it is also part of the MIDA.

For over a century, the Relations written by the Jesuits have been consulted by historians for their ethnographical and historical content, and form one of the more accessible sources on Illinois history in the late 17th and 18th centuries. The Miami-Illinois dictionaries, however, have largely been underused by historians. The reason for this is twofold: the foremost obstacle is the nature of the entries; whose purpose was linguistic rather than ethnographic. Take, for example, the first page of the Largillier manuscript, from which the first five complete lines have been reproduced below:

Nitȣcaȣa je l’attends je l’attens. Ȣahingo tȣcȣrani cata ? tattendray je icy ?

Nitȣcaȣtȣ je ne serre pas fort, je debande, lasche

tȣcaȣteȣi peu serré. pas asses serré q[and]d on craint qu il ne se delie tout a fait

Nitȣcapikinan j attache foiblement, je lasche. Sacantȣtagane ȣg [read «eg»] la bride a un cheval

tȣcapintiȣa l’arc est lasche, n’est pas bandé. Nitȣcapinti je ne bande pas roide la corde[10]

Using this type information to understand the history of the Illinois is not an easy task. Certain entries can evoke dramatically Indigenous perspectives, such as the definition of Papakissapiȣa mamistigȣchia, which is rendered as “le francois se repant, va partout”[11]. Others can be used to better understand specific aspects of Illinois society, such as historical marriage customs[12]. Nevertheless, accessing, compiling, and interpreting the relevant entries was, until recently, a difficult task. This leads to the second obstacle: the dictionaries are lengthy and densely filled. The Largillier manuscript runs to 584 pages with about 40 lines per page, and that of Leboullenger 185 pages with about 75 lines per page. The task of reviewing the dictionaries for their historical content is significant. This is particularly the case of the Largillier manuscript, as the alphabetical order follows that of Miami-Illinois, making the search for particular words in French onerous. It should be noted that the very elements that make the Largrillier and Leboullenger manuscripts unwieldy for historians are precisely the elements that make them incredibly valuable linguistic sources.

It is not surprising, then, that these sources have been primarily studied by linguistic scholars. Starting in 1988, David J. Costa began researching the Miami-Illinois language[13]. At this time the language had ceased to be spoken, as mentioned above. The language itself was little known, and yet Costa found an incredible wealth of primary sources dealing with it:

Miami-Illinois may be unique among native North American languages for not having been natively spoken for at least half a century, yet still having extremely extensive written documentation spanning almost 250 years, most of which exists as unpublished manuscripts in archives and libraries. Purely in terms of written records, Miami-Illinois is one of the best documented Algonquian languages, far more extensively recorded than many other Native American languages which still have speakers[14].

His research coincided with the development of language revitalization projects undertaken by the Miami Tribe of Oklahoma and, in 2001, the Myaamia Project was established in conjunction between the Miami Tribe and University of Miami in Ohio. This is “a teaching and research unit within the University with emphasis on language research and cultural education”[15]. A combination of Costa’s research and the Myaamia Center’s language revitalization efforts led to the establishment of the MIDA, as well as a Myaamia-English dictionary and other language learning tools[16].

It should be noted that historians have, over the last decade, begun to use the Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries more frequently. This followed the publication of the Largrillier manuscript in 2002. The linguist Carl Mathsay transcribed and edited the manuscript and included a French-to-Kaskaskia index, which made researching particular terms more practical[17]. Brett Rushforth used this to remarkable effect in his account of slavery amongst the Illinois[18]. In the MIDA, however, one finds a much more powerful tool. It enables scholars to access the manuscript Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries in an unprecedented fashion. To illustrate this, and to demonstrate how the MIDA is structured, the case of André Perillaud has been selected for analysis. The following discussion is not meant to be an exhaustive analysis of the incident, but rather an introduction to how the MIDA can provide greater depth to our understanding of the events surrounding it.

The case of André Perillaud

At Fort de Chartres in Illinois Country the Inspector-General for the Compagnie des Indes, Bernard Diron d’Artaguiette, noted in his journal for April 25th 1723:

Vers les deux heures de l’apres midy le nommé Perilaud commis aux magazins des Ilinnois donna un coup d’Epée au travers du Corps du nommé Morin, tambour de la Compagnie Dartaguiette pour luy avoir dit quelques paroles, ce Morin mourut un quart d’heure apres avoir recu ce coup et Perilaud fut arresté[19].

At first sight this should have been a straightforward affair as Perillaud’s guilt appears to have been clear cut. Though an influential member of the small French community at Fort de Chartres, the outcome would normally have been his trial and execution—particularly with Morin’s commanding officer, Pierre d’Artaguiette d’Itourlade (the younger brother of Diron d’Artaguiette), applying to testify against him[20]. However, Perillaud had friends amongst the Cahokia and Kaskaskia. At the beginning of the 18th century French traders had established marriage alliances with families in these tribes and had settled in their villages. In 1717, the French administration of the Illinois Country was transferred from Canada to Louisiana and, after 1719, separate French and Illinois villages were created at Cahokia and Kaskaskia; though the villages remained close to each other, both geographically and socially[21]. On April 29th, a delegation of Kaskaskia chiefs accompanied by 30 warriors came to Fort de Chartres to meet with the French officers and argue that Perillaud should be spared. They were followed by a second delegation on May 3rd this time from Cahokia. The speeches made on these two occasions were recorded and can be found in the French archives[22]. These are remarkable documents for they record in detail the speeches of five Indigenous leaders on their conception of justice.

While the replies given by the Commandant of Fort de Chartres, Pierre-Sidrac Dugué de Boisbriand, did not commit to releasing Perillaud, the French officers were in a difficult situation. These negotiations occurred against a background of war. For example, on April 30th, some 200 Illinois warriors “qui aloient en guerre sur les Renards [the Fox or Meskwaki]”[23] stopped at Fort de Chartres. While unwilling to commit such thoughts to paper, their reliance on the Illinois as military allies was no doubt at the forefront of the French officers’ minds. The interventions of the two delegations led to the release of Perillaud on May 31st and the subsequent issuing of a royal pardon in 1724[24].

This case has seen some discussion in the historiography of the Pays d’en Haut, most notably by Richard White in The Middle Ground: Indians, Empires, and Republics in the Great Lakes Region, 1650–1815 (1991). White used it to support his thesis that such negotiations between the French and their Indigenous allies led to the formation of a middle ground, that is to say a “common conception of suitable ways of acting”[25]. He wrote that the case presented “a clear picture of eighteenth-century Algonquian views on murder and revenge, and of how such views could influence French actions”[26]. However, the concept of a middle ground has been called into question, particularly by the French historian Gilles Havard who discussed the Perillaud case in Empire et métissages: Indiens et Français dans le Pays d’en Haut, 1660–1715 (2003). Here he regarded the case as being indicative of power relations between the French and Illinois, rather than connected to the creation of a middle ground[27]. More recently, in his monograph L’Épée et la plume: Amérindiens et soldats des troupes de la Marine en Louisiane et au Pays d’en Haut, 1683–1763 (2006), Arnaud Balvay referred to the Perillaud case as indicative of Aboriginal conceptions of justice, remarking that such petitions were often made to the commanders of French forts[28]. What is interesting to note is that none of the above authors used the Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries when discussing the case. By using the MIDA a greater depth can be given to the speeches preserved in the French archives. Not only can the Illinois conception of justice be given greater nuance, but some of the ideas that were obscured when the speeches were recorded can be reconstructed.

Kiraoueria’s Speech

As the purpose of this paper is to illustrate the ways in which the MIDA can assist historians in better understanding the Indigenous content found in the historical record, only one speech will be analyzed here, that of the Chief Kiraoueria. He was the first member of the Kaskaskia delegation to address the French officers. Following Illinois protocol, his speech was preceded by the presentation of three calumets, or apȣagana[29], the ceremonial pipes used in diplomacy in the Pays d’en Haut. Such ceremonies could last for a number of days under the right diplomatic circumstances[30]. In this case a shortened ceremony was used, the calumet being sung over Boisbriand and the other French officers[31]. The ceremony completed, Kiraoueria began his address:

J’ay ouïdire, mon pere, que le maitre de la marchandise [André Perillaud] avoir repandu le Sang d’un francois, et que tu devois selon tes Loix et Coutumes repandre le sien, je viens et tous ceux qui sont icy au nom de mon village, Les Kaskakias, te prier, toy, M[essieu]rs Diron, De Laloëre Dartaguiette, et Delisle, de nous ecouter favorablement[32].

The use of the tu form of address is worth noting here. In French this normally indicates that the speaker is addressing either a social inferior or someone with whom they are particularly close, distinctions that were keenly felt in the 18th century. This convention does not occur in Miami-Illinois. Indeed, Costa notes that “personal pronouns are actually seldom used. In texts they are generally used for emphasis or for marking contrast”[33]. The use of tu appears, then, to be the scribe’s attempt to accurately translate Kiraoueria’s speech. However, it may also be connected to a stylistic choice, as the tu form was recommended when “on fait parler des Barbares, comme Turcs, Arabes, Indiens & c”[34]. This minor point illustrates the ambiguities inherent in colonial texts, even those as detailed as this one. Kiraoueria’s speech continued as follows:

Considerés mes peres, que les Chicachats nous tüent d’un costé, vous et nous, et que de l’autre, les Renards souillent de votre sang et du notre nos terres, d’ou vient notre pere M. de Boisbriant, et vous mes Peres M[essieu]rs Diron, De Laloëre, Dartaguiette, et Delisle, repandriés vous le sang d’un francois pour effacer celuy d’un autre francois, et d’ou vient a la perte d’un homme ajouter celle d’un autre, nous ne sommes point trop nombreux p[ou]r defaire nos ennemis communs, le maitre de la marchandise a esté dans un moment fol (il t’a mon pere M. de Boisbriant) rougi = du sang, je viens te prier de ne te pas rougir toy même du sien[35].

The speech continued with a plea to the French to attack the Fox (Meskwaki) and Chickasaw and use the deaths of their common enemies to “Couvrir le corps de celuy qui vient d’estre tüé”[36]. Kiraoueria, who was a Catholic, also used a religious argument to appeal to the officers to show forgiveness, before concluding that “nous sommes icy pour effacer sa faute, et pour te la cacher pour toujours”[37].

The MIDA

From this speech, two concepts can be identified for research using the MIDA: those of murder and covering the dead. While there are other ideas that can be studied using the database, these cover both the crime committed and its potential resolution, at least within the Illinois legal order. What follows is an exploration of these concepts, in order to demonstrate how the MIDA can be used.

The MIDA is online at https://www.ilaatawaakani.org and contains, at the time of writing, 59 984 entries, of which 57 527 come from the Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries[38]. These can be searched using the Miami-Illinois words and phrases recorded by the Jesuits, the original French or Latin gloss, the English translation, as well as a number of more technical criteria. In order to better understand Kiraoueria’s speech, for example, the concept of murder has been searched for in the MIDA. In Image 1, below, the results for the word meurtre in the original gloss can be seen.

Image 1

Screenshot of the MIDA[39]

-> Voir la liste des figures

One of the great strengths of the MIDA is the ability to consult the original manuscripts. These can either be viewed with the search results, as shown in Image 1, or opened in a separate window. This allows a researcher to read entries surrounding a word or phrase. The six references for meurtre can be expanded to 17 once the search is repeated with the root meurt—, which covers variations such as meurtry. Once all the variations of the spelling have been searched, the results can be compiled, see Table 1.

Table 1

The concept of murder in Miami-Illinois[40][41][42][43][44]

The concept of murder in Miami-Illinois4041424344

Table 1 (suite)

The concept of murder in Miami-Illinois4041424344

-> Voir la liste des tableaux

From the above table, two key ideas can be identified. First, that concept of blood is a central one to the Illinois rhetoric connected to murder. Niȣicȣakissettȣ is given as “je rougis la terre le chemin de sang”[45] and Niȣicȣakissettȣ as “je ne suis pas taché de sang, coupable de meurtre”[46]. Second, the concepts of murder and war are linked through the spilling of blood. Niȣicȣakissettȣ, for example, is given as “je suis taché de sang coupable de meurtre, autheur de la guerre”[47]. This can be seen in Kiraoueria’s speech, for example when he said, “les Renards souillent de votre sang et du notre nos terres […] repandriés vous le sang d’un francois pour effacer celuy d’un autre francois”[48]. The focus of the Illinois legal order appears here to be on preventing further bloodshed rather than on punishing the perpetrator. This is not to say that the concept of punishment by death was alien to the Illinois, as Largillier gives Nipeïȣni tepahakita as “punit de mort”[49]. What is telling is Kiraoueria’s assertion, at the end of his speech, that “je demande la vie d’un de tes enfants qui n’a esté qu’une seule fois fol”[50]. From this it is possible to suggest that a division existed in the Illinois legal order between those who offended once, and those who did so repeatedly. More could be added to this if the analysis was extended to the speeches of the other chiefs. For the present paper, however, this will be left as openings for further inquiry.

This leads to the second concept, that of covering the dead. Searching for the concept couvrir in the original gloss provides 34 entries, of which only three are concerned with death. When the search is widened to the stem couv—, the number of entries increases to 545. Nevertheless, the structure of the database allows these to be surveyed much more easily than if the manuscripts were to be reviewed directly. From these entries, 18 can be identified that are connected to the concept of death (see Table 2).

Table 2

The concept of covering the dead in Miami-Illinois

The concept of covering the dead in Miami-Illinois

Table 2 (suite)

The concept of covering the dead in Miami-Illinois

Table 2 (suite)

The concept of covering the dead in Miami-Illinois

-> Voir la liste des tableaux

Before discussing the results, it is worth considering the term Ninaȣacȣna as it shows some of the complexities in using these sources. To throw something at someone seems to indicate disrespect, as can be seen in the definition of Nipitacagȣa, “il m’a jetté cela. il m a choqué parce que ce n est pas marquer du respet a une personne que de luy jetter au lieu de luy donner a la main luy porter”[51]. However, the French verb jeter is also used to indicate covering the dead. When using the French gloss, it must be noted that one is working with translations, hence open to errors of interpretation as well as extraneous stylistic forms. This said, as the contemporary sources are also French, this allows the historian to compare and contrast between what is found in the Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries and other materials. Take, for example, this marginal note to Kiraoueria’s speech:

[…] les Chefs du village et les Parents de l’homicide appaisent les Parents du mort par des Presents d’esclaves, ou des calumets, ou de la marchandise, et ils appellent cela couvrir le corps de celuy qui a esté tué, c’est a dire luy satisfaire, et faire oublier aux vivants leurs pertes ou la leur cacher, en sorte que les vivants interessés acceptants de ce sorte ces Presents se tiennent contents, et ne pensent plus a se venger[52].

This was a practice that was widespread in the Pays d’en Haut, and the French had encountered its use within other Indigenous societies[53]. However, the remark emphasizes the idea of reparations. While this was no doubt an important part of the process, it is worth noting two of the above entries from the Largillier manuscript, “Le mort n’a point touché ce dont on l a voulu couvrir ce qu on a jetté pour le couvrir”[54] and “je donne qq chose au mort pour le couvrir ou en temoignage de ma douleur”[55]. These focus on giving something to the deceased, and the possibility that the dead could reject such gifts. This opens up a spiritual aspect to the act of covering the dead. Consider, for example, the fact that Kiraoueria had exhorted Boisbriand to consider war as a way of covering the death of Morin. By this he meant the taking of prisoners or bringing back of scalps, a practice which had deep significance for the Illinois. Indeed, warfare had, for the Illinois and Miami, an important spiritual element. This can be seen in the second speech made by the Kaskaskia delegation. Here the Chief Michel reminded the audience that Bienville, the Governor of Louisiana, “m’a fait dire icy de rougir sa natte, la tienne, et la mienne”[56]. The term ȣabanaki meant “natte de guerrier”[57], meaning war mat, though it is better translated as medicine bundle. From this comes ȣabanaki neïȣca “chef du party qui porte cette natte”[58]. Charles C. Trowbridge, who drew on his experience with the Miami, described the process of assembling the medicine:

On the night before setting out [to war] the Chiefs and all the young men assemble at the large council house in the village, where each man deposits in a piece of cloth extended for the purpose a piece of medecine [sic.], being a sign designating the tutelar Deity to whom he commits his life in the expedition about to be undertaken when each man has deposited something the bundle is tied up and they begin to dance. They dance with little or no cessation all the night and in the morning when they feel themselves ready one of the party, a medecine man, gets up puts the bundle of medecine in to his medecine bag, throws it across his shoulder, commences the war song and leads off.[59]

This opens up new layers of meaning in the appeals being made by the Kaskaskia chiefs. Such ideas would have been familiar to Boisbriand, who had long experience as an officer in Louisiana. Yet only a shadow of this powerful imagery can be found in the archives. Here, the MIDA can allow us to pick out the contours of this shadow.

The MIDA allows scholars unprecedented access to linguistic sources for the Miami-Illinois language. The power of the database can be seen by comparing how the word apȣagana and the concept of murder are used above. The simple inclusion of the Illinois term for the calumet adds a little colour but contributes nothing of substance to the text. In contrast, the ability to identify and compare words and phrases connected to homicide out of almost 60 000 entries in the MIDA allows for a detailed analysis. As the discussion on Kiraoueria’s speech demonstrates, this database has the potential to bring greater nuance to archival material. While this material comes from the hand of European and Euro-American scribes, the MIDA can help researchers discern the Indigenous content present in these sources, as well as providing indications as to where this has become distorted. The field of legal history is only one area in which the conceptual framework of 18th century Illinois society stands to be better understood. It should be noted, however, that these linguistic sources have their own restrictions. They represent what one Jesuit thought was important to record for other missionaries in their efforts to learn Miami-Illinois. Their selections and omissions are, in their own right, a form of distortion. Particularly, the absence of a concept cannot be taken to show that it did not have an equivalent in Miami-Illinois. For example, 18th century French legal thought distinguished between a homicide that was premeditated, “assassinat prémédité”[60] and one that was not, “homicide simple”[61]. While no similar conceptual division appears in the MIDA, Kiraoueria appears to differentiate between single and repeated offences, as mentioned above. This may indicate a distinction in the Illinois legal order that has not been recorded in the Miami-Illinois-to-French dictionaries. Finally, as language revitalization efforts continue, it can also be hoped that these sources will provide a wealth of information for a new generation of Myaamia and Peoria scholars who are fluent in Miami-Illinois.