The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America
Title: Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America
Author: Robert Rogers
Editor: Montrose Jonas Moses
Release date: June 26, 2009 [eBook #29223]
Language: English
Credits: Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcribers' Note:
This e-book contains the text of Ponteach, extracted from Representative Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819. Comments and background to all the plays, and links to the other plays are available here.
For your convenience, the transcribers have provided the following links:
Major Robert Rogers.
Dramatis Personæ
ACT I.
ACT II.
ACT III.
ACT IV.
ACT V.
Spelling as in the original has been preserved.
PONTEACH
By Robert Rogers
MAJOR ROBERT ROGERS
(1727-1795)
Robert Rogers, a soldier of fortune, is the Davy Crockett of Colonial times. Born at Dumbarton, New Hampshire, on November 17th (some authorities say 1730, another 1731, while the Dictionary of National Biography says 1727), he was the son of James Rogers, a farmer living in a frontier cabin at Methuen, in upper Massachusetts.
Robert's boyhood was spent in an atmosphere characteristic of pioneer life. He had scarcely passed his fifteenth year (Nevins claims in 1746), when he helped withstand an attack of Indians near his home, and this may be considered his first active experience with the Red Man. From this time on, the history of the career of Robert Rogers is the history of the efforts of the Colonists against the Indians as far west as Detroit, and as far south as South Carolina. The necessity which confronted all of the Colonists made of young Rogers one of the most expert hunters of the period, and in this connection he was associated with the famous John Stark, of Green Mountain Boys reputation. In the latter's Memoir, written by Caleb Stark, we have as graphic a pen-picture of Rogers, the hunter, at twenty-two, as we have actual likenesses of Rogers in the pictures of the time.[1]
Evidently Rogers flourished financially at this period, for we find him buying land in Massachusetts in 1753. His activity as a soldier in the French and Indian War put him in command of a company, known as "Rogers' Rangers," and he participated in the Siege of Detroit against Pontiac and the French. This experience of his must have fired Rogers with the desire, after careful consideration of the condition of the Indian, to put his special plea for the cause of the Red Man in some permanent literary form, for "Ponteach" was published in 1766, after Rogers had left America, had gone to London, and thence had taken vessel for Algiers, where he fought under Dey.
By 1761, Rogers had so far advanced in worldly standing that he could afford to turn his attention to family affairs. We find him visiting Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where Elizabeth, daughter of the Reverend Arthur Browne, lived. The two were married on June 30th of that year; but evidently there was about Robert Rogers something his father-in-law did not quite relish. For, in 1763, a dispute arose between the two, because of Rogers' increasing dissipation. That they did not reach, however, any immediate open rupture, may have been due very largely to the fact that Rogers was becoming quite a land-owner in New York and New Hampshire. It was not until March 4, 1778, after Rogers had gone through many and varied experiences, not the least of which was serving a term in the Debtors' Prison in England, that his wife was granted, by the New Hampshire Legislature, a decree of divorce. She thereupon married Captain John Poach.
Naturally, most of the interest attached to Rogers is historical, not literary. His career in the French and Indian War, outlined by him in his "Journal of the French and Indian War," which was published in London in 1765; his activity in the Cherokee War in South Carolina;[2] his association with William Bird, when he had an opportunity of studying the methods of Indian guides; his political ambitions when he returned to England in 1765—all of these are matters for the historian, and have received adequate consideration by Francis Parkman and other writers. During these activities, Rogers was not idle with his pen. He kept his Journals, and they clearly reveal how much of a ranger he was. After the fashion of the times, when he returned to England, anxious to let his friends know of the conditions in America, he not only published his Journals (1769), but also a concise account of North America (1770). But there must have been something about Rogers as a soldier of fortune that was not as straight or as honest as Davy Crockett. We find him, for example, entrusted with the post of Governor of Mackinac, and conducting affairs so illy that he was tried for treason. He may have advanced as a soldier through the successive ranks to Major, but it would seem that the higher up he advanced in position the more unscrupulous he became.
After serving his term in the Debtors' Prison, which began on June 14, 1773, he returned to America, at the beginning of the Revolution. Among his Colonial friends, he not only counted John Stark, the ranger, but Israel Putnam as well, both of them ardent patriots and upholders of the American cause. It would seem, in 1775, that Rogers, to all outward appearance, was himself in sympathy with America. He professed being the staunch lover of those principles which America was upholding. But General Washington soon had cause to doubt his loyalty, and he was watched. With the result that his arrest was ordered, and thereupon he confessed his adherence to the Crown. Rogers then joined the forces of General Howe, bringing with him an invaluable knowledge of the land in New York and New Jersey, and adjacent territory. He was put in command of a company, known as the "Queen's Rangers," and throughout the Revolution fought bravely on the opposing side. After returning to England, he battled for further recognition, but never received the full honours he courted. He died on May 18, 1795, in South London.
"Ponteach" was probably never given in Rogers's time. There is no record of its even having been considered by any of the theatrical companies. It was published in 1766, with a London imprint on the title-page.[3] There is some slight probability that it was given an amateur production at Lake George by the summer residents there—certainly an appropriate spot to present a play by Rogers, inasmuch as the Ranger was known in that neighbourhood, and there is now familiar to all visitors a place called "Rogers's Slide," marking one of his escapades with the Indians.
In the present collection, the editor has followed the text of the 1766 edition, fully realizing the consistent changes made by Mr. Allan Nevins in his edition of the play which, with an Introduction, Biography, and invaluable historical notes, was published in 1914 by the Caxton Club of Chicago.[4]
This piece is one which is not only interesting as representative of the early type of Indian drama in America, but it is also interesting as reflective of the attitude of a dramatist with a problem to propound. "Ponteach" is our first American problem play. Parkman claims that at least part of it was written by Rogers, thus throwing doubt on his entire claim to authorship. There is not only a dignity displayed in the drawing of the main character of the Indian, but there is a very naïve attempt at subtle humour in the characters of the Englishmen. There is no distinct excellence in depicting Indian character as such, after the romantic manner of Cooper, although Rogers, with his English tradition, has been able to lend to his dialogue a certain dignity of diction which is striking, and which gives the play a decided literary value. Taken, however, as an historical document—and Mr. Nevins does this—one can trace in "Ponteach" the whole range of Rogers's experience as an Indian fighter. There are constant allusions in the text to matters which Mr. Nevins has found necessary to explain in copious footnotes, and therefore to the student I would recommend this single edition of the play. "Ponteach" is published here, not from a scholarly standpoint, but simply as an example of early Indian drama.
Of these Indian dramas, there are many examples in the early history of American playwriting. Laurence Hutton has an entertaining chapter on the subject in his "Curiosities of the American Stage," in which he enumerates such titles as "Oroloosa," "Oroonoka," "Miautoumah," to say nothing of "Hiawatha." "Metamora; or, The Last of the Wampanoags" was brought to success through the powerful acting of Edwin Forrest, December 15, 1829. William Wheatley, of the Park Theatre, was likewise famed for his Indian impersonations. Among other more or less well-known plays of the species, enumerated by Wegelin, are:
F. Deffenbach. "Onliata; or, The Indian Heroine." Philadelphia. 1821.
Joseph Doddridge. "Logan: The Last of the Race of Skikellemus, Chief of the Cayuga Nation." Buffalo Creek, Brooke Co., Va. 1823.
G. W. P. Custis. "The Indian Prophecy." A National Drama in Two Acts, founded on a most interesting and romantic occurrence in the life of General Washington. Georgetown. 1828.
Nathaniel Deering. "Carrabasset; or, The Last of the Norridgewocks." A Tragedy in Five Acts. Portland. 1830.
W. H. C. Hosmer. "The Fall of Tecumseh." Avon. 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] These pictures were struck off on October 1, 1776. See Smith's "British Mezzotint Portraits."
[2] See the South Carolina Gazette files for 1760, 1761.
[3] Ponteach:/or the/Savages of America,/A/Tragedy/[Major Robert Rogers.] London:/Printed for the Author; and Sold by J. Millan,/opposite the Admiralty, Whitehall./M.DCC.LXVI./[Price 2s. 6d.]
[4] Ponteach/or the/Savages of America/A Tragedy/By Robert Rogers/With an Introduction/and a Biography of the Author/By Allan Nevins/Chicago/The Caxton Club/1914/
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
| Ponteach, | Indian Emperor on the Great Lakes. | |
| Philip and Chekitan, | Sons of Ponteach. | |
| Tenesco, | His chief Counsellor and Generalissimo. | |
| Astinaco, | } | Indian Kings who join with Ponteach. |
| The Bear, | ||
| The Wolf, | ||
| Torax and Monelia | Son and Daughter to Hendrick, Emperor of the Mohawks. | |
| Indian | Conjurer. | |
| French | Priest. | |
| Sharp, | } | Three English Governors. |
| Gripe, | ||
| Catchum, | ||
| Colonel Cockum, | } | Commanders at a Garrison in Ponteach's Country. |
| Captain Frisk, | ||
| M'Dole and Murphey, | Two Indian Traders. | |
| Honnyman and Orsbourn, | Two English Hunters. | |
| Mrs. Honnyman, | Wife to Honnyman, the Hunter. | |
Warriors, Messengers, &c.
PONTEACH:
OR THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA
ACT I.
Scene I. An Indian Trading House.
Enter M'Dole and Murphey, two Indian Traders, and their Servants.
M'Dole.
Among the Savages in this wild Desart?
Murphey.
Which 'faith I find it hard enough to do;
Times are so dull, and Traders are so plenty,
That Gains are small, and Profits come but slow.
M'Dole.
Know you the Principles by which it prospers,
And how to make it lucrative and safe?
If not, you're like a Ship without a Rudder,
That drives at random, and must surely sink.
Murphey.
And gladly would I learn the Arts from you,
Who're old, and practis'd in them many Years.
M'Dole.
A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way,
Who might as well turn Ministers of State.
But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you
Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive,
Which if all practis'd, we might all grow rich,
Nor circumvent each other in our Gains.
What have you got to part with to the Indians?
Murphey.
And such-like Trifles as they're wont to prize.
M'Dole.
But now the Thing's to make a Profit from them,
Worth all your Toil and Pains of coming hither.
Our fundamental Maxim is this,
That it's no Crime to cheat and gull an Indian.
Murphey.
Are they not Men? hav'n't they a Right to Justice
As well as we, though savage in their Manners?
M'Dole.
This is the very Quintessence of Trade,
And ev'ry Hope of Gain depends upon it;
None who neglect it ever did grow rich,
Or ever will, or can by Indian Commerce.
By this old Ogden built his stately House,
Purchas'd Estates, and grew a little King.
He, like an honest Man, bought all by Weight,
And made the ign'rant Savages believe
That his Right Foot exactly weigh'd a Pound:
By this for many Years he bought their Furs,
And died in Quiet like an honest Dealer.
Murphey.
But his Device is now grown old and stale,
Nor could I manage such a barefac'd Fraud.
M'Dole.
To take Advantage of their Ignorance;
But the great Engine I employ is Rum,
More pow'rful made by certain strength'ning Drugs.
This I distribute with a lib'ral Hand,
Urge them to drink till they grow mad and valiant;
Which makes them think me generous and just,
And gives full Scope to practise all my Art.
I then begin my Trade with water'd Rum,
The cooling Draught well suits their scorching Throats.
Their Fur and Peltry come in quick Return:
My Scales are honest, but so well contriv'd,
That one small Slip will turn Three Pounds to One;
Which they, poor silly Souls! ignorant of Weights
And Rules of Balancing, do not perceive.
But here they come; you'll see how I proceed.
Jack, is the Rum prepar'd as I commanded?
Jack.
M'Dole.
You see the Trick is easy and conceal'd.
Murphey.
And was I King, I swear I'd knight th' Inventor.
—Tom, mind the Part that you will have to act.
Tom.
But then, you know, an honest Servant's Pains
Deserve Reward.
Murphey.
Enter a number of Indians with packs of fur.
1st Indian.
M'Dole.
2nd Indian.
3rd Indian.
M'Dole.
You know which Cask contains the Rum. The Rum?
1st Indian.
M'Dole.
We English always drink before we deal.
2nd Indian.
M'Dole.
3rd Indian.
You make poor Indians drunk, and then you cheat.
1st Indian.
2nd Indian.
M'Dole.
1st Indian.
M'Dole.
1st Indian.
M'Dole.
1st Indian.
M'Dole.
Five times Six is Thirty. Six Quarts of Rum.
Jack, measure it to them: you know the Cask.
This Rum is sold. You draw it off the best.
Murphey.
Than ever I have done in Half a Year;
Curse on my Honesty! I might have been
A little King, and liv'd without Concern,
Had I but known the proper Arts to thrive.
M'Dole.
Worth all the Rum and Trinkets in my Store;
And, would my Conscience let me to the Thing,
I might enhance my Price, and lessen theirs,
And raise my Profits to an higher Pitch.
Murphey.
As from them I expect to reap Advantage.
But should the Dogs detect me in the Fraud,
They are malicious, and would have Revenge.
M'Dole.
On others' Heads, no matter whose, if you
Are but secure, and have the Cain in Hand:
For they're indiff'rent where they take Revenge,
Whether on him that cheated, or his Friend,
Or on a Stranger whom they never saw,
Perhaps an honest Peasant, who ne'er dreamt
Of Fraud or Villainy in all his life;
Such let them murder, if they will a Score,
The Guilt is theirs, while we secure the Gain,
Nor shall we feel the bleeding Victims Pain.
Scene II. A Desart.
Enter Orsbourn and Honnyman, two English Hunters.
Orsbourn.
No Game, nor Track, nor Sign of any Kind
Is to be seen; I swear I am discourag'd
And weary'd out with this long fruitless Hunt.
No Life on Earth besides is half so hard,
So full of Disappointments, as a Hunter's:
Each Morn he wakes he views the destin'd Prey,
And counts the Profits of th' ensuing Day;
Each Ev'ning at his curs'd ill Fortune pines,
And till next Day his Hope of Gain resigns.
By Jove, I'll from these Desarts hasten home,
And swear that never more I'll touch a Gun.
Honnyman.
Curse their black Heads! they fright the Deer and Bear,
And ev'ry Animal that haunts the Wood,
Or by their Witchcraft conjure them away.
No Englishman can get a single Shot,
While they go loaded home with Skins and Furs.
'Twere to be wish'd not one of them survived,
Thus to infest the World, and plague Mankind.
Curs'd Heathen Infidels! mere savage Beasts!
They don't deserve to breathe in Christian Air,
And should be hunted down like other Brutes.
Orsbourn.
Honnyman.
To kill an Indian, more than to kill a Snake.
What if 'tis Peace? these Dogs deserve no Mercy;
Cursed revengeful, cruel, faithless Devils!
They kill'd my Father and my eldest Brother.
Since which I hate their very Looks and Name.
Orsbourn.
Hell seize their cruel, unrelenting Souls!
Tho' these are not the same, 'twould ease my Heart
To cleave their painted Heads, and spill their Blood.
I abhor, detest, and hate them all,
And now cou'd eat an Indian's Heart with Pleasure.
Honnyman.
I lose all Patience when I think of them,
And, if you will, we'll quickly have Amends
For our long Travel and successless Hunt,
And the sweet Pleasure of Revenge to boot.
Orsbourn.
Honnyman.
Or if there's Two, and we can make sure Work,
By Jove, we'll ease the Rascals of their Packs,
And send them empty home to their own Country.
But then observe, that what we do is secret,
Or the Hangman will come in for Snacks.
Orsbourn.
Nor with a nicer Aim, or steadier Hand,
Would shoot a Tyger than I would an Indian.
There is a Couple stalking now this Way
With lusty Packs; Heav'n favour our Design.
Honnyman.
Orsbourn.
Honnyman.
And mind to fire exactly when I do.
Orsbourn.
Honnyman.
Orsbourn.
For Half this Game, and thought ourselves well paid.
Honnyman.
For Lead and Powder, here's a single Shot.
Orsbourn.
Honnyman.
But stop; we must conceal the tawny Dogs,
Or their blood-thirsty Countrymen will find them,
And then we're bit. There'll be the Devil to pay,
They'll murder us, and cheat the Hangman too.
Orsbourn.
Where shall we hide their savage Carcases?
Honnyman.
Orsbourn.
Honnyman.
And pleasant Dreams attend their long Repose.
Orsbourn.
For they'll not need them on their present Journey.
Honnyman.
He'll not allow such Instruments about him,
They're free from training now, they're in his Clutches.
Orsbourn.
I vow I'm shock'd a little to see them scalp'd,
And fear their Ghosts will haunt us in the Dark.
Honnyman.
That is, if you've the Wit to keep it private.
And as to Haunting, Indians have no Ghosts,
But as they live like Beasts, like Beasts they die.
I've kill'd a Dozen in this self-same Way,
And never yet was troubled with their Spirits.
Orsbourn.
And what I've done, my Conscience justifies.
But we must have these Guns and Hatchets alter'd,
Or they'll detect th' Affair, and hang us both.
Honnyman.