Chekitan. May we believe, or is this all a Dream?
Are we awake? Is Torax yet alive?
110
Or is it Juggling, Fascination all?147
Tenesco. ’Tis most surprising! What to judge I know not.
I’ll lead him hence; perhaps he’s still confus’d.
Torax. I gladly will go hence for some Relief,
But shall not change, from what I’ve now aver’d.
115
Tenesco. Then this sad Storm of Ruin’s but begun.
[aside.
Philip must fly, or next it lights on him.
[Exeunt Tenesco and Torax led by him.
Chekitan. And can this be—Can Philip be so false?
Dwells there such Baseness in a Brother’s Heart?
So much Dissimilation in the Earth?
120
Is there such Perfidy among Mankind?
It shocks my Faith—But yet it must be so—
Yes, it was he, Monelia, shed thy Blood.
This made him forward to commence our Friend,
And with unusual Warmth engage to help us;
125
It was for this so chearful he resign’d
To me the Honour of Command in War;
The English Troops would never come so near;
The Wounds were not inflicted by their Arms.
All, all confirms the Guilt on Philip’s Head,
130
You died, Monelia, by my Brother’s Hand;
A Brother too intrusted with our Love.
I’m stupify’d and senseless at the Thought;
My Head, my very Heart is petrify’d.
This adds a Mountain to my Weight of Woe.
135
It now is swell’d too high to be lamented;
Complaints, and Sighs, and Tears are thrown away,
Revenge is all the Remedy that’s left;
But what Revenge is equal to the Crime?
His Life for her’s! An Atom for the Earth—
140
A Single Fly—a Mite for the Creation:
Turn where I will I find myself confounded:
But I must seek and study out new Means.
Help me, ye Powers of Vengeance! grant your Aid,
Ye that delight in Blood, and Death, and Pain!
145
Teach me the Arts of Cruelty and Wrath,
Till I have Vengeance equal to my Love,
And my Monelia’s Shade148 is satisfied.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Philip solus.
His Grief no Doubt will rise into a Rage,
To see his Charmer rolling in her Blood,
I chuse to see him not till my Return;
By then the Fierceness of the Flame may cease;
Nay, he’ll grow cool, and quite forget his Love,
5
When I report her Father’s kindled Wrath,
And all the Vengeance he intends to take.
[Chekitan come in sight.
But this is he, I cannot now avoid him;
How shall I sooth his Grief—He looks distracted—
I’m such a Stranger grown to Tears and Pity,
10
I fear he will not think I sympathize.
Enter Chekitan.
Chekitan. Have I then found thee, thou false hearted Traitor?
Thou Tyger, Viper, Snake, thou worse than Christian;
Blood thirsty Butcher, more than Murderer!
Thou every Thing but what Men ought to love!
15
Do you still live to breathe and see the Sun?
And face me with your savage guilty Eye?
Philip. I fear’d, alas, you would run mad and rave.
Why do you blame me that I am not dead?
I risk’d my Life, was wounded for your Sake,
20
Did all I could for your Monelia’s Safety,
And to revenge you on her Murderers.
Your Grief distracts you, or you’d thank me for ’t.
Chekitan. Would you still tempt my Rage, and fire my Soul,
Already bent to spill your treacherous Blood?
25
You base Dissembler! know you are detected,
Torax still lives, and has discover’d all.
[Philip starts and trembles.
Philip. Torax alive!—It cannot—must not be
[aside.
Chekitan. Well may you shake—You cannot mend your Blow.
He lived to see, what none but you could think of,
30
The bloody Knife drawn from Monelia’s Breast.
Had you a thousand Lives, they’d be too few;
Had you a Sea of Blood, ’twould be too small
To wash away your deep-dy’d Stain of Guilt.
Now you shall die; and O if there be Powers
35
That after Death take Vengeace on such Crimes,
May they pursue you with their Flames of Wrath,
Till all their Magazines of Pain are spent.
[he attacks Philip with his Hatchet.
Philip. I must defend myself (drawing his Hatchet) the Case is desperate.
[Fight, Philip falls.
Fate is too hard; and I’m oblig’d to yield.
40
’Twas well begun—but has a wretched End—
Yet I’m reveng’d—She cannot live again.
You cannot boast to’ve shed more Blood than I—
Oh had I—had I—struck but one Blow more!
[dies.
Chekitan. What have I done! this is my Brother’s Blood!
45
A guilty Murderer’s Blood! He was no Brother.
All Nature’s Laws and Ties are hence dissolv’d;
There is no Kindred, Friendship, Faith, or Love
Among Mankind—Monelia’s dead—The World
Is all unhing’d—There’s universal War—
50
She was the Tie, the Centre of the Whole;
And she remov’d, all is one general Jar.149
Where next, Monelia, shall I bend my Arm150
To heal this Discord, this Disorder still,
And bring the Chaos Universe to Form?
55
Blood still must flow and float the scatter’d Limbs
Till thy much injur’d love in Peace subsides.
Then every jarring Discord once will cease,
And a new World from these rude Ruins rise.
[pauses.
Here then I point the Edge, from hence shall flow
60
[pointing his Knife to his Heart.
The raging crimson Flood, this is the Fountain
Whose swift Day’s Stream shall waft me to thy Arms.
Lest Philip’s Ghost should injure thy Repose.
[Stabs himself.
I come, I come—Monelia, now I come—
Philip—away—She’s mine in spite of Death.
[dies. 65
Enter Tenesco.
Oh! I’m too late, the fatal Work is done.
Unhappy Princes; this your wretched End;
Your Country’s Hopes and your fond Father’s Joy;
Are you no more? Slain by each other’s Hands.
Or what is worse; or by the Air you breath’d?
70
For all is Murder, Death, and Blood about us:
Nothing is safe; it is contagious all:
The Earth, and Air, and Skies are full of Treason!
The Evil Genius rules the Universe,
And on Mankind rains Tempests of Destruction.
75
Where will the Slaughter of the Species end?
When it begins with Kings and with their Sons,
A general Ruin threatens all below.
How will the good King hear the sad Report.
I fear th’ Event; but as it can’t be hid,
80
I’ll bear it to him in the softest
Terms,
And summon every Power to sooth his Grief,
And slack the Torrent of his Royal Passion.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Senate House.
Ponteach, solus.
The Torrent rises, and the Tempest blows;
Where will this rough rude Storm of Ruin end?
What crimson Floods are yet to drench the Earth?
What new-form’d Mischiefs hover in the Air,
And point their Stings at this devoted Head?
5
Has Fate exhausted all her Stores of Wrath,
Or has she other Vengeance in reserve?
What can she more? My Sons, my Name is gone;
My Hopes all blasted, my Delights all fled;
Nothing remains but an afflicted King,
10
That might be pitied by Earth’s greatest Wretch.
My Friends; my Sons, ignobly, basely slain,
Are more than murder’d, more than lost by Death.
Had they died fighting in their Country’s Cause,
I should have smil’d and gloried in their Fall;
15
Yes, boasting that I had such Sons to lose,
I would have rode in Triumph o’er their Tombs.
But thus to die, the Martyrs of their Folly,
Involv’d in all the complicated Guilt
Of Treason, Murder, Falshood, and Deceit,
20
Unbridled Passion, Cowardice, Revenge,
And every Thing that can debase a Man,
And render him the just Contempt of all,
And fix the foulest Stain of Infamy,
Beyond the Power of Time to blot it out;
25
This is too much; and my griev’d Spirit sinks
Beneath the Weight of such gigantic Woe.
Ye that would see a piteous wretched King,
Look on a Father griev’d and curs’d like me;
Look on a King whose Sons have died like mine!
30
Then you’ll confess that these are dangerous Names,
And put it in the Power of Fate to curse us;
It is on such she shews her highest Spite.
But I’m too far—’Tis not a Time to grieve
For private Losses, when the Public calls.
35
Enter Tenesco, looking sorrowful.
What are your Tidings?—I have no more Sons.
Tenesco. But you have Subjects, and regard their Safety.
The treacherous Priest, intrusted with your Councils,
Has publish’d all, and added his own Falshoods;
The Chiefs have all revolted from your Cause,
40
Patch’d up a Peace, and lend their Help no more.151
Ponteach. And this is all? we must defend ourselves,
Supply the Place of Numbers with our Courage,
And learn to conquer with our very Looks:
This is a Time that tries the Truth of Valour;
45
He shews his Courage that dares stem the Storm,
And live in spite of Violence and Fate.
Shall holy Perfidy152 and seeming Lyes
Destroy our Purpose, sink us into Cowards?
Tenesco. May your Hopes prosper! I’ll excite the Troops
50
By your Example still to keep the Field.
[Exit.
Ponteach. ’Tis coming on. Thus Wave succeeds to Wave,
Till the Storm’s spent, then all subsides again—
The Chiefs revolted:— My Design betray’d:—
May he that trusts a Christian meet the same!
55
They have no Faith, no Honesty, no God,
And cannot merit Confidence from Men.
Were I alone the boist’rous Tempest’s Sport,
I’d quickly move my shatter’d trembling Bark,
And follow my departed Sons to Rest.
60
But my brave Countrymen, my Friends, my Subjects,
Demand my Care: I’ll not desert the Helm,
Nor leave a dang’rous Station in Distress:
Yes, I will live, in spite of Fate I’ll live;
Was I not Ponteach, was I not a King,
65
Such Giant Mischiefs would not gather round me.153
And since I’m Ponteach, since I am a King,
I’ll shew myself Superior to them all;
I’ll rise above this Hurricane of Fate,
And shew my Courage to the Gods themselves.
70
Enter Tenesco, surprised and pausing.
I am prepar’d, be not afraid to tell;
You cannot speak what Ponteach dare not hear.
Tenesco. Our bravest Troops are slain, the rest pursu’d;
All is Disorder, Tumult, and Rebellion.
Those that remain insist on speedy Flight;
75
You must attend them, or be left alone
Unto the Fury of a conquering Foe,
Nor will they long expect your Royal Pleasure.
Ponteach. Will they desert their King in such an Hour,
When Pity might induce them to protect him?
80
Kings like the Gods are valued and ador’d,
When Men expect their Bounties in Return,
Place them in Want, destroy the giving Power,
All Sacrifices and Regards will cease.
Go, tell my Friends that I’ll attend their Call.
85
[rising. Exit Tenesco.
I will not fear—but must obey my Stars:
[looking round.
Ye fertile Fields and glad’ning Streams, adieu;
Ye Fountains that have quench’d my scorching Thirst,
Ye Shades that hid the Sun-beams from my Head,
Ye Groves and Hills that yielded me the Chace,
90
Ye flow’ry Meads, and Banks, and bending Trees,
And thou proud Earth, made drunk with Royal Blood,
I am no more your Owner and your King.
But witness for me to your new base Lords,
That my unconquer’d Mind defies them still;
95
And though I fly, ’tis on the Wings of Hope.
Yes, I will hence where there’s no British Foe,
And wait a Respite from this Storm of Woe;
Beget more Sons, fresh Troops collect and arm,
And other Schemes of future Greatness form;
100
Britons may boast, the Gods may have their Will,
Ponteach I am, and shall be Ponteach still.
[Exit.
FINIS.
APPENDIX A: EXCERPT FROM ROBERT ROGERS’ CONCISE ACCOUNT OF NORTH AMERICA
Rogers’ Concise Account was popular and well reviewed (see Appendix C), but was far from the only publication of its type. Published accounts of travels were common in England between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, and generally included some mix of geographical details (including bodies of water, animal life, vegetation, and agricultural possibility); tales of individual adventure and misadventure; reports of European settlements and communities; and descriptions of the lives and persons of Indigenous North Americans. The most widely referenced of these accounts from the eighteenth century include Cadwallader Colden’s History of the Five Indian Nations (1747) and James Adair’s History of the American Indians (1775). Along with the French Jesuit Relations (1610–73; ed. Thwaites, 1901) and Pierre Charlevoix’s Journal of a Voyage to North America (1744; trans. 1761), these texts offer descriptions from knowledgeable reporters who travelled in North America and had extensive first-person experience with several Indigenous nations and communities. Rogers’ account purports to be of this group, but though he certainly fought side by side with many Native men and he certainly did travel extensively, his account fits more closely with publications like that of his sometimes protégé Jonathan Car
ver. Carver’s (also popular and widely referenced) Travels to the Interior Parts of America (1778), combines first-person knowledge gained in his extensive travels with information gathered from other sources. Like the most accurate sources of eighteenth-century ethnography and geography, Rogers’ account is important for its consciousness of the distinct natures of the different Indigenous nations and of individual communities within those nations, and his information is generally accurate, but it is essential to note that it is only one account among hundreds, and perhaps middling in its degree of originality of information. It is, however, an excellent example of Rogers’ general perceptions of Indigenous North Americans and their environment, and thus offers important illumination for Ponteach.
Title page: Robert Rogers, Concise Account of North America. London: 1765 (McGill University Library, Lande Canadiana Collection 761).
CUSTOMS, MANNERS, &C. OF THE INDIANS.
Having thus endeavoured to give a sketch of the interior country of North America, so far as I have any knowledge or intelligence concerning it, I will now more particularly, but briefly, mention the customs, manners, and connections of the Indians who inhabit there.
Those of them who have any concerns or commerce with the English, as such as inhabit from the east-side of the Mississippi to the south-side of the River Christino; and among all the nations and tribes in this vast extent of country, those called the Five Nation Indians stand distinguished, and are deserving of the first notice. They are dreaded and revered by all the others for their superior understanding, activity and valour in war, in which constant practice renders them expert, they being in almost continual wars with one nation or other, and sometimes with several together. Their customs, manners, and modes of dress, are adopted by many of the other tribes as near as possible. In short, those Indians are generally among the other nations esteemed the politest and best bred who the nearest resemble these. Their most northern settlement is a town called Chockonawago, on the south of the River St. Lawrence, opposite to Montreal; but their largest settlements are between Lake Ontario and the provinces of New York and Pensylvania, or the heads of the Mohock, Tanesee, Oneoida and Onondaga Rivers. They claim all the country south of the River St. Lawrence to the Ohio, and down the Ohio to the Wabach, from the mouth of the Wabach to the bounds of Virginia; westerly, to the Lakes Ontario and Erie, and the River Miamee; their eastern boundaries are Lake Champlain, and the British colonies. When the English first settled in America, they could raise 15,000 fighting men; but now, including the Delawares and Shawanees, they do not amount to more than between three or four thousand, having been thus reduced by the incessant wars they have maintained with the other Indians, and with the French, in Canada.
Ponteach, or the Savages of America Page 17