Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
It is rare indeed that the philosophy of a dignified Indian is so far
disturbed, as to destroy the appearance of equanimity. When Content and
the family of the Heathcotes appeared on the hill, they found the chiefs
still pacing the orchard, with the outward composure of men unmoved, and
with the gravity that was suited to their rank. Annawon, who had acted as
their conductor, caused the captives to be placed in a row, choosing the
foot of the ruin for their position, and then he patiently awaited the
moment when his superiors might be pleased to renew the examination. In
this habitual silence, there was nothing of the abject air of Asiatic
deference. It proceeded from the habit of self-command, which taught the
Indian to repress all natural emotions. A very similar effect was produced
by the religious abasement of those whom fortune had now thrown into their
power. It would have been a curious study, for one interested in the
manners of the human species, to note the difference between the calm,
physical, and perfect self-possession of the wild tenants of the forest,
and the ascetic, spiritually sustained, and yet meek submission to
Providence, that was exhibited by most of the prisoners. We say of most,
for there was an exception. The brow of young Mark still retained its
frown, and the angry character of his eye was only lost, when by chance
it lighted on the drooping form and pallid features of his mother. There
was ample time for these several and peculiar qualities to be thus
silently exhibited, many minutes passing before either of the Sachems
seemed inclined to re-commence the conference. At length Philip, or
Metacom, as we shall indifferently call him, drew near and spoke.
"This earth is a good earth," he said; "it is of many colors, to please
the eyes of him who made it. In one part it is dark, and as the worm
taketh the color of the leaf on which he crawls, there the hunters are
black; in another part it is white, and that is the part where pale-men
were born, and where they should die; or they may miss the road which
leads to their happy hunting-grounds. Many just warriors, who have been
killed on distant war-paths, still wander in the woods, because the trail
is hid, and their sight dim. It is not good to trust so much to the
cunning of--"
"Wretched and blind worshipper of Apollyon!" interrupted the Puritan, "we
are not of the idolatrous and foolish-minded! It hath been accorded to us
to know the Lord; to his chosen worshippers, all regions are alike. The
spirit can mount, equally, through snows and whirlwinds; the tempest and
the calm; from the lands of the sun, and the lands of frosts; from the
depths of the ocean, from fire, from the forest--"
He was interrupted, in his turn. At the word fire, the finger of Metacom
fell meaningly on his shoulder; and when he had ceased, for until then no
Indian would have spoken, the other gravely asked--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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