Oak Openings

by James Fenimore Cooper

The time had arrived for the chiefs to proceed in the execution of their purposes. Peter, profoundly struck with the prayers of the missionary in behalf of his enemies, had taken a station a little on one side, where he stood ruminating on what he had just heard. If ever precept bore the stamp of a divine origin, it is this. The more we reflect on it, the clearer do our perceptions of this truth become. The whole scheme of Christ's redemption and future existence is founded in love, and such a system would be imperfect while any were excluded from its benefits. To love those who reciprocate our feelings is so very natural, that the sympathies which engender this feeling are soonest attracted by a knowledge of their existence, love producing love, as power increases power. But to love those who hate us, and to strive to do good to those who are plotting evil against ourselves, greatly exceeds the moral strength of man, unaided from above. This was the idea that puzzled Peter, and he now actually interrupted the proceedings, in order to satisfy his mind on a subject so totally new to him. Previously, however, to taking this step, he asked the permission of the principal chiefs, awakening in their bosoms by means of his explanations some of the interest in this subject that he felt himself.

“Brother medicine-man,” said the mysterious chief, drawing nearer to the missionary, accompanied himself by Bear's Meat, Crowsfeather, and one or two more, “you have been talking to the Great Spirit o! the pale-faces. We have heard your words, and think them well. They are good words for a man about to set out on the path that leads to the unknown lands. Thither we must all go some time, and it matters little when. We may not all travel the same path. I do not think the Manitou will crowd tribes of different colors together there, as they are getting to be crowded together here.

“Brother, you are about to learn how all these things really are. If red men, and pale-faces, and black men are to live in the same land, after death, you will shortly know it. My brother is about to go there. He and his friend, this warrior of his people, will travel on that long path in company. I hope they will agree by the way, and not trouble each other. It will be convenient to my brother to have a hunter with him; the path is so long, he will be hungry before he gets to the end. This warrior knows how to use a musket, and we shall put his arms with him in his grave.

“Brother, before you start on this journey, from which no traveller ever returns, let his color be what it may, we wish to hear you speak further about loving our enemies. This is not the Indian rule. The red men hate their enemies, and love their friends. When they ask the Manitou to do anything to their enemies, it is to do them harm. This is what our fathers taught us: it is what we teach our children. Why should we love them that hate us: why should we do good to them that do us harm? Tell us now, or we may never hear the reason.”

“Tell you I will, Peter, and the Lord so bless my words that they may soften your hearts, and lead you all to the truth, and to dependence on the mediation of his blessed Son! We should do good to them that do evil to us, because the Great Spirit has commanded us so to do. Ask your own heart if this is not right. If they sound like words that are spoken by any but those who have been taught by the Manitou, himself. The devils tell us to revenge, but God commands us to forgive. It is easy to do good to them that do good to us; but it tries the heart sorely to do good to them that do us evil. I have spoken to you of the Son of the Great Spirit. He came on earth, and told us with his own mouth all these great truths. He said that next to the duty of loving the Manitou, was the duty of loving our neighbors. No matter whether friend or enemy, it was our duty to love them, and do them all the good we can. If there is no venison in their wigwams, we should take the deer off our own poles, and carry it and put on theirs. Why have I come here to tell you this? When at home, I lived under a good roof, eat of abundance, and slept in a soft and warm bed. You know how it is here. We do not know to-day what we shall eat to-morrow. Our beds are hard, and our roofs are of bark. I come, because the Son of the Manitou, he who came and lived among men, told us to do all this. His commands to his medicine-men were, to go forth, and tell all nations, and tribes, and colors, the truth—to tell them to 'love them that sought to do them harm, and to do good for evil.'”

Parson Amen pausing a moment to take breath, Ungque, who detected the wavering of Peter's mind, and who acted far more in opposition to the mysterious and tribeless chief than from any other motive, profited by the occasion thus afforded to speak. Without this pause, however, the breeding of an Indian would have prevented any interruption.

“I open my mouth to speak,” said The Weasel, in his humblest manner. “What I say is not fit for the wise chiefs to hear. It is foolish, but my mind tells me to say it. Does the medicine-man of the pale-faces tell us that the Son of the Great Spirit came upon earth, and lived among men?”

“I do; such is our belief; and the religion we believe and teach cometh directly from his mouth.”

“Let the medicine-man tell the chiefs how long the Son of the Great Spirit stayed on earth, and which way he went when he left it.”

Now, this question was put by Ungque through profound dissimulation. He had heard of the death of Christ, and had obtained some such idea of the great sacrifice as would be apt to occur to the mind of a savage. He foresaw that the effect of the answer would be very likely to destroy most of the influence that the missionary had just been building up, by means of his doctrine and his prayers. Parson Amen was a man of singular simplicity of character, but he had his misgivings touching the effect of this reply. Still he did not scruple about giving it, or attempt in any manner to mystify or to deceive.