A Review of “Hope Leslie” by Catherine Maria Sedgwick
I actually wrote this paper for a class I’m currently taking. I just
thought I’d write it here since it echoes one of my pet causes: racial
equality and the sometimes-futile attempts it has to go through.
It’s
a look at the colonial history of America, how the "White Man" came and
claimed the land of the "Red Skin" - in the process almost destroying
the Native American culture.
***
When I first started reading Hope Leslie,
I was a little confused. All the while, I thought that Hope Leslie was
the name of the girl on the cover. The book keeps referring to Hope
Leslie as the heroine, but I cannot help but be more intrigued with
Magawisca, the Native American girl who, I suppose, is represented in
the cover. She has an arrogance that is all-together appealing, both in
form and manner: “Her from was slender, flexible, and graceful; and
there was a freedom and loftiness in her movement which, through
tempered with modesty, expressed a consciousness of high birth”
(22-23). A follower of physiognomy would rejoice in seeing her.
I
say arrogance and not pride, because she does have a sense of being
better than the Puritans. Other novels have ventured so far as to put
"Red Skins" and the "White Skins" on somewhat equal footing – one race
is better at something in which the other race is bad and vice versa –
but Magawisca shows Indian Superiority for a change. Hers is an
arrogance based on the knowledge that her race is more superior than
others. Her arrogance frustrates others in the book: Jennet in
particular, but then, almost everything frustrates her (and whenever it
does, I am inwardly pleased, I should confess…) But I find her
arrogance so fascinating.
Her love for the Fletchers does not
diminish this arrogance, but it is strong enough that she stands up
against her father in defense of that love. For a while even, I thought
that romance was in store for Everell and Magawisca. Alas, as Everell
tells Digby, “Yes, Digby, I might have loved her – might have forgotten
that nature had put barriers between us” (224). And yet nature was not
a barrier big enough for Magawisca to show ultimate love – that she was
willing to risk her very life and was fortunate enough to just lose a
limb. Even in this very act of sacrifice, Magawisca shows her
superiority.
Later on, as Hope becomes a more multi-dimensional
character, I am reminded of Magawisca. Compared to Magawisca and her
“savage” family, Hope is more temperate. She has the advantage of
belonging to a “civilized” society. But to her new-found family and
friends, Hope is too impulsive and not puritan enough: “Her religion
was pure and disinterested – no one, therefore, should doubt its
intrinsic value, though it had not been coined into a particular form,
or received the current impress” (128).
It is through Magawisca
and Hope that I see the struggle between the Native Americans and the
Puritans. First, they compete for Everell (though not so overtly as to
resemble a mere “trashy” love novel) and then they compete for Mary
(since she never really embraced her conversion, I shall continue
calling her Mary). Magawisca agrees to help the two sisters meet, but
it is obvious that Mary has no intention of going back. Hope tries her
best to convince Mary with her rings, but even this backfires as it
becomes telling of the infatuation of her race with triviality.
Magawisca asks, “Shall I ask your sister to barter truth and love, the
jewels of the soul, that grow brighter and brighter in the land of
spirits, for these poor perishing trifles? – Oh, Hope Leslie, I had
better thoughts of thee” (240).
Later on, when Magawisca is
put on trial, her arrogance, again, shines through. “I am your
prisoner, and ye may slay me, but I deny your right to judge me. My
people have never passed under your yoke – not one of my race has ever
acknowledged your authority” (302). And when a Bible is put to her,
instead of being intimidated, she replies, “I know…that it contains thy
rule, and it may be needful for thy mixed race; but the Great Spirit
hath written his laws on the hearts of his original children, and we
need it not” (303). With this arrogance she stuns and wins most of the
crowd perhaps because the crowd sees a self-importance they wish they
had. It is the self-importance of one who is not necessarily strong
enough to force others out of their homes. It is the self-importance of
one who knows that the land has always been and always will be
rightfully theirs, no matter what law is written.
In the
end, it is Hope that Everell loves, but it is Magawisca that Mary
chooses. Both lose and win and forever part ways. Hope clings to the
idealism akin to her name – that Magawisca live with them, that they
“walk in the same path” (349). But Magawisca is more pragmatic and
says, “My people have been spoiled – we cannot take as a gift that
which is our own – the law of vengeance is written on our hearts – you
say you have a written rule of forgiveness – it may be better – if ye
would be guided by it – it is not for us – the Indian and the white man
can no more mingle, and become one, than day and night” (349).
Hope
Leslie shows me probably why these two races just did not live in
harmony. They are too culturally different with their beliefs and
practices; and they are too intrinsically similar with their conviction
that theirs is the more superior race.
