Women’s Roles Theme Analysis

The boy doth greatly affect the company of the Pequod girl, Magawisca. If, in his studies, he meets with any trait of heroism, (and with such, truly, her mind doth seem naturally to assimilate) he straightway calleth for her and rendereth it into English, in which she hath made such marvellous progress, that I am sometimes startled with the beautiful forms in which she clothes her simple thoughts. She, in her turn, doth take much delight in describing to him the customs of her people, and relating their traditionary tales, which are like pictures, captivating to a youthful imagination. He hath taught her to read, and reads to her Spenser's rhymes, and many other books of the like kind[.]

"Ah!" replied the old woman with a heavy groan, "I had sons too—and grandsons; but where are they? They trod the earth as lightly as that boy; but they have fallen like our forest trees, before the stroke of the English axe. Of all my race, there is not one, now, in whose veins my blood runs. Sometimes, when the spirits of the storm are howling about my wigwam, I hear the voices of my children crying for vengeance, and then I could myself deal the death-blow."

"You have never spoken to me of that night Magawisca."

“No—Everell, for our hands have taken hold of the chain of friendship, and I feared to break it by speaking of the wrongs your people laid on mine."

"You need not fear it; I can honour noble deeds though done by our enemies, and see that cruelty is cruelty, though inflicted by our friends."

"Then listen to me; and when the hour of vengeance comes, if it should come, remember it was provoked."

Magawisca's reflecting mind suggested the most serious obstacle to the progress of the christian religion, in all ages and under all circumstances; the contrariety between its divine principles and the conduct of its professors; which, instead of always being a medium for the light that emanates from our holy law, is too often the darkest cloud that obstructs the passage of its rays to the hearts of heathen men. Everell had been carefully instructed in the principles of his religion, and he felt Magawisca's relation to be an awkward comment on them, and her inquiry natural[.]

His mother's counsels and instructions, to which he had often lent a wearied attention—the passages from the sacred book he had been compelled to commit to memory, when his truant thoughts were ranging forest and field, now returned upon him as if a celestial spirit breathed them into his soul. Stillness and peace stole over him. He was amazed at his own tranquillity. 'It may be,' he thought, 'that my mother and sisters are permitted to minister to me.'

[Madam Winthrop] was admirably qualified for the station she occupied. She recognised, and continually taught to matron and maiden, the duty of unqualified obedience from the wife to the husband, her appointed lord and master; a duty that it was left to modern heresy to dispute; and which our pious fathers, or even mothers, were so far from questioning, that the only divine right to govern, which they acknowledged, was that vested in the husband over the wife.

“Would it not be wise and prudent to take my brother's counsel, and consign her to some one who should add to affection, the modest authority of a husband?"

Governor Winthrop paused for a reply, but receiving none, he proceeded […] “William Hubbard—the youth who hath come with so much credit from our prophets' school at Cambridge. He is a discreet young man, steeped in learning, and of approved orthodoxy."

"These be cardinal points with us," replied Mr. Fletcher, calmly, "but they are not like to commend him to a maiden of Hope Leslie's temper. She inclineth not to bookish men, and is apt to vent her childish gaiety upon the ungainly ways of scholars."

Thus our heroine, by her peculiar taste, lost at least the golden opportunity of illustrating herself by a union with the future historian of New-England.

Thus had Hope Leslie, by rashly following her first generous impulses, […] effected that, which the avowed tenderness of Miss Downing, the united instances of Mr. Fletcher and Governor Winthrop, and the whole colony and world beside, could never have achieved. Unconscious of the mistake by which she had put the happiness of all parties concerned in jeopardy, she was exulting in her victory over herself, and endeavouring to regain in solitude the tranquillity which she was surprised to find had utterly forsaken her; and to convince herself that the disorder of her spirits, which in spite of all her efforts, filled her eyes with tears, was owing to the agitating expectation of seeing her long-lost sister.

[Antonio’s] invocation was long enough to allow our heroine time to make up her mind as to the course she should pursue with her votary. She had recoiled from the impiety of appropriating his address to the holy mother, but protestant as she was, we hope she may be pardoned for thinking that she might without presumption, identify herself with a catholic saint. "Good Antonio," she said, "I am well pleased to find thee faithful, as thou hast proved thyself, by withdrawing from thy vile comrades. […] Now, honest Antonio, I will put honour on thee; thou shalt do me good service. Take those oars and ply them well till we reach yon town, where I have an errand that must be done."

The feeling was contagious, and every voice, save her judges, shouted "liberty!—liberty! grant the prisoner liberty!" The Governor rose, waved his hand to command silence, and would have spoken, but his voice failed him; his heart was touched with the general emotion, and he was fain to turn away to hide tears more becoming to the man, than the magistrate.

Rosa did not set down the lamp, but moved forward one or two steps with it in her hand, and then paused. She seemed revolving some dreadful purpose in her mind. […]

"Why do you not obey me? Miss Leslie is suffocating—set down the lamp, I say, and call assistance. Damnation!" he screamed, "what means the girl?" as Rosa made one desperate leap forward, and shrieking, "it cannot be worse for any of us!" threw the lamp into the barrel.

The explosion was instantaneous—the hapless, pitiable girl—her guilty destroyer—his victim—the crew—the vessel, rent to fragments, were hurled into the air, and soon engulfed in the waves.

Her hand was often and eagerly sought, but she appears never to have felt a second engrossing attachment. The current of her purposes and affections had set another way. She illustrated a truth, which, if more generally received by her sex, might save a vast deal of misery: that marriage is not essential to the contentment, the dignity, or the happiness of woman. Indeed, those who saw on how wide a sphere her kindness shone, how many were made better and happier by her disinterested devotion, might have rejoiced that she did not "Give to a party what was meant for mankind."