Though the spirited Hope Leslie is the titular heroine of the novel, Sedgwick portrays a notable range of female characters. Writing in the 1820s, she seeks both to honor the impact of women on America’s founding and to suggest ways that women’s roles must continue to evolve in order for women to contribute fully to their society. She does this by showing that even women who adhered to the submissive roles expected of them in their day—like Madam Winthrop, Martha Fletcher, and Esther Downing—exercised a positive influence on those around them. At the same time, Hope Leslie emerges as a flawed and disruptive yet appealing example of the more public role for which women in Sedgwick’s own day should strive. By portraying a variety of multi-dimensional female characters, Sedgwick suggests that women’s roles have always been complicated and in flux, and that although women should be willing to break traditional molds, they should not disparage the foremothers who fulfilled them.
Ideal Puritan women are typically submissive, playing important but subordinate and behind-the-scenes roles. Madam Winthrop, wife of the Massachusetts governor, is a model of this ideal: “She recognized, and continually taught to matron and maiden, the duty of unqualified obedience from the wife to the husband […] 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 they considered it to be divinely instituted. The role of such women, in other words, is to fulfill the religious obligation of obeying their husbands—an obligation, Sedgwick hints, which has begun to be questioned during her own era, but which was taken for granted in the colonial period in which the novel is set.
Martha Fletcher is another example of this ideal. When Everell Fletcher is preparing himself for his anticipated death at the hands of the Pequot warriors, he perceives his late mother’s presence: “His mother’s counsels and instructions, to which he had often lent a wearied attention […] now returned upon him as if a celestial spirit breathed them into his soul. Stillness and peace stole over him.” His quiet, obedient mother—far from fading into nonexistence—exerts an influence beyond the grave, and her teachings embolden Everell to face execution. This accords with the ideal of “republican motherhood” in Sedgwick’s time, which conceived of women’s role in terms of their private influence on men’s public roles.
Esther Downing, a close friend of Hope Leslie’s in Boston, is another example of such submissive, private influence. Though Esther is not yet a wife or mother, she is clearly well-schooled in the expectations she must someday meet: “Hope Leslie,” she tells her friend, “you certainly know that we owe implicit deference to our elders and superiors;—we ought to be guided by their advice, and governed by their authority.” Esther acts as the voice of Hope’s conscience in a way, correcting her friend’s transgressions of traditional, socially sanctioned femininity.
Hope Leslie, the story’s heroine, breaks her society’s expectations by refusing to subordinate herself to men or to stay behind the scenes. Hope voices her opinion in public, even when she knows it will not be well received—as when she addresses the town magistrate regarding Nelema’s likely condemnation for witchcraft: “I know not whence I had my courage, but I think truth companies not with cowardice; however, what I would fain call courage, Mr. Pynchon thought necessary to rebuke as presumption:—‘Thou art somewhat forward, maiden,’ he said, ‘in giving thy opinion[.]’” Hope has her own opinions about public matters, and she doesn’t let societal expectations silence her, regardless of the fact that her confidence is subject to reproof. Not only that, she later goes on to defy authority by setting the jailed Nelema free.
Hope’s freeness with her thoughts and her cheerful lack of deference prompt the male authorities in her life to try to place her under the control of a suitable husband. As family friend Governor Winthrop puts it, “passiveness […] next to godliness, is a woman’s best virtue,” and this is the characteristic that Hope most lacks. Thus, he proposes to Mr. Fletcher, Hope’s adoptive father, that it’s necessary to “enforce […] a stricter watch over this lawless girl,” and what better way than to “consign her to some one who should add […] the modest authority of a husband?” It’s significant that the governor of the colony takes an interest in the settling of Hope Leslie into marriage—through this, Sedgwick suggests that the “passiveness” of women under the authority of men was a matter of public interest in Puritan society.
Hope is also resourceful and courageous: even when her impetuous nature gets her into trouble, she doesn’t need men to rescue her. After Hope’s secret rendezvous with her long-lost sister, Faith, goes awry, she escapes kidnapping by letting an Italian boatman believe that she is the Virgin Mary. After the boatman wakes up to discover the angelic-looking girl in his boat, Hope doesn’t challenge his awed attribution of sainthood but instead tells him, “‘Good Antonio, […] I am well pleased to find thee faithful […] thou shalt do me a good service. Take those oars and ply them well till we reach yon town, where I have an errand that must be done.’ […] Our heroine’s elastic spirit, ever ready to rise when pressure was removed, […] enabled her to sustain her extempore character with some animation.” This humorous scene shows Hope at her creative, quick-thinking best, getting men to serve her and even (albeit mistakenly) grant her what authority she’s able to claim under the circumstances.
Sedgwick portrays all of her major female characters in a sympathetic light. Even her dutifully submissive characters always have minds of their own; she gives ample voice to them through the letters they write, through their own narration of events, and through their evident influence for good on those around them (both men and women). In fact, saintly Esther Downing’s gentle kindness and pious generosity are celebrated in the novel’s closing sentences. However, the overall thrust of the novel suggests that this is because Esther’s ideal is, in Sedgwick’s view, passing away. She clearly sees Hope’s public voice and actions as a worthy aspiration for women of her own day.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Women’s Roles ThemeTracker
Women’s Roles Quotes in Hope Leslie
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."
