Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (85 page)

“Ah’s me!—you’re a winning and a lovely creatur‘, Judith; yes, you are all that, and no one can deny it, and speak truth. These pictur’s are pleasant to the thoughts, but they mightn’t prove so happy as you now think ’em. Forget it all, therefore, and let us paddle after the Sarpent and Hist, as if nothing had been said on the subject.”

Judith was deeply mortified, and what is more, she was profoundly grieved. Still there was a steadiness and quiet in the manner of Deerslayer, that completely smothered her hopes, and told her that for once, her exceeding beauty had failed to excite the admiration and homage it was wont to receive. Women are said seldom to forgive those who slight their advances; but this high-spirited and impetuous girl entertained no shadow of resentment, then or ever, against the fair-dealing and ingenuous hunter. At the moment, the prevailing feeling was the wish to be certain that there was no misunderstanding. After another painful pause, therefore, she brought the matter to an issue, by a question too direct to admit of equivocation.

“God forbid that we lay up regrets in afterlife, through any want of sincerity now,” she said. “I hope we understand each other at least. You will not accept me for a wife, Deerslayer?”

“ ’Tis better for both that I shouldn’t take advantage of your own forgetfulness, Judith. We can never marry”

“You do not love me—cannot find it in your heart, perhaps, to esteem me, Deerslayer!”

“Everything in the way of fri‘ndship, Judith—everything, even to sarvices and life itself Yes, I’d risk as much for you, at this moment, as I would risk in behalf of Hist; and that is sayin’ as much as I can say of any darter of woman. I do not think I feel towards either—mind I say either, Judith—as if I wished to quit father and mother—if father and mother was livin’; which, however, neither is—but if both was livin‘, I do not feel towards any woman as if I wish’d to quit ’em in order to cleave unto her.”

“This is enough!” answered Judith, in a rebuked and smothered voice; “I understand all that you mean. Marry you cannot, without loving ; and that love you do not feel for me. Make no answer if I am right, for I shall understand your silence. That will be painful enough of itself.”

Deerslayer obeyed her, and he made no reply. For more than a minute the girl riveted her bright eyes on him as if to read his soul; while he sat playing with the water, like a corrected schoolboy. Then Judith herself dropped the end of her paddle, and urged the canoe away from the spot, with a movement as reluctant as the feelings which controlled it. Deerslayer quietly aided the effort, however, and they were soon on the trackless line taken by the Delaware.

In their way to the point, not another syllable was exchanged between Deerslayer and his fair companion. As Judith sat in the bow of the canoe, her back was turned towards him, else it is probable the expression of her countenance might have induced him to venture some soothing terms of friendship and regard. Contrary to what would have been expected, resentment was still absent, though the color frequently changed from the deep flush of mortification to the paleness of disappointment. Sorrow, deep, heartfelt sorrow, however, was the predominant emotion, and this was betrayed in a manner not to be mistaken.

As neither labored hard at the paddle, the ark had already arrived, and the soldiers had disembarked before the canoe of the two loiterers reached the point. Chingachgook had preceded it, and was already some distance in the wood, at a spot where the two trails, that to the garrison, and that to the villages of the Delawares, separated. The soldiers, too, had taken up their line of march; first setting the ark adrift again, with a reckless disregard of its fate. All this Judith saw, but she heeded it not. The Glimmerglass had no longer any charms for her; and when she put her foot on the strand, she immediately proceeded on the trail of the soldiers, without casting a single glance behind her. Even Hist was passed unnoticed; that modest young creature shrinking from the averted face of Judith, as if guilty herself of some wrongdoing.

“Wait you here, Sarpent,” said Deerslayer, as he followed in the footsteps of the dejected beauty, while passing his friend. “I will just see Judith among her party, and come and j’ine you.”

A hundred yards had hid the couple from those in front, as well as those in the rear, when Judith turned and spoke.

“This will do, Deerslayer,” she said, sadly. “I understand your kindness, but shall not need it. In a few minutes I shall reach the soldiers. As you cannot go with me on the journey of life, I do not wish you to go farther on this. But stop; before we part I would ask you a single question. And I require of you as you fear God, and reverence the truth, not to deceive me in your answer. I know you do not love another; and I can see but one reason why you cannot, will not love me. Tell me, then, Deerslayer—” The girl paused, the words she was about to utter, seeming to choke her. Then rallying all her resolution, with a face that flushed and paled at every breath she drew, she continued : “Tell me, then, Deerslayer, if anything light of me, that Henry March has said, may not have influenced your feelings?”

Truth was the Deerslayer’s polar star. He ever kept it in view; and it was nearly impossible for him to avoid uttering it, even when prudence demanded silence. Judith read his answer in his countenance; and with a heart nearly broken by the consciousness of undeserving, she signed to him an adieu, and buried herself in the woods. For some time Deerslayer was irresolute as to his course; but in the end, he retraced his steps and joined the Delaware. That night, the three “camped” on the headwaters of their own river, and the succeeding evening they entered the village of the tribe; Chingachgook and his betrothed, in triumph; their companion honored and admired, but in a sorrow that it required months of activity to remove.

The war that then had its rise was stirring and bloody. The Delaware chief rose among his people, until his name was never mentioned without eulogiums; while another Uncas, the last of his race, was added to the long line of warriors who bore that distinguished appellation. As for the Deerslayer, under the sobriquet of Hawkeye, he made his fame spread far and near, until the crack of his rifle became as terrible to the ears of the Mingos, as the thunders of the Manitou. His services were soon required by the officers of the Crown, and he especially attached himself, in the field, to one in particular, with whose afterlife he had a close and important connection.

Fifteen years had passed away, ere it was in the power of the Deerslayer to revisit the Glimmerglass. A peace had intervened, and it was on the eve of another, and still more important war, when he and his constant friend, Chingachgook, were hastening to the forts to join their allies. A stripling accompanied them, for Hist already slumbered beneath the pines of the Delawares, and the three survivors had now become inseparable. They reached the lake just as the sun was setting. Here all was unchanged; the river still rushed through its bower of trees; the little rock was wasting away by the slow action of the waves in the course of centuries; the mountains stood in their native dress, dark, rich, and mysterious; while the sheet glistened in its solitude, a beautiful gem of the forest.

The following morning the youth discovered one of the canoes drifted on the shore, in a state of decay. A little labor put it in a state for service, and they all embarked, with a desire to examine the place. All the points were passed, and Chingachgook pointed out to his son the spot where the Hurons had first encamped, and the point whence he had succeeded in stealing his bride. Here they even landed; but all trace of the former visit had disappeared. Next they proceeded to the scene of the battle, and there they found a few of the signs that linger around such localities. Wild beasts had disinterred many of the bodies, and human bones were bleaching in the rains of summer. Uncas regarded all with reverence and pity, though traditions were already rousing his young mind to the ambition and sternness of a warrior.

From the point, the canoe took its way towards the shoal, where the remains of the castle were still visible, a picturesque ruin. The storms of winter had long since unroofed the house, and decay had eaten into the logs. All the fastenings were untouched, but the seasons rioted in the place, as if in mockery at the attempt to exclude them. The palisades were rotting, as were the piles; and it was evident that a few more recurrences of winter, a few more gales and tempests, would sweep all into the lake, and blot the building from the face of that magnificent solitude. The graves could not be found. Either the elements had obliterated their traces, or time had caused those who looked for them to forget their position.

The ark was discovered stranded on the eastern shore, where it had long before been driven, with the prevalent northwest winds. It lay on the sandy extremity of a long, low point, that is situated about two miles from the outlet, and which is itself fast disappearing before the action of the elements. The scow was filled with water, the cabin unroofed, and the logs were decaying. Some of its coarser furniture still remained, and the heart of Deerslayer beat quick as he found a ribbon of Judith’s fluttering from a log. It recalled all her beauty, and we may add, all her failings. Although the girl had never touched his heart, the Hawkeye, for so we ought now to call him, still retained a kind and sincere interest in her welfare. He tore away the ribbon and knotted it to the stock of Killdeer, which had been the gift of the girl herself.

A few miles farther up the lake another of the canoes was discovered ; and on the point where the party finally landed, were found those which had been left there upon the shore. That in which the present navigation was made, and the one discovered on the eastern shore, had dropped through the decayed floor of the castle, drifted past the falling palisades, and had been thrown as waifs upon the beach.

From all these signs, it was probable the lake had not been visited since the occurrence of the final scene of our tale. Accident or tradition had rendered it again a spot sacred to nature; the frequent wars, and the feeble population of the colonies, still confining the settlements within narrow boundaries. Chingachgook and his friend left the spot with melancholy feelings. It had been the region of their First Warpath, and it carried back the minds of both to scenes of tenderness as well as to hours of triumph. They held their way towards the Mohawk in silence, however, to rush into new adventures, as stirring and as remarkable as those which had attended their opening career on this lovely lake. At a later day they returned to the place, where the Indian found a grave.

Time and circumstances have drawn an impenetrable mystery around all else connected with the Hutters. They lived, erred, died, and are forgotten. None connected have felt sufficient interest in the disgraced and disgracing, to withdraw the veil; and a century is about to erase even the recollection of their names. The history of crime is ever revolting, and it is fortunate that few love to dwell on its incidents. The sins of the family have long since been arraigned at the judgment seat of God, or are registered for the terrible settlement of the last great day.

The same fate attended Judith. When Hawkeye reached the garrison on the Mohawk, he inquired anxiously after that lovely, but misguided creature. None knew her—even her person was no longer remembered. Other officers had again and again succeeded the Warleys and Craigs and Grahams; though an old sergeant of the garrison, who had lately come from England, was enabled to tell our hero that Sir Robert Warley lived on his paternal estates, and that there was a lady of rare beauty in the lodge, who had great influence over him, though she did not bear his name. Whether this was Judith, relapsed into her early failing, or some other victim of the soldier’s, Hawkeye never knew, nor would it be pleasant or profitable to inquire. We live in a world of transgressions and selfishness, and no pictures that represent us otherwise can be true; though happily for human nature, gleamings of that pure spirit in whose likeness man has been fashioned, are to be seen, relieving its deformities, and mitigating, if not excusing its crimes.

These notes reflect the work of many previous Cooper scholars on whom I have drawn freely. In particular, I wish to thank Hugh C. MacDougall, Secretary, James Fenimore Cooper Society, Cooperstown, New York, for sharing his extensive knowledge of Cooper with me.

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(p. 3 ) “and Solitude behind”: The significance of this epitaph on the title page is analyzed cogently by Hugh C. MacDougall, Secretary, James Fenimore Cooper Society, in “Peeling the Onion: Looking for Layers of Meaning in The Deerslayer,” a paper presented at the 2003 Cooper Conference, State University of New York, Oneonta, New York, pp. 9-13. The paper is available on the James Fenimore Cooper Society Web site:
www.oneonta.edu/external/cooper
, in a section called “Articles and Papers,” along with all papers presented at the Cooper conferences held regularly over the past decade. MacDougall describes Gray’s poem as the fulfillment of a curse against King Edward I of England, who conquered Wales in 1284 and massacred all the Welsh bards in an effort to extinguish the Welsh ethnic identity. The verse applies as well to Edward I’s descendants; in this case the specific lines refer to Edward III, who died in misery. The poem goes on to tell how the Welsh are avenged when Henry Tudor, Henry VII, conquers England and defeats the last of Edward’s descendants in 1485. Cooper was using this epitaph, says MacDougall, as an indictment of and a warning to the whites for their “Indian removal” policies.

1
(p. 5) Tales [1850]: Cooper wrote this preface for the Putnam’s Author’s Revised Edition of 1850 of the five Leatherstocking Tales. The Deerslayer was the first volume to appear in this new edition of the tales, but the preface was intended to be a general one for all of the tales. The Deerslayer was first published in Philadelphia on August 2 7 , 1841, by Lea and Blanchard. Richard Bentley brought out the British edition in London on September 7, 1841. Cooper usually published first in Britain to protect his British copyright, but in this instance Bentley appears to have had no problem in maintaining the British copyright. The corrected holograph manuscript for The Deerslayer, from which the first American edition was set, is now in the Pier-pont Morgan Library.