The Spy, Volume 2

by James Fenimore Cooper

  Dunwoodie at first listened with grave attention--then evident satisfaction followed as she proceeded. When she spoke of herself in connexion with their guest, he smiled with pleasure, and as she concluded, he exclaimed, with perfect delight--

  “We are safe--we are safe.”

  But he was interrupted, as we will show in the following chapter.

  CHAPTER XII.

  “The owlet loves the gloom of night,

  The lark salutes the day,

  The timid dove will coo at hand--

  But falcous soar away.”

  In a country, settled like these states, by a people who fled their native land, and much-loved fire sides, victims to their tender consciences and religious zeal, none of the decencies and solemnities of a christian death are dispensed with, when circumstances will admit of their exercise. The good woman of the house was a strict adherent to the forms of the church to which she belonged; and, having herself been awakened to a sense of her depravity, by the ministry of the divine who harangued the people of the adjoining parish, she thought that it was from his exhortations only, that salvation could be meted out to the short-lived hopes of Henry Wharton. Not that the kind-hearted matron was so ignorant of the doctrines of the religion which she professed, as to depend, theoretically, on mortal aid for protection; but she had, to use her own phrase, “set so long under the preaching of good Mr.--,” that she had unconsciously imbibed a practical reliance on his assistance for that, which, her faith should have taught her, could come from the Deity alone.-- With her, the consideration of death was at all times awful; and the instant that the sentence of the prisoner was promulgated, she despatched Cæsar, mounted on one of her husband’s best horses, in quest of her clerical monitor. This step had been taken without consulting either Henry or his friends, and it was only when the services of Cæsar were required upon some domestic emergency, that she explained the nature of his absence. The youth heard her, at first, with an unconquerable reluctance to admit of such a spiritual guide; but as our view of the things of this life becomes less vivid, our prejudices and habits cease to retain their influence; and a civil bow of thanks was finally given in requital of the considerate care of the wellmeaning woman.

  The black returned early from his expedition, and as well as could be gathered from his somewhat incoherent narrative, a minister of God might be expected to arrive in the course of the day. The interruption that we mentioned in our preceding chapter, was occasioned by the entrance of the landlady. At the intercession of Dunwoodie, orders had been given to the sentinel who guarded the door of Henry’s room, that the members of the prisoner’s family should, at all times, have free access to his apartment: Cæsar was included in this arrangement, as a matter of convenience, by the officer in command; but strict inquiry and examination were made into the errand of every other applicant for admission. The Major had, however, included himself among the relatives of the British officer; and one pledge, that no rescue should be attempted, was given in his name for them all. A short conversation was passing between the woman of the house and the corporal of the guard, before the door that the sentinel had already opened in anticipation of the decision of his non-commissioned commandant.

  “Would you refuse the consolations of religion to a fellow-creature, about to suffer death?” said the matron with earnest zeal. “Would you plunge a soul into the fiery furnace, and a minister at hand to point out the straight and narrow path.”

  “I’ll tell you what, good woman,” returned the corporal, gently pushing her away; “I’ve no notion of my back being a highway for any man to walk to heaven upon.--A pretty figure I should make at the pickets, for disobeying my orders-- Just step down and ask Lieutenant Mason, and you may bring in the whole congregation. We have not taken the guard from the foot-soldiers but an hour, and I shouldn’t like to have it said that we know less of our duty than the militia.”

  “Admit the woman,” said Dunwoodie, sternly; observing, for the first time, that one of his own corps was on post.

  The corporal raised his hand to his cap and fell back in silence; the soldier stood to his arms, and the matron entered.

  “Here is a reverend gentleman below, come to soothe the parting soul, in the place of our own divine, who is engaged with an appointment that could not be put aside--’tis to bury old Mr.--.”

  “Show him in,” said Henry, with feverish impatience.

  “But will the sentinel let him pass? I would not wish a friend of Mr. -- to be rudely stopped on the threshold, and he a stranger.”

  All eyes were now turned on Dunwoodie, who, looking at his watch, spoke a few words with Henry, in an under tone, and hastened from the apartment, followed by Frances. The subject of their conversation, was a wish expressed by the prisoner for a clergyman of his own persuasion, and a promise from the Major that one should be sent from Fish-kill town, through which he was about to pass, on his way to the ferry to intercept the expected return of Harper. Mason soon made his bow at the door, and willingly complied with the wishes of the landlady, and the divine was invited to make his appearance accordingly.

  The person who was ushered into the apartment, preceded by Cæsar with a face of awful gravity, and followed by the matron with one of deep concern, was a tall man, beyond the middle age, or who might rather be said to approach the down-hill of life. In stature, he was above the size of ordinary men, though his excessive leanness might contribute in deceiving as to his height; his countenance was sharp and unbending, and every muscle seemed set in the most rigid compression. No joy or relaxation appeared ever to have dwelt on features that frowned habitually, as if in detestation of the vices of mankind. The brows were beetling, dark, and forbidding, giving the promise of eyes of no less repelling expression; but the organs were concealed beneath a pair of enormous green spectacles, through which they glared around with a fierceness that denounced the coming day of wrath, nor spoke any of that benevolence which, forming the essence of our holy religion, should be the characteristic of its ministers. All was fanaticism, uncharitableness, and denunciation. Long, lank, and party-coloured hair, being a mixture of gray and black, fell down his neck, and in some degree obscured the sides of his face, and, parting on his forehead, fell in either direction in straight and formal screens. On the top of this ungraceful exhibition, was laid, impending forward, so as to overhang in some measure the whole fabric, a large hat of three equal cocks. His coat was of a rusty black, and his breeches and stockings were of the same colour: his shoes without lustre, and half concealed beneath their huge plated buckles.

  He stalked into the room, and giving a stiff nod with his head, took the chair offered to him by the black, in dignified silence. For several minutes no one broke this ominous pause in the conversation; Henry feeling a repugnance to his guest that he was vainly endeavouring to conquer, and the stranger himself drawing forth occasional sighs and groans, that threatened a dissolution of the unequal connexion between his sublimated soul and its ungainly tenement. During this deathlike preparation, Mr. Wharton, with a feeling nearly allied to that of his son, led Sarah from the apartment. His retreat was noticed by the divine in a kind of scornful disdain, and he began to hum the air of a popular psalm tune, giving it the full richness of the twang that distinguishes the eastern psalmody.

  “Cæsar, said Miss Peyton,” hand the gentleman some refreshment; he must need it after his ride.”

  “My strength is not in the things of this life,” said the divine, sternly, speaking in the startling tones of a hollow sepulchral voice. “Thrice have I this day held forth in my master’s service, and fainted not; still it is prudent to help this frail tenement of clay, for, surely, ‘the labourer is worthy of his hire.’ ”

  Opening a pair of enormous jaws to the exit of a proportionable chew of tobacco, he took a good measure of the proffered brandy, and suffered it to glide downwards, with that facility with which man is prone to sin.

  “I apprehend then, sir, that fatigue will disable you from perf
orming those duties which kindness has induced you to attempt.”

  “Woman!” exclaimed the stranger, with appalling energy; “when was I ever known to shrink from a duty? But ‘judge not lest ye be judged’, and fancy not that it is given to mortal eyes to fathom the intentions of the deity.”

  “Nay,” returned the spinster, meekly, and slightly disgusted with his jargon; “I pretend not to judge of either events or the intentions of my fellow creatures, much less of those of omnipotence.”

  “ ’Tis well, woman--’tis well,” cried the minister, waving his head with supercilious disdain; “humility becometh thy sex, and lost condition-- thy weakness driveth thee on headlong, like ‘unto the besom of destruction.’ ”

  Surprised at this extraordinary deportment, but yielding to that habit which urges us to speak reverently on sacred subjects, even when perhaps we had better continue silent, Miss Peyton replied--

  “There is a power above, that can and will sustain us all in well-doing, if we seek its support in humility and truth.”

  The stranger turned a lowering look of dissatisfaction at the speaker, and then composing himself into an air of self-abasement, continued in the same repelling tones as before--

  “It is not every one that cryeth out for mercy that will be heard. The ways of providence are not to be judged by men--‘Many are called, but few chosen.’ It is easier to talk of humility, than to feel it. Are you so humbled, vile worm, as to wish to glorify God by your own damnation? If not, away with you for a publican and a pharisee.”

  Such gross fanaticism was uncommon in America, and Miss Peyton began to imbibe the impression that their guest was deranged; but remembering that he had been sent by a well known divine, and one of reputation, she discarded the idea, and with much forbearance, observed--

  “I may deceive myself, in believing that mercy is proffered to all, but it is so soothing a doctrine that I would not willingly be undeceived.”

  “Mercy is only for the elect,” cried the stranger, with an unaccountable energy; “and you are in the ‘valley of the shadow of death.’ Are you not a follower of them idle ceremonies, which belong to the vain church, that our tyrants would gladly establish here, along with their stamp-acts and tea-laws? Answer me that, woman; and remember, that heaven hears your answer: Are you not of that idolatrous communion?”

  “I worship at the altars of my fathers,” said the spinster, motioning to Henry for silence; “but bow to no other idol than my own infirmities.”

  “Yes, yes--I know ye--self-righteous and papal, as ye are--followers of forms and listeners to bookish preaching--think you, woman, that holy Paul had notes in his hand to propound the word to the believers.”

  “My presence disturbs you,” said Miss Peyton, rising; “I will leave you with my nephew, and offer those prayers in private that I did wish to mingle with his.”

  So saying, she withdrew, followed by the landlady; who was not a little shocked and somewhat surprised by the intemperate zeal of her new acquaintance. For although the good woman believed that Miss Peyton and her whole church were on the high road to destruction, she was by no means accustomed to hear such offensive and open avowals of their fate.

  Henry had with difficulty repressed the indignation excited by this unprovoked attack on his meek and unresisting aunt; but as the door closed on her retiring figure he gave way to his feelings, and exclaimed with heat--

  “I must confess, sir, that in receiving a minister of God, I thought I was admitting a Christian; and one who, by feeling his own weaknesses, knew how to pity the frailties of others. You have wounded the meek spirit of that excellent woman, and I acknowledge but little inclination to mingle in prayer with so intolerant a spirit.”

  The minister stood erect, with grave composure, following with his eyes in a kind of scornful pity, the retiring spinster, and suffered the expostulation of the youth to be given as if unworthy of his notice--A third voice, however, spoke--

  “Such a denunciation would have driven many women into fits; but it has answered the purpose well enough as it is.”

  “Who’s that?” cried the prisoner, in amazement, gazing around the room in quest of the speaker--

  “It is me, Captain Wharton,” said Harvey Birch, removing the spectacles, and exhibiting his piercing eyes shining under a pair of false eye-brows.

  “Good Heavens!--Harvey!”

  “Silence!” said the pedlar solemnly; “ ’tis a name not to be mentioned, and least of all, here, within the heart of the American army.” Birch paused, and gazed around him for a moment, with an emotion exceeding the base passion of fear-- and then continued in a gloomy tone, “There are a thousand halters in that very name, and little hope would there be left me of another escape, should I be again taken. This is a fearful venture that I now am making; but I could not sleep in quiet, and know that an innocent man was about to die the death of a dog, when I might save him.”

  “No,” said Henry, with a glow of generous feeling on his cheek; “if the risk to yourself be so heavy, retire as you came, and leave me to my fate. Dunwoodie is making, even now, powerful exertions in my behalf, and if he meets with Mr. Harper in the course of the night, my liberation is certain.”

  “Harper!” echoed the pedlar, remaining with his hands raised, in the act of replacing the spectacles; “what do you know of Harper? and why do you think he will do you service?”

  “I have his promise;--you remember our recent meeting in my father’s dwelling, and he then gave an unasked promise to assist me.”

  “Yes--but do you know him--that is--why do you think he has the power? or what reason have you for believing he will remember his word?”

  “If there ever was the stamp of truth, or simple, honest, benevolence, in the countenance of man, it shone in his,” said Henry; “besides, Dunwoodie has powerful friends in the rebel army, and it would be better that I take the chance where I am, than thus to expose you to certain death, if detected.”

  “Captain Wharton,” said Birch, looking guardedly around, with habitual caution, and speaking with impressive seriousness of manner, “if I fail you, all fail you. No Harper or Dunwoodie can save your life; unless you get out with me, and that within the hour, you die to-morrow on the gallows of a murderer--yes, such are their laws; the man who fights, and kills, and plunders, is honoured; but, he who serves his country as a spy, no matter how faithfully, no matter how honestly, lives to be reviled, or dies like the vilest criminal.”

  “You forget, Mr. Birch,” said the youth, a little indignantly, “that I am not a treacherous, lurking spy, who deceives to betray; but am innocent of the charge imputed to me.”

  The blood rushed over the pale, meager features of the pedlar, until his face was one glow of fire; but it passed away as quickly, and he replied--

  “I have told you. Cæsar met me, as he was going on his errand this morning, and with him I have laid the plan, which, if executed as I wish, will save you--otherwise, you are lost; and I again tell you, that no other power on earth, not even Washington, can save you.”

  “I submit,” said the prisoner, yielding to his earnest manner, and goaded by the fears that were thus awakened anew.

  The pedlar beckoned him to be silent, and walking to the door, opened it, with the stiff, formal air, with which he had entered the apartment.

  “Friend, let no one enter,” he said to the sentinel, “we are about to go to prayer, and would wish to be alone.”

  “I don’t know that any will wish to interrupt you,” returned the soldier, with a waggish leer of his eye; “but, should they be so disposed, I have no power to stop them, if they be of the prisoner’s friends; I have my orders, and must mind them, whether the Englishman goes to heaven or not.”

  “Audacious sinner!” said the pretended priest, “have you not the fear of God before your eyes? I tell you, as you will dread punishment at the last day, to let none of the idolatrous communion enter to mingle in the prayers of the righteous.”

  “Whew--e
w--ew--what a noble commander you’d make for sergeant Hollister; you’d preach him dumb in a roll-call. Hark’ee, I’ll just thank you not to make such a noise when you hold forth, as to drown our bugles, or you may get a poor fellow a short horn at his grog, for not turning out to the evening parade: if you want to be alone, have you no knife to stick over the door-latch, that you must have a troop of horse to guard your meeting-house?”

  The pedlar took the hint, and closed the door immediately, using the precaution suggested by the angry dragoon.

  “You overact your part,” said young Wharton, in constant apprehension of a discovery; “your zeal is too intemperate.”

  “For a foot soldier and them eastern militia, it might be,” said Harvey, turning a bag upside down that Cæsar now handed him; “but these dragoons are fellows that you must brag down. A faint heart, Captain Wharton, would do but little here; but come, here is a black shroud for your good-looking countenance,” taking at the same time, a parchment mask and fitting it to the face of Henry. “The master and the man must change places for a season.”

  “I don’t tink he look a bit like me,” said Cæsar, with disgust, as he surveyed his young master with his new complexion.